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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 1 year

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The Past That Haunts | Din Djarin

Din Djarin x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.

A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍

Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)

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No one can run from their past forever.

Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.

No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.

And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.

"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.

As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.

With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.

"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.

You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"

He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.

"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."

This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."

"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."

The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.

"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.

"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.

"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"

With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.

"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.

Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.

"Y/N!"

It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.

"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.

The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"

It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.

You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.

"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.

The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.

Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.

"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.

"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.

"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.

"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.

"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.

It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.

"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.

You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.

He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."

You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."

"And nearly got yourself killed."

You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"

Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"

Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.

"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.

"Help me get him to the Crest."

And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.

||| Months Prior

Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.

You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.

Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.

Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.

The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-

"Hey, you!"

The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.

"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.

"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.

Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.

"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."

You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.

Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.

You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.

With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.

As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.

Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-

You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.

This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.

Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.

You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.

A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.

You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-

A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.

Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.

His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.

A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."

"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.

"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"

The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."

It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.

"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"

"Can you hunt?"

He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.

"No, but I-"

"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.

"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"

"Can you fix the ship?"

You were getting frustrated now.

"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"

"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"

It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?

As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.

And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.

"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"

"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.

"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.

The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.

"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"

This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.

"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."

He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."

"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"

"Could you give him back, please?"

"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."

The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.

You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.

Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.

"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"

You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."

"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.

"So you are his father?" You challenged.

The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.

He was going to let you stay.

"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.

"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.

"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.

Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.

"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."

The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.

|||

You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.

He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...

Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.

Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."

You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.

"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.

He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."

You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.

"What is it?"

You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.

"Today...scared me."

The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.

"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.

"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."

He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.

"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."

His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.

"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.

"Din-"

"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.

The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."

The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"

You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him

"There is nothing to forgive, Din."

His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.

"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."

And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.

|||

You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.

The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.

By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"

Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."

The two of you knew better.

"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.

Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.

"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"

Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.

"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.

"You'll see."

Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.

You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.

"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.

You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.

"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."

When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."

"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.

You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"

The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.

"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.

"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.

"Din, what-"

"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.

"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.

You heard him take his helmet off.

"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.

"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."

His skin. His skin was touching yours.

Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.

"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."

His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.

"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"

What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.

You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.

And yet, in the next second, you knew.

Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.

This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.

You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.

As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.

"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.

And then he was gone.

You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.

When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.

|||

In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.

Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.

"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.

"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.

"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.

"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.

"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.

"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"

The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.

"No." Din replies gruffly.

"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.

"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.

"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.

You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.

"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"

"Three."

He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.

"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."

Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.

"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.

Clan of three.

Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.

"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.

"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.

"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.

"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."

"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"

You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."

His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.

Until he clicks open the next puck.

That's when your world comes crashing down.

The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.

Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.

No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.

Din says your name, slow and guarded.

No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.

You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.

But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.

"Y/N, what-"

You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.

You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.

"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.

You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.

"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.

"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."

"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"

You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.

The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.

"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."

"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"

"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"

Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.

Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.

He taught you that move with a blaster.

And now, you've saved his life with it.

You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.

"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.

You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.

Let you go.

||| Din Djarin

When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.

There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.

There was no her.

The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.

This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.

He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...

What the hell happened? How did he-

The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...

Stars

A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.

The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.

The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.

The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.

"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.

"What-"

"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.

"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.

"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.

"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.

"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"

He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.

"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."

Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"

Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"

The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.

"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."

With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.

Felucia.

He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.

And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.

||| You

It was strange, being on the run again.

Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.

And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...

You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?

Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.

That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.

It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.

You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.

The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.

A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.

A tracking fob.

You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.

"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.

Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.

Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.

Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.

"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.

You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-

Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.

"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."

"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.

You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.

The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.

"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.

You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.

Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.

She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.

You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.

You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.

A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.

Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.

"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.

"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.

"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"

"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."

The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.

The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.

You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.

It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.

You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.

And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.

"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."

You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.

You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.

"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.

"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.

"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.

The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.

"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."

It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."

"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.

"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."

You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.

"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"

He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.

That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.

"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.

Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.

The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.

His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.

"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.

Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.

"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.

"I am."

The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.

Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.

"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.

"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.

The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.

Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"

"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.

"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.

"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.

"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."

You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.

"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.

"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."

"You think I can't protect you?"

"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."

"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.

"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."

"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"

His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"

"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."

His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.

"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.

He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.

"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."

You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.

You simply nodded, "Okay."

Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."

There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.

"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"

The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.

You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.

"So this is what you've been doing all this time."

It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.

Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.

"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.

"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."

There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.

You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.

“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.

"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.

"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."

The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.

He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.

Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.

"Don't-"

His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.

Then, it was silent.

Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.

"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"

His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.

"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."

He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.

"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.

You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"

You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.

"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."

His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."

Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.

You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.

"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"

You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.

"He's with Peli, safe and sound."

You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."

Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.

"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.

"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."

His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."

Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."

You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.

"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."

In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.

His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."

Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.

"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.

The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."

Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.

Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin oneshot #din djarin angst #din djarin fluff #mandalorian oneshot #the mandalorian x reader #din x female reader #din x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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Things Din Does When He's Jealous

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting, hugging, protectiveness, jealousy, grunting, silent threats, clingy!Din Djarin

A/N: He is the silent, jealous type and he's cute for it.

Jealous!Din who tries his best to keep his jealousy to himself. His armor is for more then protecting his body, it also helps him hide his emotions from the outside world when he needs to. He's a man of few words except to those he deems worthy, you being one of those people, the others, well he likes to keep them guessing a little.

Jealous!Din who does get jealous often actually, and very territorial when he does. Not with words but with actions more then anything. A few grunts, a tap on his blaster, his fingers twitching towards it and a slow turning of his head is enough to make someone back off.

Jealous!Din who can't help but think you can do better then him so when he sees someone hitting on you a part of him feels like he should let it happen. It hurts him of course, to think like this especially when he has so few things he can think of as his own.

Jealous!Din who goes to you almost without thinking about it, his legs leading him to where he's supposed to be, by your side. His hand will find yours, squeezing once, twice, tense, then relaxing when you squeeze back and tap on his helmet. Its a specific series of taps know to only the two of you that you do to calm his nerves down.

Jealous!Din who clings to you when he sleeps. Its one of the only times when he can relax out of his armor so you bet he's gonna take the chance to be as close to you as he can. And someone was around you, flirting with you before this he will get especially close, almost all the way on top of you, trying to breathe in your scent, absorb your warmth and give you all of his in return.

Jealous!Din who hogs all your attention when you're alone, but only when you're alone because you already know him so well. He kisses your cheek, strokes your thigh with his hand and casually bumps into you when you're passing by in the ship, making sure he's the only person on your mind.

Jealous!Din who gets a little shy when you take his helmet off and go in for a reassuring kiss. He can barely hold himself back from kissing you senseless, letting his feelings of jealousy and protectiveness and need overcome him and let everything out.

Jealous!Din who nuzzles his head against yours while he's wearing his helmet as a way of showing affection. Knows that this will also show others that you're someone important to you because usually he doesn't let anyone get anywhere close to his helmet, let alone initiate it himself.

Jealous!Din who is ready to fight someone when they don't back away from you when he gets there. Just him being there should have been enough but it seems like the other person has a bit of a death wish. Who knows they might actually be a dangerous criminal that he can get an award for. It would be nice, that way you never have to see their face again.

Jealous!Din who will take you away into a dark corner, pin you to the wall and lift his helmet for a lightning fast kiss. Sometimes he just can't wait to taste your lips, especially when they've been eyed by someone who isn't him. He needs to mark what's his.

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oniiloma · 7 months

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#din djarin #pedro pascal #mando #the mandalorian #smut #mando x reader #mando fanart #din x female reader

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decembermidnight · 6 months

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Ner Mircet'ad (My Slave)

Summary: The Mandalorian breaks into the Imperial safehouse where you're held captive and kidnaps you to use you as his slave... and you're not complaining. Kinktober 2023 special

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ mdni, CNC, kidnapping, handcuffs, use of gag, bondage, dom!Din, sub!reader, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (m receiving), tease and denial, edging (m and f), creampie, cumplay, degradation kink, Mando'a speaking kink, dirty talk, face slapping, glove kink

A/N: Happy Kinktober! Here's my contribution! This should have been a fantasy of the reader in another story but I got a little carried away and it became its own oneshot. I'm feral about how it turned out. See below for Mando'a translations. I hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

You only saw him a few hours before, when he entered the Imperial safehouse where you’re held captive, forced to work as a scientist at the facility.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him - tall, broad shoulders, mysterious, a dark and raspy voice that made you melt in an instant. You have heard he’s one of the best bounty hunters in the outer rim. He acted disdainful towards the Imperials, pointing his rifle at them as soon as he perceived a hint of menace.

You looked at him completely entranced the whole time, devouring him with your eyes. You noticed he tilted his helmet towards you more than once, and felt his hunter gaze scouting your figure as he barely paid attention to the Imperial officer talking to him.

When he left, you felt the urge to immediately go touch yourself.

