#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 3}

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

Summary: You begin to understand the dynamic between you and your new captor. But things aren’t always what they appear to be, and maybe that’s for the best. 

Word Count: 7.8K

Warnings: talk of sexual favors, narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawel, symptoms of withdrawel, light violence toward reader (very minimal and not detailed), nightmares, trauma, ptsd triggers, reader is in a survival headspace, readers hands are still bound, semi-nudity, moral dilemmas, morally confused din djarin

A/N: hello, hello! i initially planned to update twice a month, but this chapter flowed so easily once i began to flesh out the scenes i had outlined for this installment. it helps to set the dynamic between the reader and our dear mandalorian. i also am aware that my writing style allows for glimpses of his feelings and what he’s thinking, it’s still strictly set in the ‘reader knows x and acts that way’ and then some passages give way to how he’s experiencing the events as well (though reader isn’t privy to them). i like giving insight to him so he doesn’t seem so flat. please let me know what y’all think!  ♡ 

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist 

It was early morning, the sun just barely showing signs of peaking over distant mountain ridges. You hadn’t slept much, the chill of the desert and the close, heavy presence of your captor making the task difficult.

The familiar sound of your saber handle had you sitting up quickly, a warning on your tongue as the bright white of the blade formed with the push of a button by a gloved hand.

“Be careful!”

Glowing light cast from the blade illuminated the helmet of the Mandalorian, facing where you had shot up from your resting position. The fabric of your tunic swung as you reached a hand out, not thinking about the sudden movement inciting the man’s instincts. He leaned away from you, his legs pushing him up from his own seated position on a fluid movement, the blade coming in front of him in as a defensive shield. Your face was cautious, your outburst making you worried in the wake of the warning from the night before.

“Please be careful, jatne vod.” You spoke in a softer tone, not wanting the man to accidentally burn himself as he quelled his curiosity surround your weapon. Or wield it at you in defense, you were too weak to put up much of a fight, despite adrenaline that would pump through your system should the threat feel real enough.  While it may not be particularly yours anymore, you wanted it to be cared for and handled with caution. “The crystal is very sensitive.”

“Crystal?” The man’s curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He experimentally twisted the handle in a mimic of how one would a blade to get the feel of the weight and balance. The handle moving from one hand to the other, the humming of the blade reacting to each minute swing and twist. It shouldn’t have but the vision of this strong, capable Mandalorian bounty hunter wielding your weapon so easily stirred something in your chest. You ignored the feeling, willing it to fade away and forcefully snapped your focus back.

“The energy of the crystal is harnessed by the handle, resulting in the blade. I mined the crystal myself, long ago.”

“A kyber crystal. Heard of it before, in passing.”

“Yes, jatne vod. A Kyber crystal, they are very important to jedi culture. Much like beskar to your people. It’s a living crystal, it’s bonded to me. It may not operate for everyone who attempts to.”

You didn’t mention that it meant a great deal that it had operated for him.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, seeming to have the information he wanted regarding the weapon. His need to understand the weapon temporarily overriding the requisite of you being silent. The press of a button dimmed the blade, powering it down completely. A gloved hand reached up with a small flashlight in its grip and he flicked the beam on to point into the handle. The crystal reflected faceted light onto the front of his helmet, bathing his form in a mesmerizing display. The angle of the light hitting the bottom of his helmet giving you a faint glimpse of the shape of the man’s face. No features had been discernable, the darkness within the helmet keeping them hidden from you.

Your eyes traced the faint outline, searching for any hint of the man beneath the helmet even as your mind reprimanded you that it was an invasion of privacy. This man had sworn a creed, much like yourself, though his was different from yours. While yours forbade earthly attachments, his forbade revealing his face to those he was not bonded to. There was just something about him that you seemed instinctually react to…The reverent air that possessed him as he inspected the weapon, respect seeping into his gentle ministrations as he looked it over and got a feel for the way it moved and glided through the air.

You knew that Mandalorians put great worth on weaponry and armor. It was a part of their culture, of their way of life. For this man to take great time and care to figure out the logistics of your own weapon that was now in his possession, it felt like something. However misplaced it may be. The more sensible part of your brain was trying to argue that it didn’t mean anything, that the man probably collected every weapon from every quarry he’s ever captured. Inspected them, deemed them important enough to integrate into his own personal cache of weapons or store them upon the ship for when he may need them, if ever.

The sun was beginning to cast pastel orange rays that were bleeding into the dark navy of the fading night over the vast expanse of the open sky, painting the desert in a wash of golden light. Eclipsing the man standing before you, his back to the beauty of the day’s new beginnings.

Suddenly the silver helmet morphed into one that was all black, the visor disappearing. The quiet air of the early morning was filled with the sound of deep breaths being helped by a compressor, the figure of the Mandalorian shifting into that of one you’ve spent your entire life running from. A red blade sprang to life as the standing figure twisted the lightsaber and aimed it at you, stepping over you to hold it close to your throat.

The hum of it was loud in your ears, the heat of it setting your skin on fire even if it hadn’t touched you yet. Your name fell from the figure’s mouth, modulator making it low and it settled heavy in the air. It wasn’t the voice of the Mandalorian you had grown to recognize over the past day. A hand was raised and you felt yourself being lifted to hover few feet above the ground, your body hanging limply as the Force was worked against you. Chills rained down your arms and back despite the beads of sweat that were beginning to form along your skin, body freaking out even as your mind was utterly blank with panic.

The hand fell from its raised position, your body collapsing to the ground with a thump. Fear had you rooted in your spot, unable to do anything as the blade began to cut a line into your neck…

You shot up from where you had been laying, hand flying to your neck as a choking sound warbled from your mouth. You took a deep breath, blinking furiously to dispel the image of a dark cloaked figure with a black helmet as the light of day revealed to you that it had all been a dream. A dream of a memory that had morphed into a nightmare. The shade encompassing you had you stilling as you tried to mentally reign yourself in.

You whipped your head around, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. You were down on the ground, a thick piece of tattered fabric separating your body from the coarse sand. The sound of metal on metal filled the air as you turned to see the Mandalorian and the Ugnaught working together to fit a final piece of siding back into place on the Razor Crest. The sun was setting but you had a feeling it wasn’t the same day as when you had fallen unconscious. The fuzzy feeling of your tongue in your dry mouth and the aching of your muscles were an indication of the time that had passed.

You watched silently, moving to sit more comfortably atop the fabric, as the two made sure the metal panel was securely in place. When the figure of the Mandalorian emerged from the shadows of the ship, you realized he was free of the mud that had covered him the last time you had been conscious, and he had fastened his cuirass back into place despite the large dents that still marred the metal. He was missing his cloak. Your middle dropped from you to disappear into the sand as you realized he had removed it and given it to you in your unconscious state to lay atop. That he had taken the time to clean it of the mud that had caked on it before doing so.

With frantic still bound hands, you brushed as much of the sand that had gathered onto it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how careless you were treating something of his. Halfway through your ministrations, you realized you still had a layer of mud covering your own form, though it was dried and nearly baked into the fabric of your tunic and along your hair. Small bits of it crumpled off to land on the fabric. Your face had been wiped clean, though whoever had done had made sure to stop there.

“He told me of the powers you used to defeat the mudhorn, I’ve heard of them in passing.”

Your head shot up at the voice, suddenly realizing that the Ugnaught had approached you. You hoped he had been the one to wipe your face clean, unsure of how you felt about the Mandalorian taking the time to ensure you had something to lay on so you weren’t on the ground and to clean you. He had schooled his expression to one of slight curiosity, though you couldn’t read much else in his expression.

“Whispers of such powers have faded, but they still linger in the wind and minds of the galaxy.”

You just nodded, bringing your hands to rest atop your bent knees. Your eyes moved to the pod beside you, it was open to reveal the unconscious form of the Child inside. Worry stirred in your heart for him, he was so small and the Force took a lot of energy and concentration to direct, to harness. His moves to save the Mandalorian will have definitely hit him harder than yours had done to you. Memories of a similar figure in species and stature wove through your racing mind, though the one you were thinking of had been alive for millennia. He had been skilled beyond comprehension, his age allowing him the time to become one of the strongest people you had ever encountered. The Child had a long way to go and you’d surely be long dead by the time he was even ready to begin training himself.  

“You must be stronger than the Child, he is still unconscious.”

You nodded again, not wanting to give anything away. The fleeting worry that the Mandalorian has recounted the events with the mudhorn grew in your chest and made it hurt as you fought your instincts to incapacitate the figure in front of you. That he had told the Ugnaught what you had shared with him in his native tongue, still so cautious about who you were.

No one could know what you were, what you possessed, you already had such a large target on your back. But this man had been nothing but kind to you in his own way, allowing you to share his farmed water, offer you transportation, and aid with repairing your captor’s ship. Surely he wasn’t a threat in any way, whether personally or by the sharing of information he’s gathered from the interactions of the past few days.

“You may speak with him, if you wish. Though I have not repeated what you told me,” The deep timbre of the Mandalorian’s modulated voice sounded as he approached as well. He pressed something along his left cuff and the pod beside you moved toward the repaired ship and up the ramp. Something stirred in you, quelling the panic and worry that had begun to consume your mind. But it was quashed just as quickly as it had begun to form at the next words to leave his modulator. “Word of what you told me would make it even more of a task to complete the job of returning you.”

You hoped none of the emotions that had washed over you had shown on your features, not wanting to be so easily read. You nodded again, the repeated motion beginning to cause nausea in the pit of your stomach now that you were conscious. You spied the handle of your saber secured in a spot on the Mandalorian’s utility belt. Hidden from anyone who didn’t know what to look for.

“Thank you for the kindness you have shown us while on your planet, sir. It is greatly appreciated. I don’t have anything to offer you in return.” Your attention snapped back to the man directly in front of you. His eyes meeting your own as he looked you over. It seemed as if he had more to say but had settled on holding the words back in favor of addressing your immediate response.

“I am in your service; you are my guests. There is no need to supplement me. I have spoken.”

The ship lifted into the air, and you gripped an arm of your seat tightly, both hands curling around it as you fought the rolling nausea in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was because of withdrawal or nerves at flying again. It had been so long since you’d been aboard a ship, and apparently the last time you hadn’t even been conscious enough to realize you were being transported. But this time you were, and you grounded yourself with that small notion. You were aware of what was happening at this moment, and it was all you could think of to comfort yourself even if you were being taken back to a place you never wanted to return.

Once the ship lurched into hyperspace, the mesmerizing colors wafting around the ship and displaying through the glass of the cockpit, you felt your nerves ease a little. The colors were beautiful, the light of them calming despite what they meant. Though the brightness of them could be felt behind your eyes as your head throbbed.

You climbed down into the hold once the course through hyperspace had evened out, taking in the space. It was small but enough room to allow the Mandalorian his sleeping quarters, space to store a good number of crates secured along the walls of the hull with thick netting and fabric straps with metal clasps, the small room that held the refresher that the ladder up to the cockpit lined, the cabinets that he used to hold his weaponry, and settled into the hull of the ship itself was the chamber he must’ve used to contain his quarries. You inspected the door, a slight confusion settling over you as you took in the control panel. With a start, you realized it was a carbon freezing chamber.

Backing quickly away from the doors that opened into the small chamber, you felt your back collide with something strong and solid, sending faint jolts of discomfort down your sore shoulders. Shifting on your feet with more energy than you thought you possessed, you came face to face with the Mandalorian himself.

You began to shake your head, fear growing hot in your body as you realized that your fate was to be frozen in this moment and roused once you were back in the hands of your cruel mother. No chance to put up a fight, no chance to scramble for freedom once in a place with more opportunities. You felt like a fool, thinking the armored man would allow you to occupy his space as he returned his other quarry, the one he had initially set out to capture. The job he had intended to fulfill when he happened upon you on the same planet. He said you had to be returned unharmed and the best way to do that would be to turn you into carbonate for travel.

But he didn’t activate the doors to open, he didn’t push you into the chamber. He didn’t move at all except to nod his helmet toward the other side of the hold space. There was a crate that had been taken from the netting and placed against the paneling that you knew opened up to reveal a condensed kitchen space. There was a small cooling supply unit and a hot plate. The cabinets around the immediate area housed a caf maker he had been adamant about retrieving from the Jawas and various boxes of nonperishable foods you weren’t too keen on. You preferred freshly prepared food, a product of your upbringing on a planet whose culture was rich with fishing and farming.

Two smaller crates had been set up next to it in a mimicry of a dining table and chairs. You looked to him before moving across the space and settling yourself atop one of the ‘seats’, him doing the same, sitting diagonal to you. His back was to the wall of the hull, while yours was open and exposed as you faced him and the paneling. It was quiet, the space filled with a weird tension you couldn’t explain when he moved to lean forward with something in his hand that you hadn’t noticed in your panic.

The ration pack placed in front of you atop the ‘table’ made you blink, the change of clothes that weren’t your own underneath it even more so. You glanced over to wall of armor that hide away the man who offered them to you. You stared at the pile of items in front of you, taking note that they were for a reason, one that you weren’t daft enough to ignore. When he reached forward again, this time to remove the binders still around your wrists, you stared at the visor, trying to gauge the situation to get a read on what he would prefer. Taking a breath, you stood and moved to face the man, your skin humming in hesitant anticipation like it always did before you were given instructions, no matter how silent.

You didn’t say anything as you stood from your seat and kneeled before him, hands reaching out to rest on his thighs. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at the idea of touching the cold-looking armor decorating his form, but you would deal with it. You could deal with a lot if it meant you could eat and have clean clothes. You had thought that being taken by him only meant an exchange of who was handling your shackles, and you were correct. It didn’t matter if he claimed to be transporting you back to your home planet and mother, you were under his control in the meantime and you didn’t want to upset him. Didn’t want to run the risk of turning down his offer to trade and then ending up with nothing in exchange and him taking what he wanted anyway.  

The harsh truth of the situation was that you needed the food. You needed something in your system to combat the waning drugs and the sensations they were leaving in their continued absence. Withdrawal had fully set it in, if your spells of nausea and dizziness were any indication. The sensitivity to light you were developing spoke of it even more so, accompanied by interwoven chills and hot flashes that had nothing to do with the planet’s environment. If you were to make it through, you needed something in your system to help counteract the energy it was taking from your already spent body.

The clothes looked soft, something that sounded like a blessing against your irritated skin. You needed those items. The fact of the matter was that you needed to trade for them with the man before you, nothing came for free. Not in this life, not in yours. Because underneath all that armor and the creed, he was just another man. Steeling yourself you began to reach out for him, to begin with something relatively tame. Hopefully it would be enough for the items…

You didn’t even get to lay your hands completely down on the armored plates over his thighs before there was a sharp sting on your cheek and you felt yourself crumble to the floor from the force of a hit.

You had been so focused on keeping your eyes on his lap that you hadn’t seen the twitch of his hand before it moved swiftly toward you. You didn’t move an inch from where you were on your backside on the floor, submitting completely to the man now standing. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, the crinkling of leather giving away his irritation at the situation. You didn’t do anything, you didn’t look dare look at him, not wanting to upset him further. You waited for him to speak, to give you directions.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low and harsh, the same one he used when you had heard him talking to Jawas. It held no respect. It reverberated through your entire body, bringing you shame you hadn’t felt in a long time, having shut down feeling bad over the things you’ve had to endure. Shame at things you had to do to survive while being held captive for so long and on different occasions. “Answer me. Why would you think that’s appropriate?”

“Th-the food….and the clothes. Pay-payment, jatne vod.” You wanted to bring a hand up to your stinging cheek, the feeling of a cut underneath your eye bringing tears to your lash line as swelling began. You allowed your hair to shield your face from view, no one had ever struck your face before, and it had taken you off guard. It had hurt.

No one had dared touch your face, to leave marks on it, no matter who the captor had been or who had been watching over you. Your mother had wanted you to maintain the soft skin of your face in order to gain a husband someday, but as you got older the idea seemed to disappear from her mind. It became a silent way to hide the things they did to you. The same went for your captors, they wanted to keep anything they did to you covered. Easily hide the awful things they did to you should you need to be transported, avoiding as much unwanted attention as possible.

“Payment?” The Mandalorian took a step back, feeling his entire body go cold. He took in the way you were trying not to cower, your hands shaking where they held you up from being on the floor completely, your legs splayed out where you landed from the force of his panicked movement. He hadn’t meant to hit you, his mind urging him to push you away before you touched him had turned into a frantic swipe of his hand. You were a quarry, there was no need for touching unless he was fighting you.

You didn’t say anything further. He glanced at the items on the table for a second, his mind reeling at the idea of you having to pay for them when he had obviously placed them there for you to have. To make yourself somewhat comfortable aboard the ship. He may not have the best record of social interaction and had trouble accepting things offered to him without seeing the strings attached, but this? He hadn’t meant for you to take the items as something you had to earn, your puck instructed to bring you in alive and unharmed, he had just been trying to be accommodating to some degree.

You were covered in mud and dirt from the desert and your captivity. Even more so from saving him, taking out that second, raging mudhorn that had quite literally come out of nowhere. He had wiped your face free of mud, but hadn’t dared do anything further. It felt like too much, just what little he had already done. He’s intent on ignoring his betraying mind telling him he wouldn’t have done as much for anyone else.

The talk of the Jawas and the favors they had referred to when discussing wanting to trade his parts back for time with you echoed in his head. They had been talking about the way the guards of the compound had refused to give you anything lest you trade for them, but with no possessions to trade there was only one thing that could mean…

“I-if that’s not what you wanted, then do whatever you think is f-fair in exchange.” You turned to face him, though your eyes didn’t dare rise past his cuirass. You were kneeling once again, though instead of reaching out to him, your hands went up to untie the wrap keeping your tattered tunic closed and loosened the knot there. The fabric fell from your form onto the floor and puddled around you, leaving you in just your underthings. The fading bruises and cuts on your skin from your captivity on full display.

You rested your hands atop your thighs and waited for his instructions. You could feel your skin prickle in the cold air of the ship, your chest displaying the sensation through the fabric. “I h-have an implant, if that interests you, jatne vod.”

“It doesn’t interest me. Put your clothes back on and collect yourself. This isn’t a game.” Disgust at the insinuation dripped from his modulated voice. He looked at the wall just beyond your face, not looking at you but looking over your head. He could see the red line the plate of armor on the back of his hand had made underneath your eye, the trickle of blood that blossomed from the end of it. He hadn’t meant to strike you so hard, he hadn’t even meant to strike you in the first place. “I gave you those things, they’re yours.”

“But-“ You cut yourself off, as if realizing you were arguing with him. He didn’t see having a conversation as arguing, but he guessed you weren’t used to having a simple conversation. He realized that days ago he had snapped at you to remain silent, that he preferred if you didn’t talk. The sentiment carved into your every interaction with him since then as you spoke only when spoken to. Outside of when you had explained the diagnostics of your weapon. You had been missing for so long, no doubt having been captured for most of it. Obeying despite not wanting to instilled in your mind for survival. You remained unmoving, as if waiting for another strike to fall on you. “Apologies.”

He was quiet, taking in the way you sat before him. When he raised his hand to point at the items on the table, he took in the way you began to flinch. He had tried to abort the movement at the realization you were worried he would strike you again. Unfamiliar guilt stuttered through his chest, prompting a heavy sigh to sound through the modulator.

“Eat, then wash off. The refresher is through that door. The soap and towels in there are for you to use, do so. I’ll be overlooking the course.” He walked away from you, leaving you kneeled on the floor. His footsteps could barely be heard as he crossed the space and disappeared up the ladder.

The Mandalorian was overwhelmed with not knowing how to interact with someone who seemed conditioned to wait for commands but could take down an assailant and a raging mudhorn with ease. It made him uncomfortable; you made him uncomfortable. Strength and ability hidden away in favor of submitting; he didn’t understand. Even if it was a survival tactic. He’d just rather fight his way through threats than submit and bid his time. Shaking his head roughly to dispel his thoughts, he reached out for the last rung on the ladder and pulled himself up to the level of the ship that held the cockpit.

The sooner he could return the Child to Nevarro, the sooner he could get you where you needed to be and off his ship.

Your stomach protested the heartiness of the ration pack. It was too heavy, even if all you had taken was two bites before realizing. The waning of the drugs in your system paired with no other food or nutrients made it hard to swallow what you did dare to intake. You didn’t want the Mandalorian to think you were ungrateful, especially after giving you the ration pack. You just stood there, staring at the opened foil of it and frowned.

You had used the refresher, taking your time washing the caked-on mud and sand from the past few days journey. You were donning the rather large, long sleeve shirt and pants that had been given to you as well. You tugged the belt from your dirty clothes and cleaned it quickly to help hold up the waist. A sigh fell unbidden from you and you pushed up the long sleeves and began to handwash the rest of your stuff in the refresher sink, leaving the unfinished pack on the table. You had carefully folded the foil to conceal what you had not been able to eat.

You were about to hang your tunic and cloak on the top of the shower stall door when you heard faint footsteps in the hold. They seemed to pause before they redirected and a knock on the refresher door sounded. Jumping slightly at the loud sound, the fabric in your hand fell to make a wet smack on the tile of the shower floor.

You abandoned in to open the door, the broad figure of armor taking up the entire open space. His visor was turned down to look at you directly, though you hadn’t the faintest clue what expression was truly on his features.

“You didn’t finish your ration pack.”

“I am grateful for your generosity, jatne vod. I…may I speak plainly?”

The visor continued to stare at you, no confirmation or denial leaving the face behind it. You felt your face heat as you were aware of how close he was, that you were in his own clothing, that the steam from your shower was still wafting through the air. Embarrassment made you heat up even more so, hating the way that it affected you so. But you were beginning to realize how pathetic you must have appeared to the man before you and continued to so do the longer you were in his presence.

“It’s… too dense on my stomach. Food wasn’t a priority for me, at the compound. And the…stuff they used to keep me contained may have worked out of my system but it’s still affecting me.”

“They kept you drugged so you wouldn’t fight.”

“Yes, jatne vod.”

“They starved you and kept you drugged.”

“They starved me in order to make food something desirable, something I would trade…companionship for.”

A knot formed in your throat, the words physically hurting you to speak aloud, keeping your head bowed enough to not make eye contact with the visor. Your cheek throbbed where the armor on his hand had sliced you. Your body was sore, your muscles exhausted from the events of the past few days on top of the particularly harsh reality you had been living for however long you had been captive. You must’ve been shaking, or your muscles twitched, or you made a face when stab of pain reverberated through your stomach as it tried to digest what little you had eaten. The flinch didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you require medical attention?”

“No. I would not want to waste your supplies.” The immediate response flew from you before you even knew the words existed. But you had no way of paying to supplement what he would use. You didn’t even know what would help beyond bacta spray for your cheek.

“Not a waste if you’re injured. You are to be returned intact.”

“…I would appreciate it, if I would be allowed to just settle somewhere and rest for a bit. If that’s amenable, jatne vod.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You’re my captor, I’m your quarry. What do you wish me to call you? Because I don’t think you’d like the term I’m using in my head.” Your eyes flared in annoyance at the man in front of you as you straightened to your full height and gazed directly into the visor. His own eyes caught the flash of emotion through the visor. You were trying to be respectful, despite the circumstances. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve pummeled them and taken off with your freedom. But he was a Mandalorian, a rather extraordinarily skilled one despite his propensity for aggravated outbursts over mundane things. And you knew when you were outmatched, especially in your prevailing weakened state.

“What were you doing in here for so long?” He peered over your head, toward the damp clothing that was hung up and then to the piece that had been left forgotten on the floor at his appearance.

“Tending to my clothes, I did not want to anger you by being in your own for too long should you need them. Mine should be dry by the time I’m done resting.”

It was silent as he entered the small space, you shifting to plaster yourself against the wall that faced the small mirror above the sink. You could only watch as he gathered the damp clothing in his hands and walked clear out of the refresher. He opened up a panel along the side of the hold space and dumped the clothing in the dark space. You didn’t protest as he did so, nor did you apologize for taking up space with them as you had tried to dry them.

“Once the Child is returned, we will find a stall for a new tunic.”

With that he moved to the concealed door that led to his own, small quarters. He opened it and disappeared inside, the door closing nearly completely behind him. The pod containing the Child had floated into the space along with him. You allowed yourself to relax just a bit, the tension pulling your shoulders taut waned and you sighed in relief. You moved to sit atop the ‘seat’ he had occupied before, with your back leaning against the siding of the space you closed your eyes and hoped your head would stop hurting soon.

