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deakyjoe · 1 year

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Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

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sunflowersteves · 1 year

Text

forehead kiss || d.d.

chapter one of partners in crime

pairing || din djarin x f!reader

summary || With a bounty on the loose, you and Din are off on a chase.

author's note || i can't wait to get more into this series, i have so much planned!! also i promise next chapter will have smut ;)

warnings || angst, insecurities, fluff, lowkey slowburn, canon-typical violence, eventual smut, no moff gideon plot, din in love, mutual pining

series masterlist || masterlist

Beads of sweat run down your forehead as a defeated sigh leaves your lips. Your muscles were screaming at you for an ounce of a break. The bounty was supposed to be easy, incredibly easy—but it felt like you had been chasing him for hours on end.

You huffed in annoyance, while the Mandalorian just stayed silent and calculating.

Greef had offered you and the Mandalorian a hefty bounty since the last one he slid over was almost nothing—only about fifty credits to be split between the two of you. A Prince from Toydaria had lost his way in the depths of the galaxy after pirates had attacked his ship and held him for ransom.

From some unknown sources that Greef gave, you were able to find information that the Prince was alive and hiding on Tatooine. The King and Queen placed a bounty on him, unharmed, in hopes to find their son.

You figured he would want to return back as quickly as possible—no doubt missing his family and the luxury life as royalty. What you weren't expecting, though, was how good the Prince was at hiding. He never seemed to ever want to return.

He was quick and cumbersome—any trail that you and Mando left behind, he was able to sniff the two of you out. He somehow knew each and every time you were nearby as he ran through alleyways and hid in crowded markets.

He out ran the two of you all around Mos Eisley. First, you went through a cantina. Then a guild, and then some poor woman’s home. You three scared the living shit out of her as she flung a greasy pan into the air. You and the Mandalorian even dodged the soap bottle she threw at you.

Unfortunately, though, the Prince was also exceptionally great at dodging your attacks, which only made you groan in annoyance even further. The last time the two of you saw him, he had headed straight for the busy markets. So, the two of you sat tight—shoulders nonchalantly leaning against the cantina wall while the Mandalorian stood rigid.

“Still no sign of him yet?”

An exasperated sigh buzzed through his modulator and it was the only signal he gave to you that there was no sign of him. You knew how stressful some of these hunts could be. He didn’t want to stay on this planet for long in fear that someone might stalk near the ship as the kid was fast asleep.

You and the Mandalorian are partners in crime, of sorts. It was the closest thing you could call whatever was happening on the Razor Crest. One day, you were both after the same bounty and you fought tooth and nail for them.

Your lip was bloody and your stomach was bruised, his head swirled slightly to the right—his balance a little off. You could tell by his dazed stare that you had only a few seconds to grab the bounty and go—and you almost did until you saw a pair of green ears poke out from under his bag.

The Mandalorian tried to shove the kid back into his brown pouch, but you had already seen him. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out—a swirling of thoughts crossed your mind. Then, unexpectedly for the Mandalorian, you let the harsh grip that you had on the bounty’s arm go, and shoved the tied up man toward the Mandalorian.

“Here.” You said. “For the kid.”

The Mandalorian didn’t say a word as he shoved the bounty over his shoulder and started to walk away. Almost ten feet passed you, though, he stopped. He turned around and nodded his head toward you—inviting you to come along. You, confused, stayed silent as well, but followed the strange Mandalorian and his green baby.

You would help around the ship with the baby. You would give him aid in catching bounties. You would tinker around on the ship, despite his first panicked expressions.

Sooner or later it made Din realize that he never wanted to let you go. You were his family. His clan. He had finally found his purpose. Little did he know, you sought the same visions too.

So ever since that day, you never left.

You scan the crowds and search for any signs of the Prince. Your hand traced the blaster that sat right in its holster. It was something you did when you needed to concentrate. Din, personally and secretly, took note of the little details of you. “Maker—where is that fucking kid?”

He turned slightly to look at you, watching as your fingers glided over the barrel of the blaster once more. He could feel his heart thump loudly against his armor—pressing against his ear drums.

“He’ll turn up soon.” He breathed in deep, trying to stay focused on the task.

Ever since the two of you met, he had always been so enamored by your presence. There was just something about you that had him aching to know more, to know every single detail about you. Yet every single time, he would push those feelings down to the bottom chasm of his mind.

Every laugh, every smile, every kick and punch, every soft touch, every star-crossed glance, every little thing he compartmentalized inside of his head. He couldn’t get you out of his mind if he tried.

He was in love with you, that much he knew. His mind was constantly clouded with thoughts about you. His mind was becoming antsy—itching to press his fingertips against the soft plains of your skin. He wasn’t sure just how many more times he could pass you in the ship without wanting to kiss your cheeks.

“Mando! There he is!”

You don’t even wait for an answer as you race down the middle of the market. The kid turned around with bright wide eyes at the sight of you bolting towards him.

You could see his chest start to come closer and closer, your arm reaching out as far as you could to snatch the kid. You could hear Din’s heavy armor clunk behind you, the fast speed of his legs carrying him.

Suddenly, the Prince cut a corner and ran into a small area of jorgan fruit stands. Your body almost crashed into a handful of crates, but you still chased him nonetheless.

The kid looks back at you and sticks his tongue out, teasing you for being slower than he was.

“Oh for—this fucking kid!”

Your eyes widened slightly as an old man started walking right in front of your path. You panic at the thought of hitting some poor old man until you feel a sharp tug at your waist, and you flung forward, soaring over the old man. You were able to catch yourself from falling, and you continued to run after the Prince.

You turn your head back around and see Mando’s grappling hook start to sling back towards him. He gives you a small nod before you turn back around, trying to focus on the hunt.

To your luck, the kid finally starts to get tired from all the ducking and dodging, and his speed starts slowing down. Your heart is racing as you stretch out your hand once more. You were so close, fingertips just barely touching the leather. You try to pick up your pace a little bit, your legs tensing rapidly from the hard ground.

You smile in victory as your hand encloses around the jacket, your whole body leaning forward to snatch him. The two of you tumble forward and roll onto the hard ground, sand flinging around in a dust cloud.

Your hands immediately wrap around the bounty’s arms, while he pushes his arms against you in an attempt to get out of your grasp. Shiny armor beamed in front of your eyes as the Mandalorian approached the two of you. He reached down and cuffed the squirming Prince.

He held out his hand to you, one which you gladly accepted. Din’s heart skipped as he watched your smile beam up at him. His body becomes rigid and still as your hands find themselves perched up against his chest.

His ears almost warmed at your excited laughter from finally catching this simple bounty. Out of all the problems of today, he wasn’t expecting to feel the soft warmth of your skin radiate onto his beskar. He wasn’t expecting your touch to be so soft or the smile on your face to be so contagious.

He found himself smiling wide, one hand reaching down to capture your wrist. What stole his breath away, though, was when your hands moved up to his helmet, slowly making him lean down to touch your foreheads together.

He whipped his head backward as fast as he could, his heart slamming against his ribcage.

“W-What was that?” He breathed heavily.

You didn’t dare move out of his arms at first, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Although, he didn’t move either, so you both stood there with your arms secured around his forearm.

“On my planet, touching foreheads is a greeting but it can also be a way of celebration.”

There was a small pause as you hear Mando’s chest rise and fall hard like he couldn’t quite breathe right. Your eyebrow twitched in concern. “Why? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

His head moved down to stare at the way your hands rested upon his forearm, squeezing the indestructible metal.

“I- No.”

When his visor made its way back to your face, you didn’t look too convinced. He wanted to snap his eyes close and retreat to the Razor Crest. He wanted to let the ground swallow him whole. His hands started to become clammy, while thoughts raced against one another.

He couldn’t tell you that what you had done was a kiss. A Keldabe kiss that he has seen many of those in his covert do with their clans.

“Okay.”

He watched in agony as that bright smile you wore started to fade, your arms slowly retracting themselves. You still weren't convinced, that much he definitely knew.

“I’m sorry if I disrespected—”

Before his brain could really catch up to his heart, Din interrupted you by pulling your wrists forward, and you crash into his arms. Your hands were bunched up on his broad chest, and your heart thumped against your chest. Your eyes start to flutter close as his head leaned down to touch yours.

You could hear the long breaths leaving his modulator, and you could feel his shaky hands move up and down your back, soothing the rough outlines of your shirt.

Finally, Din's heart felt calm. He could feel the warmth that spread across his body at the feeling of your head pressed against his helmet. His hands squeezed your wrists even tighter, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Thank you.”

You swallowed, only allowing yourself to nod as a response. Mando was trying—an attempt to make amends and follow the culture of your own people.

However, the tranquility only lasted for so long as his brain panicked and his heart thumped across his chest. His ears almost not able to catch the sound of your breath as it flowed through his modulator. Just as quickly as he had done earlier, his body retracted itself from you.

You almost shiver at the lack of warmth that surged through your body from the mere touches he gave you. You looked down at the golden sand, awkwardness filling your stomach. You knew Mando wasn't telling you something.

You could tell that it must have been something important from his reaction and silent glances he had been giving you after you parted from him.

Mando says your name, the modulator picking up the confusion in his voice.

"Yeah, Mando?"

He looks around, then turns back to you. "Where's the Prince?"

“Oh—fuck—maker—where did the kid go?”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader

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matchawrites-n-doodles · 1 year

Text

To Give Back

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Angry Mama

Masterlist

A/N: Here it is! Thank you for your patience! :> Reblogs and likes are always welcome, even comments. It’s also not really proof read (>v>)’

Summary: Din losts the kid to Moff Gideon and finds his way back to you.

Warning: Poor plushy :<, angst, swears, Vowldike because he is, if I miss any let me know

Words: 2,684 ____________________________________________________

Chapter 5: The Spruce Blue Armor

It was just a normal, decent morning on Nevarro, except it really isn't.

Your entire body jolted yourself awake, sitting up in cold sweat after a horrible dream.

The sounds of children screaming still ringing in your ears as you cover them in panic. Frantically looking around before realizing where you are, you stared down at your feet as your eyes widen in disbelief when the dream had you focused to one particular child. You couldn't see them but you could hear their cries of help. You gulped, trying to calm your breathing, squeezing your eyes tightly, shaking the empty vision from your mind.

You frown, not wanting to remember the dream you had. Although, there's really nothing to remember about except the screams echoing in your mind. There was just darkness and you standing alone in the middle of nowhere in just your sleepwear.

As your heart starts to calm, your hearing was still muffled by your hands, so you slowly let sounds fill through your ear canals and to your ear drums. This time you could hear actual children screaming, not in fear, but with joy and in childish play. You let out a stifled gasp since you've been holding your breath. Letting yourself breathe in through your nose properly and exhaling out through your mouth. You stared down at your hands as you slowly close and tighten them.

'What the hell was that about...?' You thought.

You sighed, moving to the edge of your bed, getting ready to start your day.

...

Later in the day...

He lost the kid.

His ship is destroyed.

What's worse is that Brenmar Vowldike is alive and works along side with Moff Gideon. But before Din met the holographic image of him, Din had brought Grogu to Tython. A planet that Ashoka Tano had told him to go to. A place where a jedi could locate them.

And through Ashoka, he finally found out Grogu's name.

While in Tython, Din had encountered with Boba Fett for the first time along with Fennec Shand who he thought was dead. They had some misunderstanding but after the attack by the Imperial stormtroopers, the decision was already made to help Din rescue the child.

Unfortunately, Din lost his ship and home, the Razor Crest.

All burnt to the ground but the beskar spear he received when he was in Corvus.

And a metal ball that used to be attached to a lever in the cockpit. Which would later be one of the only play things that Grogu liked so much along side with his plushy.