You locked the lab door behind you and slipped your hand in your panties. You sighed when you reached your slit and felt you were drenched at the mere thought of him. You started circling your fingers around your swollen clit and rested your head against the steel door behind you. Your mouth let out a groan too loud and instinctively your free hand went covering it to muffle how much thinking about the Mandalorian warrior was getting you off.

You let your body slide down until you were kneeling on the floor with your legs spread open. You thought of how hot his masculine voice would sound moaning your name while you’d be on your knees sucking his cock. You circled your clit in a frenzy, trying to be as silent as possible, but the wet noises of your arousal were betraying you. You thought of his heavy, thick body on yours, of how hard he’d fuck you, of him panting in your ear. Those thoughts drove you over the edge and felt the hot spark of the orgasm setting you aflame. You squeezed your eyes shut and had to hold your breath as that hot wave of pleasure was traversing your whole body, reducing you to a weak, trembling mess collapsed on the lab floor.

The very same night he comes for you.

He breaks into the safehouse, exterminating everyone in it, mercilessly, using his huge rifle, and then he opens the door to your room and finds you there, laying in your bed, still half asleep, scared and disoriented by all the noise, dressed only in a light nightgown.

In a second he is on you, his heavy armoured body is preventing you from moving. You do not even attempt to resist him, you stay completely still and carefully observe every action he does.

He’s holding both of your wrists in the tight grip of one of his hands, as the other one rummages in his utility belt to take out handcuffs, which he immediately uses on you.

You feel a tingle of excitement as his fingers slowly loosen their grasp and start to lightly trail down your naked arm, until they reach your neckline, where they delicately pull the fabric of your dress down to free one of your breasts.

He admires your hardened nipple, tilting his helmet sideways as his middle finger gently brushes it, drawing circles around it. You sigh at the tender touch of the leather against your sensitive skin, and when he hears that sound, his inscrutable visor immediately jerks towards your face, to look at your aroused expression.

To your disappointment, his hand stops touching your nipple, goes back to his utility belt and takes out a piece of cloth with which he gags you - not because he needs to prevent you from screaming and pleading for your life, no. You immediately realise that he’s turned on by it - treating you like one of his preys, hunting you, kidnapping you, making you his. The thought of it gets you more and more aroused the more this unspoken, borderline wicked dynamic plays between the two of you.

He then picks you up from your bed and carries you on his shoulder like his trophy through the dark, desert streets of Nevarro, all the way back to his ship, where he lays your body down on the cold steel floor and fixes your handcuffed hands to the bottom rung of the ladder leading to the cockpit.

He kneels before you and rips your thin clothes off with his hands, rabid and longing, making you gasp in arousal at that vulgar display of strength, and looks at your naked body and at the marvellous way it responds to him, so eager at the thought of being owned by him.

When his hands start to touch your body and you feel the leather of his gloves against your skin, you let out a deep, muffled moan and pathetically try to follow his movements with your body, craving for more contact.

He indulges on your breasts, tender and soft, groping and squeezing them. His touch is unexpectedly delicate, and you carefully follow it with your eyes, seeing the way he makes you simmer as he takes all the time he wants to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

He plays with your nipples, feeling how hard they get with just the brush of his fingers circling them, making them hard and stiff.

Use me. Use me. Use me. You beg for him with your muffled voice and body language.

His hands then trail down to your soft belly and round hips. He caresses and squeezes your feminine curves, longing for the moment when he'll finally dig his fingers into them while using you for his pleasure.

You can’t help spreading your legs for him, letting him have a look at your glistening core, already so wet for him, warm and inviting. He lets out a low, guttural hum when he sees how yearning and desperate you are for his touch, knowing his painfully slow teasing is working wonders on you.

His fingers trail so close to your wet folds, and the whimpering noises you make are absolutely pathetic as he taunts you, softly brushing your inner thighs and outer lips without touching your most sensitive spot yet. Your breathing gets laboured as he gets close to your clit and barely brushes it, teasing you, making you stutter with a brief, imperceptible touch, only to proceed down your slit and slide two fingers inside of you, making you arch your back in pleasure, moaning as loud as you can as you clench around them.

"You like this, don't you?" he asks as he takes out his fingers, completely soaking wet. He seems so pleased as he admires the leather of his gloves glistening in your arousal.

"Go on. Taste yourself on my fingers." he ungags you as he pushes them inside your mouth.

You obediently suck his fingers, gently licking them with your tongue, tasting the salty of your arousal, the bitterness of the leather and the faint metallic taste left by his guns. You look at him with lustful eyes right in his visor as your tongue swirls around his fingers, letting him know with your gestures that you'd suck his cock any time he wants, that all you care for in the galaxy is just to give him pleasure.

He hums in satisfaction, thinking of the way your sweet mouth will welcome his cock, how far it'll go into your throat, and how badly he wants to cover your pretty face in cum.

He takes out his fingers from your mouth and gags you once again. After that, he stands up and goes to his well-stocked armoury, taking some ropes out and coming back kneeling between your legs. He spreads them even more open, to the limit, and enjoys the view of your achingly needy cunt, drawing a few circles on your clit with his thumb, driving you insane as he looks at you whimpering and rolling your hips towards him.

He starts by tying each of your legs to the same ladder where your hands are, so that it’s impossible for you to close them. After that, he patiently wraps a rope around each of them, tying your thigh and ankle together, immobilising you, so you’re always available, at his mercy, any time he wants, and the thought of that gets you even more aroused. You’re drenched by now, you feel your sleek coating your inner thigh and dripping on the floor below you. Maker, you've never been this wet in your life, ever.

He looks at your helpless body, trailing his gloved fingers on your inner thigh, making you feel leather against your skin once again, rejoicing in the fact that you can’t move, making you quiver with lust as he smirks under that damn helmet seeing that you are so wet for him. He sees the way you react to his body, to his dick, to his touch, and Stars, he is so turned on by that.

He unfastens his utility belt and unzips his pants to finally take out his big, thick cock. It's throbbing and veiny and its tip is deliciously red and glistening in precum. You mewl just looking at it, feeling your walls clench in anticipation.

He immediately starts sliding it painfully slowly between your folds and it’s fucking debilitating after all of that excruciating teasing. You arch your back while moaning hysterically, begging for more as your eyes uncontrollably cross as you try to keep your gaze on his tip teasing your aching cunt. He keeps rubbing, keeps rubbing it on your clit and you feel so close already, and right when your body starts shaking in preparation for the imminent orgasm, he stops, taking it away from you, and starts stroking himself at the sight of you - so desperate for his cock, getting off from your agony. He gropes the soft flesh of your thighs and keeps giving himself pleasure in front of you. You can barely hear him panting under the helmet and oh, damn, he sounds even hotter than you’d imagined. It's such a pleasurable torture to be forced to look at him without being able to do anything, to hear the wet sounds of him fucking his fist so close to you when you wish you were the one who makes him feel so good.

He gives one last squeeze to his cock, letting a drop of precum out, then he slides his tip inside of you, making you roll your head back, sighing at the feeling of having him inside of you, finally.

When he feels how welcoming and hot you are, he groans in pleasure. His raspy voice makes you clench around him. He feels how tight you get when your muscles clench, and he lets out a barely audible curse.

He takes it out and immediately slides it back in, just the tip, just to play with you, to tease you, to get you on the verge of your orgasm and who knows, maybe he won't give it to you. You're at his mercy, you have to accept anything he's willing to give you. Will he make you come? Will he fuck your pussy, or will he just tease you like that indefinitely, leaving you crying and begging for him, as he gets off in your frustration, covering your body in his cum?

He goes on tormenting you like that for what feels like forever. A long, pleasurable torment where you desperately beg for him to put it back in everytime. Your whole body is shaking at the cruel game he's playing with you.

You wonder what he looks like. You bet he's handsome and he's smirking sadistically under that helmet, getting off from your desperation. His body exudes sexuality and confidence, his voice is deep and sensual - he is hot for sure.

He puts his tip in one more time, but now he's pushing all his shaft inside of you, and he's looking at your tearful eyes and how they widen in wonder when you feel him sliding slowly inside of you - deep, so deep, like you've never been fucked before, making you feel owned, marked, his property, his. He knows how good his cock is making you feel and that you'll never be fucked this good by anyone else in the galaxy.

He can't help sighing at how tight you are, and he sounds so hot when he does. You're so wet, the obscene sounds of him sliding in and out of you fill the hull of the ship. He's grabbing your legs, thrusting deep and slow, his head leaned back, completely sinking into the pleasure that is fucking you, controlling you, owning you.

When he picks up the pace, he starts cursing in a foreign language, gasping and groaning at the way your walls clench around his cock.

“Bid pel bal piryc par ni.” he growls in between sighs. He sounds even hotter when he speaks what you assume is his native language. There's something about the way that ancient language of warriors sounds that fits him and his husky voice so well. You don't understand a word, but you can tell by how pleased his voice sounds that he's praising you and the way you feel around him. You too are enjoying his cock so much. Maker, the pleasure he is providing you with is one you’ve never felt before. You’re forced to take him in any way he wants, completely subjugated by him and his desires, and it’s so perverse and thrilling that you’re already addicted to it.