You were awoken some time later by the sound of ceramic on metal. You jumped, your hair swinging with the sudden motion and your body protested the tensing of muscles. Your eyes immediately took in the form of the Mandalorian seated across from you in your previous spot. His hand was still curved around the mug he had set atop the ‘table’ in front of you. Steam wafted up from it and the faint smell of something delicious had your mouth watering. Your stomach gurgled in response to the smell, loud enough to be heard in the silence.

“Bone broth, should be easy on your stomach.”  

Eyes raked over the helmet, the dark shape of the visor in the low light of the hold space. He didn’t remove his hand from the mug, his gloved hand curled around it to display just how wide his palm was and how thick his fingers were. Your eyes snapped to the steaming mug and then back to him as he leaned forward slightly, his other arm coming to rest atop the ‘table’. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, the silence getting heavy as you realized he was about to ask for something in exchange for the delicacy that had been placed between you.

“The Child. He’s still unconscious.”

Straightening your back, stifling a groan at the action you took in the way his own shoulders were tensed, the way his legs were firmly planted on the floor of the ship. He was carrying something he wasn’t accustomed to and it was a burden that could be read on him as if he had plainly told you. The Mandalorian was worried about the Child.

“He may be older than both of us, but he is still young for his species. The Force is…a complicated thing to wield and he may have hidden his powers in the time since we were first hunted. He will be okay, his mind is recovering and his body is allowing it to happen in the safety of unconsciousness.”

Your words seem to hold what he was looking for, as his large hand detangles from around the mug to leave it sitting in front of you in a clear display that it is now yours. You try to not greedily reach out for it, your stomach making more noises as the prospect of something that smells so enticing. You bring the mug to your lips slowly, the action of swallowing making you grimace slightly as you realize you may have been out for longer than you initially thought, once again. Your cheek throbbed at the movement though you visibly relaxed as the warm, smooth liquid flowed down your throat to settle in your stomach.

A somewhat comfortable silence hung in the air, until the man across from you reached into the box you hadn’t seen atop the ‘table’ in your distraction of the mug. He pulled out a small tube that looked too much like something that would house a needle.

The clatter of the mug on metal and your uncomfortable shuffling to make yourself smaller had the visor training back on you with a quick movement. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing shallowed as thoughts of him drugging you created a feeling of foolishness to swell in your chest. He didn’t say anything as he held the tube out to you in his wide palm for you to see the label on it.

‘Bacta’ in small, all capital letters spelled out in Basic.

“For your wrists,” He set it down slowly by the mug. “So they don’t scar.”

You had been rubbing unconsciously at your sore wrists, the angry red marring the tan skin around them irritating. You hadn’t noticed you had been doing so, had probably been doing so since your departure from the compound, even around the binders he had placed on you while in the desert. You watched with cautious eyes as he stood and took the box that must hold his medical supplies in it back toward his sleeping quarters. He returned to the ‘table’ and took the tube back in his hand, popping off the protective cap to reveal a squat spray nozzle. He held out his other hand in a silent request.

Hesitantly you held your arms out, palms turned up where the most damage had been caused. Dried, ugly looking scabs decorated your skin. The area around them irritated and painful looking. He hovered his free palm below your outstretched hands and proceeded to spray in small bursts over the circumference of them. Your heartbeat fast and painful in your chest throughout the whole ordeal. He pocketed the now empty tube before leaning back out of your space. You nodded your thanks as you moved to pick the half empty mug back up, your wrists tingling as the medicine began working to heal the damage to your skin. Quiet resumed.

Once you’ve finished the mug, the contents of it sitting comfortably in your stomach, you both move to the cockpit as he announced you would be leaving hyperspace soon.

Settling into the chair behind the pilot’s seat, off to his left, you spied the pod housing the Child resting in the one to both his and your right side. The Child was still unconscious, though his chest was rising and falling evenly. The ship lurched, pulling your attention from the small being toward the open windshield of the ship. A planet taking up the airspace directly in front of it as it exited hyperspace.

Turning, the Mandalorian reached out to grasp the open lip of the pod. He gently shook it, to gauge the figure inside. But it didn’t stir, not so much as a wiggle of adorable ears or the twitch of a small nose. He turned back to face the control panel, taking the handles of the power steering in his grip. The planet grew larger, the view of it expanding as you closed in on it.

Through the atmosphere you could make out the fluorescent reds and oranges that meant it was a volcanic planet. The realization striking panic to simmer low in your abdomen. The bases of most Imperials were hidden away on planets with volcanic environments, harnessing the energy and movement of the lava to create the weapons they had used during times of war. If the lack of response to your earlier question of the Imperials being the ones to contract the Child’s return was anything to go off of, then you were positive they were here on this planet.

Rustling drew your attention, you looked over to see the Child was awake, his head popping up over the lip of the pod as he peered curiously over the top of it. He clambered down from the pod, from the chair the pod was nestled in and walked over toward the side of the pilot seat. You couldn’t see him, but you did see when one of his small green hands reached for the handle of one of the controls. The shiny top of it commanding his attention. The Mandalorian was momentarily focused on a transmission he played as it dinged in.

When the transmission ended, his attention focused on the Child beside him. The small figure had climbed up atop the control panel, small hand gripping at the top of a lever in front of him. The shiny ball of metal atop it his goal. He removed it easily, bringing it to his mouth to chew on.

“It’s not a toy.” A gloved hand grasped the back of the Child’s clothing and lifted him up. A small noise left him as he was moved back to his pod and deposited back into the confines of it. They shared a look, a soft coo sounding before the Child looked over to you with his bright eyes. You smiled at him, wiggled your fingers at him in a motion that pulled a giggle from him in his cute voice.

“Remain on the ship. I’m going to lock it down and set access coding, attempting to mess with the panels or controls will send an alert directly to me.”

You watched as the armored man stood before his storage cabinet and donned what he deemed appropriate. The act of him fastening weapons and adjusting his armor and the underling padding over his clothing seemed an invasion of privacy almost, though he hadn’t told you to leave him be or leave the room. The intimacy of knowing where he had hidden blades and extra munitions seemed to be something you should not be privy to.

You hide away in the cockpit during his absence, spending the time watching the hustle and bustle of the city through the main archway that separated the open expanse from the landing area for ships.

The city was dirty, the streets full of people and trash. The buildings were crumbling in some places, blaster damage and dirt decorating the exterior of most of them. It was seedy and it was exactly the type of environment you had spent most of your life hiding in. You didn’t miss it, having been so young when you first took to a life on the run, forced to. You took in the way people didn’t linger their gazes on anything or anyone else for too long. As if they were afraid of inciting conflict. Too common a thing in places like this.

You watched the goings-on of the main street you could see that wound its way through the center of the small city. Losing track of time, it was growing dark as the day began to bleed into night. The time of twilight taking over the planet and bathing it in blue light. The light pollution from the city shields the stars and surrounding planets from view.

When the Mandalorian returned, you had tracked his path down the main street until he had gotten too close to the ship to do so. He was alone, the pod no longer trailing beside him. But that had been the end of this mission after all. It didn’t matter that he had asked after the Child’s wellbeing as it had laid unconscious for days. His task was predetermined.

His armor was different. The plates were still secured to the same places as his previous set, but this one was all comprised of the same silver metal as his helmet and his right pauldron. Of beskar. The spoils of his mission plainly on display for all to see.

It was beautiful, it was gorgeous. It made him look even stronger and more capable, if that was even possible. You wanted to skim your hands over the smooth expanse of the plates and feel the coolness of the metal underneath them. Even as you realized it was the very embodiment of the Child being no more.

Grief for another of your kind fallen was an old friend, one that was knocking to be let back into your world after such a long absence. It was not welcome. No words were exchanged, the air holding a sense of detachment as he entered the cockpit. He was holding tension in his entire body as he moved past you and settled into the pilot chair. He punched in the coding he had set and began to power up the ship for lift off.

When he reached over to pull the lever to begin take off, he paused. The ball that normally sat atop the lever had been placed on the control panel when he had removed it from the Child’s mouth hours ago upon arrival. He held the small piece of round metal in his gloved hand, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head beneath the helmet. He slowly screwed the piece back onto the lever and he pushed it forward, his hand hovering over it after the fact.

He suddenly pulled the lever back, reached up and hit some switches. He was a flurry of quick, precise movements as he powered the ship back down just as efficiently as he had powered it on, making your heartbeat fast as you watched him do so.

He didn’t reset the access coding.

As he turned his seat around, the door to the cockpit opened. He stood beside you for the briefest of moments, offering you a curt nod that spoke volumes.

“As soon as you see me returning, ready the ship for take-off.”

“May the Force be with you, jatne vod.”

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[acourtofsnakes]

Shukur - Rogue, Chapter 36 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive!Reader

Summary: One would think that after your takedown of Haran, that things would go back to normal and be calm and happy again. Well, going by the pattern of your life so far, how likely is that?

Warnings: Violence, swearing, drinking, guilt, angst, sleazy men and implicating language

Words: 3.3k+

A/N: If you read the upload of 36 a few months back... No you didn't🙃This is restart♥︎

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal @queenofthefaceless @gallowsjoker @kirsteng42 @rosiefridayrogersunday @salome-c @amywritesthings @meganlpie @sgt-morgan

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtowngirl @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79 @mikariell95 @justdrawings101 @roxypeanut @drebi-san @quicksilvermad @sweetdayme4427

Mando'a Translation: Shukur - to break

By the Maker, you could even feel the stars outside the ship. The writhing, swirling masses of gas and dust that had become such a comfort to you over the years. 

And now you were one of them, a supernova ready to explode. 

As if feeling your body tense and twitch with the energy, a storm ready to ignite, Din turned his head to look at you. “What’s happening?” He barely breathed the words, but you could hear them as if he had shouted it in your ear, clear as day beneath the argument still going on. 

You looked up at him and he sucked in a breath, his chest constricting with the movement. “Your eyes…” 

He was right. 

You could see them in the reflection of his visor, glowing like two scarlet pools of unbridled energy beneath your lashes. 

You merely smiled at him and whispered, “Duck.” 

And then you imploded. 

Time was a funny thing.

It had been an all too real companion of yours for most of your life, and you were always aware of it. An unseen countdown slowly ticking away, hands creeping toward something you had always believed was inevitable.

Your end.

There were days where it felt as though everything was moving backwards with how slow it was going… But other times it was all too fast, the suns rising and setting before you even had a chance to take a breath and take stock of what was going on. A constant battle between too fast and too slow, leaving you caught in the middle and never quite on your feet.

And then you’d met Din.

And all of that had stopped.

Time began to act as it should again, guided by his confident, skilled hands. It allowed you to pause and breathe, to realise how far you had come and the journey you were on, as cliché as it sounded.

You were allowed to savour every moment of each day and most importantly, live rather than just survive.

But you can’t always change your destiny, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, things truly were inevitable, despite every effort to change the outcome.

So maybe you were destined to explode on that cruiser, to go up against the King of Shadows and Death and somehow take him down. You were still a little fuzzy on the details of how you managed to do so, but you’d managed to glean some information in the time since that showdown.

It was called Fold Space and it was rare. Rarer than finding a Jedi these days. Rarer than a Jawa who wouldn’t scavenge the clothes from your still breathing body.

There was only one recorded species who could use it, called the Aing-Tii and it was a method used to move an object through space, from one point to another. Even within the Aing-Tii, the method of moving a person was extremely difficult.

But you had done it.

And not just yourself, either.

You’d managed to pull Din and Grogu along with you, back to Corvus and away from the shattered remains of Moff Gideon’s ship.

You didn’t have a clue if any Haran, Gideon or Bo-Katan had survived it, and you didn’t have time to check either, because as overwhelming as the sense of relief was that your family was safe… There was something far worse crawling down the back of your neck.

Death.

You could taste it on your tongue with every breath you took, the promise of it lingering in the air and waiting to be unleashed… Because it came from you.

That living, breathing manifestation of the Force had just been freed from the cage you had so carefully crafted each moment of your life, and now that it was out, it did not want to go back in.

And that meant you were equally as deadly, and therefore a threat. Not only to this planet, but to your friends, to Din and to Grogu.

So as soon as your boots found the hard-packed earth of Corvus, as soon as you saw Ahsoka waiting with the Bad Batch and Boba and Fennec just behind… You were gone.

Just like that.

Pulling yourself back through the very fabric of space, to some forgotten planet far away from your loved ones, from anyone as those red tendrils surrounded your body, bleeding gold and black, red and white, blue and green – like every colour of every lightsaber was dancing through your body in some strange technicolour light show.

And you felt it, you felt everything.

You could feel the life in the ancient trees surrounding you, you could feel the way the air moved through the leaves and rustled the branches.

You could feel the approaching storm in the air, even though it was hours off and you felt the way the earth yearned for the flood of cool water.

But most of all, you could still feel Din.

His confusion at your departure, his fear that something had gone wrong, that maybe Haran had survived and snatched you back straight away. And then his anguish, the sting of betrayal as it dawned on him.

Because you had just broken a promise. The promise that all of this was built on and had grown from.

You had shut him out, and you had left him. Left everyone.

Time had begun to creep by again, as it had before.

Initially, in those days in the forest, it had spiralled away from you like blood in the water as you struggled to quell the rising beast inside you. It took every second of every moment, day and night to stuff that power back down where it didn’t want to retreat. You couldn’t risk hurting anyone, or anything until it was under control, so you spent two and a half weeks alone, battling to calm yourself.

And then another three days, just to be sure.

It was only then that you finally allowed yourself back to civilisation.

Well, as much civilisation as this planet could muster. You couldn’t even remember the name of it, just the important facts.

Inhabitants: Shady, definitely criminal, a mix of species. There were at least five spice runners through here alone, some disgraced pilots and possibly a fallen nobleperson or two.

Weather: Not so bad. On the cooler side you wouldn’t look out of place in the floor length hooded cloak you had picked up for yourself. The irony of who else had a cloak like this was not lost on you.

Cantinas: Literally everywhere you looked. Which suited you just fine. You didn’t stay in the same one for more than a night before moving to the next, confident in the fact the patrons were that drunk that they wouldn’t recognise you anyway.

Days without turning into a Force-fuelled firework: Nineteen. Nineteen days since you left that forest with that scarlet power churning inside your blood but under wraps… For now.

And that meant twenty-four days without Din, Grogu and the rest of your loved ones.

It really was like old times.

Back on the run, hiding out whilst trying to keep our true nature under control.

It had all gone backwards. Everything you had built and learnt about yourself, wasted.

That was the real kicker. The thing that threatened to pull you under if you thought about it for too long.

All that time with Din, learning to accept who you are, your past and your future. Letting yourself be loved, every single part of you be it dark or light and allowing yourself just… to be.

Gone. All gone.

But the difference was that you were doing it to keep your family safe. You weren’t hiding from yourself. You were putting yourself at a distance in order to protect them, something you knew you’d have to do eventually… You just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

You let a breath out through your nose, running your thumb over the beautiful ring on your left hand, trying to ignore the way your heart squeezed, and your chest tightened to the point of genuine pain.

Maybe you should just go back.

That war in your head again. Over and over.

Relief that your family and friends would be safe.

Terror that somehow Haran would find them.

Concern over your lack of control.

But most of all….

Guilt.

Soul-crushing, heart-wrenching guilt.

You despised yourself for breaking that promise, for leaving your family, your soulmate but how could you let yourself go near them? How could you allow yourself to be in a proximity which held their life in the balance?

You’d always been dangerous, but once more you were deadly, something to be feared and treated with caution.

Therefore, this was the only way to keep them safe. To take yourself away from the situation, keep your family out of harm’s way.  And it damn near almost killed you to just disappear like that, to leave them there, to leave that promise of a future – to leave the promise of marrying Din.

But all you would bring them is pain.

After all, isn’t that what the Jedi were taught?

Love and attachment caused pain and jealousy, which they believed led to the Dark side.

A backwards rule that you could never understand. A disbelief that has begun to thread that tendril of the dark side through you, probably.

If you couldn’t form attachments, if you couldn’t love someone, what was the point in fighting? How could you make those life-or-death situations if it wasn’t to save those you loved?

Didn’t that make you more like what the Sith used to be?

Your face twisted slightly as you thought about that. As much as you admired the teachings you never got to experience… those thoughts you had in Coruscant, some of them were true.

There were aspects of being a Jedi that were restrictive and oppressive.

Just like the Mandalorians, really.

But change took time, and how could the ways change when there was barely anyone left?

You still recalled the stories your parents had told you, passed from anyone and everyone who used to be Jedi, force sensitive or even just knew one with the force.

The way everything just turned upside down.

The clones, who were so loyal and fought side by side with the Jedi, mowing down anyone who had a link to the force. 

A trigger preprogramed and just waiting in slumber for ‘Order 66’.

Though their faces had blurred, lost to the thief called time, you still recalled the fear in their eyes as they told you of the carnage waged from that command.

The homes turned to rubble, the screams that tore through the night, the flashes of colour, beams of hope being quelled to the dark.

It was the reason they had become terrified that day in the market.

It was the reason they had died.

Because yet again, choice had been taken from someone and destruction had waged as a result.

Even if you had gotten the training, got to go to that once beautiful Temple on Coruscant… You probably wouldn’t have been able to stay there for long.

You doubted you’d ever have been able to be a true Jedi and you certainly wouldn’t be able to be one now, if they hadn’t been hunted. 

Not just because of the things you’d done in the past, but because you had come to realise the like between Light and Dark wasn’t as clear as some people believed.

Ahsoka had told you of her previous master, told you that he was once a great and proud Jedi, but he too challenged the things that didn’t make sense, thought of them differently, didn’t follow the tightly packed rules.

And then he had moved over. Become something else.

To be honest, you only had to look at what happened to her, the betrayals that led her to renounce the Jedi, renounce any allegiance to any side but her own and freedom.

Of course, there was Haran too. In his own sick, twisted way, he did not believe in good and bad. He believed in himself, because he too saw the way those lines had become blurred and made both good and bad fall from power.

You really needed to stop drinking; you were tiptoeing a dangerous path again.

You scowled at the shimmering blue liquid in your glass, condensation rolling down the side fron the heat of the crowd. That was part of the reason these cantinas were always full, for the break from the damp mist that hung around the place.

You reached into the pouch beneath your cloak, drawing out a few tracking fobs and bounty pucks.

Yep.

You’d taken on the role of your fiancé, picking up bounties in the past couple of weeks you’d been coherent enough to not blow a hole through the Outer Rim.

They were only small ones, within this planet only but it kept you busy, moving and gave you a reason to be lurking around in a cloak that dripped mystery and danger. The bartenders here gave them out, and since you were found propping up the bars most nights, you had first dibs.

Plus you were good at it. Not just from your time with Din but because you had very intimate knowledge of how prey behaved.

It was ironic you were on the other side of it now.

“Hey.”

A male’s voice broke your thoughts before they could get too deep, even though just that one word sounded incredibly pissed off.

You lifted your head, not even bothering to look over your shoulder, “What?” Perhaps you’d done something to annoy one of the locals. Oh well.

He was standing behind you and to your left, about a metre away, “You need to leave. Now.”

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

You held up your glass, “Oh… But I haven’t finished my drink yet. That seems unfair.” You brought it to your lips and took a sip, body relaxed, gestures casual.

The wooden floor creaked as he took a step closer, “No, what’s unfair is you taking every single bounty before any of us even get a look in. There’s been no jobs since you appeared out of the gloom.”

Still not looking at him, you slipped the pucks and fobs back into your pouch and returned your hands to the bar, “I’m pretty sure you can pick up pucks in every cantina on this dump of a planet. You could quite easily find them elsewhere.” You gestured lazily to yourself, “I’m only one person, after all. I can’t be everywhere all at once.”

The man hissed softly under his breath, your nonchalant attitude doing nothing to diffuse the situation, “You know damn well the only pucks left are off world. Some of us can’t leave the planet.”

You scoffed, shrugging and you reached for your drink again, “And? Why should your failures be any of my concern? I don’t particularly care if you’re stuck here or not, nor am I going to stop taking bounties just beside you asked me to.”

So maybe recent events had brought that infuriating, cocky attitude back out.

Clearly, he didn’t know the rumours surrounding you here, because his hand snapped out and grasped your wrist before you could pick up your drink, “You’re a cocky little bitch, aren’t you?”

You were dancing on a knife edge here but holding in this mutated version of the Force was making you pent up, temper constantly on a hair trigger and you needed to let the energy out somehow.

Obviously, you couldn’t use the Force without the possibility of carnage, so… brawls and bar fights had often followed in your wake on this planet.

But there was something beautiful about the way the entire cantina quietened, all eyes shifting to you, waiting to see if they needed to duck and cover. Or rather, start exchanging credits and bets on who would win.

You finally turned to look at him, a Twi’lek bounty hunter, your eyes flashing and a smile lifting your lips that was all sharp teeth and chaos, “I suggest you let go of me.”

He leaned in, matching your smirk, except that his dripped with ugly male arrogance, “Or what, sweetheart? You have a mouth on you. Maybe it should be put to better use.”

The silence lasted all of three beats, before you grabbed his wrist with your other hand, suddenly twisting it up and back, forcing his body to bow down over the bar, “Oh yeah, and how would that work?”

The Twi’lek growled in pain, squirming against your hold, “Let me go and maybe I’ll show you, bitch.”

You laughed softly, a velvety noise, “Still thinking with something other than that head, huh?” You slipped from the stool, planting a foot firmly behind his knee so his body sagged and there was a satisfying pop from his shoulder. You let go of him, allowing him to drop to the floor in a heap as he clutched his dislocated shoulder, “You aren’t putting up much of a fight.”

The other patrons of the cantina had come closer, murmuring amongst themselves as credits started to be waged.

The male grunted, ducking his head but suddenly he sprung around, going for your throat with a blade in hand, “You’re not worth it.” He swiped the blade through the air, a vicious thing with a serrated edge, and what appeared to be dried blood on the blade.

You danced back lightly on the balls of your feet, dropping the hood of your cloak, bringing out your own trusty vibroblade, “Hey, no need to hurt my feelings.” Your blood hummed to unsheathe your lightsabers which were carefully hidden in the folds of your cloak.

You ducked under his arm, using the shift of his weight to move behind him and deliver a blow to the middle of his back.

The Twi’lek choked, really getting furious now as he stumbled up against the bar. He pushed off immediately, diving for you and feinting to the right.

You didn’t need the force to see that one coming, but what you didn’t count on was the other Twi’lek male suddenly behind you, who pinned your arms and lifted you a few inches from the ground.

You squirmed, granting him a snarl, “Get your filthy hands off me.”

His friend, your original opponent chuckled in a way that had the hairs on your arms rising, “Keep her still.”

Then his fists were upon you, first in your cheek, splitting the skin and then your nose which cracked immediately under his ringed fist.

You groaned at the sudden burst of pain, the salty blood pouring into your mouth, but you didn’t hesitate in slamming your head back into the face of the one restraining you, at the same time you kicked back into his knees. It was only a matter of seconds, in between one punch and the next.

The effect was instantaneous, and you dropped into a crouch, so the original males fist flew into your captor’s face, sending him into the jeering, yelling crowd.

The distraction at your advantage, you stayed low and swept the males feet from beneath him.  You followed him down, dropping to your knees on his body hard enough to break at least three ribs.

A wicked grin curled your lips, blood painting your teeth from your nose as you flipped the vibroblade in your hand, holding it in the same backward grip you’d adopted from Ashoka, “Still want me to put my mouth to use?” You dug the edge of the blade against his throat, more than happy to make him bleed.

“That’s enough.”

Everything in you went rigid.

That voice. One that was rough and authoritative, demanding attention and submission.

His voice.

The air in the room tightened, the cheering and rabid yelling choking off as if he’d sucked the air from the room with his mere presence.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, your knife still at the Twi’lek’s throat.

There he was, in the doorway of the cantina with the dim lights bouncing off the angles of that imposing armour.

Face shielded and shadowed as usual, but you knew full well that those brown eyes were trained on you.

He’d found you.

Din.