Only for its arm to be ripped out of its body when Grogu got taken away by force.

Luckily, Din was able to grab what's left of the toy, feeling disheartened to see its condition, knowing that Grogu would be upset right now since he has the arm. Now it's tucked away inside the small, buttoned bag attached to his belt along with the ball.

Lastly, the beskar armor. That spruce blue armor that he'd promised you he would take care of. Feeling slightly defeated when he sees it scattered everywhere, he shook it off as he picked up each part up. Shaking the ash off of the beskar and later tying them all together and slung it over his shoulder.

His worry starts to grow with each step. Grogu is probably terrified right now and since traveling with the foundling, Din formed a strong bond with him and even considered him to be his own. His mind playing back the image of when the kid was taken away from him while one of the droids stayed behind to play a holoprojector and instead of Moff Gideon, it was Brenmar Vowldike who introduced himself to Din.

And when he first saw the man, it was with burning rage Din had felt when he found out what Vowldike wanted. Who he wanted. He had already found out about you and Din and had demanded Din to find you and return you back to him since he's a bounty hunter himself. The longer he would have to wait, the sooner he would have to send other bounty hunters after you.

Like hell Din would let that happen. However, he knew he needed to find you as soon as possible, make sure you're in a safe location. For all he know, bounty hunters are probably after you right now.

Din didn't even need to stress about where to find you because when he arrived to Nevarro with Boba and Fennec, the first thing he saw was your ship.

He'd laugh bitterly at the quick timing and for some reason, he would feel ashamed to face you and to tell you that he had broken his promise in making sure the armor was taken care of. But he reminds himself that he is a Mandalorian. And as a Mandalorian, he must face his fears and conquer them.

Din sighed as he walked down the ramp of the ship. On his way to meet with Cara first to asked about a certain person from the prison registry who can help track down the ship that Grogu was taken to.

After his talk with Cara, who is now Marshal of the New Republic, they are now walking out of the building when Cara had brought you up about how you came over to the town just a few days ago. How you decided to settle down for a bit, give yourself a break after everything you've been through and it's just as what Din had expected when he first saw your ship.

"Wouldn't you like to see her before you go?" Cara had asked when she noticed how quiet her friend is when she mentioned you. Maybe she would be willing to help.

Din took a moment, feeling hesitant but he wanted to see you so he nodded once. "Where is she?"

"Here." Cara handed over your address to Din, smirking, "I'm sure she'd be happy to see you. She talks and asks about you a lot when she first came here. She's a pretty good one." She claimed, patting him on the shoulder.

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit." She elbowed his arm teasingly before setting off, leaving him alone.

Din felt his body froze, watching Cara walk off. You were asking about him? And what the hell was that supposed to mean? He looked down at the paper, suddenly feeling nervous.

...

He continued walking, looking left to right for the right house. Realizing how much farther he needed to go, he picked up the pace as time is ticking. The kid needs him. The kid needs you.

Picking up the pace once more, his hand went over to the small bag that has the plushy when he later realize he's in front of a house. And not just any house. Your house. A pretty small comfy home, located a bit farther away from the other homes. Which seems to suit you actually.

He's hesitant however. Standing in front of the door but his hand refused to move. What's he going to say? How are you going to react once you realize Grogu's gone? Would he have to relocate you? No, you're capable of taking care of yourself, seeing how you took down that thug long ago.

He sighed, letting his shoulders fall back and telling himself to calm down. He took a deep breath and as he was going to knock,

"Din?"

His fist paused mid-air when he heard your familiar voice.

"Din, is that you?" He turned and there you are, holding two bags of groceries. Seeing that bright smile of yours seemed to ease his nerves but the thought of the kid brings it back up. And the fact that the tiredness is shown through your eyes is quite alarming to him as well. However, he's still relieved to see that you're okay.

"Hey..."

Your smile began to get smaller as your eyes fill with worry which caused Din to frown. He didn't like that look but he knew it's going to get a lot worse once he tells you the real reason why he's here.

"What are you doing here? You missed me?" You asked, grinning as you walk up to him. Din's heart skipped a beat. Of course he does, but he didn't want to admit that aloud to you.

You find yourself searching around him and he would noticed.

"Where's... the kid?" You asked, sounding sad and assuming that they must of found a Jedi and parted ways. But as your eyes met with the black visor, your heart starts to thump harder.

Din felt your eyes meet his. He'd felt speechless and drawn to you by your appearance. Despite how tired you look, you being in a simple outfit and somehow, oddly enough, his mind became elsewhere. He snapped out of it when he noticed the confused look on your face, tilting your head at him for being silent for a while. He cleared his throat, placing his hand over his small bag and you watched, raising an eyebrow.

"I need to talk to you." He finally said.

You bit your lip and nodded. Something was wrong and you can feel that sickening feeling from this morning start to reappear in your stomach.

"Inside." You simply said and he nodded, standing aside to let you pass to your door. He watched as you fumbled with your groceries to one arm, making him grab both of them for you as he mumbled 'here'. You blinked, surprised before giving him a small smile, mumbling a 'thanks' back to him. You hurryingly grabbed your keys from your pocket and opened the door to your house and waltz right in with the metal man following behind.

Once he's in, you closed the door behind him, letting him know he can set the bags on the table.

You asked if he would like something to drink in which he would decline. So you only leaned on your table next to him on his right side. You looked at him and you could tell by his shoulders by how it's slumped that he's stressed out.

You took a second before placing your hand out in front of him for him to take. He took one look at it before grabbing your hand with his gloved one, squeezing gently and tightly.

"I'm guessing you're not here to just visit me, huh? Din?" You asked, despite the worry in your voice, it would always seem to bring comfort to Din, but he reminded himself that right now isn't the time. Grogu needs you. That he knows.

So to start, he pulled out the one armed plushy from his pocket and when you first saw it, you gasped taking it to examine the damage. If this was a different situation, Din would of chuckled when you mumbled, 'Oh no, Froggy.' You looked at him, eyes full of questions and concerns, and Din immediately knew what you were going to ask.

"It was Gideon. He has the kid." He looked back at you, starting to get serious and then placing his hands on the sides of your arms, "He has Grogu..."

The unfamiliar name made you tilt your head slightly at him. As soon as it clicked, your eyes widen and if this was a different situation, you would of been beaming right now. Realizing that Grogu is that kid's name.

"Grogu..." you repeated, feeling your heart wrenched. Din nodded.

"—And there's someone else and he's after you." He became hesitant before continuing, "I can bring you somewhere safe if you'd like-"

Shaking your head almost aggressively, you asked calmly, a hint of anger laced in your voice, "Who?" The stern look on your face made Din pause for a moment. You gave a clear message to him that there's no way, he's sending you away to somewhere safe. Not when Grogu's in trouble, that poor lil bean you love so much.

"It's Vowldike." As soon as his name slipped out, you froze.

Your hands tighten, nearly squeezing the plush but you stopped yourself before you damage it even more. This precious plushy belonged to the kid and you wouldn't want to ruin it. You felt raging heat rise from your chest, and instead of the fear you've been having all morning, it was rage. And Din could see the flames in your eyes and how you shook with anger.

"Vowldike's alive. That no good osi'yaim never stops, does he?" You scowled. You looked down at the plushy's dark eyes which reminded you of Grogu's. The way that lil bean looked up at you with a smile on his face.

You imagined the terrified look on his face when he got taken, making you winced and closed your eyes. You unconsciously move your head down forward and onto Din's shoulder. You brought the plush to your chest and cradling it like how you would with Grogu.

He'd froze but hearing you whimper out Grogu's name with worry caused him to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to him. His left arm around your waist and his right hand on your head gently, feeling a little awkward at the new and bizarre contact he would have with anyone besides the kid. Especially with someone like you, but since you didn't pull away, and grabbing hold on to his clothing, it encouraged him to hug you even tighter. "I'll get him back."

Your eyes opened, leaning more onto his shoulder. The rage you felt at the thought of Vowldike even touching Grogu's little wrinkly head never left and hearing Din say that he'll get him back alone, brought determination.

Yes, the thought of the man you despised of scared you... But the thought of him hurting someone you cared about is even greater. If Vowldike ever lays a hand on either Grogu or Din, or both, you going to make sure you'd be the last person he would ever see before his final breath.

"You mean we'll get him back." You let out, making Din look at you to see the expression on your face. A new side of you he has never seen. Anger, determined, hatred all at once.

You're not like the you from years ago from when he first saw you. All broken and beat down by the same man who made your life hell. Or the you who smiled and showed kindness to him and Grogu not too long ago.

No. You're not those all of those things, but you're still all of them. It's what makes you who you are. Right now is the type to give those who deserves what's coming. To give them hell and make them pay.

Din's lips parted at the sight of you, not at all weirded out, but in awed at how beautiful you looked.

As of right now, you couldn't really tell what Din is thinking. When he slowly loosens his arms around you, you realized what just happened and you looked down, feeling a little embarrassed, thinking about what he thinks of you now.

You huffed, feeling that enough is enough to feel this way. You rubbed your eyes to get rid of the dried up tears before backing a few inches from him. He tilt his head as his arms fell to his sides to see the pink on your cheeks as you turned your body away to head to your room.

"What are you doing...?" His words trailed off, hearing you rustling around in your room.

"We can't waste any more time." He hears that strong, determined tone in your voice, and with the thought of bringing back the kid, he kept his head up high as he crossed his arms over his chest with his shoulders squared.

Then he hears a loud thump from your staff hitting the ground and he watched as you walked back out of the room with said weapon and a satchel sling over your shoulder. Walking towards him with confidence.

"Let's get our kid back and go wipe the smile off of that rotten, dirty hut'uun and kill him, shall we?" You said with a smirk as you walked past the Mandalorian, patting him on the shoulder. Glancing at him as you do and he would watch.

He likes this side of you. In fact, he loves it.

Also did you just said 'their' kid?

————————————————————————

Chapter 7 Coming Soon…

Mando’a Translations:

osy’yaim: shithead, useless, despicable person

hu’tunn: coward (worst possible insult)

#mandalorian and grogu #din djarin x reader #mando x you #for fun #grogu djarin #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #disney #togivebackseries #new chapter