You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he thrusts into you, hitting your clit at just the perfect angle, building your pleasure gradually, until you feel on the edge - your breathing is getting laboured, your body starts to shake, you’re just there… but he takes it out and you feel like you’ve been robbed of air from your lungs.

You're so desperate, your whole body is shaking, your handcuffs rattle against the ladder behind you in protest and you let out cries. You must look pretty pathetic to him, who is enjoying the sight of your desperation and the sound of you whimpering by viciously stroking his cock in front of you, letting you see and hear how wet you've made it, his helmet is cold and won't betray any emotion. You can only arch your back and roll your hips begging for him to put his cock back into you.

When he's satisfied and has seen you beg for him enough, he slides it back in, the both of you moaning at the same time at the feeling. He immediately picks up his rhythm and grips your throat in his hand, forcing you to look at him while he’s choking you.

"Mircet'ad." he growls as he thrusts into you. "Ner mircet'ad" rasps again.

You look at him, not sure about what it means, but his voice is hot like lava against your skin as he speaks that foreign language.

"Yes, that's what you are. Do you know what it means? I want you to. It means slave. My slave. Ner mircet'ad. That's the only way I'll be calling you."

He made a point of what you are to him - nothing more than a sex slave that he will use when he comes back after his hunts, to let off steam after catching his quarries. Bounty hunting is tough, and you'll be his relief, something warm and giving always waiting for him with open arms and legs and that will make him feel so, so good any time he wants. His Mircet'ad. That word keeps echoing in your head and you drench yourself at that thought. He feels the way you're spasming around him and how aroused that made you.

"Do you like being called like that, little whore? You like being used?" he wraps his hands around your throat even tighter.

You nod as you look at him with needy, lustful eyes.

When he sees that, he goes crazy and just starts jackhammering you, digging his fingers in your hips as leverage, making you lose control over your mind and body, completely overwhelmed by the way he's fucking you brainless.

"What a fucking slut. Feel how wet you get when I call you my slave. Fuck, you’re such a whore. Wanted to fuck you so badly since I saw you. Do you think I didn't notice the way you were looking at me, whore? Made me walk out of there rock hard, thinking of the things I'd do to you. Gonna fucking wreck your pretty cunt. You feel so good, ner mircet’ad." his voice alone could make you come, and you both feel the way your pussy reacts to him, uncontrollable spasms of excitement that further add to the already overwhelming pleasure, hoping he maintains that promise.

He takes it out again when he feels you're on the edge. And again, your body begs for him. You know he's enjoying seeing his slave begging for him.

"Fuck. Killed so many people to fuck this little pussy. Let me enjoy it. Let me hear how much you want my cock." he pants as he looks at you.

Your back arches and you let out desperate moans as the hand wrapping your throat grips your jaw instead, blocking your face in that position, letting him look at your face.

"Beg for it like the needy slave that you are." he lowers the gag from your mouth.

"P-please, please put it back in. I want your dick inside of my pussy. Please, I need it." you let out in a pleading voice on the verge of tears.

"Hmm. Go on. What do you want me to do to you?"

"Anything you want. I am your whore. I'm here to please you. I want you to wreck me and fill me with your cum. I want to come on your dick so badly, so fucking badly, please! I want you to make me scream until I beg you to stop. I want to give it to you any time you want and hurt for days. I want you to use me, please! I want to be your slav-"

He slaps you in the face, stopping that flow of obscenities from coming out of your mouth.

"You are my slave." he snarls as he grips your jaw tighter, bringing your face so close to his helmet. You look at him right in his visor, so heavily aroused by the rough way he's handling you, asserting his dominance and ownership. You are his slave. His slave. The thought of it sends a thrill of arousal down your spine and turns you on so much.

"What a filthy little mouth you have. Let me use it before we're done." he growls as he takes a good look at you.

"Damn you're pretty. Wanna ruin this beautiful face. Look at these perfect lips. Can't wait to see them wrapped around my cock." he says while tracing your lips with his thumb.

He positions himself over you, with his dick right in front of your face and you can't help elongating your neck towards it, sticking out your tongue to lick the salty slick of your arousal from its shaft, making him grunt as he feels how hot and velvety your tongue is.

"Yes, yes, lick it. Feel how wet you've made it, ner mircet'ad." he slides his wet cock inside your mouth and you welcome it, brushing it with your tongue, tasting yourself on him, adoring it.

He gasps at the feeling and goes on sliding all of his length in. You take it in greedily, keeping your gaze on his visor. He pushes it in your throat without resistance on your side. The Mandalorian is amazed at the way you take his cock.

"What a greedy whore you are. You want it all, don't you?"

You moan at that, sending vibrations to his cock, making him throb and choke a sigh as his hand grips tight to the ladder.

He loses it completely at how obedient you are and starts thrusting into your throat, making you feel used like an object for his own pleasure - you can feel by the way he's panting that he's loving it… and you are, too. When he takes it out it’s completely drenched in your saliva, and he grabs you by the hair and looks at you.

"Ner mircet'ad, I knew your mouth would be perfect. You take my dick so good. All of it, deep in your throat. Good girl, you deserve to be fucked so hard." he praises you, then he positions himself once again kneeling in front of you, lifting the gag over your mouth.

He grabs his cock in his hand and slowly slides it back inside of your desperate, throbbing cunt, letting you feel every inch of him.

"Oh, fuck, you take it so good" he lets out in a low, pleased whisper.

He immediately starts to rail you once he's buried deep inside of you, making you uncontrollably moan and tremble.

"Bet you never had a cock this good. No one's ever fucked you like I am right now. Gonna give it to you anytime I want, and you'll be taking me like the fucking whore that you are, ner mircet'ad." he buries his cock deep inside of you and he stops, as he’s close to his own orgasm this time. He’s panting and shaking as he grips tight to the ladder with both of his hands, towering over you with his broad figure. You can see the outline of his biceps from under the thick layers of duraweave and Maker, it's such a delightful view. You roll your hips against his so as not to stop stimulation, moaning provocatively. It’s so good, you don’t want him to stop just now.

“S-stop it.” he grunts as you keep moving your hips, disobeying him, getting even more aroused by the way his voice sounds when he's restraining himself.

“Fuck. Greedy slave, you want all of my cum, don’t you? You want me to fill you up and drain me, to be my cum slut, huh? If you k-keep moving like this I’ll - I’ll - fuck” he lets his dick slip out of you with the very last inch of self control he has left. His whole body is trembling and he is panting as you beg for him with your muffled voice.

“Fuck, you’re a temptress. An insatiable slave. A fucking cocksucking, cum addicted whore. Stars above, if you want it so badly, I’m gonna give it to you. You make me want to fuck you so hard and fill you so deep. Damn, take it.” he puts it back in and starts to rail you at a debilitating rhythm, making you shake your legs out of lust and roll your eyes because of the pleasure.

"Shit. I'm so close" he grunts as you look at him with pleading eyes, making your handcuffed hands rattle on the ladder.

"Do you want me to make you come, mircet'ad?"

You frantically nod your head.

"Yeah - bet you did. I will make you come. If you ever make it out alive from my ship, I wouldn't want you to say that the Mandalorian didn't satisfy you. It would be bad, wouldn't it?"

You keep nodding your head, feeling your cunt throbbing with need and lust at the thought.

"Get ready, I know you're close."

The angle at which his cock is hitting your clit is sending you to heaven, just as the thought of him restraining from his own orgasm to give one to you first.

"Let me hear you. Let me hear how fucking good I'm making you come" he finally frees you from your gag and you can finally let him hear your desperate, loud moans.

A few more thrusts of his thick cock inside of you and you feel the devastating force of the orgasm blazing through your body, making you burst. Finally, after a never-ending edging torture, he lets you come. From the position you're forced in, with your legs completely spread open, the power of your orgasm seems even more shattering than ever, nothing like you've ever experienced before. You can feel your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his cock, making him grunt as you let out the hottest, headiest moans he's ever heard.

"Fuck. F-fuck. How can you feel so good?! M-maker you're tight. Fuck. Killing me. G-going to fill you. Fill you with my cum. N-now. My slave. F-fucking mine." he snarls and fills you with his hot load, his cock pumping it deep and hard inside of you as you groan loudly and sensually and won't stop looking at him. He tries to muffle his own moans by gritting his teeth, and Maker, he sounds even hotter when he gives up, letting those heady moans out, losing control, wholly abandoning himself to that overwhelming pleasure. He grips tight to the ladder with both of his hands, preventing his body from collapsing on yours, burying his cock deep inside of you as you both slowly come down from your high.

“I’m your slave.” you softly whisper in your post orgasmic haze, smiling.

"Ni gar mircet'ad" he teaches you. He trails his fingers on your mouth and you kiss them sweetly, looking at him in the visor.

“Ni gar mircet'ad, Mando” you repeat in a sweet, tender voice.