#rogue #rogue series #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x jedi!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive!reader #pedro pascal #star wars

[djarinterstellar]

Kiss It Better

Summary: After narrowly escaping a dicey mission-gone-wrong, Din quickly realizes the byproduct of his consequences have followed him onboard the Crest, in the worst, most personal way.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

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Tags/Warnings: now from the top (make it drop), we got some Possessed!Din + canon typical violence, bloodshed, physical injury and some (sloppy) Force usage in the beginning. Reader is Force-Sensitive💫 (not a Jedi). there was an attempt™️ at touching on Witchcraft. Possessed!Din will get violent with Reader against his will ☹️ but we’ll get extra-soft!Din to make up for it. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, eventual SMUT. Oral Sex, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected PinV, the Helmet Comes Off Tonight. No use of Y/N, this is 3rd person POV so Reader will be “she/her”. Established relationship from a universe i’m working on lmao. Takes place sometime mid-season 2.

Rating: M, 18+ only!

Word Count: About 9.3k lmao

A/N: While studying for my notary exam, I was tortured by this mini emo scenario that I had to write down and what started as a prompt escalated into a week of me pouring myself into this. 😭 That being said, I apologize for nothing—

Also a super quick shout out and thank you to @generoustimemachineconnoisseur for beta-reading and giving me the motivation I needed to post this! 💓💓

• cyar = love

✪ ✪ ✪

This was a mistake.

Grogu was peeking out from her tote bag and was clutched to her chest as she dashed through the endless myriad of tunnels, eyes frantic and pupils blown wide open as she searched into the darkness.

“Din! Din!” she hissed desperately.

She should’ve gone instead. He should’ve stayed with the kid. This was her idea to begin with after all.

Din didn’t ask to land knee-keep in the darkened swamp forests of Mimban. She was the one who was following up on the rumors of this particular forest. Whispers of a powerful Force wielder that hid out in the underground caves. She wasn’t a Jedi, nor a Sith— but rather, a witch. A (no pun intended) force of her own to be reckoned with. Sure, it was an unconventional route for her to follow, unorthodox even. And Din had even said it to her in the cockpit. But she was allegedly one of the very few true witches left in the galaxies, and it was her own idea to track her down in hopes of not only possibly being pointed in the direction of a Jedi, but also understanding how to use and access the Force from alternative methods, ones that didn’t require training to become a good wizard or a bad wizard.

As luck would have it, Uma was a witch. There was just one small problem. She just so happened to dabble with forces of the.. darker nature; the same shit that the Sith used to harness their own powers. Which meant Uma was basically cut from the same cloth as the (ex) Emperor and the forces that ruled the Empire.

Then, when Uma saw the baby, her very being shifted almost entirely. The witch had picked up on Grogu’s power almost instantly, the type of raw and untapped energy that could only come from a child so young and pure. Uma had decided then and there that she had to harness his power; the Jedi be damned, the potential a source this good had was limitless. And Uma needed it.

Which is how she’d found herself here just over an hour later, scrambling through the tunnels, searching for a way back to above ground while also calling for Din. In his rage upon realizing her true motive, he shoved Grogu into her arms and ordered her back to the ship before running after Uma; he was determined to give them time to escape while he killed her himself. But this was no ordinary bail jumper, or petty thief. Witches were notoriously deceptive and powerful wielders of the Force in their own right, one of the only few concepts she understood more than Din could. Him being left alone with an ancient bog witch was a huge risk, even for him.

Fuck, where is he??

“Red!” she hissed, her voice bouncing down depths of the walls in front of her. Her old nickname for him still stuck for her, and even though Din no longer wore that old scrappy suit of his, he was as stubborn and hardheaded as he’d ever been with or without it.

A moment later, they heard it: multiple blaster shots coming from a tunnel to their left. Din.

Grogu squirmed uncomfortably in her sling bag and cooed worriedly. Despite her panic and the frantic thrum of her heart pounding in her ears, she could sense the baby’s anxiety swelling in little bursts. She shushed him softly, gently petting the top of his head. She forced herself to sigh to calm her nerves. Even if she was terrified, she had to keep it together if only for the kid’s sake.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll find him,” she whispered to him, quickly following the sound. Sure enough, there were strong vibes coming from this direction. Had he found Uma in there?

When she rounded the last corner, her heart swelled. There, across the dim and damp cave this tunnel led to, with his back turned to her, was Din. He was alone and unmoving, but his hands were to his side, no clenched fists or weapons on the ready.

“There you are!” she sighed out in relief, already picking up her pace to reach him. “Gods, I was starting to get worri-!“

Wait-

The shots.. Where is his blas—

Then Din turned around, and she froze. The Force was talking, screaming to her right now in a way that made her stomach turn. He was standing with his shoulders stiffened and his legs spread apart, but his back was almost coiled, his helmet tilted so very slightly, as he looked right at her. Normally she could gauge when he was looking at her, but this stare was different. In fact, everything about his body language felt.. off. She didn’t know how to explain it, but when Grogu’s ears sunk flat against his little head, that was when she knew she was right: something was wrong.

“..Din?” she called to him, her voice so much softer this time. Her heartbeat picked up, and her blood began pumping into her eardrums again. He didn’t move for a moment, but his head tilted further off to the side and this time, she could feel his eyes drilling a hole into her skull.

“Theere you are,” he suddenly cooed, in a voice so low and so candidly sinister, that it sent goosebumps down all 4 of her limbs. He fully turned his body towards her in a move so fluid, he almost looked like a droid. It was then she felt, or rather sensed, a shadowy aura around him; it consumed him, enveloped around him like a viper, and it was angry, ancient and malevolent.

“Wh- ” her voice cracks and she quickly clears her throat, sweat building in the back of her neck. “-where is she?”

“It’s all right now.” Din all but purred at her. He held a hand out towards her, coaxing her to cross the room to him. “Grogu?”

Grogu stiffened in her arms.

His helmet tilted down, his voice dropping to an almost ominous drawl. “It’s time to go home.”

Get out. It’s the only message the Force is giving her right now. Get out get out get out get out.

She began backing up inch by inch, her grip tightening around the baby.

Din could already see her and called her name out, her real name, “don’t.” he warned darkly.

“Din,” she tried again, her voice starting to shake against her will. “where is she?”

Din took a step towards her, and her nerves began to scramble. Her body is telling her to run but her eyes are still racing across the room. And it’s when she cranes her head up to look for a ceiling that she sees her: Uma is standing at least 2 stories above them, a pair of glowing red eyes that weren’t there before looking directly at her. Her long arms are spread out by her sides and if it wasn’t for the patch of rock ledge sticking out below her feet, she would’ve looked like she was floating.

The witch suddenly cocked her head to the side in a distorted stretch, a move Din followed in perfect sync with her.

Her face dropped in horror and she felt the blood drain from her face. No, no, no, no..

Uma’s eyes darted for a split second to the baby in her arms before she once again made direct eye contact with her. She’s quiet for a beat too long before she speaks in a distorted, inhumane hiss:

“Kill her.”

She only had time to spot Din reach for his holster, and in a single swift move, she stuffed Grogu completely inside her bag and took off behind her. She’d just barely missed the single blaster shot that grazed the rocks where she stood and she didn’t bother sticking around to talk any more sense into Din.

Whatever the witch had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t her Mandalorian. And she didn’t even have time to find out how to break this spell. Din had told her this time and time again before; when push came to shove, if the situation were to ever go south, the Child was always to be her first priority. Reuniting Grogu with his people was the most important of all missions, and if it came down to it, yes, even more important than Din’s own well-being. Time was not on her side right now, she had a limited number of priorities she could manage and in this moment, getting Grogu to the ship was at the top of that list.

She ducked around as many corners as she could see, in hopes of confusing him long enough to find an escape. She could still somewhat remember the way they came in, but none of these tunnels looked familiar to her right now.

Then, as she passed another triad of tunnels, she felt it: the familiar scent of rainwater and wet earth, a cool breeze that could only come from above ground tickling her ankles, and all coming from one specific direction. She was getting closer. She sprinted into the middle tunnel, the Force whispering to her in words she could never make out. Whatever they were saying, they were taking her the right way and that was all she needed.

She was rounding the corner when she heard another set of shots from behind her, and this time they were uncomfortably close to her head. “S-Shit!” she squealed, ducking low. She spotted a little opening behind a layer of rocks against the wall. It was just big enough for her hide in so she wasted no time, slipping behind them and pressing her back as far into the walls as she could go. She pulled her bag into her chest and pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe through her nose, air coming out in rapid and shaky little huffs.

For a moment it was quiet, and she almost thought he’d gone the other way. Then, Din called her name, practically singing it as he rounded the corner from the last tunnel she ran into, followed immediately by a sweetly-ominous, “Groguu.” It made her hold her breath, her heart ramming against her rib cage.

He walked slower this time. He’d heard her footsteps stop, which told him she was nearby. She took in one last breath and forced herself to close her eyes.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. Focus, focus..

“Sweetheaart,” Din cooed, slowly unsheathing his vibro blade. His voice is mostly there, but even with the modulator, she can hear the disembodied growls filtering through and overwhelming him.

Focus.

Remember. She can’t command her access to the Force. The Force has to come to her.

Din let his blade swipe loudly against a wall of rock in a piercing screech.

She almost flinched. Then, one of her hands pressed onto the floor, fingers digging into the softer ground. She focused on her surroundings, trying to map out the cluster of channels around her.

“You can’t hide forever, pretty girl.” (mostly) Din drawled. His heavy footsteps loomed closer, taking his time as he was undoubtedly trying to find her heat signature.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, digging her fingertips deeper into the earth. She searched the tunnels, scanning the walls, feeling every crack, every crevice, reading the pattern of fractures in the bedrock, until..

Bingo!

Just as she felt Din’s body hover over her, they both heard it; the collapse of loose rocks to Din’s right. His helmet snapped towards it instantly before he quickened his pace and turned the corner, following the sound.

She opened her eyes and shakily exhaled. Holy shit, it worked!

She didn’t stick around to celebrate though. The second he was out of sight, she slipped out of her hiding spot and took off in the opposite direction. Her little mental map had also confirmed her instinct; this was the right direction to head back to land. And the tunnels proved it— sunlight was starting to peek through the little cracks in the ceilings the further she went.

Then, she felt a prickle along the back of her neck. Behind you—

She whirled around and her hand shot back up with a gasp, Force-freezing Din right on time before he could bring his blade down. She held him there for a moment, trying to read him.

“Din, snap out of it!” she strained. He snarled at her in response, trying to push back against her with his full weight.

She released him, throwing him back as far as she could go with a breathless pant. She watched his body skid to a stop before she stretched her hand out again. She felt the Force around his body and her fingers clenched. She lifted him off the ground and threw him again, this time around a corner and into the next hallway down, this time not caring where he landed, nor waiting to find out.

She ran ahead, her grip tightening around the baby. Her lungs were on fire, but her legs were numb, they could hardly feel just how much work she was putting into them. But she was getting closer. She could hear the water drippings get louder, which told her they were getting close to the waterfalls up above. Then, there it was; a cave opening just ahead, where she could see trees, fog and the greying skies on the other side. Thank gods, she was almost there!

Her heart swelled with revived hope. Then, she heard a familiar whizz fly by her ear. She looked up and saw it— a grenade rolling to a stop nearby, ticking down its final second by second.

Shit-!

She dipped left to get as fast and as far away as she could before it detonated, sending her flying forward. She crash-landed just before the opening, Grogu slipping out and rolling just a few feet away with a squeak. She grunted and hissed in pain, straining to get up before freezing. Din was coming, but he wasn’t close enough to spot them yet.

They were bathed in smoke and ash from the explosion and she had an opening of just a few precious seconds left, so she gently Force-pushed Grogu against the walls before looking into his eyes. “Honey I need you to hide, okay?” she whispered, tears threatening to blur her vision as she motioned with her hands and covered her eyes. A physical cue that she’d taught Grogu when they had playtime. Hide!

His ears perked up in understanding and he sunk further into the shadows of the walls, his tan robe blending into the bedrock. She sighed in relief. As long as he stayed there, he’d be safe. For now.

Then, a gloved hand gripped tightly around her ankle. Before she could gasp, she was dragged into the smoke and yanked right into Din’s grasp. She yelped out as she grabbed his wrist this time, his vibro-blade just inches from her face.

“D-Din!” she cried out to him again, her eyes blown wide open to search his visor. “Din, wake up!”

His growl was almost animalistic and it sent a wave of panic through her system.

With another grunt, she bent his wrist and kneed him in the groin, causing him to drop his blade. She kicked herself away from him and scrambled to her feet, snatching his blade with one hand and pulling out her blaster with the other. She panted, sweat brimming across her forehead as she aimed her blaster at him. “Don’t make me do this, Red!” she warned him shakily.

He rose to his feet as soon as he landed, his armor rising and falling with his slow breathing. He cocked his head towards her, taking in her smaller form before he lunged at her once more.

She shot several blasts towards his knees. His armor was impenetrable, but she knew every inch of his beskar like the surface of his bed and she knew exactly where to reach skin when she needed it. The plasma bolts singed his knee pads enough to make him stumble forward and she used his weight against him to knock him to the floor. She pocketed his knife and Force-pinned him down with her free hand, causing him to squirm and wrestle under her grip. She had just enough time to force his blaster out of his grasp, when she suddenly heard an ear-splitting shriek from inside her brain.

Uma.

It was enough to distract her and break her hold on Din, her hands shooting up instead to try and muffle the awful sound. A second later, her legs were swept out from under her. She landed face up on the ground with a groan before a slab of beskar pressed onto her chest. Din sat over her to pin her down before both hands wrapped around her neck. Then, he began to squeeze.

And that’s when she began to panic. His grip was instant, and intentional. With her air supply cut off, she immediately began struggling underneath him, choking out whimpers and unintelligible pleas up at him. Her hands pulled and yanked and scratched at his wrists but his grip held like stone. The tighter he squeezed, the stronger she felt Uma’s control over him, and the longer her lungs screamed to breathe, the more her hope began to wilt that she’d be able to bring him back.

But the worst part was watching him, how cold and unresponsive he otherwise was as he watched her struggle below him. He might as well have been a stranger, the ruthless asshole bounty hunter she’d met on their first day. Like he was crushing helpless prey instead of his own partner.

“D-“ her chokes melted into strangled sobs, hot tears rolling down her temples. She couldn’t even say his name anymore. He said nothing back to her, the only sounds coming out of his modulator was his grunts as he dug his gloves deeper into her neck.

Din..! He couldn’t hear her through the Force, but it didn’t stop her from trying anyway. With every awful passing second, her brain grew foggier and her body became heavier. She was starting to see black spots in her vision and just before she thought she would pass out, he stopped squeezing.

His body stiffened and he was suddenly thrown back and off of her. Her chest rose as she sucked in as much oxygen as she could take before she started coughing, her vision spinning as she refilled her lungs. She craned her neck and there, through the fading black spots behind her eyes, stood little Grogu. His tiny arm was outstretched, pinning his father down with far more ease than she ever could, his big brown eyes squinted in concentration.

Din was dragged across the floor and his limbs were splayed out and pinned down. He began to struggle and growl, a disembodied snarl coming from behind his own voice. He almost looked and sounded like an animal caught in a trap and the longer he struggled, the angrier he became. But Grogu wasn’t done yet. He started walking forward, keeping him in place and as she sat up, she realized the Child was doing a little Force-reading of his own.

Then, her skin began to prickle again. The witch. She was on her feet and looked up just in time to see Uma practically flying towards Grogu with a piercing shriek. Without a second thought, she threw her body in between them, tackling her sideways before she could cross the room. She rolled over and onto her feet, bringing both hands up to hold Uma in place and fling her body away from the baby. The witch landed on her toes and redirected her focus on her instead.

“You have been a nuisance for far too long!” Uma snarled, her red eyes brimming with rage, before her dominant hand shot up.

She was thrown backwards with a far more powerful shove and smashed into the wall behind her so hard, she almost blacked out again. Uma stalked towards her, lifting her off the ground and pinning her body to the walls as she drew closer. “And for that,” she continued. “I’m going to kill your little boyfriend first and make you watch before I cut you open.”

She cried out, straining against Uma’s hold. She was strong, much stronger with the Force than she’d hoped for. She sucked in a breath as the witch closed the distance between them, her clawed hand lightly dragging her nails across the skin of her cheek.

Suddenly, Uma folded over and shrieked, almost in pain. And from over her shoulder, she saw why. Grogu’s eyes were now closed, his tiny little hand pressed to the forehead of Din’s helmet as he sat on his chest. Din was still pinned down but yelling out in strangled pain as a thin, misty fog started puffing out from the pores of his armor. He was trying to break Uma’s hold on Din.

Both of them let out a particularly haunted joint-wail, and she felt Uma’s hold on her loosen. This was the inch she needed. Sliding down the wall, she reached for her leg holster, unsheathed Din’s blade and in one swift upper-cut, pierced it straight into Uma’s heart. She glared into the witch’s eyes as they faded from neon red back to a hollow black.

“Cut this open, bitch.” she snarled at her, before pulling out the blade and slitting her throat open without a moment of hesitation. Her body crumpled to the floor, where she disintegrated into a pile of ash. Instantly, the purple smog around Din broke free, sending him gasping for air. Grogu let him go, and his tiny body plopped down onto his chest plate from the amount of energy he’d just spent.

Her own body collapsed to the floor as she fully broke free as well, breathless, shaking and drenched in sweat as she gathered herself.

Din groaned weakly, his chest rising and falling heavily, and this time, she recognized his voice. She was still trembling too hard to walk, so she crawled over to him, gasping as her head hovered just above his helmet.

“Din..?” she whimpered, and his helmet shot towards her. His gasps were sharp as he reached for her and whispered her name back to her, making her heart swell with relief.

“Din!” she sighed and pressed her forehead to his helmet and held onto it as close as she could. She shivered as she felt one of his hands slide into her hair, gently pressing back against her forehead. She pulled back and looked at Grogu, who was now tittering on the edge of passing out. His energy was all but spent, but it didn’t stop her from picking him up and pulling him into her arms in a tight hug.

“You did so good, little one!” she praised him tearfully, planting sweet little kisses along the top of his head, and she leaned into Din as he sat up to wrap his arms around them both. She looked back up at Din, tears brimming her eyes as she gently cradled his helmet with a free hand. “Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.

He huffed softly and pressed his helmet against her forehead, his hand sliding into the small of her back. “I should be asking you that.” he half-joked, and it made her laugh despite herself. She cradled Grogu in her arms and buried herself into the crook of Din’s cowl, refusing to pull away from him as he stroked her hair and rubbed her back. “Thank you.” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking right towards the end, and all she could do was nod into his collarbone.

They sat like this for several moments until Din had gathered himself enough to pull them both to their feet. “We have to go,” he instructed her softly and she simply nodded in agreement. “Can you walk?” he asked her with a gentle hand on her arm and she nodded again, cradling the baby closer to her. They couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

They hurried out of the caves and back onto land, crossing the fields to where the Crest was waiting. Din was first in the cockpit, bringing the ship back to life while she got Grogu settled. He was fast asleep by the time they got back so she placed him in his hover pod, gently tucking him in and stroking his ears as she watched him breathe. As small as he was, her skills in the Force paled in comparison to his; his potential really was endless, but more than just the miracles he could perform, or the way he could lift things a hundred times his size with a flick of his little claw; it was his heart and his unconditional love for Din that brought her to her knees. He was already halfway through breaking through Uma’s curse by the time she was able to strike, if anything he probably could’ve ended it all himself. He was as rare as beskar itself, and just as pure. And she would give her life a thousand times over to protect him if she could.

She didn’t allow herself to breathe until she felt the ship lift off the ground and carry them back into space. And it wasn’t until she felt them lurch into hyperspace that she finally let her body relax and close the lid on Grogu’s pod to let him nap peacefully.

She started for the ladder to the cockpit and almost jumped out of her skin when she turned around to find Din mid-jump as he landed on the deck from upstairs. He stopped and seemed almost as surprised to see her. “How is he?” he asked softly.

“He’s fine,” she nodded reassuringly, crossing her arms in front of her. “he’s gonna be asleep for a while until he regains his strength.”

He nodded back in response. “Good. He could use th..” he suddenly trailed off, his body frozen as he stared at her.

She blinked back at him in alarm when he said nothing else. “..What?” she asks. “What is it?”

Din didn’t move immediately, and for a moment she was almost terrified that somehow Uma was still in there, but then he crossed the room and closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to gently cradle her face. He craned her head further up and what she saw from the reflection of his helmet gave her an answer. Basked in the full light of the Crest, red and purple bruises were starting to set around her neck, in the perfect shape of his hands. A broken exhale came out of his modulator and she realized his hands were trembling.

“Cya’rika, I..” he breathed out, and the raw ache in his voice drove a stake straight into her heart.

“Din..” she tried to start, but he only further craned her neck up, his gloved fingers ghosting over her skin as he took in the full sight of her injuries. His breathing began to come out in broken pants, and his fingers only shook harder.

“I hurt you..” his voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard the crack under it.

She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach and she quickly began to shake her head in disagreement. “Shh, no no-“ she tried to ease him, her own hands coming up to press over his gloves. “-you didn’t..”

“I almost killed you,” he croaked, his own guilt quickly overwhelming him. “and all I could do was watch.” He paused, gently stroking her face before his helmet tilted to the floor. “I could feel.. I could see everything that witch was making me do. I watched myself strangle you, I looked into your eyes and no matter how hard I tried to scream or fight, I couldn’t stop myself.”

She shook her head again as she pulled him closer. “No, no..” she whimpered, bringing her fingers up to her neck. She wanted to reassure him, to try to let him know that she didn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him. She refused to let that kind of guilt hover over him, not when she knew how long he was capable of carrying that weight on his shoulders. “She did this to me.”

“With my hands.” he growled, before sighing heavily and shaking his own head. “I’m s..” his voice cracked again and he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “I’m so sorry, mesh’la. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough and it almost cost me you.”

“S-Shhh..” she soothed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t blame you.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to gently grab and kiss his helmet. “Not for a single moment do I blame you.”

A broken exhale huffed out of the modulator and his hands found her waist and the small of her back. He pressed her as close as his armor allowed her to be and she fully leaned into him, nuzzling her nose against the very center of the T-shape. Then, she pulled back and peered up into the black of his visor— she’d never looked into his eyes before, yet somehow, Din felt like she could still see him. Her fingertips gently cupped the hollowed out “cheeks” of his helmet, before her lashes fluttered down to where his lips would be.

“Din..” All she needed was his name. Whispered in a voice so soft and vulnerable, yet laced with an ache of her own so cutting and subtle, only he could make it out clear as day. All she needed was his name to shift the air completely.

His breath caught in the modulator, gloved hands cradling her face, his thumbs gently wiping her tear stains dry. “Are you sure?”

He had to ask. His answer was always the same, but he always asked first, whether it was out of respect, politeness, Creed or if he just wanted to make sure. She had to smile before leaning back in, this time planting a full kiss on the very front of his helmet while he watched from the other side. Her hands slid down his chest plates until they found his padded waist, squeezing the thick fabric down there anyway to pin their hips closer together. “Please..” she whimpered against his beskar, and the sweet little whine in her voice was more than enough for him to surrender to her.

He swallowed and nodded once at her. On cue, her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed, wetting her lips slightly.

First came the click and hiss, and before she could jump from the loud clang of his helmet hitting the floor, his lips were on hers. She gasped against him, her hands immediately flying to cradle his bare face. It’d been only a few weeks since they started kissing. But it had shifted everything; from the sex, to his body language towards her, their daily small talks, even how they both interacted around the kid, they were drawn to each other now in a way they hadn’t experienced yet. He was reasonably awkward and clumsy at first, but he was a fast learner and she loved being his target practice. And even though it’d already become somewhat of a nightly ritual, it always felt like the first time every single time.

He was quick to crowd her, pressing her against the wall behind her. He ripped his gloves off to tangle his fingers into her hair, his tongue already sliding in between her lips to taste her. She audibly moaned into his lips, her eyebrows kneading together in longing. His hands grew impatient, sliding them down her sides, trailing her curves and when she felt them cup the back of her thighs, she knew to jump into his touch and wrap her legs around his waist. He parted their lips to lift her with ease, groaning as she takes advantage of her new height to eagerly pull him back in. Her back finds the coolness of the steel wall again and she shudders, her fingers tangling into the mess of soft hair she adores now.

And it isn’t until he runs of breath that he shifts direction, his parted lips leaving soft kisses on her cheeks and her temples. He slows down to kiss her forehead, nuzzles their noses, and leans in for one more closed-mouth kiss before he slowly brings them down and across her jaw. She sighs and cranes her head up to give him access and it’s then she realizes her bruises are still a little sore, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her they were still there. Yet his touch is light as air. His lips are soft and slow, his hand is warm to the touch and he cradles and kisses her skin so tenderly, she starts forgetting they came from the same pair of hands.