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elfan22 · 1 year

Text

Broken Soul sneakpeek - Chapter Twenty-Eight

~~~

The Razor Crest has been set in course for Arvala-7 and Din is sitting with Cara in the cockpit while you meditate in your quarters. You need as much calm as you can muster, and being with them means talking about the plan for Nevarro.

You're uneasy enough as it is.

I know this is a trap. They know what I am and I've escaped before. This won't be some simple mission. There's a chance that I could be captured or die... but as long as Din and the kid are safe, that doesn't matter. Besides if I'm captured, there's a chance that I could take out the client myself-

You're shaken from your thoughts as the sounds of Din and Cara making their way down the cockpit ladder float into your room.

"Is he alright up there alone?" Cara asks Din, referring to the child.

Technically, the child should not be alone with a bunch of controls, knobs, and levers... but Din will never learn.

"Yeah," he replies. You can hear him opening his armory for Cara to see. "Pick one."

"What's she doing in there?" Cara asks Din as she starts digging through the weapons.

"Meditating. It helps her remain calm and to sort through her thoughts, emotions... and other stuff."

"So, she's doing better?"

"Yes, I guess she is. She's still working through some things, but..." Din's voice trails off.

"Well, with all the shit she's seen, I'm not surprised. The poor woman went through the Clone Wars, which I've heard horror stories about. Add on the massacre of her people, her loved ones, and being alone for nearly a decade... Yeah, that would definitely mess me up." Cara pauses, doubt now evident in her voice. "Can she hear me?"

"I really don't know, to be honest," Din chuckles. "I think it depends on how deep in meditation she is. She's heard my thoughts before... while she was meditating."

"Hm... interesting."

From your position in your quarters, you can see Din sit against the wall, watching as Cara inspects his array of weapons. You stay on your cot, quietly listening to their conversation.

"So, do you trust the contact?" You can hear Cara moving weapons around on the other end of the ship.

"Not particularly. He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business."

That business being breaking you out of the Imperial compound.

"So then why are we going?"

"I don't have a choice." You stiffen at his words, staring at him as he looks the other way. "You saw what happened on Sorgan. They'll keep sending hunters. The kid will never be safe until the Imp is dead." Suddenly his gaze turns to you and you quickly fall back into your meditative stance. Your eyes snap closed and you relax your body, trying to pretend that you haven't been listening to their conversation. "And she's dealt with the Imps for long enough. She needs peace."

"And you're okay with bringing them back there?"

"Not really," Din sighs. "That's why I'm bringing you. She's going to try to pull some trick to draw their attention to her or something. She might get herself killed in order to protect the kid."

And you, you think to yourself. I'd do anything to protect you.

Suddenly, the ship rocks aggressively and Din grunts as he struggles to rise and get to the cockpit. You give up your charade of meditation and jump up to grab a hold of the door frame for support.

The kid must've messed with the controls.

Alarms blare through the ship as Cara quickly follows Din, and you stumble over to the ladder. You can hear Din flicking switches and controls to fix whatever the kid had done, and he sighs in relief when the alarms turn off.

"Buyca!" You shout up from the hangar, smiling while using your nickname for Din in Mando'a. You've been practicing and trying to speak it as much as possible. "Did you leave the kid alone up there again?"

There are a few moments of silence from Din, and you can hear Cara stifling a chuckle as you call out his name again.

"Buyca!"

"... Yeah?"

"Stop doing that, gedet'ye. He may be like fifty but he's still technically a kid." You stare up the ladder, waiting for his reply.

"... Sorry."

Now it's your turn to stifle a laugh at the quiet reply. Little do you know, Din's fighting off a smile as he listens to your following words drift away as you walk back to your room.

"You'd think that you'd learn your lesson after the first time he did that, but no..."

You can hear Cara as you settle down to meditate once again.

"Someone needs to watch that thing. Please tell me that you know someone that can watch it."

~~~

Continued on Wattpad and AO3 ❤️

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin is hot #mandalorian fanfiction #mando #din djarin x reader #grogu #star wars

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jedijesi · 3 years

Text

Din Djarin Getting off the Razor Crest Like...

#that poor razor crest had been through so much #razor crest #Give Din A Break!#both episodes 3 and 4 are just Din trying to hold together the razor crest #still badass as ever tho #disney #baby yoda #star wars #the child #din djarin #disney +#disney plus #pedro pascal #the Mandalorian #Mandalorian #cara dune #grief karga #pirates of the Caribbean #jack sparrow

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ifimayhaveaword · 2 years

Note

Hi Ali! 🌼 Absolutely no pressure, but I am thinking about either of these soft prompts with Din - I would love to hear what you think!

all the ‘good morning’s and ‘how are you today’s and ‘good night’s

“this reminded me of you”

(Hope you have a beautiful weekend! 💕)

Ahhhh @saradika you’re such a gem :’) ty for your patience with this— I kind of went off script (aka I started writing and realized it fit the prompt in my head and DIDNT actually fit the prompt in realité) but…. What are prompts if not things that make the thoughts flow, whichever way they go?

Anyway, please enjoy some Din x reader + lil bébé fluff, á la season one trope of “Mando picks up some kind rando to travel with them and help watch his kid while he bounty hunts & starts the Jedi search” (it’s a lot of Mando from the readers POV honestly, idk. It’s soft 🤷‍♀️)

You wake to a dry mouth and a comforting weight on your chest, a warm, steady-breathing bundle cuddled up to you in the cockpit. It’s been long enough now, traveling with Mando and his little green ward on the Razor Crest, that this isn’t a new way for you to come to. Whether he climbed up of his own volition or his father-figure deposited him there so the poor man could pilot, you were too groggy to figure out, but it’s far too still for Mando to be in the cockpit with you now. You cradle the sleeping child to your chest to keep from dislodging him as you stretch with a yawn; the twisting and bending yielding satisfying pops, the baby cooing and burrowing deeper into you at the disturbance.

“Sorry, little guy,” you whisper, dropping a gentle kiss to his fuzzy-soft head. “Let’s go find your dad, hmm?”

A light snore is your only response.

Humming and stroking the baby’s little back to keep him sleeping, your search starts and ends at the tiny galley where the food is stored— a broad, shiny figure rifling through the overhead storage, clearly trying to keep the noise down, and he pauses when he hears your approach.

“Did I wake you? I just… I needed something to eat.” The apologetic tone, though quiet, carries through the helmet’s modulator.

It took time to erase every preconceived notion you had of the Mandalorian and replace them with reality: the considerate, dry-humored, sometimes-awkward man in front of you. He cut an intimidating figure, to be sure— the weapons, the armor, his clipped responses and ever-alert demeanor in public. But you think that as much as you were learning how to live with Mando, he was learning facets of himself that he wasn’t even aware existed. He loved the child in his care, every action he took showed that, but those actions weren’t always natural. You saw every hesitation and second guess, heard every quiet ‘tink’ of his helmet tapping in resignation against the walls of the ship. You were sure that the man learning to be patient and open with his ward, the one with the capable, gentle hands and sincere actions, was always there under the armor, but he had clearly only recently been let out.

The man in front of you has reached out to skate a finger along the kid’s downy head, rubbing gently like you’d once pet a tooka, and the child in your arms coos and hums contentedly. The helmet is pointed down towards the child, and you let yourself smile softly at its visor. His hand moves from the child’s head to your shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze that months ago would have caused you to freeze and gape. Now? You simply beam at him a little brighter.

When you were first brought on board, you had initiated almost every interaction between the two of you. A sunny “Good morning” to both him and the little green bean when you saw each of them at the start of your day. A heartfelt “goodnight” or “sleep well” and a soft rub of the baby’s downy-soft ears, a nod to the man who employs you. The Child, you’d found, is almost as touch-starved as you are, taking every opportunity to climb into someone’s arms, butt his head against your leg, hold Mando’s finger is his little claws. Over time you noticed a pattern: the more the child touched Mando and you held the child, the more Mando would breach the distance between you with cautious, deliberate steps.

His repetition of your name reminds you of his question. You wonder bemusedly if you started dozing off standing up.

“Mm-mm,” you deny. “I—“ you yawn again, shifting the child’s warm weight further into one arm, “I woke up thirsty, but it can wait until you’re done eating. I’ll go put him in his hammock—“

You start heading towards the minuscule cot that Mando and the baby share when you hear, “No, no. I was. I was just finishing up. I can take him, you enjoy your tea. Thank you.”

So polite, this man. You give a small nod and a grateful smile, cradling the child to prepare to pass him to his father. You’re a little bereft without his warmth, but Mando’s proximity heats your face and chest in a way you don’t let yourself examine too closely. You’re standing so close together. Your arms brush his in the transfer, almost an embrace— the most you’ve been in contact yet— and you think you hear a relived sigh come from beneath the silver helmet, softer than the modulator could register.

Yes, you think. You’ve come a long, long way.

Zero-pressure tagging @corvueros @keeper0fthestars @ohheyitsokay @chews-erotically @highsviolets

#project tag #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fics #i swear initially I was going somewhere more in line with that prompt but…. alas.#but I do have another idea for the NDAU with the second one so 👀 gimme some time #i was trying to vaguely keep this in canon pls do not @ me if it’s garbage I do not care #JESS my weekend is going pretty okay btw thank you! 💛💕💛💕 I hope yours is too!!#OKAY that enough talking in the tags thanks yall I hope you feel as soft as I do rn

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honey-dewey · 2 years

Text

Across the Sands of Time and Tatooine

Pairing: Din Djarin/GN! Reader

Word Count: 2,825

Warnings: angst, mentions of injury, some of that good old hurt/comfort, I have an unhealthy love for those mod kids and this is how I go about basically adopting them, maybe two uses of (F/N).

SPOILER WARNING FOR TBOBF EPISODE FIVE!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: I have risen! I’m back baby, and it’s all Mando’s fault! But really, updates will be fewer and further between because school, but I am desperate to get back into my writing swing!

Din took a deep breath, trying not to let his emotions show in his actions. Peli was at his side, looking into the interior of his ship, her brows raised. She knew of his plan. She was part of his plan. Peli was ready, and as terrible as it made Din feel, he was ready too.

“Gonna need someone to go hit the engines inside,” she said lightly. Din looked over at you, where you were sitting with Grogu, chatting happily to a couple pit droids. You had no idea what he was going to do. For this, he was glad.

“I’ll get it,” he said, looking over at you and raising his voice so you knew he was talking to you. “Think it’s time for a nap yet?”

You smiled, holding the barely awake Grogu up. “I think so,” you agreed.

Din watched you slip inside the ship, regret burning a hole in his chest. After the last couple days, he knew this life wasn’t safe for you. This adventure was too dangerous, and he had to go alone. Seeing you hurt, screaming and begging for your life after your shared encounter with the Jedi, Din knew he couldn’t subject you to that again. So he’d made the executive decision to leave you here, on Tatooine with Peli, while he found the Jedi. When he was done, he’d return, but until then, you needed to stay safe. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Inside the ship, you kissed Grogu’s forehead, tucking his blankets around him and smiling. “Sleep well buddy,” you said. After the whole thing with Ahsoka, you had noticed Grogu became sleepier. Maybe he was finally hitting a growth spurt. Or maybe he was just napping.

Taking a breath and lifting your leg off the ground, you began the slow limp out of the ship. Din had pretty much banned you from any heavy work after last week, although you found ways to be helpful despite the heavy cast and clunky braces wrapped around the majority of your right leg.

“He’s all settled!” You called, finally stepping off the ship’s ledge and hitting the soft sand again. “Poor thing’s been taking one too many naps recently.”

Din shrugged. “Go sit,” he said. “Take the weight off your leg. I left a few parts over there that need to be reprogrammed.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down anyway and letting Peli’s little BD droid crawl up your arm. It settled happily on your shoulder, a metallic purring emanating from its engine. You giggled, watching Din disappear into the ship’s belly out of the corner of your eye. You picked up a piece Din had left you, slipping a pair of goggles on and letting the diagnosis run so you knew the problem. BD chittered, nudging against your head, and you looked up.

Suddenly, the ship powered up. You whipped your head around to look at it, confused. “Peli?”

“It’s for the best.” Was all Peli said, almost sadly, and it all hit you like a ton of bricks. You stood, much too fast, feeling a stab go through your leg, but you didn’t care. You limped towards the ship, confusion and concern and anger all boiling inside you.

“Din!” You shouted, going to hit the hatch button. “Hey!” Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you struggled against Peli, trying to twist out of her arms as she pulled you away. “Din!”

No response. You were crying now, fighting with all you had, screaming at the rapidly disappearing Razor Crest. Finally, when it was gone, faded from the bright blue sky, you turned to Peli, limp in her arms. “Why’d he go?” You whimpered. “Was it me?”

“No honey,” Peli promised. “It was him. I promise.” She wrapped you in a warm hug, her sand and machine smell enveloping you. “It was him.”

-Five Months Later-

“Drash!” You called through the shop, not even looking up from the hoverbike you were elbow-deep in. “Drash!”

Drash’s greasy face popped up. “What?”

“What in the actual kriff did you do to this thing?” You asked, pulling out a busted part and tossing it unceremoniously over your shoulder. “Looks like you got into a pod race with a rancor.”