“Gar serim, ner mircet’ad. So fucking hot when you speak Mando’a to me.” he lightly wraps his hand your throat once again.

"You too." you reply.

"Oh, you like it when I speak Mando'a to you?" he lets his hand trail all over your body, making you sigh when it stops between your legs and starts rubbing your clit.

"Yes. So hot. You're so hot." you go on praising him in between moans as he picks up the rhythm of his fingers.

"'lek, ner aikiyc mircet'ad, k'olar tug'yc par ni bat ni cere. Come for me again on my fingers." the sound of his dark voice, sweetly whispering those words while touching your clit drives you wild and you can't help obeying his order, coming again after a few rubs of your clit, so unbelievably aroused by that. His visor is locked on you, on your eyes that uncontrollably cross and roll because of the pleasure, on your mouth letting out filthy sounds of pleasure, all while he keeps speaking his native language throughout your orgasm, encouraging you.

"'lek. 'lek. Jate, ner mircet'ad. Bid mesh'la. K'olar par ni."

After that second orgasm you feel completely debilitated and just collapse, exhausted but so, so satisfied.

When he slips out of you, he enjoys seeing your exposed cunt slowly leaking his cum out, wrecked and still spasming in aftershock. He uses his cock to gather all the seed that escaped from you and push it back inside of your hole. When he’s done, he looks at you in the face, his cock is still hard.

“Will you clean it for me, mircet'ad?” asks gently as you have already opened your mouth wide open for him.

“Good girl.” says as he slides his cock in your mouth. You taste both of your orgasms in your mouth and hum, sucking it avidly and licking it clean.

“Damn you’re perfect” says as he tucks his softening cock back into his pants.

"So hot when you come for me. Taking my cock like a hungry whore. I will keep you here on my ship. You'll be my slave. No one except for me will ever lay one finger on you. You belong to me now. You're my property.” he tells you as he frees you from the handcuffs and ropes. You swear you are so tired you could fall asleep right there, right now, but he picks you up in his arms and lays you down in a cot - his cot, you will learn later.

Translations:

I have used mandocreator.com as reference.

- Bid pel bal piryc par ni = So soft and wet for me

- Gar serim = Yes, that's right

- 'lek, ner aikiyc mircet'ad, k'olar tug'yc par ni bat ni cere = Yeah, my desperate slave, come for me again on my fingers

- 'lek. 'lek. Jate, ner mircet'ad. Bid mesh'la. K'olar par ni. = Yeah, yeah. Good, my slave. So beautiful. Come for me.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

Text

Happy Times

Mando x plus size reader

I’m only going to say this, Pedro Pascal’s happy trail

Warnings: HORNY THOTS, implied smut, happy trail 🫠, little bit of a size kink I’m really not sorry, degradation

WC: 708

Minors DNI

You were fully hypnotised by the sight in front of you. Mando was partially out of his armour, his chest and thigh plates had been stripped away and were placed on his bunk. It was far too hot on this godforsaken planet for any additional layers and he felt safe enough to remove them.

He was reaching up to a panel above his head, cursing as he could quite reach whatever he was looking for. But you didn’t bother to get up and help, nope, you were perched on a small step stool, Grogu passed out next to you and Mando’s tools on your other side.

Your jaw was fully hanging open, your eyes wide, and there might have been a tiny bit of drool by the corner of your mouth. Why were you like this you may wonder? Well that’s because Mando’s shirt was ever so slightly too short on him so every time he reached up above his head, his shirt would ride up and expose a small sliver of skin just above the hem of his pants.

But even more than that, his pants were slightly too big for him so the top sagged, letting you see the glorious thatch of dark hair at the base of his pelvis. And if your eyes dropped just a little lower, you swore you could see-

“Hand me the wrench please.” His helmet was tilted down towards you and you froze. Your entire body came to light with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the bounty hunter.

“Um yeah here.” You handed him the tool and shamefully dropped your eyes to the floor, wanting to simply melt into the metal to escape his knowing gaze.

It certainly wasn’t the first time you had been staring at the Mandalorian, in fact, you stared at him every chance you could get. Sure, he was huge, big enough to scare people away by just standing in a slightly menacing way, but he was also protective and kind. Plus his voice was sexy as hell. But, this was the first time you had been caught and it made you feel ashamed.

You gasped as a warm finger curled under your soft chin, forcing you to look up. When had he taken off his gloves? “You handed me a screwdriver. You seem distracted, mesh’la, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” A shiver of desire rolled down your spine as he towered over you, his massive body blocking the light from the setting sun.

Suddenly, there were no thoughts left in your brain besides him. You could almost feel his smirk from behind the shiny metal of his helm. “I wonder what has you so preoccupied? What could possibly be making you so dumb that you gave me a screwdriver and not a wrench, like I asked for?” His tone was so condescending, it made you feel even smaller but there was no true malice in it.

His hand slipped from your chin when you didn’t answer him, instead he cupped your jaw with his massive paw, squeezing just tightly enough to make you gasp. “When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“Y-yes Mando.” You stammered out, your thighs squeezing together at the pure dominance and power he radiated. He rewarded you with a gentle stroke of his thumb along your jawline.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred as he bent down so his face was level with yours, only a few inches of perfectly buffed metal between you. “Now are you going to tell me what was so distracting or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Hundreds of images flashed behind your eyes, each one more smutty than the last as you imagined what exactly he could do to you to get you to talk. Wetness pooled between your shapely legs, soaking through the flimsy panties you wore. “I think you want it the hard way but I need to hear you say it. Beg for it.”

You swallowed thickly, the words getting caught in your throat. Another squeeze freed them. “Please Mando, I want you so badly.” A modulated frown came through the speakers of his helmet before he spoke again.

“Good girl.”

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dracowars · 1 year

Note

Could you do a din djarin x former inquisitor reader? Maybe he finds out when they are saving Grogu from Moff Gideon in season two. I think Din, Bo-Katan, etc reactions would be so interesting!

forgive me | din djarin

pairing: din x formerinquisitor!reader

word count: 2,6k

summary: where din finds out about y/n's past

a/n: this was incredibly fun to write, i love the inquisitor lore so much!! thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3 please don't forget to give feedback and reblog, it means the world to me ♡♡♡

warnings: angst, cursing, violence, mentions of torture, mentions of death

universe: star wars

"I asked you a question", Din says through gritted teeth, clearly not impressed by the warloard as he points his blaster directy at the man laying on the ground in front of him. After you have successfully taken over Moff Gideon's light cruiser with your newly found team, you were finally met with that inkling of hope that was lost for so long. You were sure that, this time, you won. Except you didn't.

"Call back your darktroopers or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger!", you shout at Gideon, almost pitying his slumped figure on the cold surface. The once great Moff Gideon, holder of the darksaber, military leader in charge of the remnents of the Galactic Empire, huddled on the floor, right to your feet. You would almost believe he is scared, almost, if it were not for the slight twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth. Because despite of him being defenseless, vulnerable and alone, he somehow still managed to pull one last ace up his sleeve and take you by surprise. The surprise that is currently waiting to charge through the blast doors, the last layer of protection that saves you from your fate.

"Everyone in this room will be dead but me. And the child", Gideon says with a sparkle in his eyes, trying to find a comfortable position with his hands cuffed.

"I will ask you. One. Last. Time. What do you need Grogu for?", Din interjects, ignoring his threat as he keeps his blaster pointed at him. Even though you can't see his face through his helmet, it is clear that this time he expects an honest answer or he will definitely not hold back. He has grown too fond of Grogu to not get to know why Gideon wants to capture him so badly or what he did to the small child.

And while Din waits for him to think of an answer that won't have him blast his head off, Gideon's eyes lock with yours and it is in that moment that you feel a shift, seeing a change in his face that you can't quite interpret. The answer he gives is not what you expected at all.

"Maybe you should ask your friend here, not me."

Immediately, you take a wavering step back, lowering your blaster while Din slowly turns to look in your direction, his whole posture screaming at you to explain what tiny piece of information Moff Gideon just dropped your way. "What?"

Bo-Katan, Koska and Fennec, all aiming their own blasters at the door, shift their attention to you now as well, ignoring the loud noises created by the darktroopers trying to come through. You can only stare at Gideon, however, and if he wasn't your only way to get out of here alive, you would have put an end to this already. The knowing grin on his face frightens you because it tells you he knows everything. About what you did, about your past, and, above all, about the darkness hovering over it.

"What does he mean by that, Y/N?", Din wants to know, a twist audible in his voice as well now. He does not trust you right now and if you were in his spot, you wouldn't trust yourself either. You have been on this journey together for a long time already, your only interest being the safety of the child, and yet you managed to keep your biggest secret hidden from him. There are things he doesn't need to and simply shouldn't know about you.

"Y/N is very well acquainted with what I did. I would even go as far as to say that we were once considered allies", Gideon answers for you as you can't come up with any rational explanation, too occupied by what is going on in your mind.

"That's not true! Don't- Don't listen to him. I was never on your side, Gideon", you immediately interrupt as you comprehend his accusation, turning to Din who does not know what or whom to believe anymore. His partner, who lied to him since day one, or his enemy, who just revealed the secret that has been haunting you since forever.