The first unfiltered sound she hears is when he starts whispering sweet little nothings in Mando’a into her skin, repenting to her, and eventually he allows a little Basic to slip through. “..my pretty, precious girl.. don’ even deserve you..” He kisses a soft spot on the nape of her neck and she whines, a little shudder running down her spine and settling into her core.

She instinctively rocks against his hip and he groans again, burying his perfectly curved nose into her shoulder. “Tell me what you want, angel,” He slips his hand from her neck and lightly trails it to the small of her back. “Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

This was her Din. Behind the layers of armor and weapons, the walls around his rules, his loyalty, his Creed, under his grief, his stubbornness and his rage, was a selfless, doting and softhearted soul. He was all mush with sweet gestures, a voice like melted sugar and small, soft touches. He rarely vocalized his devotion to her in public; those were usually left for the pitch black safety of his living quarters. This was her Din, and it was exactly what she wanted.

She’s gasping as she blindly traces his face, letting her fingers trail lower until she finds one of his shoulder pauldrons. “O-Off,” she pleads, her lips finding his temple and kissing his soft skin. “I want all of you.”

Din doesn’t hesitate. She’s off the wall in an instant and she hugs his neck to nuzzle his nose. Din’s eyes never leave her face, watching with a mix of awe and genuine tenderness as she kept her eyes firmly closed for him. She made fun of virtually everything else about him, but she never once questioned the Way. He was used to the jokes and the stereotypes by now, and she wasn’t any different at first either. But she was never cruel, or purposely harmful. She’d accepted the barriers in their intimacy from the very beginning and she was never once doubtful about it. It was something he hadn’t experienced with anyone else before, even from those in the covert. Everything about this was new to him, and it made his heart pound like nothing else had before.

He rounds the corner into his bed chamber, she cuts the lights with a quick smack on the wall as he clicks the door shut, darkness swallowing them whole. He kisses her again and sits her onto his bed. He’s quick with his armor, tossing each piece in one spot next to him on the floor for him to deal with later. Once she has hands on his flight suit, she makes quick work of zipping him out.

They’re both gasping at this point, her hands slipping down to make work of his belt as he rips his undershirt off. Once he’s able to step out of his pants, he grabs her waist and pulls her close, claiming her lips once more. Her clothes are easier to handle, and he’s effortless with how quickly he can get her out of her chest band. He gently lays her out on his cot, his knees fencing her in underneath him. His large hands start on the outside of her thighs. They’re strong and warm to the touch, tracing the curves of her hips and waist. They trail over the soft skin of her stomach and she sucks in a gasp, goosebumps trailing behind his fingers like prints in the snow.

“So soft..” she hears him whisper above her, fingers mapping out her ribcage before he gently cups her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the buds of her nipples and she whimpers under his feathery touch.

“Diin,” she calls for him and arches her back. He responds by taking one of the hardened buds in his mouth, which finally pulls a moan out of her. His sigh is a strangled groan and he makes quick work of her breasts, teasing, squeezing and pinching exactly where she likes it with one hand while he suckles and tastes the other. He knows just where she’s sensitive the most and he uses it to his full advantage until she’s physically mewling and whimpering under him, her back arched up desperately into him.

He tastes her other nipple when his hand slips down in between them. Her jaw drops as his fingers find the thin cloth of her underwear, rubbing a teasing circle around the exact area of her swollen clit. His name becomes a whimpered little chant as she begs for more friction, hips driving into his hand.

“Oh gods, please—!” she’s getting shameless now, shudders running down her spine as he gets braver. His mouth travels further south, hands pressing her into the cot while he tastes the salt of her skin. He parts her legs and kisses down the inside of her thighs, the scruff of his beard ghosting over her nerves. She whines again when he slows down on purpose to gently suck on a spot on her hip.

Then she feels his head dip and hears him inhale slowly and a blush of realization creeps across her cheeks. “Already, pretty girl?” he teases lightly, his fingers sliding across the soaked fabric of her underwear and she chokes, her hips already bucking into him. He chuckles softly and smooches the flesh on her thigh. “Easyy cyar,” his voice has dipped an octave lower and his words are dripping out like softened honey. His touch on her hip melts into her skin. “lift up.”

She obeys and he slips it down and off with calculated ease as he slots himself in between her legs. She can feel his breath ghosting over her skin, his big warm hands digging into the flesh of her hips, and then his tongue laps up her folds and she blurts out a throaty moan. He starts slow, tasting every inch of her, mapping her out and she allows it, fisting his hair as the air is sucked out of her.

Her moan spikes up as he inches around her clit, and he pauses over her to chuckle before he starts smooching around the bundle of nerves once, twice. “Di- “ she’s cut off when he palms her, two fingers sliding in between her folds to massage her nerves there. He hums low in his chest, collecting and spreading her arousal and allows her to buck against his touch. He looks up as he teases and massages her folds, palming her clit as his middle finger circles her entrance. She’s squirming under him, whimpering incoherently. She’s flushed and desperate, her back arching when she feels his tongue flick across her nipple.

“Is this what you want?” he purrs, sliding his middle finger inside, making her exhale sharply. He growls as he finally dips into her pussy; she’s warm and wet and tight, and the sensation sends a shocking pulse into his cock. He starts pumping his finger in and out, feeling her out as she’s pulled apart inch by inch. Her moans climb into a sweet octave and he swears she sounds like a songbird.

“Already so wet for me, ” Din marvels and she whimpers back at him. How can she bring herself to tell him he’s the only person who’s ever made her this vulnerable when she can’t even get his name out without moaning? Her breath hitches as a second digit slips inside, and Din moans softly from her grip. She cries out as he starts fucking her faster, his mouth returning to the bundle of nerves now swollen and pulsing in arousal.

“Din!” Her jaw is slack, fingers dug and tangled in his hair. She’s bucking shamelessly into his face and Din groans against her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her with relative ease.

“That’s my girl.” he murmurs between wet kisses, ducking his head to suckle the center of her core, drawing more mewls out of her. “Fuck.. you taste so fucking good..” he whispers, before flicking his tongue mercilessly around her clit. She’s then rendered breathless when he fucks her deep and starts flicking his fingertips back and forth against the little bundle of nerves on the roof of her core, and with his larger digits, it’s a spot he can reach so much easier than she could on her own. “Right there?” he has the nerve to growl against her pussy, making her physically throb around him.

“Y-Yes!” she’s practically sobbing by now, riding his face as he moans into her skin. She’s embarrassingly close but he refuses to let up, if anything, it only drives him to speed up. His thumb presses over her slick clit, rubbing it in quick circles around that spot, fingers flicking up faster inside of her.

“Cum for me then,” he moans out her name to encourage her. His cock is stiff, tight and still fully pressed fully into his boxers, but he refuses to give attention to anything else until she’s peaked. “Let me hear you, princess.”

“Din.. Din.. fuckbabyfuckfuck- !” she’s an incoherent mess now, one hand tangled into his hair, the other had found his hand supporting her waist, and now had their fingers fully intertwined. She’s close, her thighs twitching and tensing harder around him as her moans escalate. It only takes a few more flicks and she falls apart, her back arched to the ceiling as she releases a guttural scream. He uses their intertwined hands to hold her down as her hips buck wildly against him and he moans against her skin, refusing the stop his ministrations until she’s fully ridden the length of her high. It takes a few long moments but the euphoria blinds her and she wholly surrenders to it.

When she does finally descend, she’s trembling and breathless, her pants coming out in high-pitched whimpers. Din has already pulled out and is kissing up her stomach, crawling back over her, whispering sweet words of praise in what she thinks is Mando’a except she can barely hear.

When she feels his lips start on her neck, she’s regained control of her limbs again and she grips his jaw, luring his face back to eye level. She kisses him first and he consumes her, parting her lips until she can taste herself on his tongue. Her body wraps itself around every inch of him, both of her hands slipping in between them to finally free his cock. He’s one step ahead, slipping his boxers off to finally free his restraints. Her fingers squeeze his shaft and she pulls a sharp gasp out of him.

“Come here—” she hisses against his lips. She was still swirling in a haze of astro-projective bliss, but her body was incensed and her inhibitions in flames with it. Her hands slowly start moving, dragging lazy little strokes up and down his shaft. His body reacts instantly, his gasps coming out in broken pants as he fully leans into her touch. He suddenly moans as one of her thumbs swirls around the tip, spreading his pre-cum around the head of his cock. Her mouth goes dry at the sound of his broken groans and how he starts rocking into her hand. She’s tempted to sink in between his legs in return, but then he ruts his hips into her, rubbing the underside of his cock against her skin and she arches up whimpering from the sensory overload.

“Fuck,” Din manages to growl between his pants as he fully engulfs her under him. He leans in to press their foreheads together as he lifts the back of her thighs, lining himself up between her. This time he drags the bulb of his cock fully in between her folds, dragging another whine out of her. “You’re gonna be the death of me, cyarika.”

Before she can respond, his cock slides in, and the initial stretch makes them both moan out. Din’s hips roll in, burying himself fully inside of her. They’re both gasping with his face buried in her shoulder. She whines his name into the pitch blackness and he starts pulling back out, groaning as her pussy, still tight from her last orgasm, practically sucks him in.

“So fucking perfect.” he hisses out between gritted teeth, stretching her out further. His hands still have a tight grip on her hips, the only thing he can fully grab to will himself not to cum.

“Din..” Her legs wrap around his waist as she somehow finds her voice. When he hums in response and pulls away slightly, it makes her shiver and motivates her to make her next request with a hushed whisper. “I.. I want you to fuck me like you wanna cum first.”

This stuns him into silence. But her words don’t fly over his head either; he’d always made her finish first, all the way back from their very first encounter. It was actually a very noble tradition he was really good about keeping. But hearing her begging for the opposite under him while he had her spread open sent an almost entirely new wave of arousal coursing through his veins. He growls something in Mando’a and the sound borders on animalistic, it rumbles deep enough into her bones to make her walls flutter and clench. A palm slips under the small of her back to lift her hips and she’s pulled into him.

Din slams right back into her and the new angle makes her jaw drop. She can barely recover when he starts rutting almost mercilessly into her, over and over again. His cock drives wave after wave of pleasure over her and it’s a particularly deep thrust that finally pulls the moans out of her. Her back arches against him, her hips rolling back against his until they land on a mutual pace that makes them both gasp out.

“So pretty..” he whispers with a rasp. One of Din’s hands find the edge of his cot above their heads and he pulls himself up to bury even further up inside her with a strained groan. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.” She whimpers and Din’s name pours out of her lips like a prayer, the slapping of wet skin progressively getting faster and more desperate as he fucks her into the cot.

“Y’hear that?” he whispers into her ear, slowing his hips momentarily to drag out the soft squelching of their arousal. She shudders and nods, hugging his back, desperate for him to slam back into her.

“P-Pleaase..”

“I know sweetheart,” he purrs, kissing her lips. “I just love hearing how I fuck you.”

She moans, kissing him back. His cock shoots back in and it makes her head fall back, eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. “Fuck, Din..!” she’s breathless, his rhythm snapping back in place. He grunts above her and it makes her core clench around him. This new angle sends her reeling, hypersensitive nerves sending shock waves of bliss up her spine. “So good..” she manages to whimper out, again and again the higher she climbs. “So fucking good, Din!”

He moans into her shoulder, his strokes growing increasingly fervent. “Who’s pussy is this?” he whispers with a wet kiss, his tongue trailing up her neck.

“Yours!” she doesn’t hesitate, her brows knitted together in pleasure as she fucks back up against him. “..y-yours.. alw..” she swallows, nuzzling her nose into his hair. “it’s always been yours.”

This makes him growl, hips picking up to an almost desperate pace and she almost chokes. “Mine..” one hand lands on her waist, gripping tightly to control his thrusts, the other tangling into her soft hair. He whispers her name again and again, the coil in his stomach growing tighter and tighter. “Mine, mine.. my girl..” his chants grow more desperate, finally edging on the brink of his orgasm. “..my sweet, pretty, precious girl.. fuck- ”

Then his cock ruts into her G-spot and she arches, choking back on a pleasured sob. “T-There!” she whimpers, her nails digging into his neck and back. “Yes..! Yes! Oh gods, right there Din!”

He groans as he ruts into her warmth over and over again, and he leans back down to kiss her, lips and tongues eagerly clashing together before he gasps into her lips to blurt out his final confession. “.. fuck, I love you.” Her heart suddenly seizes in her chest, but then he pulls her legs up in between them and he’s fucking right into her G-spot, rendering her speechless. “I-I love you.. I love you,” he says her name as he quickly unravels. “I always have.. fuck I-.. I can’t lose you baby- ”

Her pussy pulses around him and he crumbles, choking out a pleasured moan as he stiffens around her. He buries himself deep inside of her to spill his release and it’s the sensation of his cock rubbing against her ridges that quickly sends her over the edge right after him. Her whine cracks into a scream as she clings to him, hips thrashing desperately as her second orgasm overwhelms her.

They cling to each other for a moment, gasping breathlessly, before Din finally unclenches. He releases her hips and slowly collapses on top of her, moving his head to lay on her chest, his nose nuzzling into her collarbone.

“Fuck..” She pants and her body droops back to the mattress, both arms softly looping around his neck. She has to wait another minute for both of them to catch their breaths before her thoughts can finally gather.

I love you.

It had never been said out loud before. Had it hung over them in unspoken gestures and unbroken stares before this moment? Had it been suggested to each other once before, twisted amongst playful compliments, flirty insults or heated arguments? Or was it always meant to be whispered in the heat of passion, only to be heard within the walls of their hidden sanctuary?

I love you.

She didn’t think it would happen here to be honest. She didn’t think it would happen at all. In fact, she thought her feelings had been one-sided the entire time until this moment. Her heart is still buzzing, but a new warmth is soaking into her veins and now it’s fluttering for an entirely new reason. She almost wants to cry, except she’s still too mind numbingly high off her second orgasm so all she can do is smile from ear to ear, eyes drifting to the ceiling as her breathing slowly softens.

I love you.

Din is the first to move, slowly rotating his head until his forehead is pressed against her collarbone. He’s still breathless, but his movements are lazier and more fluid. He sighs once and presses a long kiss into her skin, his lips gentle and lingering. A second one pecked just above the first one, before a third, this time lovingly placed on her shoulder.

I love you.

Now, she feels it in every kiss. In every inch of her skin that his fingers brush against. She feels it in how his body curls against her and how his lips slow down over her neck and brush so tenderly against her raw skin there.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers once more to her, and she feels it in his earnesty, in his desperate wish for her not to see him as anything more than who he was: the man she was wholly, unconditionally and almost painfully head-over-heels in love with.

“I know,” she sighs sweetly and kisses the top of his head, nuzzling her nose into his hair. She smiles brightly and her words slip out so easily, it almost felt natural, as if she’d been born to say it. “and I love you.”

It’s soft, almost cracked, but it’s enough to lift Din’s head back up. She knows he can’t see her but she cranes her neck to match his stare anyway. “I’ve always loved you, Din Djarin.” she smiles softly, one of her hands finding his jawline to stroke his cheek. He sucks in a soft breath in the dark and for a beat it’s quiet, but then he moves up to kiss her again, and she returns it tenderly, smiling widely in between their lips.

He pulls away to kiss her forehead, cradling her cheeks between his warm hands, and she closes her eyes to cherish the softness of his lips. He sighs heavily and presses their foreheads together before he whispers softly, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

She grins again and nuzzles their noses together. “I’m gonna assume that was in Mando’a?”

He smiles and pecks her lips. “It’s the closest to what we have in Mando’a.” He pauses until he feels her head curiously tilt to the side. “The literal translation is, ‘I will know you forever’.. ”

There’s a pause as her eyes widen in awe. She feels her heart flutter as she beams again. “I like that,” she cooes, and she means it, curling up around him as she kisses his nose. “it's romantic.”

He chuckles and smooches her cheek, before moving to her lips. He leaves fluttering little kisses on her lips, hands moving to her hair and waist respectively. She purrs against his lips and is just as eager to kiss him back, inhaling as his tongue slips between her teeth. He sighs into her mouth and she gives a little high pitched hum before pulling away with a giggle.

“Diiin,” she tries to scold but she’s smiling too wide and only giggles harder when he starts kissing her jaw.

“Let me make it up to you my love.” he sighs lovingly, smiling as he presses her closer to him.

She fully laughs at this and frees her arms to loop them around his neck. “I already forgave you, silly!”

He chuckles again and leans in just above her. “Oh I'm not done begging for your forgiveness yet, cyar'ika.”

He shifts above her and she then realizes he’s still buried inside of her. He smiles as she gasps, and he kisses along the edge of her jawline. “There’s no rush, princess. We have all night.”

And keep to that promise, he did.

♡♡♡♡

A/N: I should’ve mentioned that this is actually the first time i’ve posted ff in like a decade lmao. And that i DO have a multi-chapter series i’m working on rn that ties into this universe so lmk if y’all are interested in that 👉🏼👈🏼 ok that’s it thx for ur time 💫

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x force!sensitive reader #din djarin x force sensitive reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x force!sensitive reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars

[floral-force]

first request ever for you so HERE WE GO! i’m kinda stuck on the thought of like, angst right now. maybe hurt/comfort. but here’s the idea: i haven’t finished s3 yet so pardon me if this is completely wrong, but imagine like, in general, din, the other mandalorian and friends are going to battle to like re-take mandalore or smth, take over smth that’s very important. reader and grogu are both force sensitive and when din thinks victory is theirs, one last attack hits, making reader grab grogu and like bins their force together like from fire, and reader ends up getting burned. i need a nice juicy hurt/comfort with some marriage at the end 🤞

I really ran away with this idea. I needed to flex my din djarin muscles again and this was a great prompt for that! I got into a flow, one thing led to another, and now I present you with the fic below. all I can do now is sit and hope you enjoy it!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

The Only Hope for Me Is You

Din Djarin x GN!Reader, Force user!Reader

summary: Din’s fearless, Force-sensitive partner has been at his side through everything. Unknown to him, his partner has slowly fallen in love with him. When Din gets the chance to start a new life after they help retake Mandalore, a confession paves a new path. Will they choose to take it?

words: 4.8k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, fluff, first kiss, minor injury (burn), Mando'a pet names, marriage, soft!din djarin, the helmet comes off, grogu is a guest star

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

They were fearless and brave—something Din deeply admired about them. They never hesitated to protect Grogu or scout ahead of Din. Sometimes, he’d nearly beg them to stay behind him or at least stay close. They’d insist that they’d be okay— “I have the Force on my side, Din”—but the love he carried for them in his beskar-plated chest would have him close to begging them to let him protect them. Din would fall to his knees for them and grant their every wish. He wished he could rip open his chest and show them how his heart beat only for them and the child.

Din had gripped their arms before they both left the ship to retake Mandalore, had told them that they needed to put their and the child’s safety first. He thought he’d gotten through to them, had broken through their stubbornness. Din really thought that telling them how important they were to him back on Nevarro would soften it and make them more compliant when he asked them to listen for their own safety. They’d nodded and held Grogu closer to their chest, leaned into Din’s touch when he put a gloved hand on their cheek, kissed his palm with their soft lips.

Din should have known better.

When a fireball was headed towards where he, Bo, Grogu and they knelt, Din knew Bo’s small shield would do nothing. He accepted that he’d die for his home and his people. He’d closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made peace with it as it barreled towards them, the heat closing in. But when he looked to his side to look at them and Grogu one last time, they weren’t there. They were on their knees next to the child in front of him and Bo, their left arm extended, the other flat against the ground behind Grogu. Their body was angled slightly in front of Grogu, a protective stance so they would take the brunt of any injury. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the fire was splitting around them, diverted by an invisible forcefield that they and Grogu created with their powers. Bo looked at Din, and he glanced at her, but kept his helmet trained on them. 

Din moved again when the fire dissipated and they yelped, falling forward to the ground, Grogu plopping down to sit. His breath caught in his throat—they were alive, but he could tell their breaths were labored from exertion. Bo scooped Grogu into her arms and nodded at Din before lifting into the air. Din shook his head when he took them into his arms, noticing a blistering burn spreading up their left forearm from the wrist to the elbow. As he followed Bo into the air and escaped with them from the crumbling cave, he squeezed them closer in his arms, whispering their name to himself. 

He hoped to whatever powers may be that they would be okay, that he’d get to spend another day with his brave partner and son. 

“Din?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. Your vision was blurry and the environment around you was dark and quiet. All you knew was that you were laying down on a ship, the mattress under your back firm and the hum of engines filling your ears. Your pulse quickened and you nearly shouted, “Where am I?”

Your anxiety started to fade away when a familiar hand brushed your head, rubbing its thumb across your sweaty forehead.

“Shh, cyar’ika, I’m here.” Your vision adjusted, and you saw a beskar helmet hovering over you. Din was on your left side, forcing you to gently turn your head to see him better. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

You made a mental note to ask him about that word later. “It’s over?”

He nodded. “It’s over.” When you went to move your left arm, you hissed in pain. Din gently pressed your hand back down to rest on the rack. “You’re hurt. Don’t move that arm.”

You lifted your head up and looked down your torso to see your forearm wrapped in a bandage, some pink splotches bleeding through the white material. You looked for Grogu, but when you didn’t see him, you panicked. 

“Where is—What happened to Gro—”

“He’s okay,” Din assured, his voice low and grounding. 

He was the calm in your storm, always calling you back when you drifted away. It was one of the things you loved about him. Din centered you and grounded you, reminded you of your strength and power. Without Din, you’d surely be dead by now. Even the Force couldn’t save you from making rash decisions driven by emotion alone. 

It was why you couldn’t train Grogu when Din found you and asked you. You’d agreed to travel with him and at least get Grogu started, help him start to channel his abilities. At least you’d be able to leave the backwater planet you were hiding on and start to consider the possibility of a new life elsewhere. Slowly, you got to know your beskar pilot better, constantly fighting the feelings growing within you. He was witty and smart, protective and surprisingly passionate. Din had made it incredibly hard not to fall for him when he gave you gentle touches and soft reassurances. 

You were the one comforting him when he gave Grogu away to Luke Skywalker. Din had looked at you later on Boba’s ship and taken your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. You selfishly hoped he felt the same, but it wasn’t likely. You had let your feelings consume you not long ago, but you stood on uncertain ground with the armored object of your affection. The doubt festered within you even after he’d taken you aside and told you that you mattered a great deal to him and the child, and that you needed to be careful.

But those feelings were why you didn’t hesitate to leave his side and stay next to the selfless little child as he fought back the fireball. You joined him and felt your energy quickly fading; you hadn’t exerted yourself this much in years. You held on and fought back the black threatening your vision, pushing yourself to protect your little family and the woman who had looked out for all of you. You must have let go a little too early, judging by the bandage on your arm. If getting a burn meant your family survived, then you would gladly offer your skin to the flames every day for the rest of your life.

Looking into the visor above you, you had no doubt in your mind about where your heart was and who you were called home to. The galaxy had given you a purpose when Din had entered your small hut with a tiny, big-eared, green baby in his satchel. You were determined to fight for them with every breath you took. Even if Din didn’t feel the same, you’d defend him with your dying breath. That was what mattered.

“Are you okay, Din?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

He nodded and reached over your torso to place a hand on your waist, gripping it as if he could lose you again at any moment. “I’m fine, cyar’ika. Bo is flying us back to Nevarro, and we’ll go from there.”

There was that word again. You swallowed and felt fatigue sweeping over your body again. You looked up at him and asked meekly, “Can I go back to sleep?”

He chuckled, a low hum in his chest. He said your name with a nod. “Yes. I’ll be here at your side the entire time.”

You gave him one last smile before closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

You’d grinned when Din told Karga he’d take up his offer of land and a cabin. The two men shook hands as Grogu cooed in your arms. Greef had looked at you both with a knowing smile. 

“Hopefully, you can all rest now. Nevarro is thankful for all that you’ve done.”

Din nodded at his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Greef shook his head. “Not necessary, my friend. It’s the least I can do.”

The cabin was modest in size and decoration. It had basic furniture and cookware, enough to get by while shopping around for new things. The hot spring in front of the cabin kept Grogu occupied, and the porch let Din kick his feet back and relax for the first time in his life. Din left that same day to make a quick trip to the Adelphi outpost and told you about his offer to Captain Teva upon his return. While it made you nervous—these Imperial remnants were serious threats—you were glad he could return to bounty hunting on his terms with somewhere stable to return to. The end of this journey left you even more uncertain about your place in the world—was it with Din and the child? Were you meant to leave and start a life somewhere else, hiding again?