“I got into a speeder race with the majordomo,” Drash said nonchalantly, going back to fixing her arm. “Wasn’t that bad. We won.”

You sat up. “I’m sorry,” you said, eyebrows raised. “You raced the majordomo?” You could’ve killed the poor girl. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was? You could’ve been killed!”

“We had help,” Drash promised. “The new daimyo, Boba Fett, helped us out.”

You sighed. “Right. I forgot you had a new employer.” You didn’t mean any of the venom behind your words, and you could tell Drash knew. She stood, sitting beside you and tipping her head. You went right back to fixing her speeder, pretending you weren’t growing pins and needles under her calculating gaze.

“You care too much,” she said finally. “About us.”

“You’re a bunch of kids, of course I care.”

Drash smiled. “You should come with us,” she said. “Fett was complaining he didn’t have a mechanic for his ship.”

“Tell him to call Peli.”

“He wants you.”

That made you sit up in shock. “Why?”

Drash shrugged, the confident smirk still on her face. “Don’t know,” she said, and you could tell she was lying.

So of course, the next day, once you were done with her speeder, you and Drash headed out to the palace together. Frankate and Axeoct were waiting for you when you arrived, but Everron was nowhere to be found.

“Fett asked him to keep an eye on the syndicates,” Fran said when you asked. “Apparently the Pykes are back.”

You winced. “Ouch,” you grumbled. “That’s a strike and a half. Do we know why?”

Drash parked her speeder, dismounting cleanly and offering you her hand. Even after months of healing, your right leg still had some troubles. Drash had offered to take you to get it replaced, but you’d never accepted the offer.

You stepped off the bike, wobbling and forcing your knee still as you fought for balance. Finally, you stood straight, nodding to your four weird semi-adopted teenage mod children. “Good to see most of you in one piece,” you said. “How’s work?”

“Boring,” Axe said, adjusting his jacket. “But the pay is nice.”

“And we get food and shelter out of the deal,” Fran added. “Not too bad, I would say.”

“That’s good,” a new voice said. “Would be a right shame if you hated it here.”

You turned, finally seeing the man himself. Boba Fett, in all his glory. He held his helmet under his arm, but the rest of his armor was on and uniform, each piece perfectly polished and placed. He was the picture of power.

“Good to finally meet you,” you said, bowing sharply. “Thanks for watching over these kids.”

“Thank you for offering them to me,” Fett said. “They’re good kids. Loyal. You’ve raised them well.”

You shook your head. “They aren’t mine,” you said quickly. “We met under rather unfortunate circumstances.”

Fett smiled. “Either way, thank you for caring for them while they’re outside. They’re rather reckless.”

Drash laughed, and you grinned, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “They’re good kids,” you promised. “But yes. Reckless. Very very reckless.”

After some conversation, you and Fett sat down to draft a contract for your employment. You agreed to work with him for a while, until he decided you weren’t needed anymore. He never gave you a set amount of time, only said he would use your services until you decided to quit or he decided to let you go. The pay was nice, and you both agreed on living conditions.

“You got a job?” Drash asked you as you exited the throne room.”

“I did,” you said, smiling. “Fett offered me a room and decent pay. I’ll be here for as long as I want.”

Drash’s grin grew. “Good!” She said happily. “Now I won’t have to travel all the way into town to see you!”

Days passed, and you slowly got used to life in the palace. There were meetings, of course, and your kids were in attendance as bodyguards. Meanwhile, you were more often than not sunk into the interior workings of Fett’s Firespray, fixing and tuning.

It wasn’t until a week after your employment that shit hit the fan.

“We need muscle,” Fennec said loosely. She was lounging atop the ship, one leg swinging lazily. “If this is turning into a gang war, we’ll need soldiers.”

You snorted, tossing a bolt out. “BD and I aren’t exactly the model of warriors,” you said, and BD chittered nervously. “Yeah, I know buddy. I’m fixing it.” You smacked the misbehaving control panel with your wrench. “See. Fixed it.”

“I heard a Mandalorian touched down in Mos Eisley,” Fennec said, still looking at the ceiling. “I’m gonna go talk to him. Wanna come?”

You froze. “A Mandalorian?”

“Silver armor, like Fett’s. Huge spear. Y’know, a warrior.”

Sitting up, you felt your blood run ice cold. “Din.”

Fennec’s face finally made an appearance. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Din. You know him?”

“Oh I fucking know him,” you growled, slipping your wrench back into your tool belt. “Let’s go pay this Mandalorian a visit.”

You left that day, arriving at Peli’s garage as the suns hit their peak. A ship landed, and you took a breath. Not the Crest. Not Din’s ship.

Fennec leapt the wall, opening a hatch for you and helping you crawl through. You heard voices, one of which sent a rather nasty stab of nostalgia right through your heart.

“So, how was it?” You hadn’t heard from Peli in a while, and as comforting as her voice was, it wasn’t able to soothe the pain of the next speaker.

“Wizard.” You almost laughed. Din Djarin, ever the dork.

They continued to chat, and Fennec set up on a perch, gesturing for you to stay on the ground. You almost rolled your eyes at her. As if you could follow her up there.

Finally, Fennec dropped down, smiling as Din turned to look at her.

“I have a job for you,” she offered. “The pay is good.”

Din tossed the bag of credits back to her. “Keep it,” he said. “Call it a favor. There’s just someone I have to find first.”

“Is it me?”

Din turned sharply, seeing you standing there, arms crossed and lip wobbling as you held back your tears. “(F/N),” he said, but you cut her off.

“Don’t fucking-“ you started, a few tears spilling over. “Don’t you ever dare. Don’t. You left me here! You just abandoned me!” You were yelling now, shoving Din back after your last sentence. “Did I ever mean anything to you?”

Din put his hands on your shoulders, holding you still and keeping you from pushing him again. “I meant to keep you here for a week,” he said. “I just. After Ahsoka, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if you got hurt again. I asked Peli to keep you safe here while I gave Grogu to the Jedi. But I got, well.”

“His ship was blown to bits,” Fennec offered, and you both turned to glare at her. “Jeez. Sorry.”

“I got sidetracked,” Din finished. “The Crest exploded. I didn’t have a way back here. I was stranded, but I never, never, not once,” he ran a finger over your cheek, wiping away tears. “Forgot about you. I meant to come back. We were going to go to Sorgan. I asked Omera and everything. But it all got messed up. So messed up. I’m sorry, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry.”

You collapsed, sobbing heavily, holding Din as tight as possible. “You’re still an asshole,” you decided. “Could’ve just told me. I would’ve stayed.”

“I know,” Din promised, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I know. And I’m not going anywhere now. Not without you.”

“Did Grogu find his people,” you asked. “Is he safe?”

“Safe as he can be,” Din said. “Now c’mon, I believe Fett has a job for us both.”

The ride back to the palace was quiet. You held Din’s hand, silently squeezing every so often. He squeezed back, reassuring you he was still there.

“(F/N)!”

You looked up as the speeders stopped. Drash was racing across the sand, and you dismounted the bike as fast as possible so she could bury herself in your coat, wrapping you in a rib-crushing hug. “Where’d you go?!” She asked, nearly hysterical. “Fett said you left, but he wouldn’t say anything, and he didn’t know how long you’d be gone or even where you’d went!”

You smiled, rubbing Drash’s back. “I’m right here,” you said, rocking her back and forth. “I just went to go find an old friend. This is Mando.”

Drash peered out of your coat at Din. “I’m Drash,” she said.

Din chuckled. “Seems you found yourself a kid,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to stay with you, if that’s what she wants.”

“There’s barely room on that ancient N-1 for you, much less for the three of us,” you said, still holding Drash. As grown-up as she liked to act, you were pleased she was still a child at heart. “Plus, we can’t take Drash and not her siblings. That would be rude.”

Din put an arm around you, pressing his forehead to the top of your head. “I always knew you’d be a good parent.”

You shrugged. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I’m still pissed.”

Fennec interrupted your family bonding time. “Can we wrap this up?” She asked. “Fett’s got an agenda.”

Giving Fennec a very rude gesture, you kissed the top of Drash’s head, finally untangling her from you. “Go on,” you said. “Go tell Axe and Fran we have some more company. And is Everron home yet?”

“Came back an hour ago,” Drash said, wiping her eyes. “I’m sure they’ll all be happy to see you. We were worried.” She walked away, Fennec close behind her.

“Still mad, huh,” Din said finally.

“You left me on this barren heap for literal months,” you said. “Yes, I’m still mad.”

Din looked up at the palace before him. “Think Fett’s gonna give me a bed after I pissed off his favorite mechanic?“

You laughed. “I’m sure he’ll make you sleep in the rancor pit,” you said. “C’mon. I’ll show you around.”

That night, after dinner and negotiations, which you tuned out, you settled in bed, listening to the palace settle around you. It was quiet, but the good kind of quiet. The kind that settled your bones and made you feel warm inside.

A knock echoed from your door.

“Come in,” you grumbled, expecting Drash. She slept in your room sometimes, after nightmares.

It wasn’t her. It was Din, standing in your doorway awkwardly until you sat up, rubbing your eyes and gesturing him in.

“Can’t sleep?” You asked, adjusting your shirt and yawning.

“Not really,” Din admitted. “I ran into the Armorer while I was out.”

You nodded, patting the bed. Din sat. “She asked me if I’ve ever removed my helmet,” he said softly, the T of his visor firmly facing the floor. “I said yes.”

“But-“ you were shocked. “You haven’t.”

“I did,” Din said. “When the Jedi took Grogu. I didn’t want him to think. I just wanted-“ he struggled to find the words. “I needed him to know who I was,” he said finally. “Under the armor. And I think it’s time you know too.” He moved his hands to the lip of his helmet, but you stopped him.

“Din,” you said softly, holding his hands and pulling them towards you. “I already know you. I know you’re a kind man, and very smart. You love too deeply and too easily. You trust everyone and no one. You’re a man of family and creed, of promises and expectations. I don’t need to see your face to know who you are. I just need this.” You put a hand over Din’s heart, feeling the pulse wild and sporadic beneath your fingers.

Din sighed, falling against you and pulling you down towards your blankets. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I should’ve never left you here.”

“That’s over and done with now,” you said. “Now, you’re back. And you’re never leaving without me again.”

“You and your weird kids.”

You chuckled, wrapping Din in a hug. “Sure. Me and my kids.”

Silence fell over you again, unbroken until Din shifted, taking his helmet off. Out of respect, you shut your eyes, not wanting to break what had just been healed. A gentle kiss hit your forehead, and you smiled.

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

“I love you too.”

#the mandalorian #Mandalorian #the book of boba fett #the book of boba fett spoilers #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 3 years

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars fic #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x Reader #OCAC

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 3 years

Text

Chaotic Foundling

Paring: Din Djarin x teen reader (GN)

Word count: 1,908

Rating : PG

Summary : Din's foundling is a wild thing and poor him has to do his best and parent them.

Warning: I am not really that wild so I did my best to show that they really don't have any boundaries in life lol. I hope you enjoy :)

It only took Din a day after taking you in to realize how much of a handful you would become. Sure, he thought that you were just a little on the hyperactive side…. He was quickly proven wrong.

“Stay put. Stay quiet.” Din sat you on the co-pilot’s seat of the Razor Crest. He was making last minute preparations for their departure off-planet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You hummed, swinging your legs in the chair as he walked off.

He made his way over to the sleeping quarters to check on Grogu. The Mandalorian was unable to make a proper check up as the ship suddenly jerked, tripping Din over his feet and face first into the floor. His armor rang loudly in his ears, disorienting him for several clicks before he managed to make a proper stance and run to the cockpit. There, he found you sitting in the pilot’s chair, his chair, a wild grin on your face as you gripped the controls.