"Tell them the truth then, Twelfth Sister."

As soon as the words leave Gideon's mouth, Bo-Katan suddenly points one of her blasters directly at you, no hesitation in her movement at all. However, you can't even concentrate on the deadly weapon aimed at you as you feel like the ground beneath your feet opens up, causing you to fall into the deep depths full of sorrow, darkness and pain that you ran away from for so long. And the fact that Grogu, sitting at one of the consoles next to you, coos at all of this, does not make it any better.

Silence fills the room as everyone slowly but surely comprehends the meaning behind Moff Gideon's words. What he called you, Twelfth Sister, is a title you have not been addressed by in a long, long time and you desperately wish it stayed that way.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!", you scream at Gideon, your heart beating so fast it hurts. With trembling hands and legs you take a step closer to him, wanting him to not say another word ever again but as soon as you move from your spot, you are faced with another blaster barrel.

However this time it is Din who points his weapon right at you, stopping you dead in your tracks as you feel like you can't get enough air to breathe. The realization has hit him after all.

"N-No! Please, you need to listen to me! I-"

"You are an Inquisitor?", Din asks, not a single hint in his voice as to how he feels, how disappointed he has to be in you. On the one hand, you want him to scream at you, shout at you for keeping this from him, but on the other hand you want him to be able to forgive you, even though you know that what you did is inexcusable.

Since you have no clue how to put everything you want to say in words at once, you only manage to nod, lowering your head as you feel ashamed of yourself. You are waiting for the shot to hit you and when it doesn't, you look up at Din who has not moved.

"Why?", is all he says, staring at you through his helmet. You swear you feel your heart breaking at how he pronounces this one seemingly harmless word.

"I- I don't know. I didn't want all of this to happen. The one second I fight alongside an army of clones, the next I kill all of them and mourn over my dead master", you explain, the memories tormenting you. "They took me. They took me and tortured me until there was nothing left of who I was or what I fought for. They broke me."

You spit out the last part, feeling the anger spark inside of you. Closing your eyes, you feel the panic chase off the anger as you can physically feel the pain they sent you through once more. You sink to your knees, supporting yourself with your hands on the ground, tears in your eyes. They will always have control over you.

"Inquisitors chased down and killed all of the remaining Jedi. You abducted force-sensitive children!", Bo-Katan reminds you of your all-too-real deeds and you can't help but feel bile rise up your throat, making you cough.

"I did.. bad things and each time, it killed me a little more. But when they wanted me to kidnap a child, I didn't. It was then that I noticed it wasn't my way", you say quietly, trying to stand up for yourself about the only thing you did right and that you can be proud of. Because you disobeyed. Because you turned your back on them. Because you left.

"I can't believe you", Din mutters, his voice sounding coarse.

"I promise you it's not who I am anymore!", you try to convince him, all of them actually, but you know it is to no use. Which does not mean you won't try to change their view because, at last, you were a victim too. "Why do you think I am here? Because I made it my task, my purpose, to protect these children! I don't want anyone to experience what I had to. I even killed one of my so-called sisters! I turned against them."

Breathing heavily, you need a few seconds to cope with your emotional outburst, letting your words sink into their heads while you are trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. But you don't let them because you have shown weakness too many times before. After all, the dark side was only able to overpower you back then because it caught you at your weakest moment, using it to its advantage, turning your despair into pure hatred.

"Please, you have to believe me", you breathe out, your voice breaking in the end as you stare at Din and Din only. You don't care what the others think, you don't care if they will ever forgive you as long as Din does. You get lost in the darkness of his visor as you keep staring at him intently, waiting for any kind of reaction but he just won't budge.

Because you can only see him in this moment what you do notice, however, is how Moff Gideon pulls a blaster out of nowhere, points it at Din and fires a shot without hesitation. Suddenly, you feel transported back to that one fateful day when you lost everything. When your clones, your friends, turned against you. When you lost the only person you ever really cared for.

All intent on not letting fate repeat itself, you reach for the Force and feel the familiar tingle in your fingertips. Within seconds, you stop the deadly projectile mid-air. And even though it takes all your effort and concentration, you still somehow manage to use the Force to push Din out of the line of fire, causing him to slitter his feet across the floor.

It feels like time is slowing down as you slowly walk towards Gideon and, as soon as he fires another shot at you, you parry it with the Darksaber in your hand. Shock and terror are written all over his face before you finally reach him, kick the blaster out of his hands and put the deadly blade to his throat.

"I will not let you hurt the people I love", you spit out, looking directly into his panic-filled eyes. Apparently he did not expect you to still be this powerful after all these years of not using the Force at all and, although you have to admit that you could have blocked thousands of those shots back then when it took all of your strength to defend one now, you felt good. The Force, the light side, came back to you as if it was never gone. Considering that you were still a child yourself when Order 66 happened, never completing your Jedi training, your powers have grown exponentially.

"You don't deserve to be kept alive-"

"Y/N-", Din wants to interrupt, but you continue anyway.

"But I have changed. I am no Inquisitor, I am a Jedi", you say, feeling relief as the final truth leaves your mouth, making it finally seem real. "You will face trial and you will be locked away for life so you will never be able to hurt anyone again."

"You forget that you are still on my ship, with my troopers waiting to kill all-"

"And you will kindly call them back and shut them down right now or..", you threaten, looking at the Darksaber that is terribly close to his throat. You don't show that it actually lays extremely heavy in your hands, not only because it is a unique weapon, but also because it is not yours. Your own lightsaber is buried on Felucia, where no one will ever find it.

Gideon huffs in annoyance but considering that you are only millimeters away from slicing the Darksaber through his throat, he finally gives in and follows your command. The sound of the dangerous killing machines switching off outside the blast doors echoes throughout the bridge and as soon as you are certain that all of them are down, you knock Gideon out with the butt of the lightsaber hilt, sending him to the floor unconsciously.

As soon as he hits the ground, your legs give in underneath you and you slump in, letting the blade dissolve before tossing the weapon as far away from you as you possibly can. Tears stream down your face as all the burden you carried around all those years finally falls off you, allowing you to breathe once more. You know they are all watching you as you feel all their eyes on you but no one dares to say a single word.

That is, until Grogu peeps out from where he was hiding, slowly waddling towards you while cooing. You can't help but smile at him and you feel incredibly grateful that at least one of them has not lost faith in you.

"Grogu", Din calls out strictly as he wants to come even closer to you.

"It's fine. I would never hurt him", you promise and don't even dare to look in his direction, concentrating to look at Grogu's big doe eyes only. That is why you don't see how Din silently gives the others commands and they start shuffling behind you, opening the doors to the disabled droids in order to destroy them one by one.

Din's shadow hovers over you as you wrap your arms around your own waist, not looking at him, too scared of what he might say. One of Grogu's small hands touches your knee as he keeps cooing at you and you can sense that he feels sorry for you. He knows the pain of being seperated from the family you once considered your home.

Hearing a rustling, you hold your breath as Din squats down in front of you, taking Grogu in his arms as if to protect him. If this is the last time you see him, you tell yourself, you at least want to look at him one more time and so you do.

And you feel like you can't breathe when you see him holding out his hand to you, wanting to save you.

"I'm sorry", he whispers through his helmet and you can hear the sorrow in his voice now, strong and clear.

"No, I have to be the one apologizing. I betrayed you and I don't know how you could ever trust me again", you disregard his words and shake your head, feeling so incredibly ashamed of yourself for what you did. Lowering your head and hiding your face in your hands, you can't stop the tears from falling as all those memories come back to you, laughing directly in your face.

But when you suddenly get pulled forward and feel warm hands around you, you open your eyes only to find yourself in Din's - and also Grogu's - arms. He presses you against him, his hand on the back of your head as if we will never let you go.

"It's not your fault, none of it", Din speaks to you, sounding so sure about what he says that it makes your heart beat faster. "You saved us, Y/N."

"I don't deserve your kindness. How can you forgive me? After everything I have done?", you ask, pushing yourself an arm's length away from him so your face is only inches away from his.

"I already forgave you", he concludes, resting his forehead against yours. "But I think it's time that you finally forgive yourself."

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hiken-no-stark · 1 year

Text

X: Why you so quiet? What's on your mind?

My mind:

[I found that pic on facebook, not mine. Credits to the owner]

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #dindjarin #din djarin x you #din x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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juletheghoul · 2 years

Text

The Covert

AN: A few weeks ago, @babiiface95 slid into my dms and sent me a voice note that would throw me into the grips of a horny daydream. What she said was - what if Din was a cam-boy? We then proceeded to scream back and forth about what this would entail. Tiny minute details to enrich this delicious fiction and what we came up with was this. A series of 'sessions' that Din and reader will produce for their viewers. This will not be a 'story' per say - very minimal plot so there will not be a posting schedule, but asks and requests for this are highly encouraged. I hope you enjoy what we came up with, a special shout out to her - as well as @frannyzooey for beta'ing the hell out of this first chapter with amazing suggestions and questions that only served to make it better. More shoutouts to @wheresarizona for this gorgeous moodboard and to @foli-vora for always being super supportive and listening to my horny rants.