That night, you sat on the porch with him under the stars. His armor and gloves were off, his bare tan skin in the open air. You felt entirely at peace—Grogu was asleep in the cabin, your belly was still full from dinner, cheeks a little heated from the wine you’d indulged in—and you were overjoyed to be sharing this with Din. Despite your confusion, you were so grateful to share this moment of calm with him as he began a new life. So much so, that you needed to tell him. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. You stood up and cleared your throat. His helmet turned to look at you, the hand he had resting on his thigh clenching into a fist.

“Din, I have something to tell you.”

“Are you alright, cyar’ika?” Din asked with worry in his modulated voice. “Is it your burn? Are you injured?”

Before he could get up and fuss over you, you shook your head and pushed on his chest so he’d relax back into the chair. “No, Din, I’m fine. I promise. It’s just—” you bit your lip and glanced around— “this is important.”

“You can tell me,” he said, sitting up and taking your hands in his. His gentleness never failed to surprise you. The man had killed so many for his son and for you, had fought his way through hell and back just to help retake his people’s home, had experienced so much hurt and pain. But despite it all, he sat in front of you stripped of his armor, defenseless and trusting you not to hurt him.

You turned your head to stare at the flats stretching into the dark. Your eyes glanced up at the stars to avoid his helmet before dropping to the cement beneath your shifting feet. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you turned your head and focused back on the visor and how the beskar was gently lit by the two warm yellow porch lights. You absentmindedly stroked your bandage and sighed.

“I love you, Din.” Your heart was drumming in your chest and shaking your skin. 

He was silent. Off in the distance, something chirped, and you heard yourself swallow. You weren’t sure if you preferred silence, or his modulated voice, even if it was a rejection. The doubts that lay dormant within your chest rose with a snarl and twisted under your ribs. Each second that passed in silence let them sink their claws into you a little bit more each time.

Finally, he softly whispered your name and squeezed your hands. Din rose to his feet and gently pulled you closer. You could smell him—sandalwood, musk, leather. Intoxicating and alluring, just as it had been from the beginning. You wanted so badly to taste him, too—to feel his lips on yours and melt into him.

“I love you too,” he murmured. Din cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked it with his thumb.

You sighed in relief and chuckled, dropping his hand to rest yours on his chest, tugging on the fabric of his flight suit. Din wrapped his arms around you and held you close in his embrace, a large hand cupping the back of your head. You sank into his warmth and let yourself go limp with love, feeling your mind calm for the first time in a long time. 

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, his words vibrating underneath you.

You shook your head. “I thought you wouldn’t want…” You trailed off and hummed. 

“Wouldn’t want what? Wouldn’t want you?”

When you nodded against him, he dropped his arms and gripped yours, his warm palms burning through the fabric of your sleeves. Din took a step back and shook his head.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt your eyes start to water. “Really?” 

He nodded and ran his hands along the curve of your shoulders to your neck. Broad thumbs stroked the underside of your jaw. Your chest expanded with something warm and bright, the Force flowing through you with an unusual calmness. Your doubts had fled into the night, replaced with that glowing love and calm that only something truly wonderful can create. It felt as if you were meditating and at one with everything around you. You wouldn’t want to feel this way with anyone else.

“I adore you.” Din stated. “You’re one of the most fearless and honorable people I know. You’re selfless to a fault, always putting others first.” He chuckled. “I think the burn is proof of that.”

You smiled. “I’d have to agree.”

He nodded. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika.”

“I think you are too, Din.”

“You’ve never even seen me.”

You shrugged. “Don’t have to. I just know you are.”

“Would you—” Din cleared his throat. “Would you want to see me?”

“Din, no, your Creed—”

“I can remove it—” he said, cutting you off— “when I find the person I want to marry.”

You felt as if he’d stolen the air from your lungs, everything leaving your body with a sudden, stunned exhale. You’d been at his side throughout this journey with him and only stayed behind a few times, one of which being his redemption in the living waters. He hadn’t told you much about that moment, but you didn’t need all the details to know how much it meant to him. You could practically see him beaming under his beskar when the covert accepted him again. Hearing him offer to remove his helmet just so you could see him filled you with love, but fear as well. 

He caught on to your hesitancy and nerves. “Are you afraid I’m ugly?”

“No, I just—I…” You stopped and sighed, your chest deflating. “I don’t want to be the reason you become an apostate again.”

“No, cyar’ika, no.” He placed one of his hands on your waist. “Mandalorians can remove their helmets for the person they want to marry.”

Your eyes widened. “You want…to marry me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”

He was right. When he spoke, there was rarely uncertainty in his words. Din was unwavering and steadfast, rigid and surefooted. 

“And that’s one of the things I love about you.” You gave him an affectionate smile. “But, you’re sure?” Din nodded; you raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely certain?” Another nod. “Entirely, fully—”

Din drawled your name and laughed, dropping his hands to his sides. “There’s nobody else I want to spend forever with.”

“Not your son?” He groaned and you patted his chest, letting your hand linger over his heart. “Just teasing you, my love.”

Din placed his hands over yours and asked, “You’re sure you want to be with me? That you want to see me?”

“Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, skin warm under your lips. 

All he did was nod and bring his hands to the side of his helmet. You watched him turn away to take it off, a soft hiss before he removed it and revealed tousled brown curls to you. His hair was short and messy, and you already adored him. Din set his helmet on the chair, and you heard him take a deep breath before facing you again. Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes upon him for the first time.

Maker, he was ethereal. 

Even with the dim light, you could see a hint of a flush across his cheeks. His brow had a few lines showing his age and the stress of his profession. A mustache lay above his plush, pink lips. It was nearly impossible to resist smothering them with yours the longer you stared at him. Patchy brown scruff crept up from his soft jawline; you tilted your head and saw a small patch of gray near his jaw on the left side. You made a mental note to kiss that spot often. His curved nose split his face almost perfectly in two, accenting it perfectly. It was hard to make out the color of his eyes, so you took a step forward and squinted, placing your hands on his cheeks. Din inhaled sharply at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening and gazing into yours again. Finally, you were able to make out the color—a warm chestnut brown. 

“Din,” you breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

He placed a hand over one of your wrists, the other on your cheek. Seeing him softly smile made your heart soar and touch the stars above. He leaned in and your heart started to race as those warm eyes got closer to yours, his lips now close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap. Electricity ran up your spine when he whispered your name; you could feel his breath push against your mouth, tempting you to give in. Your bones felt like they were vibrating; whether it was from nerves or your unconscious disturbance in the Force, you weren’t sure.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally see you without the visor.” His low voice was even sweeter without the vocoder’s slight modulations. His thumb stroked back and forth over your skin, leaving you breathless.

“I’ve never been happier than I am now,” you confessed.

Din nodded, his eyes half closed and flitting between yours and your lips. “Me too, cyar’ika. I love you.”

You choked back a happy sob with a chuckle and a soft smile. “I love you too, Din,” you panted.

Din stole his name from your mouth as his lips crashed into yours. The fingers on your cheek gently pressed into your skin as if he was afraid of you slipping away into the night. His grip on your wrist loosened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Yours fell to his neck, trailing down to his chest, nails scratching against the fabric hiding his skin from your greedy touch. Din pulled back only an inch and you both panted, catching your breath. His hand moved to the back of your head and his fingers rubbed slow circles into your scalp.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

You shook your head and gave him a quick kiss. “I want to get married tomorrow.”

Din pressed another breathless kiss to your lips. “Tomorrow?”

You nodded and stroked his jaw with your right hand’s knuckles, lavishing in how he nearly whimpered at the feeling of your skin on his. You knew that you’d never be able to see or touch his handsome face enough. It was a sight you wanted to see forever. His smile lit you up from the inside out, sent shockwaves throughout your body. He calmed you even more without his helmet.

“Yeah,” you smiled against his lips. “I can’t wait any longer.”

His laugh was warm and lighter than you’d ever heard it before. “You’ve always been impatient.”

“Oh, you love it, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded. “I do,” he rasped against your mouth, quiet pants mixing with yours. 

His lips melted into yours once again, making your brain buzz with ecstasy. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

He woke up the next morning in bed with them at his side. He rolled over to face them, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his head on the heel of his hand. They lay on their right side, lips slightly parted and a little speck of drool on the corner of them. The morning light cast a natural spotlight on them and made Din’s heart burn even more for his soon-to-be riduur—his spouse, his partner for life. He felt himself smile as their eyes slowly opened, squinting and then focusing on him. They beamed at Din, filling the room with their radiance. 

“Hello, handsome,” they said with a hoarse voice. Din hummed when their fingers graced over his cheek, nails gently grazing his stubble. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, cyar’ika.” 

“I forgot to ask,” they yawned. “What does that word mean?”

“Cyar’ika?” They nodded, and Din continued, “It means darling. Sweetheart.”

They gave him a sleepy smile. “I like that. Maybe I’ll start using it.”

Din pinched their chin and shook his head. “No. That word is yours.”

“I’m not a Mandalorian, goofy.”

“But soon you’ll be married to one.” Din laughed when they rolled their eyes and groaned dramatically. “It’s yours. It always has been.”

They gave Din a soft smile, then rolled onto their back and reached out for the holopad on the bedside table. Din watched them push themselves up and lean back against the headboard with a few tired huffs. He pushed himself up and scooted closer, pressing his leg against theirs, feeling their warm skin against his. They were talking, but Din was too focused on their beauty that he missed everything.

“Din?” they said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get all of that?”

“No,” he grabbed their jaw and pulled them in for a kiss. “I was too busy staring at you.”

He loved the way they looked when they were flustered—face-splitting smile, nose crinkled, and the corners of their eyes creased. 

“That’s very sweet, my love. But this time, I need you to listen.” They cleared their throat. “Bo is coming over in an hour to go with me into town. Karga is coming over a little bit after that to get you and Grogu. The Armorer said the late evening—right at dusk—is when we’ll have the ceremony, and she told you to meet her there an hour beforehand.”

“Dusk?” Din’s eyebrows knitted together. “She didn’t give a time?”

They shook their head and held out the pad. Din took it and they got up, swallowing and feeling his ears heat up when he saw that they were still naked. Last night had been incredible to say the least. He wasn’t upset that they hadn’t hidden their stunning body under fabric before falling asleep on his chest, one of their hands resting on it, and the other loosely clutching his bicep. Stroking their head as they drifted off to sleep had been one of the most peaceful experiences of Din’s life. If this was going to be the rest of his life, then he was the luckiest man in the galaxy.

Din was reminded of that at dusk under a purple sky when they stood in front of him again, staring at him and into his eyes despite the visor. It hurt to see them with a barrier again, but the Armorer assured him they’d have a hidden moment alone together after the ceremony. He could feel the joy radiating off them, enveloping him in a safe embrace that only they could ever give him. Grogu made a small noise, and he looked down at his son, one of his tiny claws touching his calf. After this, they’d be a clan of three, and Din could be free to show his face in his home—their clan’s home—with his riduur and their little green ad’ika. 

Din had never been happier in his entire life.

The ceremony flashed by—Mandalorians were known for their prowess in battle, not lengthy displays of love—and soon Din was holding hands with his riduur. Grogu sat on a rock within arm’s reach, focused on levitating a few random pebbles on the ground. His helmet sat next to his son; Din looked into his spouse’s eyes, unmasked. It was heavenly. Their clan was standing behind a piece of stone jutting out of the ground, wide enough and tall enough to hide them from view. A couple Mandalorians stood watch a few meters away on the other side, making sure they were safe from being seen.

“You look beautiful,” Din said, stroking their cheek with his fingers.

“So do you,” they replied. “The beskar is extra shiny. I like it.”

“Good. Worked my ass off polishing it.” Din gave them a quick kiss, swallowing their laugh at his comment. His right hand was resting at the base of their skull, the other holding their left hand. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

“So do you, Din,” they breathed, pulling him towards them with hungry eyes. 

Din groaned when they kissed him with passion, burning him from within. They turned him to ash and brought him back to life all in the same breath. All he needed was their love, and he’d live forever. As their lips meshed together, he let go of their hand and placed it on the small of their back, making sure this was real—that they really were warm under his palm, that their lips were soft and delicious, that they were really his.

Din pulled back and stared into their eyes, giving them a kiss on the forehead, then the cheek. He heard one of the watchers call out for them to return soon, and he gave his riduur a wide grin; his cheeks were beginning to hurt from how much he’d been smiling. 

“Well,” they sighed, pushing away to reach over and grab his helmet, “time to go.”

Din looked at his son. “Grogu.” He smiled when the child looked up at him with his large eyes. “You ready?”

“Patu,” the child cooed, reaching his little claws up. 

Din lifted him up and set him on the ground, indulging his request. He knew that Grogu was more than capable of jumping to the ground and landing without injury, but his son seemed to love his touch and affection almost as much as he loved eating. Din was always happy to spoil his ad’ika no matter what the request was, and so was his riduur.

He looked back up at his stunning riduur and took the helmet from them. Din gave them one last kiss, letting their hand trail down his cheek to his jaw, then down his neck as he slowly replaced his helmet. Their hand landed on his chest plate, resting over his heart. That was where they lived within him; something deep and vital and full of love and life. Losing them would destroy him. He vowed to always protect them, to fight for them with every ounce of his being. Din looked at them again, gently resting his hand on their neck and smiling at the way they looked at him, their eyes full of love and hope.

“Come on, my love,” they said with a grin that could light up the darkest cave. “Let’s celebrate.”

Din nodded and said their name, loving the way they looked at him when it rolled off his tongue and into the air. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They took his hands and met his helmet’s gentle tilt forward with their forehead for a Keldabe kiss. Din had a feeling it would be the first of many that night. They stepped back and started to pull him with them, Grogu keeping pace with his slow, resigned steps.

Shereshoy. That was what he’d been feeling ever since last night—maybe even before then, maybe when he’d first met them. They gave him the strength to go on, motivated him to be as fearless as them, made him let go of his fears and let himself fall in love. As they walked into the light of the party to a symphony of cheers and clangs of beskar vambraces on chest plates, Din grinned. He was right where he belonged. Din was burning with a newfound lust for life and determination to keep his clan safe and forever loved. He never wanted the fire within him to go out.

Mando'a Translations: ad'ika [ah-DEE-kah]: little one, son, daughter of any age cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]: darling, sweetheart riduur [REE-door]: partner, spouse, husband, wife shereshoy [sheh-REYSH-oy]: lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it..

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

So Darkness I Became

1200 words for 1200 followers #7

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! The idea for this one jumped up and bit me on the nose almost immediately, and I know it’s a little out there, but I hope you still enjoy it! This takes place in the time before Din rejoins the covert, when he’s still just going from bounty to bounty to pass the time without Grogu and trying to figure out what the heck to do with the damn Darksaber. I have two more requests for Din for this event, and right now I *think* one of them might be a follow up to this... but we’ll see.  💚

Warnings: not much, honestly. mild angst and canon-typical danger. 

Requested By: @prolix-yuy​ Song: Cosmic Love Character Choice: LJ gave me the options of Din or Ezra, correctly asserting that this song is perfect for both of the space boys - and to my surprise, being an Ezra girl, I decided to go with Dinjamin. Thank you for sending this one in, darling! I hope you enjoy where I took it! 

Summary: You and Din have been working together for a while now, but there are still more things that you don’t know about each other than you do. That doesn’t stop you from feeling how you feel, though. When Din follows a lead that he hopes will yield information on the Darksaber’s previous owners, you find out if those feelings are enough to make you risk everything to help him. 

“Stay with the ship.” 

Those were his last words to you before disappearing through the door. The hefty metal plate slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the empty hull and resonating through your bones. Watching him go felt wrong - cold and final. Though you tried, you couldn’t stave off the thought that he wouldn’t return. 

No. You swallowed hard. He will. He always does. 

The two of you had been working together for a year. It had been a partnership of desperation at first - you out of ammo and on the run from the brothers of some Klatooinian capo you’d turned in, and Din armed to the teeth but without a ride off-world. He’d helped you dispatch the brothers, and you’d taken him where he needed to go, and then you had meant to part ways. But before you could refuel, he had shown back up at the spaceport with a handful of bounty pucks and the proposition of teaming up and splitting the profits on them. 

It was only supposed to be until he saved up enough for his own ship. But that mark had come and gone and you were still a team of two, and though neither of you had opened up, neither of you seemed eager to suggest that you split up, the unspoken threat of loneliness enough to keep you tethered. 

Even when the types of jobs you took became more personal than profitable, like the one that you were currently on. On Dathomir. 

The name alone was enough to chill you. You had never set foot there, and you never intended to. Dathomir was dangerous, its landscape as unforgiving as the creatures that inhabited it. But its history of malevolence left the planet scarred in ways that terrified you. You’d heard rumors of a vergence there, a well of Dark side energy that was powerful enough to corrupt anyone who fell prey to it, especially those who were in tune with the Force.

Like me. 

You shuddered, recalling what you’d said to convince him not to chase whatever knowledge he sought, careful not to reveal your secret. “Dathomir’s a one-way ticket, Djarin. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die in a bog.” 

You’d always hidden your abilities, knowing that it was your best chance at survival - and that meant that despite spending the last year with him, Din didn’t know. You weren’t sure how he would react to learning that you were Force-sensitive, but if it meant losing him you weren’t willing to risk it. Just like you weren’t sure how he’d react to learning that you had started to develop feelings for him. You kept those to yourself, too. 

He’d answered with a tilt of his helmet. “I won’t ask you to follow me. But if there’s something I can learn there about this?” He gestured to the hilt at his waist. “I have to go. This is the Way.” 

You knew as soon as he used that phrase there was no changing his mind. All you could hope for was an urgent call to pull him away before you reached the Quelli sector. It never came. 

So you waited, eyes glued to the monitor that tracked his location. You held your breath as you watched the little throb of light descend into a cave. That same cold feeling you had when he left slithered through every fiber of your being as the beacon on the screen blinked - and then blacked out. 

Your heart lurched. With shaking hands you smacked the monitor, hoping it was a glitch, but the beacon was gone. No! 

You were half-way down the ladder before the comm link on your wrist crackled, his voice coming through speaking your name. “You – right. – shouldn’t have – here. You – – go!“ 

“Din!” Your pulse smashed against your eardrums as you responded. “ I’m not leaving you. I’m…” You choked on tears you didn’t know were falling. “I’m coming.” 

“No.” More interference bled through the speaker. Beneath it you could hear him groan in pain. “You – “ He let out another distressed sound. “Go!” 

And then the comm cut out, too. 

In that instant, you made the choice that you realized never was one. Nothing could keep you from going after him, not even your fear of the Dark side. You didn’t even stop to arm yourself, bypassing the weapons locker and heading straight for the door, leaping from the ship. Without turning back, you raised your right hand across your body and over your shoulder, swiveling your wrist so that your palm faced the sky, and then clenching your fist and bringing it back down, the door of the ship slamming shut. 

Without the beacon or the comms you would have to focus to find him. You silenced your thoughts as you ran, concentrating on Din - on the way his solid presence felt beside you, on the way you could feel his heartbeat when you reached across the cockpit with the Force. You followed your instincts until you were at the mouth of the cave he had disappeared into, and then it wasn’t just a feeling. 

You could hear his heart beating in the dark. 

It was slow and weak, but the rhythm was unmistakably his. You pushed further into the cave until the air was thick and you couldn’t see beyond your nose. The relief you felt was fleeting, though, as suddenly the space was lit with an eerie green light… reflecting off Beskar armor. 

At the far end of the cave, near what appeared to be an altar, you saw him slumped against the stone, glowing green tendrils coiled around his chest. 

“He is ours.” A disembodied voice hissed.

“He has brought it back to us. The Darksaber.” 

“And now he is our soldier.” 

To your horror, the visor on Din’s helmet glowed the same green as he hovered to his feet, and you knew there was only one thing you could do to save him - the thing you feared the most. But you didn’t hesitate. Reaching far beyond your limits, you tapped into the Darkness, harnessing it instead of pushing it away. 

“No.” You growled, slowly shaking your head and reaching out with your right hand. Curling your fingers and twisting your wrist in the air, you ripped the hilt of the obsidian blade from Din’s belt. “You will not use him. You will not take him.” The sword flew to your grasp and you ignited it instantly. “You will release him, or I will destroy this cave and you along with it.” 

It felt like crumbling, letting that much power flow through you. But you fought it, focusing on the faint sound of his heartbeat. The voices shrieked and wailed, retreating into the Darkness. Just as you thought you would break, Din was released from his trance. 

As soon as he was free you dropped to your knees, panting and dizzy, but before you lost consciousness you felt his gloved hands land on your shoulders. At his touch you felt a wave of calm wash over you, your name the last thing you heard before you fell into his arms. 

Safe. We’re safe now, Din. 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor​ @gollyderek​​ @pheedraws​​ @beautifuldesastre​​ @alraedesigns​ @valkblue​  @fific7​  @commanderlola​  @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @marauderskeeper​ @disgruntledspacedad​ @littlemisspascal​ @mishasminion360​ @stevie75​ @nyctophiliiiiaaa​ @practicalghost​ @tanzthompson​ @harriedandharassed​ @woodlandmouth​ @thescarletfang​ @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar​ @WildMoonFlower @mswarriorbabe80​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​ @jedi-in-crocs​ @hannahkatharine​ @anoverwhelmingdin​ @chiyo13​ @myloveistoolittle​ @spishsstuff @noisynightmarepoetry 

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[obscurexsorrows]

Help Finding Mandalorian Fic

Friends, can someone help me remember the name of a Mandalorian fic where the reader is the mysterious bounty that Din picks up instead of Grogu (Grogu doesn't exist at all in the fic)? I've read so many Din Djarin fics that I can't be sure of any details other than that. I hope it's enough to jog someone's memory.

#I keep telling myself I need to keep a list of fics I've read and loved #but when have I ever done what I'm told #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin X force sensitive reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian fan fiction #help #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x original female character

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three (Book 1) Chapter Two

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Two: The Mudhorn

Summary: Mando and his "assets" encounter Jawas and a Mudhorn, and he begins to learn why the Empire is so interested in the two kids.

            The sun was a veritable blaze about Mando, (Y/N), and the Child arrived back at the Razorcrest. Unfortunately, it had been enough time for the Jawas to arrive and disassemble many of the mechanical pieces of Mando’s ship.

            Mando crouched and pulled out his shotgun, gazing through the scope. (Y/N) pulled the Child’s cradle closer to them and watched as Mando shot one of the Jawas stealing his ship. The rest cried out and scrambled for their rover as he took out another. Mando ran down the slope of the hill and tried to chase after the rover, firing a round at one of the gas tanks.

            (Y/N) ran after the cradle as it followed Mando. They could take the chance to run, but they had nowhere to go and no weapon to defend themself. Plus, it seemed that other bounty hunters were after them, and at least Mando didn’t seem eager to hurt them.

            Mando tried to climb up the side of the rover, but the Jawas shot him with a stun charge, and he fell the ground below. The rover drove off as he groaned and sat up. He turned to see the Child staring at him curiously and (Y/N) sat on a rock.

            “That’s your ship, isn’t it?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Mando, standing and walking towards the Razorcrest.

            Everything was gone, from the metal plates of his walls to the guns in his storage. Electricity sparked at the ends of torn cables. Mando attempted to start the engines, but without proper power, they whirred lifelessly. He sighed in frustration.

            “What’re you going to do?” said (Y/N), leaning in from outside.

            “There’s an Ugnaught with a farm,” said Mando. “Not far off.” He glanced at the teenager, who was lifting the Child back into his cradle. “Let’s go.”

            (Y/N) followed him silently, every once in a while glancing at where their dagger was strapped into Mando’s belt. They didn’t dare try for it, though. The bounty hunter could kill them in a moment. They were lucky he hadn’t already. So (Y/N) just stayed silent and watchful for danger as the three of them walked as the sun set.

            Finally, just as the sun was lowering below the horizon, they arrived at a small farm.

            “I thought you were dead,” said the Ugnaught, suspending on a ladder and working on a mechanical device. He turned to face Mando and grew quiet when he saw the Child waddling around on the ground and (Y/N) standing by Mando’s side. The farmer descended the ladder. “These who are who’re causing all the fuss?”

            “Yes,” said Mando. “They’re children.”