You made a disappointed grunt when Din tried to pry your hands off of the controls.

“No!” You swatted at his hands in an attempt to stop him but he overpowered you quickly, landing the razor crest in a fast manner. The pit was silent except for the occasional beeping of machinery.

Din suddenly turned to you. “What was that?”

“You took forever!”

Din paused a moment, seemingly in disbelief despite not being able to see his face. “I was gone five seconds.”

----------

“Y/N! Stay put. I’m coming to get you.” Din stood at the base of a dune, staring up into the sky where you were. He had turned away for one second the next thing he knew was you got nabbed by local thieves who’d made a surprise attack, taken up into the air by one of them mounted on their cruisers as others surrounded him.

“No shit!” Your voice rang from above.

Din was quick to overpower the group around him. They were equipped with menial weapons that were nothing compared to his beskar. After throwing the last of the men to the ground, Din made a move to activate his jetpack when a body fell to his feet. He paused a click, seemingly unaffected by the sudden crack the body made and looked up at the cruiser where you sat alone.

To say that Din was proud would have been an understatement.

“Good job kid,” Din beamed underneath his beskar. “Sit tight, I’m- hey- wait- NO.”

Without giving Din a chance to finish his statement you dove into the air. You had no parachute or jetpack on your own. Instead you dawned a crazed grin on your face and a light in your eyes as you fell closer and closer to the ground. Your mouth opened to yell in joy, but instead made an “oof” sound when Din caught you midair.

“STILL ALIVE!” You exclaimed, dangling upside down from the way Din managed to catch you.

“Maybe if I drop you you’ll have some sense knocked into that head of yours.”

-----

Din thought that after the endless lectures you’d come to realize that you were to stay put where you were told as he went into battle. He quickly realized he was wrong when amidst the soldiers was speck of (H/C). He paused for a moment, unsure of what to think as he scanned the area for whatever it was he saw. Blasters grazed his helmet and hit a droid behind him, Din quickly straightened up and turned to the fallen droid before diverting his gaze back to whoever shot the fire.

There you were, carrying a blaster almost twice your size with Grogu swaddled on your back. And you were… laughing?

“Y/N” Din began marching towards you too.

“I wish I could have seen the look on your face.” You wheezed, jumping up and down. Din worried for the blaster in your hands and whoever was unfortunate enough to receive the next shot, most importantly whether it was to be on purpose or not. “Guess you weren’t ready for me to save your butt just now. You’re getting slow Din!”

A blast shot out of Din’s weapon as a soldier advanced toward the two children. You barely made a reaction as you were in the middle of spinning in joy.

“Where did you get that? I- Y’know what- nevermind. Go back to the ship. We’ll talk later.”

“But we like it here-”

“Now.”

You looked at Din a moment with a small frown. It quickly concerned Din when he saw that frown turn into a toothy grin, but before he could say anything a cruiser zoomed past him and all he could do was watch as you somehow mounted the vehicle mid-air, laughing with a wild glint in your eyes,

“No. Kid get off. No, no- Y/N! Hey!” Din broke into a run and followed the cruiser as you taunted him by sticking out your tongue and shooting the blaster recklessly.

---

The Mandalorian was assigned to hunt down a Bosa that had been terrorizing a peaceful farming village. After leaving you and Grogu to the care of the villagers, he spent the next several days tracking down the beast before he finally found it. What he was not expecting to find was you taunting the trapped beast with a metal pole and a blaster by your side. How you managed to trap it, Din didn’t know. He didn’t even want to know how long you waited before sneaking out of the village. But he turned to find Grogu nearby watching, giggling wildly until he fell over.

Din tried to call for you, but you didn’t hear as the beast roared loudly at you. You bore a crazed grin and screamed back at the creature, your face unnecessarily close to its mouth, and laughed wildly as you poked the creature with a stick. Just as the creature was about to try and bite you from it’s trap, Din picked you up and carried you and Grogu away from the creature.

“Can we cook it??”

----

With the amount of trouble you’ve caused for Din he’s learned to do a routine checkup to make sure that you had all of your limbs intact as they should be. With the amount of trouble you went into, from taking big falls and getting hit by a dewback -long story- he realized that checkups were a necessity as you probably had more mishaps and adventures than you let on.

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE.”

“You need the bacta kid,” Din was hot on your tail as you ran away from him and the bacta spray in your hands. He quickly put you in a corner. “Aha. C’mere, it’ll only sting a little.”

He took some steps forward and knelt down, opening his hand so as to invite you to allow him to put the spray on your arm. For a moment, he saw your eyes soften and thought he finally got through to you.

“SNEAK ATTACK.”

Seemingly out of nowhere you smacked a metal breastplate against his helmet and made a run for it as he was disoriented.

---

For obvious reasons, Din had to find a lock for the armory. He took you and Grogu with him to the local market close to where they were given room and board for the night.

“Put it back.”

Your hand froze, holding a blade in your hand. You quickly stuffed it out of sight even though Din was ahead of you and wasn’t looking in your direction. “Put what back?”

Din stopped after a few paces, his attention turned to a fruit stand and began to pick up some and check to see if they were ripe. “What happened to the credits I gave you?”

“I lost them.”

A sigh. Din wasn’t surprised. “How?”

There was a pause.

“Gambling.” The largest smirk spreads across your face.

Din whipped around. He blinked for several moments and enunciated each syllable, tone almost sarcastic and defeated as though he was trying to not believe what you’d said “Gambling?” You nodded enthusiastically. With a sign, Din decided that he didn’t want to deal with any interrogation and cause a scene, instead he grabbed your arm to lead you in front. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, you in front until we get to the ship.”

The clan made their way down the marketplace until Din steered the troupe to a vendor with an array of weapons on her stall. You were left admiring the pieces as Din made his business. He needed some information regarding his next bounty and thanked the vendor afterwards, paying a little extra for her cooperation before turning to you.

“What?” You stared up at him with widened eyes.

Din held his hand out, “C’mon.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before sighing, fishing a small bomb out and placing it in his hand. The vendor watched wide eyed but said nothing as Din returned the ware to her and returned his gaze to you. “All of it. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

A moment. Then a sigh as you find that you had no way out of it. You pulled out all of the wares you’d stolen from the stand alone, putting them all on a considerably big pile on the stall while the vendor quickly retrieved them to put away.

“There.” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning away from Din.

“Thank you.” Din’s tone was sarcastic.

“Yeah, no problem rust bucket.”

Din shook his head and turned to the woman, “I’m sorry. My foundling hasn’t broken their habit of stealing. I hope you can understand.”

After he made you apologize to the vendor he took you by your arm and walked you back through the streets and towards the ship. He sighed, “I don’t know why I bring you to the markets. If you don’t stop this you’ll end up stealing from the wrong hand. And then what will you do?”

“Die probably”

---

Din knocked on the door of your sleeping cot. It was early morning and he needed you to help him with some preparations for the next trip off planet.

“Y/N. I need you to help me out with inventory. Can you come out?”

The door made a hiss before opening and you bounced out of the hull and zoomed off, ready to tackle the tasks. You were usually ecstatic to go off-planet, despite Din’s dismay as he knew it meant you’d find yourself into more trouble. He chuckled a moment and was going to walk off when the datapad on your bed caught his attention. He picked it up a moment and gazed at the screen.

You perked up at his voice while you were on your way to the storage below the floorboards. “Kid, what’s this?” He had the screen facing you, showing detailed maps of star destroyers and other military projects.

You gave the screen a glance before disappearing under the floorboards, your voice echoing louder from beneath. “I was just messing around a bit with some channels and found that.”

Din stared at the pit where you were for a moment before walking off into the cockpit, falling into his chair. He found himself facing an unprecedented predicament in which he was faced to call for Bo-Katan to inform her that his foundling had hacked into the Empire’s system.

Tag list:

@kiara-is-gay @sagedgeek

#dad!din #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #gender neutral reader #teen reader #star wars reader insert #reader insert #grogu #foundlings #pedro pascal

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun.

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose. Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga. “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you. You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames your knees with his legs “—armchair.” Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you? Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars smut

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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3: A Bargain

Warnings: violence, anger, Mando being protective, awkwardness, kidnapping, and this is definitely a longer one so buckle up!

Author’s note: Part three of Burning Red! Again, any support is greatly appreciated, please let me know if I missed any warnings, and if you would like to be tagged just lmk! I would love to add you!

Where has this child been for all these years? How long has Mando had him? Mandalorians were usually pacifists, so maybe Mando isn’t bad? Do I want to stay with the child and learn more? If I do, how would I do that? It’s not like Mando is going to leave him here?

These types of questions ran through your mind as you helped Peli work on Mando’s ship while he was off on his mission. The Child had fallen asleep nearly seconds after Mando left. You couldn’t blame him. That force connection takes a lot out of a person, let alone a child.

“You seem to be making a good connection with that kid,” Peli says, interrupting your thoughts.

You were currently underneath the ship on a rolling table to prop up your back while Peli was working on the outside. She always had you do the more “difficult” parts of repairs, saying that her body was “not like it used to be.” You knew she could handle it and was just using you to get out of the hard stuff, but you didn’t really mind. It wasn’t that bad of a ship for being pre-empire, and you liked the name Razor Crest. It suited the ship.

“Yeah,” you practically yell in reply from under the ship. The sounds of banging and sawing and cutting had been echoing around the hanger for a while, so you had to speak up for her to hear you.

“What are you gonna do,” she asks, obviously referring to your unfortunate situation with the child.

Why does everything have to be so difficult?

You roll yourself from under the ship so you can sit on your butt with your hands on your knees and sigh.

“I don’t know,” you say. You don’t wanna sound defeated, but the exhaustion of the day had been catching up with you. So much had happened already.

“Well, if I am in any way holding you back from going with that thing, then you better get that idea out of your head,” she says while lowering her goggles and wiping the sweat off her forehead.

“What do you mean? I can’t just… leave,” you say. What would you even do? Ask Mando to catch a ride to a random planet light years away as an excuse to spend more time with the child? As if you had the money to pay him for that? And besides, he’s a bounty hunter, not a bus driver. He doesn’t need anyone else’s help. Especially yours.

“Sure you can. You gotta get out of here y/n. I didn’t expect you to live here forever. And besides, the Mandalorian wouldn’t have any reason to hunt you down. He is carrying around a tiny green baby for Maker’s sake,” she says and you sigh while avoiding her gaze. You wipe your runny nose from the suffocating heat, trying to think clearly.

“I know.. but..,” you say and she holds up her hand to stop you from continuing.

“All I’m saying is that Mandalorian has absolutely no clue how to care for a child. You saw what he did! He left that poor thing in that hunk of metal! He saw that the kid didn’t wanna leave your side! I don’t think he would say no to a helper….,” she says while looking at you with a smirk. She puts her goggles back on and goes back to work, and you do the same.

Maybe this is my chance.

~~*~~

You and Peli worked on finishing the ship for another half hour before stopping for dinner. It felt good to get it done. You gave the child some food and giggled at his excitement. He wasn’t connecting with you through the force anymore, but you didn’t care. He was a great little creature to be around.

Maybe Peli was right.

But just like before….. your happiness doesn’t last.

“Hands where I can see them!” a voice yells from the darkness around Mando’s ship.

You immediately grab the child and tuck him into your chest and raise your empty hand. Peli raises her hands too. You react so fast you don’t even process what’s happening.

A figure steps into the light with a blaster pointed right at you.

Toro.

Your eyes darken and your eyebrows tighten. Your jaw clenches and it takes everything in you not to send him flying through the air and crush his skull against the ground.

No, you think. Breathe. Think. That isn’t you anymore.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought,” he says with the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen.