Pairing: Din x f!reader

Warnings: 18+(no minors) implied sex, oral - male receiving, slight voyeurism, cum-play / eating, dirty talk - if I'm missing anything please let me know

Word count: 1900

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

----------

-FIRST SESSION-

“Fuck, right there Din,” you moaned and his hands gripped your hips tight to hold you in place as he picked up the pace.

He’d already made you come twice and by the looks of things, he was determined to see you do it again. He licked his thumb before pressing it onto your swollen clit and the glide of it threw you over the edge, waves of your release making you go silent while he kept up his rhythm.

He dropped down and covered your body with his, the wet slip of your cunt swallowing his length a handful of times before he groaned deeply into your ear, grinding hot spurts of his come deep inside.

“Good god man, I swear people would pay good money to watch you fuck.” You felt boneless as he crushed you with his comforting weight, a laugh escaping his lips along with the haggard breaths of exertion.

“Very funny.” His face was gorgeously flushed, a bead of sweat collecting in his hairline that begged for you to brush it away. You obliged.

“I’m serious. There’s good money in it. You’d make a killing.” He let out an amused sigh, turning to nuzzle at your palm as it caressed his cheek softly. You paused for a moment, catching your breath together before you gave him a nudge. “Now let me up, I gotta pee.”

You kissed his nose, letting him pull out with a hiss before slipping out from under him and making your way towards the bathroom. Your comments had been honest, but offhand and although you had forgotten them by the time you came back; he hadn’t.

They sat on the back burner of his brain, a low simmer when he went to sleep that night with you curled up next to him and they were still there when he awoke early to head out. Following him incessantly throughout his hunt, he tried to shake them off in order to focus, but they persisted - eventually boiling over when he collected payment for his latest bounty.

It was hard to keep the annoyance off his face or out of his voice at the meager sum presented to him.

This barely covers fuel.

With the cost of everything on a steady incline, a separate form of income now had a slight shine that gave him pause.

He spent the whole of the trip back to you weighing his options. The amount he’d earned was almost an insult, this job would have earned him triple the amount not too long ago.

He sat in the cockpit, a long sigh cutting through the soft hum of his ship. The stars stretching out before him reminded him of you, how you always took this time to sit in his lap and tease; drive him mad with need for you. An image of you riding him popped into his mind, the idea of it being broadcasted for people to watch and it shocked him how fast he felt his cock swell in his pants at the prospect.

It burned brighter now, the thought of people paying to watch him fuck you and whether he admitted it or not, it was starting to excite him.

Maybe this could work.

—

Signing up for the service had taken a considerable amount of time, along with a few drinks and a handful of nervous laughs from both of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” His eyes were bright with mischief but there was a tinge of fear there, of uncertainty.

“We don’t have to. We can just close it up and forget about it.” You put your hand on his thigh, your way of soothing him.

“No, I want to. I’m just a little apprehensive - I don’t want to get stage fright.” He let out a little laugh, his big hand landing on top of yours before he leaned in to place a soft kiss onto your lips.

“It’ll be just us,” you reassured him. “Just like always and I think what we decided for the first show makes sense.”

You pulled away to make sure everything was set up just how you wanted: drapes had been pulled to soften the light in your shared room, everything personal rearranged to ensure the space looked neutral for your safety. You could never be too careful.

“Ready?” You walked over to his place on the edge of your bed, your hands pulling his face up to meet your gaze.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

He pulled you onto his lap, craving a moment of intimacy before the show began. His face burrowed into the crook of your neck, inhaling the clean scent - grounding himself with it and you couldn’t help but thread your fingers through the short crop of his hair.

“Good, hand me those cushions.”

He put them on the floor in front of him and shifted closer to the edge of the bed. Smiling wide before getting the small camera ready to start recording, he nodded his head at you when it was filming.

Fuck. Okay this is real. We’re doing this.

You took a deep breath and smiled at him, keeping eye contact as you seductively sank to your knees in front of him. There was a nervous energy in the air of your private space: yes you were alone, but people could join and watch what you were about to do. The idea both terrified and thrilled you.

It’s just us.

You repeat the thought in your head and let out a shaky breath, focusing on him and letting the sight and touch of him ground you. It’s just the two of you and this is easy; focusing on him, his body, his pleasure.

Your hands run up and down the firm muscles of his thighs, making space for yourself. Ignoring the camera he had pointed at you, you focused instead on the way his breath hitched when you grabbed at the heft of him in front of you and how it stiffened in your palm.

You pressed your face against his crotch, the warmth of his cock against your cheek and he hummed in appreciation when you mouthed at the clothed tip, letting your saliva dampen the fabric. His hand came up to your face, his thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately as he watched your fingers curl around the waistband of his bottoms. Rising slightly to let you expose him, you smiled at the way he bobbed in front of you, making your mouth water as you took your time stripping him.

He was so thick, so heavy in the palm of your hand. It almost made you sigh, even after all your time together.

With his fingers molded around your neck, you dipped your tongue to taste the bead of precum gathered on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth and relishing the soft breath he let out at your actions.

You want to make this good for him, you want him gasping - barely able to control himself.

Lifting your palm up past the camera to his mouth, you smile sweetly up at him. “Spit.”

He bites his lip before complying.

You wonder if the camera can pick up the noise, the soft wet stroke of his cock in your palm while you continue teasing the head of him and soon you become so focused you almost forget the camera pointed at you.

“Take it deeper baby, open up.” His voice comes out low and it hardens your nipples, his hand reaching down to guide you softly. “That’s it, just like that. God, I love your mouth.” He groans it out as you take him as far as you can, your nose almost touching the small patch of hair at his base before gagging.

“Good?” you pull off and ask him, gathering spit in your mouth before taking him as far as you can and a pained yes escapes his mouth when you gag around him again. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears this time and you take a deep breath, your hand stroking as you get yourself under control. You move down to tongue at his balls, drawing out the pleasure for as long as you can before making him come.

Your cunt is aching, slick gathering at your entrance, this whole endeavor exciting you much more than you ever thought it would.

His hand now moving to the loose shirt you’re wearing in a silent question for you to take it off, you do, tossing it onto the floor. Your tits now on display for him and whoevers watching, he’s quick to possessively palm your breast, groaning from deep in his belly as you take him into your mouth once more before moving away to stare up at him with your own lust-blown expression.

“Where do you want to come?” You smile up at him, summoning your sexiest voice and his cock is a wet slip within your grip.

“In your mouth.” He groans out the words, the weight of his trembling hand on your shoulder with a squeeze when you take the head of him in your mouth once more and your eyes never leave his. You see his breath hitch when you twist your wrist on the down stroke, assuring that he was close.

“Fuck, fuuuuck baby, I’m gonna come.”

You doubled your efforts, increasing the suction around the sensitive head. Your cunt clenched painfully around nothing when you felt him spurt into your mouth, hot and salty and you did your best to catch it all.

“God yes - show me.” His hand joined yours at the base of his cock now, holding himself still for you to open your mouth to show it full of his come, just how he liked it.

He cooed appreciatively when some of it leaked down onto your tits, watching you rub some of it against a peaked nipple. It was truly a show for the audience when he slid the sensitive head of his cock against the slick mess on your tongue with a hiss, but the flushed smile on his face was only for you to see.

“That’s my girl. Now swallow.” His voice was a satisfied rumble and you hurried to comply, gulping it down just before he reached to turn the camera off.

You couldn’t help but laugh after - giddy that it had gone well, arousal flowing through your veins and down your thighs.

“Your turn.” A mischievous smile dancing across his features as he pulled you up and spread you out underneath him. “Going to take good care of you, for being such a good girl for me.”

—

You both waited a few days to check how the video had gone over- half terrified to see what people actually thought about what you’d done. When you finally got the courage though, it seemed silly to have waited at all.

The response had been overwhelming even though they couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever see his face.

Hundreds of comments had been left by those who watched your session. Everything from words of encouragement to incoherent scrawlings and you both took the time to read each and every one.

“They love your voice, they want you to speak more.” You could see the pattern of people praising him and you wholeheartedly agreed. “Your hands too.”

“My hands?” He was smiling, the comments affecting him more than he let on. “They like my voice and my hands?” He reached over you, rereading what they’d said.

“Oh yes, they aren’t wrong.” You kissed his cheek, relishing the little blush in them.

We’re going to make a killing.

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#din djarin x reader #din x reader #din darjin #the mandalorian au #din x female reader #din x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #din djarin au #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Text

Trapped in a Small Space with Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, grinding, ruined clothes, moaning, trapped together

A/N: More smut with my favorite Mandalorian.