            “It is better to deliver them alive, then,” said the Ugnaught.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms at the discussion. Even though they’d been dealing with it for quite some time now, they’d never quite adjusted to having people speak about them as if they weren’t there.

            “My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here,” said Mando.

            “Stripped. Not destroyed,” said the Ugnaught. “The Jawas steal. They don’t destroy.”

            “Stolen or destroyed, makes no difference to me,” said Mando, taking a screwdriver and fiddling with the parts of his armor affected by the electric pulse. As he turned to his arm; he saw (Y/N) picking the Child up again from where he was trying to catch a frog and placing him in the cradle. “They’re protected by their crawling fortress. There’s no way to recover the parts.”

   ��        “You can trade,” said the Ugnaught.

            “With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?” questioned Mando.

            “I will take you to them,” said the Ugnaught. “I have spoken.”

            Mando looked back at the assets. The Ugnaught wouldn’t let him argue, anyways. He stared as the Child crawled back out of cradle and was in the process of swallowing a live frog. Next to him, (Y/N) was clearly testing out which of the tools the Ugnaught kept around the farm could be used as a weapon.

            “Put it down,” said Mando, half to the Child and half to (Y/N). The Child ignored him and gulped down the frog, looking quite pleased with himself. (Y/N) scowled and put down the drill bit they’d been weighing in their hand.

l

            It was slow going, but the Ugnaught guided them to where the Jawas had parked their crawling fortress. They chattered away as they saw the Ugnaught approaching, but he spoke in Jawa. Unfortunately, the Jawa picked up guns and began approaching.

            “They really don’t like you for some reason,” said the Ugnaught, glancing back at Mando.

            “He disintegrated at least two of them,” pointed out (Y/N).

            The Jawas clamored and gestured at them. “You need to drop your rifle,” translated the Ugnaught.

            “I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion,” said Mando.

            “Then you are not getting your parts back,” said the Ugnaught.

            Mando sighed. “Fine.” He put down his rifle in the cart.

            “And the blaster,” said the Ugnaught. He walked away, beginning to converse in Jawa as Mando put down his blaster. He turned and gestured for Mando to join them.

            (Y/N) watched him go with the Child. He cooed at them, and they glanced down. (Y/N) could guess what he was trying to communicate. “No, I don’t know what’s happening.”

            “Ah?” The Child cocked his head, blinking at them.

            “Exactly,” said (Y/N).

            Mando stood and turned towards them, motioning for them to come over. (Y/N) sighed. “Let’s go, kid.”

l

            Mando sat in the cramped driver’s box of the Jawa’s rover. The Child was in his cradle beside the Mandalorian, and (Y/N) was crouched on his other side. The Jawas cackled every time they went over a hill and caused the humanoids to jolt and nearly hit the ceiling. (Y/N) nearly did, but luckily for their head, Mando reached out with a hand and kept them in their seat. (Y/N) nearly thanked him, but the ominous knowledge that he was just keeping them alive until he was paid weighed heavy, and they were instantly on edge, pushing themself as far away from him as possible. The movement was not lost on Mando.

            Finally, the rover arrived before a mass of cliffs and a cave opening. The hull opened, and the Child, (Y/N), and Mando descended. Apparently, Mando had to find an egg the Jawas wanted. A strange request, but then again, (Y/N) would do anything to just have some fruit from back on Ushti.

            Their heart clenched painfully, and their hands curled into fists. The Empire’s remnants had burnt their farms. (Y/N) would find no fruit. Their gaze flitted to the knife in Mando’s belt. All they had was their mother’s dagger, and even that had been taken.

            The Child whimpered as they approached the cave. (Y/N) paused for a moment, too, a deep-seated feeling of dread settling in their stomach.

            “Stay here with the Child,” ordered Mando.

            (Y/N) obeyed, taking ahold of the cradle. They didn’t want to enter anyways. Their every instinct told them to leave the area. As Mando entered, (Y/N) walked to the side with the Child. A few moments later, a growl rumbled up from within the darkness Mando has descended into. A second after, the buzz of blaster shots echoed up, and red lights flickered from the energy pulses.

            Mando was thrown from the cave opening by the creature living within. (Y/N) scrambled to the side and pulled the cradle towards some rocks with them. A large mudhorn lumbered out from within the cave, huffing angrily at the intrusion into its territory.

            The Child whined and ducked farther down into his cradle, and (Y/N) glanced between Mando and the approaching creature. Mando lifted his rifle and aimed at the mudhorn, but the mud sealed it shut; he couldn’t load it with ammunition. The mudhorn charged and hit him square in the chest with its horn, sending him flying.

            The Child cried out softly, and (Y/N) winced. They knew the attack had to hurt, even through Mando’s armor. They tensed as the mudhorn turned towards them, and as it huffed and made to charge, (Y/N) pushed the cradle away. At the same moment, Mando threw out a wire, a small barb attaching to (Y/N)’s shirt. It dragged them out of harms way and closer to Mando.

            The mudhorn roared and turned towards the pair of humanoids again. It charged Mando, and he hit it with a flamethrower, but it only served to anger the creature, which slammed down onto him. He fired again, and the mudhorn jerked away and back away for a moment. Mando scrambled to his feet, slipping slightly in the mud and trying to get his bearings, but the mudhorn was charging again already. Mando was thrown into the air and hit the floor hard. This time, he wasn’t as quick to stand. He remained prone.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. If the mudhorn attacked again, Mando would die. As much as (Y/N) hated being hunted, they didn’t want him to die. At least Mando had given them and the Child some human respect compared to the way other people had treated them on their way to the Imperial Warlord after them.

            Mando struggled to his knees and faced the mudhorn as it growled and huffed. It was going to charge. He groaned and pulled out a knife. It would be useless, but it was all he had.

            The mudhorn roared and charged. And then it froze. Mando looked up and saw the mudhorn struggling against an unknown force. To the side, the Child had a hand raised, and his eyes closed. He was stopping the mudhorn. That was, until exhaustion took over and he fell back into his cradle.

            Mando started as the mudhorn slipped to the ground and fell over. The Child had…powers? The momentary distraction fled him as the mudhorn pulled itself to its feet. Now it was angrier, but at least Mando had a moment to regain his bearings and grab for his rifle again. It had at least a longer blade than his knife. The mudhorn pawed the ground and charged, and Mando lifted the rifle. The mudhorn turned towards the Child who had stopped it before, roaring as it approached the kids.

            The mudhorn hit an invisible wall was thrown backwards as (Y/N) threw out their arm. The force tossed it into the canyon wall as Mando watched. It slumped to the ground, dead from the force of the hit.

            Mando stared at the two assets he had been commissioned to bring back. They had abilities beyond his understand. Just what had he gotten into? He approached (Y/N) and the Child carefully, his rifle by his side.

            (Y/N) looked at him, looking drained and warily eying the rifle. They raised a hand, prepared for a fight even if they had no idea how to summon their abilities. They only had their emotions.

            “Are you going to kill us now?” questioned (Y/N), narrowing their eyes and trying to seem tough even as they swayed on their feet.

            Mando strapped the rifle onto his back. “No.”

             (Y/N)’s hands fell. The slight relief began to wash away their adrenaline, and exhaustion replaced it. “Oh,” was all they could say. Their eyes rolled back into their head, and they collapsed to the ground.

            Mando stared down at the Child and (Y/N). They had helped him even though they knew he was going to give them to his Client. In a way, it made sense. They were children. Even the Ushti teenager, who had undoubtedly seen terrible travesties and was prepared to fight for their life at every moment, in the end was trying to help others. They helped the Child. Both were still just kids.

            He sighed. Mando clicked the cradle and shut it so the sun wouldn’t bother the sleeping Child. Then, he crouched and lifted (Y/N) up and placed them in the shade. For the first time since he’d found them, they weren’t waiting for danger or a fight. They weren’t scared or angry. They were at peace.

            Mando set off back into the cave. He needed to get that egg and get off this planet. This job was becoming more troublesome by the minute.

l

            (Y/N) awoke to find themselves lying in the cart. Mando sat by the side, and the Child slept on the other. Piled behind them were the pieces of Mando’s ship the Jawas had returned. (Y/N) didn’t move. There was no point, after all. They closed their eyes again. They only had so much relative freedom left before they were given to the remnants of the empire to be turned into a weapon or experiment. Not to mention, exhaustion still rested heavy on them. They needed to recover again.

            “Are they still sleeping?” asked the Ugnaught, glancing back and seeing Mando looking at the kids.

            “Yes,” said Mando.

            “Were they injured?” questioned the Ugnaught.

            “I don’t think so. Not physically,” said Mando, gazing down at the assets.

            “Explain it to me again,” said the Ugnaught. “I still don’t understand what happened.”

            “Neither do I,” said Mando, his voice softer than usual. “They just raised their hands, and the mudhorn stopped.”

            “Hm,” hummed the Ugnaught.

            Sleep washed over (Y/N) once again.

l

            When (Y/N) awoke again, the sun had fallen and risen. Once again, it sat high above and blazed over the desert below. The Child and them had been situated in the shade while the Ugnaught and Mando fixed the Razorcrest. It was now whole.

            The Ugnaught and Mando walked up from their finished work. Mando saw (Y/N) was awake.

            “Come on. We’re leaving,” said Mando.

            (Y/N) stood up, and the cradle followed them as they stepped onto the Razorcrest. The end was coming for them; they knew it.

            “I can’t thank you enough,” said Mando to the Ugnaught. “Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward.”

            The reward on my head, thought (Y/N), feeling themself lose any relaxation the sleep had given them and sliding back into their state of “ready to fight for their life.”

            “I cannot accept,” said the Ugnaught. “You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service.”

            “I could use a crew member of your ability, and I can pay handsomely,” said Mando.

            “I am honored, but I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude,” said the Ugnaught.

            “I understand. Then all I can offer you is my thanks,” said Mando.

            “And I offer mine,” said the Ugnaught. “Thank you for bringing peace to my valley.” He walked out of the Razorcrest and mounted his blurrg.

            (Y/N) looked out on the view of the lovely desert, home to so much beauty and pain. I guess our presence did cause problems.

            The Ugnaught raised his hand to gestured goodbye. “And good luck with the children. May they survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.”

            (Y/N) turned away. Speaking as if they weren’t there again…

            Mando closed the hull doors. He walked to the cockpit, and the door slid open. The cradle floated behind him, and (Y/N) followed. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. The cradle settled into place over one seat, and (Y/N) took another while Mando sat in the pilot’s seat.

            “We’re going to the Client now,” said (Y/N). It wasn’t a question; they knew the answer.

            “Don’t try anything,” said Mando.

            “If I thought I could really escape, I would have tried by now,” snapped (Y/N). They spoke strongly, but a tiredness tinged their tone in a way only life-weary adults should speak.

            Mando glanced back. A teenager that finished with everything, so tired and exhausted and yet still knowing their death was coming and unable to do anything. A memory of himself waiting for his parents when the Empire attacked, alone with no path, rose unbidden in his mind.

            Mando forced it back down. He had a job to do.

l

            (Y/N) watched as the Child climbed out of his cradle and dropped to the floor. They had very little (nothing) to do but dread their arrival on whatever the planet the imperial officers were hiding out in, so they just sat back and watched the Child fuss or Mando navigating. Until this whole mess, they’d never been off Ushti, so seeing all the stars and planets pass was strange experience because it was both the first and last time they’d see the vast freedom and beauty of space.

            A buzz drew their attention, they looked up to see Mando receiving a transmission. A man stood in the small hologram.

            “Mando, Greef Karga here. I’ve received your transmission. Wonderful news,” he said. “Upon your return, deliver the quarry directly to the Client.” Karga chuckled. “I have no idea if he wants to eat them or put them on display, but he’s very antsy.”

            Beside Mando, the Child had climbed up and was grabbing at the dome of one of the levels, trying to pull the metal ball off.

            “Safe passage. You know where to find me,” said Karga before the transmission ended.

            Mando reached out and took the metal ball from the Child as he gnawed on it. “It’s not a toy,” he said, picking the Child up by his cloak and setting him back in his cradle.

            The Child cooed mournfully, and Mando frowned beneath his helmet. In his peripheral vision, he could see (Y/N) pick up a spare bolt from when he and the Ugnaught had fixed the Razorcrest and hand it to the Child, who brightened as he held it.

            Mando was not enjoying this job.

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[livingemkayde]

Twin Moons - Chapter Seven: The Song

Series Summary: 

when you meet a Mandalorian on the sands of Tatooine, for some reason you both can't stay away. even through all the pain—you keep coming back to each other. it's all you know how to do.

Chapter Seven: The Song

Notes: Ummmmm. No notes for this chapter other than ur not fucking ready. PLEASE ENJOY.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive f!reader

Series warnings: *Although this chapter may not contain graphic content, this story is rated 18+ due to graphic depictions of violence and sexual scenarios.*

Warnings: This chapter is rated mature (18+) for graphic sexual content (Fingering, f!receiving). Not much else.

Summary: He trails his hand up your leg, bunching the fabric along with it, his touch soft on your skin. He reaches further, passing by your knee and you close your eyes, bite your lip and involuntarily let out a small whimper. His head snaps up to meet yours when your soft sounds echo through the room, but it only spurs his hand up.

Masterlist  Chapter Five  Chapter Six

Some months later. 

Beep…

Beep…

Beep…

Be–

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you slam your hand down on your alarm clock. 

You sit up from your bed in the dark room. It's late. You can tell. You see the strewn clothes around your room and your blaster and viroblade sitting at the foot of the bed on a chest. You rub your tired eyes and move to use the refresher. 

As you wash your hands the bite of cold water shocks your system. Fuck. You groan, finish drying your hands quickly and move towards the bedroom to put a sweater on. As you move to the closet, you see it in the corner of your eye. The black fabric seems to glow to your sight in the darkness of the room. You push it to the back of your mind. 

You get dressed quickly, and step out into the dark night sky and make your way to the cantina. You pull your hair into a small bun at the base of your neck—baby hairs falling loosely down your neck and around your face. It's a cold night, the wind rips through your skin and you brace your jacket further around your body. 

You enter the cantina, travel to the back and put your apron on to begin the night shift. 

Bartending—what a fucking joke. 

But you needed credits. 

After Davin—his followers seemed to scatter in the wind when someone tipped the New Republic he was dead. They raided the place, ransacked the spice, released the prostitutes working, freed the prisoners you didn’t even know he was harboring in the dungeons. 

After that, you fled to the upper levels, looking for work in a much more approachable cantina. A cantina hired you for bartending. He said you were pretty enough that he would let it slide if you didn’t have any experience. 

You met someone who worked with the New Republic and made friends with him—a regular at the bar. Just to get them off your back until everything died down. And it did die down. No one ever sought to question you—to the New Republic, you were some lowly servant girl looking for work after escaping her home planet. No one would know and you would keep it that way. 

The man you befriended, Leo, offered you housing for cheap, in a complex near his. 

He was okay—you guess. 

He was some pilot for the New Republic but was decommissioned after an injury to his brain. He kept you company—no—kept you busy. 

He was okay—until his touches turned lingering when he began inviting you out to late night drinks and parties going on till the early mornings. 

But he was harmless. 

The two of you have never talked about whatever is going on between you. There was never any need to—you felt nothing. And he was harmless. He let you push out of his hugs that lasted too long and squeezed you too tight. 

But he was nice—he was fine. 

His friendship allowed you to be invisible to the New Republic records and in turn the Empire. If it meant slipping through the cracks, you would put up with much worse. 

He does make you laugh—not in the way the Mandalorian did. 

But he certainly doesn’t make you cry. 

He also never brought a flush to your face, never gave you butterflies, never asked more than you let on, never excited you. Not the way the Mandalorian did. 

You think back to his shirt you saw this morning in the closet. You haven’t put it back on since Sorgan, all those months ago. You wonder if it still smells like him, or if he’s truly lost forever. It makes your heart ache, even after all this time—you wonder if it will ever stop. 

You tie your apron around your waist and make your way to the bar. It should be a slow night. You know Leo will come in for a drink soon, and to talk to you. 

As you watch the time pass, he enters the cantina doors and finds your eyes almost immediately. He smiles. Really smiles. That’s something you like about him—you can always tell what he’s thinking. You smile back, tight lipped and continue to make a drink for a patron seated at the bar. 

When Leo approaches the counter, you excuse yourself from the other customer, and begin to prepare his usual—some spotchka the cantina gets from a backwater town. You made fun of him when he revealed it was his favorite, but he only told you it reminded him of the glory days. 

Whatever that meant. 

When you set the drink in front of him and place your hands on the bar, he smiles at you again. 

“Hey doll.” He winks at you. The nickname seemed like overkill in the beginning—but you barely notice it now—many people have had many nicknames for you your whole life. His flirting was getting tiresome—but you always put on a fake smile in response. He’s none the wiser to your apparent lack of blush. 

“Hey Leo. The usual.” You gesture to the drink in front of him and he takes it while raising the glass to you. 

“What are you doing tonight?” He asks while pulling the glass from his lips. 

“Just working.” You respond and start polishing glasses for more drinks. “Why?” You peer at him, he has a devilish smile on his face. 

“Two tickets. Tonight. You and me,” he says coolly. More declaring the plans rather than asking.

“Where to?” You ask while prepping another glass. 

“You can’t say no. I gambled away next month’s rent for these tickets.”

“C’mon just tell me,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes—a small smile on your face. 

“We’re going to the Opera.” 

_

He convinces you to go—somehow. Maybe you feel bad for him or maybe you want to get out of your room. You feel trapped in this life. Stuck in a place you were seeking to leave. It feels different even 1000 levels up, but you still feel uneasy being in one place for so long. You told yourself you should go see Ahsoka, go do anything. So you go. 

He convinces you to break out an old dress, do your hair for once, put on some makeup—telling you he would be in his best suit. You dig through your closet to find a black dress that comes down to your ankles. You had bought it to attend a ball Davin made you go to. It makes your skin shiver at the thought and when it pools at your ankles, the feeling doesn’t dissipate. 

You smooth the dress over your body and grab a small shawl to go over your shoulders. He knocks on your door as you grab your clutch, pinning a few fallen pieces of hair back, and make your way to the entryway. 

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look really nice,” he adds, wrapping your body in a small hug and looks down at you with a smile.

You don’t feel nice. The heels you’re wearing digs at your toes and the dress keeps surfacing old memories you fought so hard to bury. But you don’t tell him that. You don’t tell him anything. 

“Thanks. You too,” you reply shortly. 

You enter the speeder first, he opens the door for you. He’s a gentleman. He’s sweet, nice, everything you should be settling for, but you can’t help but think about a certain beskar covered man. He floods your thoughts constantly when you’re with Leo—you don’t know why and you don’t care to think about that particular notion further. 

On the way to the opera house he talks your ear off about the show, saying something about how it’s his favorite since he was a kid and wanted to take you there. It’s fucked up, but you stop listening half way through. Just absentmindedly nodding your head and look at him smiling every so often. The ride feels like it lasts forever. 

When you reach the platform of the house, he holds his hand out to you, taking your silken gloves in his hand to lift you out of the speeder. You remember the Mandalorian. His hands. The way it felt to touch his gloves in your bare ones—feeling the heat of his palms sear into yours. 

He leads you to your seats, the lights dim, the show begins. He claps enthusiastically throughout the show. You like it too—when you’re not fighting to keep your head from slumping to the side. It’s too long for you, too domestic, too…boring. 

The lights slowly lift when the show ends, Leo jumps to his feet to clap, you join him slowly, while stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye. 

You smooth your dress over your thighs and adjust your shawl over your shoulders. The room is cold, you can feel the chill go up your spine. As you clap and look around the room, people begin to exit. You can see them filing out through the aisles. Leo got seats in the mezzanine so you place your hands on the balcony ledge and peer down into the audience below you. You watch as the people move towards the exit. 

But something shiny catches your eye and momentarily blinds your vision. 

No. 

It can’t be. 

It…can be—but surely it can’t be because what are the odds?

He’s moving against the flow of traffic. Going towards the stage, and peering around—looking left then right. When his helmet moves towards up, you duck behind Leo and let out a small squeal. You aren’t sure why. You’ve been thinking about him for months and he’s here. In the flesh. Your heart skips a beat at the thought that he might be here for you—looking for you.  

Leo guides you down towards the exit, holding your hand as you make your way down the grand steps which lead out to the main entrance. 

You keep looking around you, curious about his arrival at the show. Leo notices your sudden uneasy energy and asks you about it—but you simply brush it off as being tired. 

He appears then, in front of you. You can see the top of his helmet as he sticks up slightly from the crowd. You continued down the staircase, vision remained locked on his T visor looking around the room and at the people passing him as they make their way towards the exit. 

He looks past you, further up the staircase and when his vision finally lands on you, you stumble. Holding onto Leo’s arm for dear life, you look down, your dress getting caught on the toe of your heel. You frantically look back at him, curious as to his reaction to everything. Seeing you here. Seeing you alive. With another man—in some outfit playing dress up. You pick your dress off the toe of your shoe and quickly descend from the last staircase. 

Leo follows your hasty figure. His gaze coming up to meet your eye line. 

“Is that a Mandalorian? Wait—hold on—he’s dangerous.” He grabs your bicep and attempts to hold you back gently. Your pace towards the Mandalorian doesn’t falter. 

You meet him in the middle of the room. He stalks towards you, the crowd parting for him as you push through. Leo follows fast after you, breaking into a small jog.

It feels like time stands still—you push and push—rude, you know. But he’s here. And he sees you. And you want to explain everything before it’s too late. Before he leaves you like you left him. 

You finally reach him. He stands still before you. He looks the same. Sans a small green child at his hip. Good. You note. He’s probably with Luke. 

You’re breathless as you stare at him. You move to open your mouth and say something—anything, but Leo finally catches up to your side and pulls at your waist. You notice how the Mandalorian’s helmet looks down at Leo’s hand on your body. 

“Geez. You move quickly. I–” He pauses when he looks up to who you’re standing in front of. Leo suddenly straightens his posture, though he’s still not taller than the Mandalorian. His voice appears in your ear, whispering lowly as if the Mandalorian can’t hear him. 

“Do you know this guy or something?” 

You ignore him and his touches. Only the man in front of you matters. You step toward him. Leo’s hand falls from your waist—he’s speechless, you can tell. 

“Hi,” you say dumbly. He doesn’t respond. Only nods his head back at you. 

Fuck. Maybe he’s mad—pissed even. But you can make it up to him, right? Explain everything?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still breathless. 

“Bounty work.” He replies. Your heart drops for a split second. He wasn’t here for you. It was all a coincidence. But maybe it was meant to be because, Maker. His voice. It sounds the same as you remember, richer even if that’s possible. It sends you into a trance. “What are you doing here?” He continues. Your face blushes embarrassingly. 

“I—” You start but Leo’s touch on your body causes you to spin to look at him. He’s ruining everything. 

“We should get going.” Leo says, hand coming to find your hip now, pulling back slightly towards his own body.

You look around and suddenly realize a small crowd has formed, watching you and the Mandalorian. 

Fuck. 

He’s right—too much attention. 

But you can’t bring yourself to walk away from him. He’s right there, and you look pretty, and seeing his helmet in the flesh makes you feel lightheaded after so many nights of imagining his image. 

“Go,” he says through modulation. Almost knowing. Like he understands everything—because for some reason, he does. 

“I—” you start again before Leo’s hand drags you away, and the Mandalorian continues through the crowd and disappears from your vision. 

_

“What the fuck was that?”

Leo drags you to some back alley away from the opera house. Maybe you should be scared in this situation, but like you said before, he’s harmless. 

“Just someone I knew okay? Can we just drop it?” 

“You just know a Mandalorian?” He places one hand on his hip and questions you with furrowed brows. 

“Yes, it was a while ago—look can we just go back?” You don’t meet his eye. 

“No, what business do you have with a Mandalorian? They’re dangerous. You know that right?” 

“Yes. I know. Just drop it okay? He—I have no business with him—he’s no one.” The sentence coming from your mouth stings at its blatant lie. 

“I’ve never seen you like that. You were—flushed—or—I don’t know. Can you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“He’s—just—Maker, can we just go? He’s nothing.” You say with a slightly more threatening tone. Leo’s eyes sink to shock and he turns around, hands coming up to his head.

“You don’t tell me anything. I give you everything. And you can’t even tell me who that was. You’re awfully flustered for him being nothing.”  He says, you look at him with pity. 