This was gonna be hard.

“Now what you’re gonna do, is go inside Mando’s ship over there, and sit on the floor. We will wait for the tin can to come back…and when he does…. you will do as I say,” Toro says and you are shaking now. The situation has finally sunk in and your heartbeat is pounding in your ears.

If you were alone, you would take him, but you can’t risk Peli or the child being shot in your arms.

Wait…….Mando! you think. He’s a MANDALORIAN. This kid has no chance. When he gets back, we can take him down together. I can’t be sure the child is safe unless we outnumber Toro.

That is it. That’s the only way.

“Now make your way towards me. Slowly,” Toro says and Peli looks at you with wide and terrified eyes. You wish she could read your mind, you really do, because all you wanna do is calm her down.

All you can do is give her a reassuring nod and slowly stand with the child in your arms. Peli relaxes a little, knowing you are in control, but her body and her breathing are still tense.

“Good. Very good,” Toro says, and you can’t wait till Mando gets back.

This will be fun.

~~*~~

Toro makes you and Peli sit on the floor of the ship for another hour, and you keep the child close. You give Peli reassuring glances and small smiles every once in a while, but there was not much time between Toro staring at you and the child grabbing at your arm. You tried to steady your breathing.

Mando will come, and it will be ok.

As soon as you had that thought, you heard the sound of a speeder bike outside the hanger. You knew the time had come.

“Get up. It’s time,” Toro whispered in your ear and wrapped his arm around your neck from behind you and pointed his gun directly at the child in your arms. He used his other hand to grab Peli by the arm and force her to stand up with you. The child gave a little cry, but you rubbed his foot, and he seemed to calm down.

You saw Mando start walking out to the front of the Crest’s ramp, and Toro started pushing you guys down. His inner elbow was digging into the front of your throat and it was hard to breathe. Peli didn’t look any more comfortable either.

“Took you long enough Mando… but feel free to take your time. I’m enjoying this position,” Toro said while smelling the back of your neck.

Yuck yuck yuck get OFF ME, you think.

Mando’s body tightens when he sees the four of you come into the light and his helmet lowers. His breathing becomes deeper and angry. Like it was taking all his energy not to plow up to Toro like a bull.

“Let. Them. Go,” he says in the most bloodthirsty tone you had ever heard in your life. His voice wasn’t even loud, it was just present. Everywhere. It surrounded you and overwhelmed you.

“Drop your blaster and raise ‘em,” Toro said and Mando immediately dropped his blaster to the ground and pinned his hands behind his back. You hated him like this. It looked so unnatural.

The child gave a soft and worried cry, and you saw Mando avert his gaze to him in your arms.

“Cuff him,” Toro said and allowed Peli to walk down to Mando with the handcuffs he had given to her moments ago. This allowed him to use his other free hand to wrap around your middle, pinning both of your forearms to your stomach. He still had the gun pointed at the child, but that didn’t matter.

He thought he thought of everything, but he did not. You were stronger than this man by a long shot.

You took this moment of Toro’s distraction and Mando looking near you to mouth the word “look” to Mando, praying he would see it.

His gaze fell to your mouth, then to your left side, where you had a free hand waving at him.

Just because he had your forearms trapped, didn’t mean you couldn’t pry them off with your palm. And on top of that, your elbow had a perfect angle to do some major damage.

Mando looked back up to your face and saw your smirk.

This kid was an idiot.

“Tell me when,” you mouth to him and Mando gives the tiniest nod back.

Even though this all happened in the matter of not even five seconds, it was still risky.

Thank God Toro was Toro, because any experienced person would have caught you.

Peli started walking down the ramp and getting the cuffs ready, and Toro just could not shut his mouth.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” he said while tucking his face into your neck. You could feel him smelling your hair, and you bit your tongue.

You were like a cat waiting to pounce.

“And I’m willing to bet that this here,” he said while moving the gun closer to the child’s head, “is the target you helped escape.”

Any moment now.

Peli went behind Mando to bind him, but you saw her smile and whisper something.

It was really hard to hide your smile.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued. “Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild. It will make me legendary.”

And with that, Mando gave you the nod.

You immediately slammed your elbow right into Toro’s crotch and used his surprise to stomp on his foot.

His shock allowed him to loosen his grip around your neck and around your waist, so you turned around, socked him in the face, and bolted down to Mando.

Once you made it, you heard the whistling birds go off and a gun shot, so you crouched to the ground to keep the child safe.

You did it. It’s done.

You slowly stood up and turned around when the sounds died down, and you saw Mando still had his gun up high.

“Stay back,” he said, and you had no reason to argue.

He made his way over to the body and Peli ran to you.

“You are brilliant. Absolutely brilliant,” she said to you and scooped up the child from your arms to do a little dance. You giggled and rolled your neck.

That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.

Mando returned from the body with a sack of gold in his hands and you smiled at him.

“Good job,” he said to you with a chuckle, and you smiled at him.

“Oh that’s nothing. You should see her with a blaster,” Peli said as she cradled the child in her arms.

You shook your head and laughed, but you still felt Mando look you up and down.

If I’m gonna convince this man to let me stay with him, I’m gonna have to stop blushing like a teenager, you think to yourself.

“So I take it you didn’t get paid,” Peli asked Mando, but he surprised her by pouring the gold directly into her hands.

“Will this cover me,” he asked cheekily.

“Uhh yeah. Yeah this will do it,” Peli said, immediately stuffed the gold into her pocket.

You smiled to yourself. Peli deserved that.

Peli handed the child back to Mando, and then started yelling at the droids to drag the body out, which left you alone with Mando.

You stood there awkwardly, thinking of the right words to say.

Calm down y/n. Just calm down.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Mando said to you, and you gave him a breathy laugh.

“It really wasn’t a problem. All in a days work,” you say. You fold your arms over your chest, trying to breathe.

“Anything that you can think of that I can do as repayment is fine, just let me know the next time I see you,” he said to you with a nod, and turned to walk back to his ship.

Come on y/n, this is it.

“Wait,” you say, moving at a quick jog to catch up to him.

He turns around to look at you, babe in his arms and all, and you feel everything you’ve rehearsed to say go right out of your brain.

“I um… how about a favor,” you ask.

God I sound so STUPID.

“A favor,” he asks back to you, and you really wish you would have used another word.

“Yeah.. I uh.. I had an idea that maybe I could.. help you take care of the kid? You know, protect him, nurse him, feed him, things like that, while you go for bounties? I could explore the galaxy for a little while, and you get a little more time to yourself,” you say as upbeat and positive as you could.

Come on. Please buy it.

He looks back down at the child in his arms, who didn’t stop babbling and staring at you the entire time you presented your “favor,” and you really hope this works out. For the child’s and your sake.

Mando seems lost in thought while staring at the creature, so you try and sweeten the deal.

“I’m not asking for money or anything like that. I just… really like the kid. And I.. I wanna get out of here,” you say with a chuckle.

Please please please.

Mando looks back up at you, and you swear you could hear a pin drop.

“Okay,” he says, and your eyebrows raise.

“Okay,” you ask back. Not in a rude way, just in a “what do you mean by this” way.

“That makes sense. This little guy seems to like you, I don’t want him getting hurt on my missions, and you can obviously defend yourself, so yeah. You can come.”

You could cry. You could genuinely cry.

“T-thank you. Thank you so much. You will not regret this! I will get my stuff super quick,” you say and race to your room with a smile on your face.

Yes! This is happening!

You run through your door to see Peli with a bad packed of all your belongings. She has a small smile on her face.

Peli. She always knew.

You crash into her and give her a huge hug. She lets out a big huff of air and starts laughing.

“Thank you Peli. Thank you,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“Thank you,” she says with a laugh. You pull away from her shoulder and she runs her hand over your cheekbone, caressing it ever so slightly.

“Is it in there,” you ask her, and she nods.

You nod back.

“Just in case,” she says to you and you give a breathy laugh.

Just in case.

You give her one last hug, until she yells “Now get out of here,” and shoos you back to the landing pad.

You wave goodbye to Peli while walking up the ramp behind Mando, and you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. A weight you had been carrying for a long time.

Fear.

Tag List:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200

#mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff

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hearts-hunger · 3 years

Text

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see.

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way.

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

“I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love.

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one.

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food.

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile.

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep.

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

series taglist: @kyjoraven, @sarahjkl82-blog, @remmysbounty, @bitchin-beskar, @cosmicbreathe, @prettyboyskywalker, @happyxdayxbitch, @radiowallet, @marvelous-glims ♡

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekcryptid, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013, @willowtheewisp, @lori-tovar, @sarybennett ♡

please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

#ahhhh i actually think this is so cute #i hope y'all like it!#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fafiction #jate'kara series #maddie writes stuff!

163 notes · View notes

stellarstarwarsimagines · 3 years

Text

Trust and My Kar’ta

Pairing - Din Djarin x Reader

Summary - The Mandalorian has been gone on a bounty, and when he returns, he seems to not be hiding his emotions as easily as he once was. Maybe you’ve broken through that beskar more easily than you thought.

Word Count - 2,034

Warnings - None! Pure fluff!

It had taken one night on the planet for you to realize that you hated it. It seemed as if the Razor Crest would never land on a planet you wanted to be on at this rate. It was always either too hot, too cold, or raining the whole time. You knew that Mando couldn’t control any of that, but it was a downer. Even more so when he wasn’t around to keep you company.

You loved the Child. It had only taken one look into those dark eyes, and you had been smitten. You loved taking care of him, but he couldn’t speak, and sometimes you wanted to have a conversation. So when the Mandalorian deemed his bounties too dangerous for the two of you to be on, you were stuck here on the Razor Crest.

It had been two days since he left, and you weren’t sure how much longer it would be until he came back. It was starting to affect both of you, being stuck on this ship while it rained non-stop outside and the cold poured in. It wasn’t unmanageable, but not comfortable either.

Rocking the fussing child in your arms, you both peeked out the window, looking for any sign of the Mandalorian, and you continued to frown when you saw none. The child whined, and you knew him so well by now, you could pick up the worried tone in his voice.

“It’s all right. The bounty is most likely giving him some trouble, that’s all.” You tried to reassure him. You looked around the room, trying to find something to calm him down, but all you could think of was the small cot that smelled of the man. “Here, why don’t we take a nap? Maybe when we wake up he’ll be back?” You asked, sitting down on the cot.

Although you wouldn’t admit it, you were worried yourself. You always were when Mando went on a job without you. Even though you knew two days was normal for him to be gone when he was chasing a bounty, you didn’t like it. But you also knew that this child in your arms had some sort of special abilities you didn’t understand. What you did know was that he almost seemed to be able to pick up on your emotions. So you weren’t about to let this poor child suffer through both of you being worried. You figured a nap might help both of you calm down, and almost as soon as the two of you laid on the cot, the child snuggled into your neck and quieted down.

Lulling yourself to sleep was easy wrapped up in Mando’s blankets, taking in deep breaths filled with the scent of him, the child’s soft snores in your ears. Soon you drifted off, the icy rain pelting against the sides of the Crest.

There was no telling how long you were asleep, but you were woken up as soon as you felt the child being pulled from your arms. Reacting out of instinct, you reached for the blade hidden in the side of your tunic.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” The modulated voice stopped you, Mando’s cold and wet glove gripping your wrist and stopping you before you stabbed him.

You felt relief fill your chest and let out a sigh. “Din,” You let out a name you never dared to say unless it was in private, and slid your blade back in place, taking him in. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but he seemed all right. “Are you okay?” You asked him, reaching out until you found one of his armor clad arms. You had learned long ago that it was harder for him to lie to you if you were touching him.