Din is more then used to hiding in cramped spaces to escape the people on his heels

He's usually alone though, having someone pressed against him, and that someone being his crush, is not making things easy for him at all

You're actually making things hard in more ways then one

Its so hot in here and really hard to breathe properly so this once, just this once he takes his helmet off

Not too worried about you seeing his face because its almost pitch black in here

He's a bumbling mess when you look up at him with that knowing smile on your face as your bodies are pressed so close together and he knows you can feel every inch of him

Its an issue because he can't run when he's like this, he needs release or else he's gonna get caught

Well yes, it is all your fault

So what are you gonna do about it hm, you can't just leave him like this

You can actually, but don't think that he won't come after you when he escapes, and he will escape, he always does

Seems like you understand, good

Oh, he never noticed before, how much smaller your hands are compared to his until you fished out his cock and wrapped your hand around it

Stop, stop, if you keep jerking him off he'll finish too soon

That... was the plan before yes, but he'd like to take some time here

Don't worry, as long as you're quiet you won't get caught... probably

Just hold on a little, let him lift you up, it'll make things easier that way, for him that is

Even with your clothes you can feel how hot his cock is, twitching and pulsing against your lower stomach as he wraps his arms around you and buries his head in your shoulder

It might be dark in here but he doesn't want to risk you seeing his red face

This is embarrassing enough

Fuck, he's already ruined your dress with his cum hasn't he

Might as well finish the job now, he'll get you a new one when you get out of here

Did not think you'd start rocking against him, pressing against his chest, whimpering and making these cute sounds

Were always capable of them or are just trying really hard now?

He can't wait to find out once he has you in his bed

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handspunyarns · 8 months

Text

You Were Marked: Day Twelve.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 9.7 K

chapter summary: Din wakes from his concussion and runs into someone from his past.

warnings: angst for days, head injury, severe bodily injury, mention of blood, mention and aftermath of rape, mention and aftermath of object rape, physical abuse, violence towards women, torture, enmeshed misogyny, Mando'a and English cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din’s eyes slowly opened to darkness. He was flat on his back on a hard floor. Well, this seems familiar. He blinked a couple of times and reached back to what he could most recently remember. He had made it to Boba’s palace with Marathel. She was in their hands now. Boba had dragged him back on the Crest instead of letting him go with her, for reasons he could not remember, or understand. He had then shouted at Grogu, and then … nothing.

Carefully touching his head, Din realized his helmet was back on … or was it still on? Did he take it off? He thought he had a memory of removing his helmet, because he remembered kissing Marathel — because I was sure I was close to losing her. And I still might.

Din’s head still hurt, but it was no longer the hellfire bitchkitty agony it had been the past few days. Boba must have injected him with bacta. He carefully and slowly rolled to his side, which wore him out more than he thought it should. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. All he could smell was disinfectant, which was a great improvement over the coppery smell of blood that had pervaded his nostrils recently, but not what he wished he could smell. He wanted to smell baking bread, herbs, flowers, salt air … Marathel’s hair and skin.

Marathel. Did she still live?

Din reached out to steady himself to sit up, and his fingers brushed one of his vambraces in the darkness. The tiny screen came to life, and Din tapped out a code by rote. The interior lights of the Crest came on. Sitting up, he found he was lying on an absorbent pad, much like the ones he used under the load pans. He listened for sounds that he was not alone on the ship, but all he could hear were the air circulators. The ramp door was closed, so Din carefully removed his helmet. He could see that the ship was no longer a blood-spattered wreck but was immaculately clean. Next to him were a bacta injection, a couple of bacta patches, and two scraps of folded paper. On one were the words read this first.

Din picked up the folded note and read:

Have your bounty payment

Peli has Grogu

Take a fucking shower

Boba

Din picked up the other note:

water recycler and coolant systems are working

Filled your water tanks

I agree with Boba

Peli

Din frowned. Why was he at Peli’s? Boba had a big enough hangar and enough lackeys to take care of his ship. Why would Boba expend the energy and take the time to move him and the ship away from the palace? From Marathel? He sighed. One thing at a time. And I agree with both of them; I need a fucking shower before I do anything else. He picked up the bacta injection and patches and carefully got to his feet, waiting to see if nausea would take over. Looking down at the pad he’d been lying on, he now saw the reason for it: he’d left a near-perfect silhouette of blood on it. He made his way to his sleeping cubicle and looked inside. His bed roll was gone. Every surface was clean without a trace of blood anywhere. Just inside the doorway was a stack of clean, neatly folded blankets, towels, and clothing. Din was surprised that Peli would take the trouble … she seemed more the type to just burn everything and sell him everything new, like a proper mercenary. He grabbed a towel and headed for the shower cubicle.

He opted for the water option instead of the sonic option. His brain had been addled enough without adding extra vibration. He stood under the highly aerated spray and watched diluted blood flow down the drain. This whole situation was a cluster, and he had screwed the pooch in every way possible. He should have been able to get Marathel out of that damn Hold. He should have been able to take down most, if not all those men standing there, particularly that asswipe with the damn hammer. He should have.

The shower made him feel somewhat better, physically, at least. Din looked in the polished sheet of durasteel he used as a mirror and decided his hair was too long. He hacked at it for a while with a vibroblade, particularly around the gashes on the back of his head. Eschewing the bacta injection for now, he applied the bacta patches and dressed in fresh clothes, making sure he wore a flight jacket with Marathel’s embroidery on the inner pocket, as well as a pair of Marathel’s hand knitted socks. As ridiculous as it sounded, he felt better for having these simple reminders of Marathel so close to him, as if wearing her socks would keep her alive.

Osik, I must still be concussed … that sounds like the kind of kriff in those rom-com holo-vids that I have never watched … and no one can say I have.

Din picked up his soiled clothes, remembering that he had stashed items in an inner pocket: a few shells, a small, curled piece of driftwood, the dried remains of a yellow flower, and the little woven raft. These he placed carefully in a small bin in his sleeping quarters that held some other mementos, including a small piece of beskar from his buir. He wished his buir were here right now; he needed that old man’s advice more than ever … or at least one of his old sayings that would make him pause and rethink the situation.

Well, kid, some days you get the gundart. Some days the gundart gets you. Some days that gundart just rips off your head and shits down your neck. And now you got gundart shit down your neck; the question is, what are you going to do about it?

Din let out a breath and pulled on his boots. Even his boots had been cleaned, as well as his armor. He attached his armor – it needed fresh oil but was okay for now — and replaced his damaged helmet. He would have to go to Nevarro to get that rectified, but, again, one thing at a time. So long as he was in a reasonable amount of light, he should be able to see just fine. He opened the locker to collect his weapons, and right in front were the beskar hammer and the remains of the Dilimgau. Din’s eyes slammed shut, his breath became fast and shallow, and the memory of Marathel’s screams came flooding back. He forced his breathing back into a regular pattern, and he grabbed his standard weapons quickly and closed the locker without focusing on the hammer again.

He took another look about the ship, noting that everything was in its place, and there was no evidence of the past few days, save the bloodstained cloth on the floor. He quickly folded it up and chucked it into the hold, ignoring the divot in the metal plate.

Just one question, though: where the kriff is my jetpack?

Din exited the ship. Peli’s yard was quiet. Din looked up at the Tatooine sky and figured it was very early morning. Heading straight for Peli’s workshop, he shoved aside a couple of droids that tried to impede his progress. “Peli?” he called. No answer. “Grogu?” Still nothing. Din picked his way through the workshop and the unidentifiable piles of machinery and parts on the floor and passed through a doorway into what he assumed were Peli’s private quarters. Entering a smaller room, he saw that it was hardly different that the workshop: bits and bobs of parts lay on every surface, but there was a large reclining chair near a corner next to an old, giant wire spool that served as a table. On the spool was a half-empty bowl of something that looked like stew, and in the recliner was a lightly snoring Peli, her bushy hair flattened on one side and a clot of stew over her ear. Snuggled on her chest was a sleeping Grogu, wrapped in a blanket Din didn’t recognize, but assumed would see again in Grogu’s pram at a later date. Din stroked the boy’s ear, but he did not wake. “Peli?” said Din softly as he wiped the stew off her head. Peli snapped awake and lifted a blaster; the business end tapped Din’s visor.

“Back up.”

Din straightened up and took a step back. “Peli … it’s me.”

“I know. Back up anyway.” Din took another step back and Peli stowed the blaster. “Dammit, Mando, you sure have a way of doing things.”

“How is Grogu?”

“Fed, clean, and sleeping, no thanks to you, the poor little bug. What about you?”

Din shrugged. “Clean. How long was I out?”

“14 hours, give or take. It took that long to clean the damn ship. And yeah, what in the name of a Hutt’s slime gland happened in there? And don’t say bounty gone bad. I went in there and I thought a womp rat had exploded! And you let my little cutie-patootie wander around in that?”

Din sighed, wondering how much he was willing to tell Peli. “Mistakes were made.”

Peli snorted. “Boba told me not to go in the ship. Wish I’d listened to him. I looked in that closet you sleep in and …” Peli shuddered. “How is that woman still alive, I asked myself. She must be made of stronger stuff, especially if you were willing to practically kill yourself to get her here. I hope I get to meet her.”

I hope you do, too. You’d like her, Peli. “How much do I owe you?”