“He’s someone from home. Okay? Just someone I used to know. I didn’t expect to see him here.” You say while not meeting his eye. You feel bad that you’re still searching for him even in this dark alley. 

Leo looks at you. Really looks at you, and you finally meet his gaze. Fuck. He looks hurt. This isn’t what you meant to happen tonight. The Mandalorain pulled you against your wishes and this is you dealing with the consequences. 

“Leo stop c’mon. I promise you. He—he’s no one. ” 

Another lie to add to the pile. 

“Maker I—you don’t get it. Do you?” He asks, his head hanging to the side. 

You stare at him shocked. You’ve never seen him worked up, let alone mad at you. 

“Get what? Leo I—” 

He cuts you off, bringing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss him back, but you don’t push him off. He stays pushed against your lips for a couple seconds. Then he releases his hold on you—panting against your lips. 

You pull back your head slightly, trying to find his eyes. You probably look like a deer in headlights right now. 

“And now you look like that.” He says, breathless, defeated. 

“Like what?” 

“Scared.” He replies. 

“I—Leo, I-I don’t know if I wan—” “I know. I just…I just had to try.” He drops your body from his hands and steps back. You don’t know what to say. 

When you don't respond, he gestures towards the street and lets out a soft, “Let’s go back.” 

_

He walks you back to your room, eventually. He leaves with his head down. You should feel bad—for lying. But all you can think about is the Mandalorian. 

Fuck. 

He was right there. You wanted to fall into his arms and tell him everything. Confess everything. But you couldn’t—and now you don’t know if you will ever be able to. 

You reach into your clutch for the keycard to your room, and shuffle through some spare makeup to find it. You swipe it through the sensor and your door flushes open. You look in the mirror beside the front door—you’re unrecognizable to yourself after so many years in hiding. 

You feel awful. You’re distraught and devastated—now it’s the appropriate feeling to use the word. He was right there. And even worse, you can’t shake the feeling of Leo’s lips on yours. You tried to wipe it off, but to no avail. 

You slump down into a chair and begin to take your heels off. You unclasp them and drop them to the ground while reaching into your dress to take off the holster you had strapped to your thigh with your blaster and blade—just in case. You struggle with the clasp and begin to yank on it, the movement rustling your dress. You feel your blade cut into the skin on your pointer finger. 

“Fuck.” You curse to yourself and bring your hand to your eye to inspect the damage. 

“Need help?” A thick voice peels through the air of your small room. You yelp out of instinct, jump out of your seat, grab your blaster, and spin to face your bedroom. 

Fuck are you dreaming?

He stands there. Just like a few hours before. In front of you—head tilting to the side. You don’t know whether or not to drop your blaster. Maybe he’s here to kill you. 

“H–how–I–I…” You start breathless but can’t find the words. 

“C’mon. Put that down.” He says while nodding his head to the blaster you still have raised at him. You lower it slowly while he steps toward you. 

“H–how did you g–ge—” “Your lock is easy to pick.” He states—still approaching your shaken form. 

“You—the opera. I—” you start, but he comes close to you. His body crowds your senses and you move your head to stare up at him. 

“I got the guy.” He says. “And you live here now.” He looks around the room in reference. “And you’re with…him.” He says the last part and his voice raises at the end like it’s almost a question, but he’s trying to convince himself it’s a statement. 

“Yes. I—well no—I-I live here. But we’re—he’s not—I’m not—we’re not together.” You stutter over your words. You can’t believe he’s here, in your home, crowding your senses like all the weeks before. 

“Sure looked like it,” is all he says in reply. Fuck. Was he talking about the kiss? 

You don’t know what to say to that—nevermind what he’s doing in your bedroom. 

You choose to shake your head in response. You break your gaze, your eyes falling to your feet. 

A few moments pass until he begins to move in front of you. He slowly kneels at your feet, mimicking the first time you met him, in the cantina. His hand finds your ankle and your breath hitches in response. You say nothing. Partially because you’re scared your erratic words will cause him to leave forever and the other half because you truly do not know what to say. 

He trails his hand up your leg, bunching the fabric along with it, his touch soft on your skin. He reaches further, passing by your knee and you close your eyes, bite your lip and involuntarily let out a small whimper. His head snaps up to meet yours when your soft sounds echo through the room, but only trails his hand higher. It reaches the holster on your thigh. He slowly begins to unbuckle it and lingers there slightly longer than necessary, kneading the flesh of your leg while the holster falls to the ground. 

He drops his hand from under your dress when you let out a small moan. 

The Mandalorian stands and comes face to face with you again. 

A thousand years could pass by but you would still be stuck in this moment. You look into his visor—you find his eyes immediately. 

“You left,” he breaks the silence first. He sounds—mad. Or maybe hurt. You can’t tell under the modulation.

“I know. I–I’m sorry. I…” You don’t want to make excuses, so you settle for that. 

“Why?” He asks anyway. 

“Davin. He—I needed to be done.” You state, breaking your haze on his visor and looking to the side. 

“You killed him?” He asks. 

“Yes. I—the New Republic was all over the club after. I had to come up here to get away from it.” Your eyebrows furrow at the memories. “Leo is just…I don’t know. He worked with the NR. Takes the heat off me,” you confess. 

“I see.” He notes in reply. 

Silence surrounds both of you. You look back to his visor. 

“I’m sorry. About everything.” You say. You want to reach out and touch him. Hold his hands in yours while you speak. And you do, before you even realize you’re moving. His hands feel rigid in yours while you mold with them. 

You feel connected with him at your touch. Even through gloves you can feel every nerve ending in your body. 

You feel the attachment that led you to him all those months ago—what kept you dreaming about him, what kept you coming back over and over again. 

And maybe whenever you thought about him, it was because he was trying to find you. Searching the galaxy for your white eyes—dreaming about them behind his eyelids. 

His hands pull back in your grip but you don’t let them go. 

You’re done letting go. 

But he’s angry with you. You can tell. Maybe it’s Leo, or maybe it’s just you. He was looking for you while you sat here pretty—leading on the guy next door. 

“I should be going now. I…wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 

“I–” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I saw him drag you into that alley.” 

“You followed me?” Your eyes widen in shock. 

“I guess. But you’re fine. You got out of there when it started looking…intimate,” you wince at his words. So he saw everything. 

“Yeah. He-he just kissed me. I don’t know what happened.” You reply softly. His hand drops from yours and comes up—much like all those months ago, to touch your waist but he falters. Din remembers the man who was with you. His hands were all over your body. The way he glared at Din from behind your shoulder—threatened. Din silently shakes his head, this isn’t what he was here for. 

But he isn’t sure what he was here for. He saw you, walking into the opera house. He rounded up the bounty quickly, dragging him back to the ship and sought after you when the show ended. It was supposed to be nothing more than following closely behind you—to steal a couple glances at you in that dress again before he got off world. But you had spotted him through the crowd—and then he knew there was no turning back. 

Going to see you after the opera turned into following you to the alley, then to your complex, and picking the back door silently when you bid Leo goodnight. 

Now he was—he wasn’t sure. But he knows getting involved with you again was dangerous—and he should treat it as such.

His arm drops and he balls his fist at his side. He feels your hand in his other one. 

“Please,” you say with white eyes while you look at him through your lashes. All that was looking back was a black T.

“Don’t go.” 

“You left. You left me.” He says with a certain bite that registers in the back of your throat and shoots down to create a pit in your stomach.  

“I didn't know you were looking for me. In your dreams, you were looking for me,” you say while your head hangs and you drop his reluctant hand. 

“I’m always looking for you.”

Tears well your eyes at his words. You stifle your cries for soft sobs but feel like dropping to the floor and staying there forever. 

“Don’t cry,” he says. He brings his hand to your face—his thumb rubbing away fast falling tears from your eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” you plead through tears.

“I know,” his hand remains on your face. 

You push your cheek into it. 

_

You stayed like that for a long time. He pulled you into his chest and gripped the back of your neck as he held you. 

When you both settle to the table in the kitchen, you tell him about Davin—everything about him. You don’t miss how his hand tightens its fist at the mention he was your first kiss.

He tells you he took the kid to the seeing stone, lost him for a bit, then Luke swooped in and saved them all. Typical. Luke is so much like his father and yet, not at all. 

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?” You say, making your way to the kitchen cabinets. Your bare feet patter into the floors—you’re still in your dress, the shawl wrapped around your body. 

“I’m okay. Thank you,” he responds while looking around your home. 

“Can I?” He gestures to the expanse of the big room—your living room, bedroom, and kitchen stand undivided, your space looking more like a large loft rather than a house. 

“Go for it,” you prepare some berries in a bowl for him anyways. Although you aren’t sure how he will eat them in front of you—a reminder of the rift between you. 

You watch him from the kitchen as he stalks around your small space. He looks at the books on your side table, inspects the small trinkets lining the shelves above your bed, touches the headboard with an open palm. It sends a heat to your lower stomach. He’s here. He’s in your room—your bedroom. 

It's late. You both left the light switch turned off—blanketed in darkness, the only light coming from the glow of the moon through your windows. 

You sit on the counter in your dress, next to the bowl of berries. You nibble at one while watching him look around your open closet. 

“You like it here?” He asks, making his way back to you slowly while looking around. 

“It’s cheap. It’s…fine. I guess.” you smile slightly at him. He meets your gaze and continues through the small space. 

 “Leo got it for me. Says he knows the landlord or something,” you concede—heart beat picking up slightly at the mention of his name. 

“Leo.” He echos. 

“Yeah. The guy from the Opera,” you note quietly, staring down to your swinging feet. 

His figure stops a couple feet away from you, hip popped out, leaning on the side of the table with his arms crossed. 

“He–y–he treating you right?” He asks, his stance looks ridgid. 

“I guess. He’s…nice…fine. I told him I didn’t want anything though.” 

“Before or after he kissed you?” 

Your eyes widen at the statement. You try to find your words, lips parting. 

“I–a-after. You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

“No?” 

You shake your head in response. 

“Why not?” He steps towards you again, you find yourself parting your thighs, a quiet invitation for him to settle between your legs. 

“B-because…” you trail off when his hands come to rest on both thighs, massaging them gently while he separates them more, his hips resting in between your legs. 

The only contact you feel is the sides of his body on the inside of your knee. You look down, flustered, and when you see his hands on your legs it makes your breath hitch. 

“Because?” 

You close your eyes momentarily while he rubs your legs. You hesitate in your confession, but find your voice, maybe this is your proposal for him to stay here between your legs forever. 

“Because everytime I'm with him I can only think about you.” 

His hands stop moving on your thighs and your eyes snap up to meet his visor. 

A long silence passes between you. His chest plate rises and falls with every breath. You count them. You’re worried your confession has upset him in some way. 

“Fuck. You’re killing me,” he finally mutters. His hands begin to move again, wrapping around your waist—feeling your ribs under the dress. “You look…good. In this dress,” you let out a sigh of relief. You relish the feeling of his hands on your body. You want so desperately to tell him to rip it off you—do anything he wants with you. 

“You wear this dress for him?” His words break your trance. 

“No,” you shake your head furrowing your eyebrows, leaning into his touch, and arching your back slightly. You start breathing heavily, you can see it fogging his visor. 

He crowds your senses, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. You can feel his cock—hard and wanting under his flight suit push into your core. It makes you gasp and see stars. Your hands instinctively come up to his chest plate. You feel the cold beskar bite your hot skin—it makes you shiver. 

“You fuck him?” He says, his crude language mixed with the feeling of his body pressed to yours runs laps in your mind. He pulls the shawl off your shoulders and toys with the strap of your dress. You can’t breathe, let alone see straight. You are drunk at the feeling of his hands on you—his body so close to yours. 

“No…no no. Definitely not,” you shake your head while leaning up to his helmet. If things were different you would reach up to kiss him. 

“No? Would you have let him?” He pulls the straps of your dress off your shoulder, the fabric falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to the air—your nipples pebble at the cold. 

“No—I…no. P-please,” You aren’t sure what you’re asking for, but you need him to do something, anything. 

“Fuck, angel. Please what? What do you want from me?” The nickname burns your skin—unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

“Anything. A–anything. Whatever you want,” you plead. There’s almost tears in your eyes from your whining. The pool forming in your underwear is ever growing as he runs his hands along your bare chest, coming to grasp your tits in his hands, thumbing your nipples slowly. 

“Anything I want?” His hand pulls back, travels under your dress, and toys with the hem of your underwear. “You’re just for me?” He continues.

“Yes. Y-yes—just for you. Only for you. Mandalori—” 

He dips into your underwear, the pad of his gloved finger touches your aching clit lightly, you gasp and your head falls to rest against his chest plate. 

“Mandalorian.” He chuckles. “I’ve got my hand up your dress and you don’t even wanna call me Mando?” His head tilts down to the side to see your face. He suddenly pulls his hand out, and starts to undo the fastens on the wrists. Fuck. Is he going to show you his hands? His real hands? You look up to him, and back down to his wrists. You can’t take your eyes away from his hands. 

“Mandal—” 

“Bite.” He cuts you off, his fingers appearing in front of your mouth, you bite down on the tips of his fingers and feel him pull back—his hand slipping out of his glove. He undoes the other glove. You see his skin. Decidedly human, and tan. You figure his skin never sees the sun, so it must be his natural color. Tan. Human. 

“Do you want to know?” He returns his hands back under your dress, inching up your thighs again. The skin to skin contact makes your head spin and you feel lightheaded. Maybe he’s no good for you—something so simple isn’t supposed to feel so good. 

“Know what?” His fingertips dip back into your underwear, feeling your wetness. He groans slowly. He begins to push his right middle finger into your aching hole, but pulls back out so only the tip remains.  

“My name.” 

That snaps you out of it. He can tell. His fingers stop working on you. 

“I–only if you want…or you can just be Mandalorian to me.” You say and try to find his eyes beneath the visor. You whimper at the feeling of his fingertip in you. He pushes in—twisting his palm up so he can fill you till his knuckle. Maker, he causes you to see stars.

“I want you to know. ‘Cause you’re not just an assassin to me. Can I tell you?” He starts to pump slowly, finding a steady but achingly slow rhythm that has you whining into his chest. He brings his other hand to your chin, forcing it up to look at his visor. His head cocks—maker, he’s really asking you this question when he’s got his finger deep inside you? 

You nod your head frantically and shut your eyes. You feel close just from his slow movements—the pressure building from months of dreaming about him is about to explode. 

“Maker, I can feel you. You gonna come already angel? If I tell you, will you say it when you come? ” 

“Yes—yes fuck—please, please, f–anything for you.” 

He pumps more, adding a second finger, leaning down so his helmet’s forehead touches your own. That makes you want to cry. You bite your lip to soften your whimpers. 

“Din. Din Djarin.” He mumbles under his breath and starts pumping faster. 

Din. Din. Din. Din. Din. 

Maker, you can barely breathe. When you feel the heat in your belly begin to spill over, you clutch onto his bicep so tight you’re afraid it’ll hurt him. 

“Alright—alright. C’mon pretty girl. Give it to me,” he says—and you do. You come all over his fingers with a whine, louder than you expected, but then again it feels better than you ever expected. You say his name, his real name. Kriff. Your heart could explode.

When you come down from your high, he leaves his fingers inside you while he holds you in his arms, yours strewn over his shoulders, hanging from his body to keep upright. 

You drift to sleep in his arms, your mind only chanting one thing until you see darkness. 

Din. Din. Din. Din. Din.

_

Chapter Eight: The Resurgence

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added!!

@iammissdoddydoodagrimes @dinwifey @n7cje @sasakipsposts

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x f!reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando x you #mandalorian x you #mando x oc #mando x original female character #mando x y/n #din djarin x original female character #force sensitive reader #din djarin fan fiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine

[stormkobra-5]

The House of Fett (Poe Dameron x Mando!Force Sensitive!Reader Series)

Sneak Peek, Scene 1

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

Sneak Peek, Scene 2

Sneak Peek, Scene 3

Promo:

————————————————————————

If anyone wants to be tagged, just let me know! ^^

Series Masterlist here

@poeticsorcery

@adamcarlsenslvr

@djarinsgirl27

@dameronsknight

@ahookedheroespureheart

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #boba fett #luke skywalker #mandalorians #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars fics #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars #temuera morrison #pedro pascal #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac #mark hamill #poe dameron x mando!reader #poe dameron x force sensitive!reader #poe dameron x Mandalorian!reader #poe dameron x Jedi!reader #poe dameron x fem!reader #poe dameron x female reader

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #fanfic #smut #ao3 fanfic #tumblr polls #star wars #star wars expanded universe #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando #mandalorian fic #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #force sensitive reader #force sensitive #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {{masterlist}}

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Star Wars Universe)

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

Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. 

Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

Word Count: 161.5k - ongoing

Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, plot heavy, very dialogue heavy in later chapters, reader has rich lore that will slowly be explored and brought to light, mentions of sa trauma (brief but integral to reader's character), canon typical violence

A/N: whew, okay. i have so much excitement for this fic. i have been editing a nearly 30k document for months now flushing out details and scenes and plotlines. this is a labor of love, i’m putting so much thought into each chapter before i post and making sure it’s all cohesive before posting! please feel free to share with me your thoughts on this one!!  ♡

ao3 link || main masterlist

chapter 1 || chapter 2

chapter 3 || chapter 4

chapter 5 || chapter 6

chapter 7 || chapter 8

chapter 9 || chapter 10

chapter 11 || chapter 12

chapter 13 || chapter 14

chapter 15 || chapter 16

chapter 17 || chapter 18

chapter 19 || chapter 20

#dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #star wars #star wars universe #new republic #new republic era #order 66 #order 66 survivor #mando and grogu #grogu #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #star wars fic #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 fic #archive of our own #angst #smut

[blunailz]

I don't know who might see this but I'm desperate.

I'm looking for a mandalorian fanfic in which reader is force sensitive/user. I don't remember anything plot wise other than it starts with Din waking up from a dream, and the words "be with me".

Please help me find this, I'd really like to keep reading it.

#din djarin x force sensitive smut #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #fanfic #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin xf!reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x force sensitive!reader

[kermodeiiii]

Forgive Your Heart

Masterlist

Updates will happen about every 2 days :)

Also check out Forgive Your Heart on Ao3!

The Encounter

A Goodbye

Surprises

Fugitives

Even

First Informant

To Tatooine

The Dragon

The Crash

Reuniting

Back to Nevarro

Aurorao*

Drawings/references:

Your Mother's cloak- these are only examples you can think of whatever you like best :3

#the mandalorian #baby yoda #grogu #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorianxreader #mando x you #mando x reader #eventual smut #torture #chubby reader #force sensitive #idontknowman #thisismyfirstfic

[goblininawig]

The Future Has Many Paths

Marooned on Arvala-7, you meet a Mandalorian who offers you a job. Accepting it leads you down a path you never imagined, full of both wonders and terrors that takes you all the way to Mandalore.

Chapter 16: Darksaber

Bo-Katan leads an attack on Moff Gideon's light cruiser.

Tags: Force-Sensitive Reader, Razor Crest | Din Djarin's ST-70 Assault Ship, Canon Universe, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader-Insert, Din Djarin Doesn't Remove the Helmet, Grogu | Baby Yoda Stays with Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, Mandalorian Covert From Nevarro, Clan Mudhorn, Found Family, The Force, Ewok Species, Imperial Remnant, Mandalorian Clans, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, The World Between Worlds, Slow Romance, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

#star wars #the mandalorian #force sensitive reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #f!reader #rated t #female reader #read on a03 #the mandalorian fanfiction #the future has many paths #goblininawig

[everythingfan589]

A Work In Progress

Chapter 24: Right Behind You

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, fluff

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

“Ah, shit.” With a thud, another piece to the puzzle with no guide falls to the cockpit floor.

You’re a mechanic at heart. You pull apart everything around you and put it back together in your head. The galaxy is an endless void of inspiration, full of ships that can jump through space and time, bikes that never touch the ground一and yet you can’t put together this stupid lightsaber hilt.

“Need help?” Din sounds amused, which only fuels your frustration from the floor of the cockpit. Legs crossed with seemingly a million pieces of metal sprawled in an unorganized mess around you.

“No. I don't need一shit一I don’t need help. Ahsoka said I can figure this out. So I can一maker一why can’t I figure this out!” You groan as another piece comes loose and leaves your energy gate wide open.

The pilot chair spins around to reveal the mess of you to Din. When he doesn't say anything you look up and watch as his helmet tilts to the side.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” He sounds genuinely interested, the amusement in his voice invisible to anyone but you.

You just stare back for a moment, eyes burning into him as if the answer is written on his helmet before swatting the air with your hand.

“She said it’s like an engine. I know engines. I should be able to get this.” You mumble as you pull the entire hilt apart for the millionth time, nimble fingers pulling the tiny crystal from the chamber and holding it up. “It’s you. You’re the problem.”

“Talking to rocks. I’m pretty sure that's the first sign of something.” Din teases, which snaps your attention back to him.

“Don’t test me, Djarin.” You point at him with narrowed eyes but the threat doesn't carry a fraction of intimidation.

Turning your attention back to the scrap metal in front of you一your brain begins to map out the pieces of machinery like a hologram only you can see. Pieces moving into place behind your eyes without touching a single thing. It’s an engine. A tiny engine fueled by a tiny crystal.

If it’s like an engine, it requires the necessary modulation circuits and energy gate to keep all that energy inside the structure. Otherwise, you’re going to blow up everything within a three-mile radius upon ignition.

Eyes flicker back and forth like words on a page as you finally put your hands to work. Assembling the emitter matrix to go along with your energy store.

Din studies your brain hard at work, tongue poking out just slightly, mindlessly as you concentrate. The beautiful brain that builds things from scratch and can identify every part of a machine just by looking at a couple wires.

It might not be clear, if not to him then especially not to you, but he absolutely marvels over you. Everything about you leaves him in a constant state of wonder.

He watches as the skin between your brow slowly knits together in frustration until you finally put the pieces down again一a little too rough.

“I don't get it.” It’s not like you to not understand something. You hate that you can’t figure it out.

“Leave it. Come back to it later.” He offers一but in some way he understands your frustration. This comes naturally to you一as naturally as firing a blaster is for him. If someone handed him a new blaster and he couldn't hit a target, he’d be pretty frustrated too.

“I can’t一”

“Get over here.” His tone doesn't leave room for you to protest.

With a slight huff, you stand from the floor of the cockpit. Walking over to him, careful to avoid stepping on any of the small pieces of metal on the ground.

The moment you’re past balancing on your toes, Din reaches forward to grab your hip, pulling you down into his lap. Spinning the chair around to face forward, he taps the console and a map of the outer rim bursts to life.

“Pick somewhere to go.” He nods at the hologram. You would be melting over the way his thumb rubs back and forth on your thigh if you weren't so confused.

“What?” You turn to look into his visor. “But Gideon?”

“We don't have the manpower for Gideon. Plus we don’t know where he is.” Din’s thinking realistically again. You remember a similar situation when you first went up against the Empire一you barely got out with both your lives.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

“This is different. Laying low is our best option.” His voice is firm, trying not to be dismissive but needing you to know he won’t budge.

“Din.”

That’s not going to work this time.

“Pick.” His gloved hand reaches up and gently holds your chin between his thumb and finger, turning your head to the front console again.

“I don’t know, Din.” You try not to whine一but the last thing you want is to lay low, find a place you and the kid are happy, only for it to be taken away again.

“What about there? It’s terrestrial. Farming communities. You both like farms.” He suggests with a slight shrug.

“Low population hasn't worked for us so far. We need a city. Millions of people to hide between.” You begin to cycle through possible planets, holo shifting to show the various possibilities.

“No.”

“Why not?” You slump as you hit yet another brick wall.

“Cities have higher police presence. Bounty hunters. Empire.” The word sounds like venom on his tongue, and you don’t blame him, the mere idea of the empire puts a bad taste in your mouth.

“The Empire is everywhere. In a city, we have the opportunity to blend in.”

As much as you prefer the life of solitude, somewhere green and quiet to spend your time, it’s not proven to be sustainable. Din must realize this because he remains quiet for a moment, helmet turned away in thought一before he tilts his head in defeat.

“I guess it could make us stand out less.”

“I hate to tell you this, shiny, but you’ll stand out anywhere.” You lean back into him with a smirk which makes him sigh in feign annoyance. He reaches around you to control the holo, map shifting as he cycles through planet summaries.

“Coruscant has big cities.” You shrug and his chest moves sharply into your back when he huffs.