“I’m fine,” He assured you, his voice steady and calm, and you were inclined to believe him. “One bounty turned in and several credits richer.”

Satisfied with his answer, you began to remove your hand from him, but to your surprise, he stopped you, gripping it in one of his.

“Now, cyar’ika, what are you doing in my bunk?” He asked you, giving your hand a slow squeeze.

“Oh,” You had forgotten where you had fallen asleep. You had your own little cot set up in the Crest that Mando had put together for you, and you supposed you could have taken your nap there but . . . “I think the little one was more comfortable here. Reminds him of you.” You added, a soft smile on your face that you were sure he could see.

He looked down at the child who was now clinging to him, his eyes blinking sleepily up at him, and you watched as Mando’s grip tightened on him for the briefest moment before that helmet looked back up to you.

It was one of those times when you wished he didn’t wear it. When you could see and read the expression on his face so it could explain what he was thinking, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. “I’m sorry, I’ll go -”

“No.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “No, you can stay.”

Your eyes widened somewhat in disbelief. “I can -”

“Are you cold? You’re shaking.” Din asked, interrupting you once again.

You were? You looked down at the hand he was holding and noticed that you were indeed shaking. Yes, you were cold, you realized, but you didn’t think that was the reason that you were shaking. Well, you weren’t about to tell him why you were shaking, so you nodded your head, looking up and into that small black void on the helmet where his eyes would be.

Mando wasn’t one that you would think would be hesitant, his actions when he was hunting a bounty sure weren’t, but you had found over time that he was much more careful with his words, especially around you. Now was one of those times. It was as if you could feel him staring at you, even if you couldn’t see him. Silence enveloped the room, apart from the small snores coming from the once more sleeping child, until he decided to speak. “Would you like me to join you?”

. . . Had he really just asked that? Did he mean join you like, join you . . . or like join you? And did it matter either way? “I would,” you replied, your voice so quiet, you hoped he had heard you through all that beskar.

He had. He nodded, letting go of your hand, and placed the sleeping child back in his little hammock above you. “I’ll be right back.” Din told you, and left you alone with your thoughts.

You laid back down on the small bed, your heart pounding at the speed of a ship in hyperspace. While Din and you had grown even closer lately, it hadn’t felt quite like this until now. The tension was so thick in the air it felt heavy, and there had been something different about the way he had touched you and held your hand earlier, almost as if he was . . . reassuring himself that you were here. You had no idea what it meant or what was in store for the next few minutes.

It was at that moment that all the lights in the Razor Crest went out, and you were surrounded in pitch black darkness. You turned on your side and buried your face in the pillow, wondering what he was doing. He was making it easier for everyone to sleep . . . Right?

Your question was answered soon enough, quiet footfalls entering the room along with something that sounded a lot like beskar being placed gently on the floor. It turned out you were right, because when Din crawled into the small bed with you, it was far too quiet. He had taken off his armor, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You reached behind you, and sure enough, your hand found his, large, warm, and gloveless. “What happened?” You whispered, knowing that something must have to bring about the way he was acting now.

It was so quiet for a moment, that you thought he might have been so exhausted he had already fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “I got caught up with some Imperials when I was turning the bounty in. They know about you, cyar’ika. They’re coming for you too.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath, but not for the reason you were sure Din suspected. It was clear from the sound of his voice, that not only was he not wearing his armor, but he wasn’t wearing his helmet as well, and you weren’t prepared for the way that made you feel.

Mistaking your gasp for fear, Din spoke up again, “I won’t let anything happen to you -”

But you shook your head, remembering after a second that he couldn’t see it. “Din, your helmet . . . You took it off.”

It seemed as if he took a moment to process your words, and then you felt his hand tightening its grip on yours. “I trust you.”

That wasn’t a small feat, and you knew it. For a man so devoted to his religion that no living thing had seen his face since he was a child, to risk having all that come to an end because of you made tears form in your eyes. It didn’t matter if what was left of the Empire was after you now. Din Djarin trusted you more than anyone else in his life.

The feeling was mutual.

Unable to resist it a second longer, you turned in the cot, one of your knees slipping between his lower thighs while the other rested on top of his leg. “Can I touch you?” You asked. It seemed important to ask for permission even if he had taken the helmet off.

“Yes,” he breathed out, this time without hesitation, as he guided your hand up to his face, and then he let go.

While he had placed your hand on his cheek, you slid it up the side of his face, brushing some of his hair back. It was longer than you had expected, but oh so soft. While it was pointless, you found yourself closing your eyes, imagining in your head what your fingertips were feeling. His skin was smooth for the most part, although there were some wrinkles around his eyes. His nose was pointed and as your hand traveled lower, you felt facial hair above his lips as well as along the bottom of his jaw. You could feel him turning into your touch, relaxing under your caress as his lips kissed your fingertips in a way that sent shockwaves through your body. “Has anyone ever touched you like this?” You whispered, but you were fairly sure of the answer.

“Only you,” he replied, and you had never realized how much emotion the modulator had taken out of his voice until right then. “Can I hold you?” Din asked as you settled your hand in his hair, curling in the soft strands.

“You never have to ask my kar’ta.” You told him, and while you couldn’t see him, you knew that he was smiling when he responded.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked, his arm tugging you closer until you were against his chest, comfortable in his snug embrace.

“A couple of weeks ago, when we were at that market.” You felt Din’s nose nuzzling into the top of your head. “A woman said that I looked at you like you were my kar’ta. She told me what it meant.” Din’s lips pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “You are my heart, Din.”

His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion, lulling you into the slumber you had been in before, except now it was even better with his body keeping you warm instead of his blankets. “As you are mine, cyar’ika.” He whispered, his voice, pure and soft in your ears, his words bringing a gentle smile to your face as you fell asleep in his arms for, what you hoped, was the first of many times.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #star wars imagine

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged for Chapter 2, please let me know. Link to Chpt. 2

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian

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themangolorian · 4 years

Note

Hey bro that untitled one shot you did where reader thinks cyar’ika is a curse word? Friggin golden! I loved it so much and was wondering if you’d be open to writing a continuation where reader confronts Din?

Hey bro did you know that I love you? 🥺🥺Thank you so much for this ask, my love. I actually had a 3.7k word fic and I took the one shot out of that and...originally I was only going to post this on ao3 but this is the perfect time to post this here now too. Was so happy to wake up to this ask bb! 🥰💜💜💜

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: The simplest of misunderstandings can sometimes turn into the loveliest of reveals.

A/N: Full work of this excerpt. No warnings, pure fluff.

This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo with the Mandalorian. You’d been with him on hunts for quarry before. Not that the Mandalorian had much love for you. Usually you only came along when Greef insisted he needed a second player, which wasn’t often. This time you weren’t sure of the circumstances, but you had a sneaky suspicion the Mandalorian had specifically asked Greef for you to tag along. You couldn’t see why. He was always aloof. Quiet. Not quite standoffish but close.

This was one of the rare times he did need someone though. And while you were quite sure you annoyed him half the time, you also knew you were good at your job. You weren’t a bounty hunter in the traditional sense. Your speciality was tech specifically meant to trick and outmaneuver particularly hard to catch quarries. This time, the Mandalorian was dealing with a changeling. Which could be the trickiest of quarries.

You’d developed a device that could unveil the disguise of a changeling but it wasn’t quite up to specification yet and required two people to man it. One wearing the eye piece - that would be the Mandalorian. And one to actually man the controls - that would be you. And you needed to be close.

The Mandalorian had tracked the quarry down to a cantina on Coruscant. Almost the entire way he’d sat quietly in the belly of the Razor Crest watching you tinkle with your devices, constantly changing and perfecting them. He’d ask questions here and there and you’d been short with him, sure his questions were more out of boredom than anything else.

Now, you found yourselves in a posh cantina meant for the wealthy and elite. The Mandalorian, tall and striking in his polished armor, seemed to fit in perfectly with the surrounding luxury. You, on the other hand, felt insufficient in a way you didn’t think actually mattered because you were sure the Mandalorian would never look at you that way anyway.

You hadn’t always thought this way about the Mandalorian. Your first few missions with him had been short, quick, efficient. He’d always intimidated you, but as time had passed, your feelings towards him had morphed into something softer. You’d begun to see him in a new light. His soft grazes and touches, the few that you got. His gentle voice. Your belly had begun to float when he spoke to you or looked at you. But you were sure that he didn’t see you the same way.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. This was the last time and place you should have been thinking about any of this.

Instead you readied yourself to activate the eyepiece worn now by the Mandalorian; you sidled closer to where you knew he was waiting for your instructions, not three feet from the changeling. A crackling over the commlink in your ear, a question.

You spoke softly into your wrist. “Across and two chairs over.” Your device also accounted for tracking of the changeling so you couldn’t lose them even if they changed form again.

A gruff noise in your ear indicated he’d heard you. With a release of your breath, you activated the eye piece.

From there, things happened quickly. You watched in awe as the Mandalorian, seemingly with little effort, dived across the table. A short scuffle later and the changeling who’d been in human form but was now back to their natural form, sat dazed on the floor wearing binders. The Mandalorian hefted the being to their feet and headed your way. Just as the Mandalorian reached you, you both realized the changeling had not been alone.

The blaster fire took you in the shoulder and you went down. Sprawled on the ground, all you could think about was the fact that you were still alive.

“Cyar’ika!” You heard the Mandalorian’s harsh voice curse at you. You winced. Not at the pain in your shoulder but rather at the fact that you’d been too slow-moving to avoid being hit and now the Mandalorian was calling you curse words in the tongue of his people. Not that you knew what it meant but you could guess well enough from the context of the outburst.

You didn’t have long to dwell on it before rough gloved hands were pulling your trembling form to your feet again. A split second later, he was shoving you aside; several blaster shots passed through where you’d just been. Then- three blaster shots from the Mandalorian and each of your assailants were down.

“Let’s go.” His words were gruff and you winced again, collecting your gear off the floor of the cantina and rushing after him, noting the way he kept your hand tightly gripped in his, essentially dragging you after him, as he lugged his quarry along just to his left.

He didn’t slow his pace and you struggled not to trip, but you made it more or less in one piece back to the ship. Out of breath, you closed the telescopic gate to the ship behind the two of you as the Mandalorian began freezing his quarry in carbon.

“Can you handle that?” He gestured towards the freezing system but he was brushing past you and back up the ladder before you could respond. He knew you could. You felt the ship taking off as you finished the freezing process and stored the frozen quarry in an empty slot of the system.

Then you were sitting on the edge of his sleep cot and releasing a long drawn out breath. The next thing you knew your hand was at your injured shoulder and your eyes were tearing up. You could be such a baby, but you weren’t used to the same high stakes the Mandalorian usually went through on his hunts. To top it off, he’d been tough and aggressive with you despite your injury. You were tired and just wanted to go home.

When the Mandalorian joined you back below, you were making a poor attempt at patching your wound up with the meager supplies you had in your own pack. The Mandalorian did not check the carbonite freezing system; that was something at least...he trusted your work. Instead he seemed to hesitate when he saw your face, still puffy after crying. But then his eyes must have landed on the terrible job you’d done cleaning and bandaging your wound.

“Wait,” he said, his voice as gruff as usual. He turned and rummaged through a storage drawer before pulling a crate towards you that he could sit on.

He pushed your hands away, though not roughly, and inspected your work. A sharp intake of his breath made you close your eyes. His helmet tilted your way at your grimace. “Are you alright?” You opened your eyes in surprise and stared at his visor. You weren’t sure he actually cared, but you nodded anyway. He hesitated as if he wanted to say more but then instead got started on fixing the mess you’d made of your wound.