“We’d practically be handing ourselves to them.” He continues to move the map at a rate you can’t even keep up with until it stops. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“Where's this?” You look at the planet he settles on and begin reading.

“Mid rim. Ord Mantell.”

When you said you wanted a populated planet一you meant a couple million.

Ord Mantell has a population of four billion. There is no way the empire can find you here. At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you pay for a hangar to park the Razor Crest under a fake name.

Din didn't want you leaving the ship first, or interacting with the, as Din saw him, suspicious hangar manager. But, the hangar needed to be paid for and you stick out a lot less than the large man covered in beskar.

“How long’ll you be staying, sweetheart?” The manager asks from behind the separator.

“Uh, yeah一so, not entirely sure about that, but we’ll be一I’ll be happy to pay any compensation for your time, resources, and…uh…discretion.”

At your fumble, the man simply raises his brow boredly before clicking something in front of him and sliding a piece of paper under the window.

“Sign here…Miss Fairk Nyame.” He drawls the half-assed name you came up with on the walk over to the counter.

Yeah一not your greatest of ideas but it’ll do.

It wasn't long after that you found a hotel to check in, the city swarming with travellers made the establishments easy to come by. It also made Grogu blend in a lot more than you thought he would. Most people not sparing him a second look一probably assuming he was some kind of pet they’d never heard of.

It’s a downgrade. Living in the slums of a city, held up in a hotel room with thin walls. You honestly would prefer Tatooine一which is saying something.

“We can move around,” Din says as he drops the one duffle bag that carries enough for all of you on the bed in the centre of the room. “We don’t have to stay here forever.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s alright.” You try to put an optimistic look on your face as you walk over to the bed, letting Grogu hop from your arms and onto the relatively soft mattress.

He instantly crawls up to the top, pulling the blankets back and crawling under them一a little bump moving around under the covers.

“He’s obviously made himself at home.” You watch as he burrows himself into the middle of the mattress, still under the covers. Din has approached you now, taking your hand in his and rubbing his leather-covered thumb over the top of your hand.

“You know,” His voice is low now, pulling your eyes away from the Grogu bump. “This is the first time in a while we’ve had an actual bed.”

“Mm, you’re right.” So close to him now you have to arch your neck to look up, you can’t help the soft smile that pulls its way across your face.

“It just seems like a shame to waste it.” He shrugs, feigning complete innocence but you catch on instantly.

“Such a shame.” Just as you’re about to reach your arms up to wrap around his neck, a concerning sound growls through the room, making all three of you jump一the little bump under the covers going still.

You look down, realizing your stomach just decided to make it known that you have not eaten since yesterday’s Crest rations. Sheepishly, you look back up at him, heat rising in your cheeks but Din just chuckles一chest plate rattling under your fingers.

“This can wait.” The smirk in his voice evident.

“Food?” You try not to sound too hopeful, but he chuckles anyway.

“Food.”

“Hey, Grogu.” You turn to the bed where the frozen bump remains. “Food.”

The bump instantly starts moving down toward the end of the bed, shuffling under the covers until he comes to a dead end一blanket tucked in under the mattress. With a laugh, you bend over to untuck the blanket and allow him to come up for air.

“Now he listens.” Din mutters, unamused but you laugh for him, scooping the hungry child up into your equally hungry arms.

“He has his priorities. I admire that.” You joke as Grogu babbles, likely about the food he was just promised.

“Right.”

“This is almost like a date.” You smirk at Din from across the table before sneaking a glance over at Grogu who swallows a slice of appetizer bread whole. “Almost.”

“It can be a date…if you want it to be.” His voice carries a shimmer of hesitancy一like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Then I should have worn a dress,” You tease, but you honestly do wish you were in something nicer than an old shirt and brown leather. “Though, I guess it would’ve made me stand out too much.”

“You stand out no matter what you wear.”

And just like that, his voice is confident again. The words crystal clear and not a single strain of doubt or reluctance in them. It’s a fact to him一the way he sees you一and you can’t help the warmth from rising in your cheeks.

“So would you.” It’s quiet, but you allow the same tone to slip past your lips.

“Oh, yeah?” He continues the light banter, but you know he’s questioning you under the helmet.

“I could pick you out of a crowd. Without the helmet.” The claim is bold, but you full heartedly believe it.

“What makes you so sure?” His helmet tilts slightly in interest.

You pause to consider your answer. Under the stare of his visor your chest urupts in warmth but you don’t feel pressured.

You’re confident you could find him in a crowd of hundreds. Something about the way he holds himself is unmistakable to you. His very presence grounds you. Despite the fact you only know the shape of his features, never having seen the bridge of his curved nose or the plump of his lips一you would know him. That you’re certain of.

“I know you.” You settle on confidently. “I would know you.”

He seems satisfied with this because he goes quiet. You can only picture the soft expression his certainly beautiful face is making under the helmet.

When the food finally comes, you can hear the rumble in Grogu’s stomach一or maybe it was yours一considering the kid ate the entire complimentory bread basket it was likely yours. The moment the food is placed in front of you and the baby, the two of you dig in.

There is a part of you that feels bad for Din sitting with nothing in front of him, but you’re too distracted by the hunger you feel and the food currently correcting it that you can’t seem to remember long enough to care.

“Good?” He asks, amusement evident.

“So good.” You take a breath from shovelling the food in your mouth. Grogu hiccups in agreement as he eats in a less graceful fashion than you.

You dwell in the normalcy of the moment. Eating dinner as a family. Music played by a live band in the background that has your foot unconsciously tapping under the table. You don’t even realize your whole body is moving slightly in your seat. An effect of the food or music you don’t care to know.

What you don’t know is that Din feels the exact same way. Watching you mindlessly wiggle in your seat as you eat, the melody carrying through the cantina to match. The kid babbling away to himself as he eats. It’s perfect.

Until it’s not.

Din has felt the side-eyed glances since the two of you walked into the building一not unusual by any stretch一in fact it’s expected from the three of you. But until this moment, they were just that. Harmless side-eyed glances of curious bystanders. He feels it shift in his bones一instantanious.

Too focused on glancing around the large cantina for any possible threat, he almost misses the approach of a protocol droid一almost.

The droid stops in front of you and lowers a fancy drink by your plate.

“Oh, sorry, I didn't order this.” The droid’s lifeless eyes just stare back at you as if you spoke a language outside of its protocol. “This drink isn’t mine.”

“This beverage is on the house.” The droids speaks while you look down at the bright red liquid, pink dust around the rim of the glass一it does look appealing.

“Who sent it?” Din clearly doesn't appreciate the gesture, venom the droid can't recognize poisoning his words.

“This beverage is courtesy of the house of一” Without letting the metal disturbance finish, Din stands and grabs the protesting child.

“We’re leaving.” He jerks his head to the side, signalling you to follow him.

“O-Oh, okay. What about the crib一” Confused, you push yourself out of the booth to follow him, walking around the droid.

“I mean this planet. We’re leaving.” His hand not holding the child lands on your back to guide you out of the crowded cantina.

“Why? What happened?” You look around nervously but before he can answer you, your path is blocked by a number of relatively large patrons. The sudden intrusion has you backing up slightly, shoulder knocking into Din’s chest.

“Move. I’m not going to ask again.”

Din is physically smaller than most of the patrons surrounding you一you clock five of them一their large frames allowing them to be cocky. But the power Din conveys with just his voice should have been flagged a warning.

“You should stick around. Let your girl enjoy the music.” The one face-to-face with Din seethes through his teeth while the others eye you and the kid closely. While the music still plays, you can feel the energy of the building shift.

Without saying anything further, Din moves Grogu across his chest until he can place him in your arms and push the two of you behind him.

“I said I wasn’t going to ask again.” He tilts his head in that certain way you know promises violence.

The large man pauses for a beat before smirking.

“Grab ‘em.” He flicks his chin in your direction, but before any of the others can make a move, Din has thrown a bone-crunching punch up into the man's jaw. Audible gasps can be heard from the surrounding observers as the crack of bone can be heard.

It’s almost humorous as the music picks up in tempo, nervous breathing from the band speeding up the adrenaline-inducing song.

The beast of a man roars in pain and frustration at the punch as the others take the opportunity to jump on Din. With the child in your arms, you fight the instant urge to leap to his aid一fortunatly he seems to be alright. Fighting all of them simultaneously appears almost effortless on his part, only the occasional hiccup in his form while focused on one allowing for another to slip through.

It’s only when one of the five directs his attention toward you stepping backward that your fear shifts from Din to yourself and the child.

Every step you take backward clears the crowd a little more, no one stopping to help, only parting the sea of people一allowing the monster to approach.

You hold out your hand to push him back with the force on instinct一but the moment you lift your arm to initiate the action you realize it’s stupidity.

He’s almost on you now. The slow stalk of the cocky individual drawing out the fear.

It’s when you hear Din call out your name that you risk a glance over his shoulder.

“Run! To the ship! It’s Gideon!” He yells as you find him in the crowd一just as he throws something to the ground he swiped from the belt of one of his attackers.

The small object slides across the slippery floor in your direction before hitting your boot and coming to a full stop.

The flickering red light of the tracking fob greets you.

The cantina is too loud to hear the beeping, but you know it's there. Taunting and obnoxious.

Smashing the fob with your heel, you look back up at the patron directly in front of you. Without so much as lifting your hand, your eyes throw daggers at him一specifically his throat.

His large hands grab your arms, so tightly you know it’s going to leave bruises. But after a moment, the stone expression fades from his face and replaces itself with a pale one as his windpipe constricts itself.

Dropping his hold on you and crumpling to his knees, you take the opportunity to run around him.

“Go now!” Din yells at you but you hesitate.

“I can’t just一”

“GO!” Despite everything telling you to stay, you know the sound of his voice, you know you have to run.

So you do.

It’s dark. It’s crowded. And you got lost about ten minutes ago.

You can hear your heart thrumming in your ears as your pace slows from a run to a frantic walk一weaving your way through the crowds of the busy city. Everyone has become a threat as you try to appear calm and not like someone trying to escape. The thing is that you are. You are trying to escape and the fear is keeping you moving.

You shouldn't be worried about Din. The trained Mandalorian is fully capable of taking on a couple of assholes in a cantina一but this has become more than that. Those were bounty hunters. Staked out in that cantina as if they knew you were going to be there.

But that’s impossible…right?

Mind scrambling while the crowd continues to thicken and constrict your movements, you ignore the shoulders bumping into yours and the sounds of a thousand voices blending together.

You have to get to the ship. That’s your goal. Din will meet you there一you keep telling yourself一and then you’ll jump to hyperspace and be out of danger. Easy.

Except for the fact that you don’t know where the Razor Crest is.

As you turn, continuing your hurried pace, another shoulder bumps into yours一large and nearly knocking you off your feet. Turning with the blow to gauge your target, it’s not a man you recognize一but you recognize the shape of the tracking fob blinking on his belt.

“Hey!” He grunts as he identifies you the exact second you place him.

Snapping out of the initial shock, you turn tail and run. Sprinting through the crowds of people going about their day. Bounding through the lives of those who don’t care why you’re running. The backstreets are so used to crime and chaos that your frantic fleeing bats, not one eye.

There are landmarks you convince yourself you recognize一that speeder repair sign一the balcony wrapped in lights一are you going in circles?

You hear the man yelling behind you一running at a speed nearly matching yours despite the crowd. Spotting a dark alley just to the right of you allows you to slip to the side just as he runs past一dissolving into the crowd ahead.

Backing up into the darkness of the alleyway, you try to catch your breath.

“You okay?” You look down at the baby in your arms. “That was a lot, sorry about th一”

A firm hand wraps around your arm and you leap into action一elbow striking back at lightspeed to fend off your attacker. They’re just as fast. Holding you still with their other arm while you attempt to kick their legs out from under them.

White hot anger shreds through you and you punch. You hit. You struggle as they wrap around you and the kid to hold you still.

“It’s me! It’s m一hey一stop hitting m一it’s me!” The familiar timber of Din’s voice pulls you up for air and you freeze before melting into his arms. “That’s it. There you go. It’s okay.”

“Shit, Din.” You shove your face into the fabric of his neck as he holds you. Grogu crushed between you but not seeming to mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. One guy almost got us but一” He suddenly pushes you back from his chest, helmet looking you up and down quickly.

“Did he touch you?” His voice snaps with a venom you’ve only heard a handful of times.

“N-No, I got away. It’s okay.”

His shoulders slowly untense at your words but still hold the same weight. The weight of being on this planet for less than a day before being found. The weight of the galaxy becoming smaller, not just every day, but every minute you try to hide.

“We have to get back to the ship.” He says while looking around the darkened alley for any idea.

“Yeah一but we don’t know what we’re up against here. Every time we turn, there are more bounty hunters than before. We have to consider the fact that they’ve probably already called the Empire. Gideon could be on his way right now一” Trying to be the voice of reason, you do nothing but spiral yourself thinking about the desperate situation you find yourselves in.

“Yes, yes, I know that.” Din snaps you out of it before grabbing a blanket from an endless line of drying clothes between the two buildings. It’s damp, but it’ll have to do.

Wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling it over your head as a hood, he looks you up and down and nods. Then, taking Grogu from your arms, he lowers him into the crib he managed to get while escaping the cantina.

“We keep the shield up. You keep your hood up一head down.” He explains to you before hesitating. “I…I stand out too much. Especially beside you.”

“I don’t want to split up again, Din.” You grab his arm desperately, sick of constantly being in danger and at a blaster's mercy. Worrying about where he is and if he’ll make it back.

“You can slip through the shadows like a civilian, okay? I’m going to be right behind you. We’re too exposed together. Whatever bounty they put on you and the kid will have them on alert for a Mandalorian.” He explains, but at the feeling of your tightening grip on his arm and the look on your face that threatens to rip out his heart and turn it inside out一he lifts his hands and holds your head tenderly.

“I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

Lowering his head, he presses his helmet to your forehead gently, eyes closing under the helmet with yours as you both take one selfish second just to breathe.

Finally pulling away, you both turn to Grogu sitting politely in his crib.

“You stay inside, alright, kid?” He explains to him firmly. “We’ll be home soon.”

Tapping a control on his arm, the shield closes over his little head, concealing him inside. Turning back to you one last time, he squeezes your arm gently.

“Go.”

And with one last desperate look, you step back into the crowd and blend with the swarm一crib floating safely at your side, not a single inch of distance between you.

You keep your head down with one hand on top of the crib. Keeping the same pace as the crowd around you, the only goal getting back to the hangar in one piece.

You know Din is following behind. Close enough to see you一even if just with his helmet's heat sensor一but far enough away that even if someone spotted him一they wouldn’t notice you.

Despite the sea of people一you seem to be the only one in distress. It almost angers you. That these people can live their lives however they want. That they don’t have to run without a promise of relief simply for existing.

Most people live in fear. You’re not naive. The Empire has created a galaxy of terror and control that doesn’t seem to have a rival. People have adapted and made due. That’s where you find envy. You can’t do that. You can’t make do.

You have to run.

Only at this moment, you can’t. You have to make pretend and blend in with these people. Walk through the crowds like you’re not fleeing for your life. Keep a steady pace so as not to attract attention.

When the hairs start standing up on the back of your neck, the lengths of your arms一you almost let it pass as the nerves you have been feeling during this dangerous walk to the hangar. A logical conclusion一until you take into account the growing frequency of screams from the surrounding streets. The pace of the crowd picking up as panic starts to spread.

Alarm bells ring in your head. This is not normal. You’re the one on the run, so why are people screaming?

You finally do the thing you were instructed not to do.

You look up.

The dread doesn't creep in like a shadow as the sun goes down. It washes over you like an unforgiving mountain hiding even the promise of eventual light.

The giant ghost of Moff Gideons' light cruiser flickers in the night sky as dozens of bombs drop into the atmosphere.

Your frame is paralyzed in the flowing crowds. People running for their lives as you stay firmly rooted in place. The irony of it all escapes you. The sudden parallel of your life stopping just as theirs pick up.

As the bombs approach, you notice that they don’t hold the shape you would expect a typical bomb to be. Even one designed by the Empire.

Closer, and closer, until you realize一

“Hey一Hey一we have to go now! Hold on!” Din is beside you now, somehow finding you in the chaos of the crowd, but your eyes are glued to the approaching threat.

“Din, those aren’t bombs…”

“I know. We need to go.” He wraps an arm around your waist and grabs the crib with his other, firing his jetpack to life without waiting for you to snap out of it.

The moment your feet lift from the ground, you latch onto him like a lothcat一ground dissolving beneath you.

Flying at seemingly top speed horizontal for the fastest route of escape, you tuck your face into his cowl, the wind harsh on your skin but the least of your worries.

Until everything falls apart within the window of a mere second.

“Shit, shit一”

Impact. Red. Explosion. Deafening. Fire.

You barely register Din's voice before you’re falling.

Hundreds of feet from the ground, freefalling into the moving sea of bodies. Survival mode activated, your hand outstretches beneath you and pushes up一the force mimicking a safety net一catching you and lightening what could’ve been a mortal fall.

Feet hitting the ground firmly as you land in a crouch一you look up as one of the bombs executes the same action, mirroring you as you look up.

It’s no bomb.

You imagine it's worse.

A stormtrooper with no heart, painted black, eyes glowing red. A reflection of destruction.

Your ears are ringing so loud you can’t hear the screaming anymore. The current of frightened bodies splits down the middle, a stage for you and the shiny black threat to witness each other.

Without the adrenaline harnessing your focus, you’re pretty sure you would be knocked unconscious right now一the explosion that knocked you out of Din’s arms should have.

Din. The baby.

Without turning your head一knowing the droid is zeroed in on you一you look around frantically. They were hit by the explosion too. Grogu is in the crib which means Din probably dropped him. He could be anywhere in this crowd if not with Din.

The dark stormtrooper stands, drawing your attention back. Following its lead, you rise from your crouched position. It walks forward like a soldier bred to carry out one task. One purpose.

You know you’re caught. They know you’re here so why put yourself at a disadvantage?

Hand shooting up一you stop the droid in its place. Feet planted firmly in the ground, its mechanical head looks down at its metal legs rendered incapable.

It’s a struggle. Holding the droid in place. You don’t know yet the damage you sustained in the explosion一likely a head injury一defenatly a concussion at the very least. Holding this force of a machine requires more than you’ve given at your very best.

It starts to move. Spilling through the cracks of your weakness with unmatched strength. Slowly, but it’s moving. Toward you, despite the energy you’re putting into holding it still. The invisible binds you created around it fraying. Morphing from chains to a single thread.

You can’t hear yourself yelling. Screaming as you give it everything inside you to crush it. To destroy this thing that threatens your very existence. The existence of your child一the child you can’t find because of this一this thing.

White hot anger rips through you, bursting out like a tidal wave一

It bursts like a firework before your eyes.

Pieces of the machine fracturing in front of you until it's nothing but spare parts on fire.

The relief sends you to your knees. Energy wiped out of you. But before your knees can hit the stone of the street一cold metal wraps around your throat.

It doesn't just restrict your air一it cuts it off entirely. Ripping any shred of resolve from your lungs before turning you.

Face to face with the shadow of death in the form of a second dark droid.

You do the only thing a person can do while held above the ground by their neck. You grab its arm, trying to pull yourself free一legs kicking to find solid ground一with no avail.

You feel yourself go. Colours creeping in through the edges of consciousness.

The ringing in your ears grants you mercy for one second一one second to allow Din to call your name through the crowd.

A vibroblade is slammed into the joint of the droid's shoulder一

Din.

But, it doesn't react一not so much as a flicker of disfunction. It simply turns its head towards him and uses its other hand to backhand him in the chest. It sends him flying backward, his jetpack the only thing to counter the blow and catch himself. Sending him back toward you.

You can’t tell if the flickers of blue light are from your impending unconsciousness or Din’s whistling birds.

Din unleashes everything in his arsenal一one after another against your attacker. Desperately trying to get the metal claw around your neck to let go before it takes you away from him.

Finally, the droid seems to recalculate its overriding objective一the metal around your neck suddenly lets go一dropping you to the ground in a nearly unconscious heap.

It turns fully toward Din, gauging its new threat.

You can hear him calling to you一pleading with you一you figure he needs your help when really he just needs to know you’re alive. The unconscious frame of your body looking too close to death.

You manage to roll onto your back, even that nearly takes everything out of you.

Looking up at the dark sky一polluted by light so no stars can be seen一leaving behind only the shadow of Moff Gideon’s ship mocking you.

Then, through the impossible darkness, something catches your eye.

One of the dark troopers flying back up toward the ship. If your thoughts were fast enough, sharp enough, you might have made sense of it quicker.

It was only when you noticed the flicker of white in contrast to the darkness that you put it together.

That’s the crib.

Your baby's crib. Flying a thousand feet in the air一climbing by a hundred every second you watch.

Desperate, you try to pull yourself from the ground一looking back over at Din一you realize the fighting between him and the droid has stopped.

It’s stopped everywhere. All droids come to a halt.

The droid's distraction allows Din to use the beskar spear he was once using for defence to spear the droid through the neck一severing connection from the head to the rest of the body. It crumples to the ground.

Then all at once一dozens of what once were thought to be bombs shoot back up into the air. Purpose gone一purpose already nearing the ship.

“Din! DIN!” You cry as you pull yourself from the ground, watching as they disappear into the sky. He’s on you in a second, hands grabbing your arms and trying to get you to look at him一but you can only look up.

“Look at me! Hey! Look at me!” You can hear his voice crack一unable to hide the absolute terror in his voice.

“They have him! They have him! You have to go get him!” You cry, pointing at the sky as he follows your gaze. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, giving a slight squeeze to your cheek一a reminder to him that you’re alive before shooting up into the sky.

He follows close behind them. Flying up into the darkness of the night sky.

But the droids can fly into space一out of the planet’s atmosphere where the ship waits patiently. Din’s jetpack can only take him so far. His helmet can only do so much when faced without oxygen.

He feels the tug of gravity trying to pull him back down一the resistance on his jetpack becoming more difficult to counter. He can see the crib now, heat sensor in his helmet confirming his boy is inside.

In the arms of a droid.

About to hand deliver him to Moff Gideon.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #slow burn #fluff #action #force sensitive reader #jedi shit #a work in progress

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three

Father Figure! Mandalorian x Non-binary! Reader

Quick Disclaimer: @dumbbitchenergy17 has a series of Father Figure! Mandalorian that is also called Clan of Three. Our series are not related, but you should totally check her work out! It's super well done, so if you want the masterlist, click here.

Book 1:

Follows the events of Season One

Prologue: The Incident

Chapter One: The Assets

Chapter Two: The Mudhorn

Chapter Three: The Decision

Chapter Four: The Escape

Chapter Five: The Farm

Chapter Six: The AT-ST

Chapter Seven: The Newby

Chapter Eight: The Assassin

Chapter Nine: The Team

Chapter Ten: The Cell

Chapter Eleven: The Scuffle

Chapter Twelve: The Offer

Chapter Thirteen: The Bait

Chapter Fourteen: The Moff

Chapter Fifteen: The Smith

Chapter Sixteen: The Survivor

Book 2:

Follows the events of Season Two and The Book of Boba Fett Season One

Chapter One: The Path

Chapter Two: The Marshal

Chapter Three: The Krayt

Chapter Four: The Passenger

Chapter Five: The Spider

Chapter Six: The Fishermen

Chapter Seven: The Freighter

Chapter Eight: The Base

Chapter Nine: The Lab

Chapter Ten: The Jedi

Chapter Eleven: The Test

Chapter Twelve: The Stone

Chapter Thirteen: The Allies

Chapter Fourteen: The Darksaber

Chapter Fifteen: The Goodbye

Chapter Sixteen: The Separation

Chapter Seventeen: The Choice

Chapter Eighteen: The Return

Book 3:

Follows the events of Season Three

Chapter One: The Quest

Chapter Two: The Scraps

Chapter Three: The Cave

Chapter Four: The Mines

Chapter Five: The Waters

Chapter Six: The Sparring

Chapter Seven: The Message

Chapter Eight: The Path

Chapter Nine: The Malfunction

Chapter Ten: The Bar

Chapter Eleven: The Fleet

Chapter Twelve: The Scouting

Chapter Thirteen: The Trap

Chapter Fourteen: The Retake

Chapter Fifteen: The Wielder

Chapter Sixteen: The Family

Special: Symbolism

Specials:

Halloween Specials: 2023

Christmas Specials: 2023

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

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