You braced yourself for more pain, the wound was deeper than you’d thought after all, but the pain never came. The Mandalorian was quick and efficient, spraying something cool that numbed your arm. You couldn’t look as he cleaned the area and applied bacta. You’d always been better with machines, never with the body.

“You’re alright,” he said once he was done in the softest tone you’d ever heard him use. And it made you look at him with eyes you knew were telling of what you were thinking. But he never looked away from the wound and you felt embarrassed for feeling anything beyond grateful. Soon you felt him applying a clean bandage over your shoulder.

“Sleep,” he said as he stood, packing away the rest of the ship’s medical supplies.

He didn’t look your way again, and you felt dismissed, so you lay back and curled in on yourself, resting on your uninjured shoulder. A slight pressure on your waist made you look up to see a folded blanket draped over your knees and the Mandalorian disappearing back up the ladder. He didn’t seem to want to be in the same room as you for longer than he could help it. You sighed sadly as you spread the blanket over yourself, wincing when you jostled your shoulder. You were sure the Mandalorian would be glad to be rid of you considering you’d ended up more a burden than a help this time around, and you would be surprised if he ever requested your help again.

When you awoke, you were shocked to find you were not on Nevarro. Not wanting to question the Mandalorian, you followed him to the hut seemingly located in the middle of nowhere in this vast desert. But your question was answered in due time when the Mandalorian, after a warm greeting, explained in a clipped tone that you couldn’t decipher to the ugnaught waiting inside the hut that you’d been injured and he wasn’t sure he’d done a good job considering there could have been muscle damage. You were at a loss for words and watched mutely as the Mandalorian seemingly fled back to the ship to wait.

The ugnaught seemed accustomed to these kinds of last minute appearances and odd requests; he asked no questions. Instead he settled you comfortably down in a large, soft chair and introduced himself as Kuiil. You made friendly, easy conversation with the ugnaught as he revealed the wound on your shoulder and began prodding and poking. You didn’t look, but you knew he was using some chemical to regrow the flesh you’d lost. He’d numbed you again to ensure you’d feel no pain. Still, you knew pain that came not from your injury but from something else showed on your face.

Kuiil finished patching your shoulder up. “What is wrong, my dear?” He asked finally sitting back and watching your face.

You considered his kind eyes and peered towards the entry to the hut. From the sounds in the distance, the Mandalorian was scraping at carbon scoring on the Razor Crest so would be too far to hear your words.

“It’s just-” You paused, frowning down at your hands where they were gathered in your lap. “I think he hates me.” You decided on.

Kuiil gave a chuckle of surprise that was deep and throaty. His hand came out to lift your chin so you were once again looking at him. “What makes you think that?” His tone was incredulous, his eyes light. He didn’t seem to be taking you seriously.

Your frown deepened. “It’s just- When we were on Coruscant...when I got hurt...he yelled at me - well, he called me a name. I think it was some sort of curse word in Mando’a.”

Kuiil’s brow furrowed, but his lips quivered as if he was trying not to smile. “What was the term?”

You pursed your lips trying to remember. “Cyar’ika.” You finally sounded out.

Kuiil made a noise of surprise and you glanced at him carefully, fearing the worst. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

You racked your brain, but yes that was it. You were even sure you’d pronounced it right. It would actually be hard to forget because the word had cut you so deep at the time. You knew the Mandalorian didn’t like you but you’d expected a little bit of sympathy at least at your plight and injury. Instead-

You lost your train of thought when Kuill began lightly chuckling once more, joined this time by the shaking of his head.

“What?” You sat up, glaring somewhat at him now. It was one thing for the Mandalorian to curse at you in the heat of the moment; it was quite another for Kuiil, who you’d thought kind, to laugh at something you were obviously sensitive about.

“My dear,” Kuiil said, struggling to stop chuckling, “that’s not a curse word.”

Oh. But then you frowned again. “What does it mean then?”

Still guffawing, Kuiil managed to finally speak. One word. A word that shot through you to your core. “Beloved.”

Suddenly you found yourself holding your breath, hands at your cheeks. “That’s impossible.” You croaked, your voice cracking.

A sound at the hut’s entry startled you, and you looked just in time to see the Mandalorian slipping into the small room. Your eyes immediately found the floor; you couldn’t look at him. Had he heard? You hoped beyond hope he hadn’t heard. So many thoughts were running through your brain. Kuiil must have been wrong. The Mandalorian had sounded so tense when he’d said the word to you. But- He almost always sounded that way, and if the word meant what Kuiil said it did, and if the Mandalorian had meant it that way, wouldn’t that be a natural reaction to seeing you injured? You blanched inwardly, sure you were being stupid.

All of these thoughts flew through your head as the Mandalorian thanked Kuiil, promised to return soon and gave his goodbye. You thanked Kuiil, who still looked amused, embraced him briefly and then followed the Mandalorian silently back to the ship. He said nothing to you as the gate shut behind you. As usual he rushed up the ladder but you heard his footsteps above stop. Then-

“Would…” A pause, then- “would you like to sit in the cockpit with me?” He sounded hesitant, unsure.

You took the two steps forward so you were looking up at him through the hatch. “I...” But your hand had already found the rungs of the ladder. So you said nothing and instead ascended. Then you were joining him in the cockpit. You’d been in it before on previous missions when things hadn’t felt so tense, when the Mandalorian had been much less aloof and distant. You sat and buckled yourself in as the Mandalorian blasted the ship off into space and then hyperspace.

Gathering your courage, you asked a question that had been a pinprick in your brain since you’d awoken. “Why did we stop here...” You trailed off, so uncertain, sure you shouldn’t be questioning him. “Inst- instead of going straight to Nevarro, I mean.” You rushed to clarify, wincing at the thought he might find your question annoying.

He didn’t turn to look at you, but he responded after a short period of silence. “I- Your injury was my fault. I didn’t want permanent injury caused to you because of- because I wasn’t cautious enough...” He trailed off, sounding more unsure than you’d ever heard him.

You wondered if it was just a guild thing; maybe he didn’t want Greef angry that he’d caused any damage to an admittedly valuable asset. But the word “beloved” kept echoing at you in Kuiil’s voice in your head; you couldn’t shake it.

Not a moment later, the Mandalorian was turning in his seat to face you. He seemed to have reached a decision.

“I...” He stopped then rested his hands on his knees as if grounding himself in preparation for what he was about to say. You held your breath again, heart in your throat, now sure he’d overheard you and Kuiil, sure he was about to correct the ugnaught’s bad translation skills. “What Kuiil said...”

He stopped again and you felt your face growing warm. You couldn’t look at him. Could not...stare your own embarrassment in the face - well- visor.

But you figured you could save him from his. What he must be feeling...thinking you thought he’d called you something he never would’ve...and the awkwardness of correcting that...

“It’s alright,” you tried for a light tone that only came out choked. “I told him he was wrong. I know that’s not what- I mean- I knew it was- you were...just...it was clumsy of me and I’m sure- I mean, it was the heat of the moment...we all curse when we’re mad, so, you know, no hard feelings. I’ll try- to be...more careful...” You broke off again, your mortification only growing. You hadn’t meant to imply he’d ever ask you on another mission. You rushed to correct it, wincing, knowing you were only making it worse. “Not that you ever have to partner with me again...I mean...”

You were floundering and you were sure you both knew it because suddenly he was standing and while you saw his silhouette in your peripheral vision, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him through the tears now blooming at the corners of your eyes.

Your heart began pounding as he approached you, when he crouched down in front of you so you were forced to look at him, and you almost gasped when his hands rested now on your knees.

“Cyar’ika.” A whisper beneath the helmet not captured by the vocoder so you heard it instead in his natural voice dimly from beneath his mask.

You couldn’t find it in you to breathe for several seconds. Less so when one gloved finger came up to your chin, tilting your face further up so you were staring him full in the visor.

“What Kuiil said,” he continued as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “The translation is right.”

He held your face there with one finger, both of you staring, only one actually able to see the other, as if he was waiting for a reaction, a response. But you were too shocked to speak, could not believe this was happening to you.

Finally a stuttered, “But- but you hate me.”

His hand dropped in surprise from your chin to your thigh and suddenly you were feeling warm all over.

“Hate you?” Now he sounded bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You spoke but tried not to move the rest of your body, afraid if you did, he would move away, that he would stop touching you. The hand on your knee and the one on your thigh were blazing, awakening a fire in you you hadn’t known you had.

“You’re- you’re always so quiet. I annoy you. It’s a pain to take me with you.” You voiced suddenly out loud the sum of all the insecurities you had collected over time, over missions with him, things you’d convinced yourself of based on nothing but body language and tone.

The hand on your knee tightened and you released a whoosh of breath, completely in awe of the effect that one contact was having on your body. You’d never felt more alive.

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated, and his other hand left your thigh to take your chin fully in his palm, tilting your face again so you had no choice but to stare into his visor. You closed your eyes at the tenderness with which he said the word in a tone he’d never before used in your presence.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough with you on Coruscant,” his voice willed you to believe him. “When I saw you’d been shot...” His voice trailed off, sounding strangled. “I wasn’t mad at you.” One finger drifted across your cheek, leaving a fiery line in its wake. He brought your very skin to life. “I was scared. I didn’t want-” He stopped here and you felt him move his body closer to yours, his other hand trailing from your knee to your waist. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Your breathing was ragged. This couldn’t be happening. Not to you. These kind of lovely, warm moments did not happen to you. You were made for a dreary life of toil with the Bounty’s Guild, not for soft leathered touches in a cockpit now too warm to handle. Not for feather soft words that tickled your very soul.

But he wasn’t done. “I don’t hate you. I...couldn’t.” Now he almost sounded amused and you opened your eyes to gaze his way. A finger ran over your lips and your breath hitched. “I’m...” He trailed off again, suddenly sounding unsure once more. “You frighten me.”

You started, staring at him like he’d grown another head. “Me?” You said in a voice so squeaky it was almost comical.

He chuckled and it warmed you to your core. You found your lips ticking up in your own involuntary smile. His happiness, little of it that you’d witnessed, was infectious. “Yes, you.” He paused again, then- “I never know what to say. I’m afraid of- of saying the wrong thing.” He hesitated again, looking down at the floor before back up at you. When he spoke again, his voice once again sounded heavy, almost congested. “You can’t know how long- how long I’ve been wanting- this.” His hand flexed around your face.

You were struck dumb. With so many things. Disbelief above all. Wonder as well. And pure joy. You must have hesitated just one moment too long. Or the look on your face must not have reflected what you were feeling. Because in what seemed to be a moment of realization, his hand dropped from your face and he was standing up and backwards, away. The sudden absence of his presence just before you was so pronounced. In the worst way.

“I didn’t mean- I thought maybe-” He couldn’t seem to finish his thought, but clearly he took your awe as rejection. He took another step back.

Before you could second guess yourself, your hand flew out to grab his before he was too far to touch. He froze. But so did you. You willed your lips to work. “Wait.” The word was strangled, but it gave you the strength to speak up.

“If you-” You swallowed the lump in your throat, praying this was real and not some trick on your psyche, some side effect of the numbing agent Kuill had given you. “I’m- Me as well. I-” You finally found the courage to look up at his visor from under your eyelashes. You said the one word you hoped would convey what it was you couldn’t seem to say. “Cyar’ika.” You squeezed his hand, hoping he’d understand.

A beat. Then- He fell back to his knees in front of you, cradling your head against his. You breathed a long sigh of relief, relaxing into him and letting go of all the tension you’d collected since...since you could remember.

Cyar’ika. You couldn’t believe you’d ever thought it a curse word. It sounded so beautiful coming off his lips now, more like a blessing. Or a prayer. You’d never had a favorite word before, but you thought that now, considering everything that one word had just gifted you...you had at least one favorite word.

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