“Boba’s covered the repairs and the cleaning. But you’re gonna owe me for traumatizing my little guy here! And me too. Half the night it was Sad Mahr and Sad Patu. Then I couldn’t figure out these new clothes of his and he refused to wear anything else.”

“Thank you, Peli. I owe you much.”

“Damn skippy you do, Mando. I should link your ship to an astromech just on damn principle.”

“I need to contact Boba; check on mesh … my bounty.”

Peli moved to stand. “Don’t bother.”

Din felt his heart drop into his bowels. Quietly he said, “What?”

Peli got up and shifted Grogu to her shoulder before she realized what she had said. “Ah, kriff, no, not like that. No, I got a message from Boba a couple hours ago. Here,” she said, handing Din a tablet. He tapped on the message notification that read simply: She’s hanging on.

Din looked up from the tablet. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Din sighed and put the tablet on the table. “I’m going there anyway.”

“Not on the Crest, you’re not.”

Din tilted his helmet. “Excuse me?”

“Apparently you did a number on the landing tunnel at the palace, and Boba doesn’t think you’re fit to fly for at least a day or two. After looking at your head gaskets, I tend to agree with him. And don’t even try to use your jetpack, he took that too.” Din stayed silent as Peli rocked back and forth, gently rubbing Grogu’s fuzzy head. “I can hear you roll your eyes from here. You can take the speeder out there or walk; I’m not about to piss off Boba Fett when he’s got a wind up his avenue.”

Din knew it was useless to protest. “I’ll take Grogu with me. I’ve abused your hospitality enough.” He gently took Grogu from Peli and laid him down on the table. Taking the tiny clothing and using Marathel’s dressing techniques — and without waking the child up — he had the boy clothed in his beskar, a little shirt, and jump-up in a trice.

Peli was impressed. “You’re getting decent at this parent thing, Mando. Go, check on your, ah … bounty,” she said patting his arm.

“Thank you, Peli.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s, who yawned but didn’t awaken. On an impulse, he quickly tapped his forehead against Peli’s unruly hairline before stepping back. She turned the color of dreamberry sauce and snapped, “Go on, git, you space cowboy!”

Din went.

He briefly went back on board the Crest to pack a bag with a few essentials for Grogu and himself. After securing the child in his bandolier, they set off across the desert on Peli’s speeder, an old mongrel made up of spare parts that rattled like an asthmatic bantha. Considering how slow it went, Din believed Peli had put a kriffing governor on it. Grogu woke up after catching the wind in his ears for a few miles. He looked up at Din and chattered. Din looked down and shouted over the noise of the speeder, “We’re going to see Mahr, buddy.” Grogu chirruped excitedly, and Din patted the child’s belly, saying, “We gotta keep hoping she’s doing better. We can do that, yeah?” Grogu made an affirmative-sounding bleat, and Din replied, “Well, then, hang on, pal, let’s see how fast this hunk of junk can go.”

The ride lifted both Din’s and Grogu’s spirits. The sun, the wind, the dust blew out some of the darkness, the sadness, the worry that had pervaded the past few days. They’d gotten Marathel here, and she was hanging on.

One thing at a time.

One thing done.

Now you get to think about why she did this. And why didn’t you save her. And why didn’t you burn that place to the ground in the process.

As Din drove the speeder through Mos Espa, he could see that the destruction that had been wrought during the siege by the Pyke Syndicate was under repair. The city itself seemed to be thriving: the streets were filled with people going about their daily routine without fear. Some stared at the Mandalorian and the green child with bewilderment, some with slight recognition -- but mostly the sight of a fully armored and helmeted man wearing a green bug-eyed child on his chest was ignored. And Din liked it that way.

Din drove the speeder into the palace hangar and noticed that he did do a number in here when he landed the previous day. He apparently took out the landing lights along one entire side, and he had cut a deep groove through the sand that would make it difficult — but not impossible — for others to land. Din left the speeder in a cluster of other vehicles, hoping that someone would steal the damn thing. He placed Grogu in his bag, and the child immediately took hold of Din’s thumb. He entered the palace and began looking for someone who could point him in the right direction. As he looked down one corridor, Grogu made a cooing noise. Din turned back to see Boba coming towards him. Boba reached out in greeting; Din responded in kind. “How are you feeling, brother?” asked Boba, as the two men gripped each other’s forearms.

“Better. Not well, but better. How is Marathel?”

“Is that her name?” Din nodded; Boba released Din’s arm and they began to walk. “I’m sorry for the subterfuge of moving the Crest. The message you sent was … disconcerting to say the least, and I wasn’t sure if you were trying to be cryptic or were simply being a lunatic.”

“That bad?” Boba did not reply but handed a holopad to Din. Looking at it, he skimmed over a raving stream of consciousness that included the color scheme of the Elder’s houses, a debriefing of the Mist incident, and a lengthy report on Marathel’s bread-making skills. “Would it have helped to know I was being a lunatic?”

Boba waved his hand dismissively. “When you finally clicked on the comm. and revealed you had a concussion, it started making more sense … especially now that I've seen your helmet and the beskar hammer that did that kind of damage. But when you flew in here like the Imps were after you, and you carried her out … it made me wonder who the hell this woman was, that would make you fly here in that state instead of going somewhere else. A woman that was apparently worth what I found on your ship.”

“You have the coins?”

“I’m not going to confirm or deny the existence of nearly 2000-year-old, Old Republic, Aurodium coins in mint condition.” Boba lowered his voice. “Are the Imps involved? It’s tenuous enough here after the Pyke debacle. I don’t need Imps too.”

“No. No Imp involvement.”

“Then who is she?”

“Just a woman from … nowhere.” Din knew Boba wouldn’t believe that, but it was the basic truth. “How is she?” he asked again.

Boba didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s hard to say. We’ve been clarifying blood to transfuse her since you got her here, and she’s gone through it.”

“Take my blood.”

“We will. That’s not all. We’ve pumped her full of bacta, but it’s not working as it should. She just leaks bacta like she’s leaking blood. Fennec put her in the tank anyway, but she’s had to change out the bacta several times. She obviously has a blood-clotting condition but none of the usual treatments work.”

“Her … people — they are an isolated lot, a small community. Others there have a similar disorder, according to Marathel. Normally deep bruising is worse than a cut to the skin. But as injured as she is …”

“… there’s not enough intact skin to hold in the bruising. Certain genetic issues – like hemophilia - get worse in small communities. The Modifier has been in contact with a … colleague with more knowledge. They’re working on it.”

“Can we see her?”

Boba stopped walking and turned to Din. “She hardly looks better than when you brought her here.”

“Grogu needs to see her …. I need to see her. I need to see that she still lives.”

Boba led them through a door into a large open chamber. Near the windows at the far end was a bacta tank along with other medical equipment. Din headed immediately to the tank, where Marathel lay, wearing dark compression garments, an air regulator in her mouth. Her long hair was mostly in a loose braid, the end of which was buffeted about by the flow of the bacta fluid in the tank. Loose tendrils floated around her head. Steri-strips held the edges of the gash on her face together, and her hands were still on the wooden splints, but were now carefully taped down and strapped to her body. “Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa …” breathed Din. Grogu whimpered. Din lifted the boy out of the bag and held him up to the glass tank. “Where is Fennec?”

“Resting. She hasn’t slept since you first arrived.” Boba carried over a metal stool. “I’ll leave you with her. I’ll send the headwoman in a while … she’ll help get Grogu situated in with the other palace children.” Din nodded. “You said her name is Marathel?” Din nodded again. “That is a lovely name.” Boba could hear Din swallow as he stared at the tank, and he put his hand on Din’s shoulder. “She’s a lovely woman,” said Boba.

Din sank down on the stool. “Yes … she is.”

Boba quietly left. Both Din and Grogu placed their hands on the side of the tank. With everything I have ever and will ever hold dear, Marathel, I swear to you I will earn your forgiveness for letting this happen. And if I cannot do that, then I will gladly bear your contempt for the remainder of my life.

Sometime later, the headwoman Boba had mentioned came into the room. She presented herself as Silnima, and she offered to introduce Grogu to the rest of the palace children. Din followed the sweet-faced brunette to the kitchen, where a passel of other children of various ages were eating a mid-day meal, and Grogu’s droopy ears perked up immediately. Din placed Grogu amongst the other children and sat off to the side, answering their excited questions about the little green boy as he enthusiastically ate some lunch. Once he felt that Grogu was well-accepted into the little pack, Din decided to head back to Marathel. Silnima told Din the directions to the room where he and Grogu would be sleeping. Din thanked her and left the kitchen.

Fennec was still tired. She’d fretted instead of resting, agitated about this mystery woman. She could almost believe that this Marathel was a bounty; that is, the kind of bounties placed by abusers for their victims. It happened; she was well aware. She was also too aware of the physical harm that could be done by the abusers. Marathel was the worst, but certainly not the first rape victim that Fennec had tended to. The slash down her face was a touch that Fennec had also seen before. She associated it with the type of culture that had a very definite line between the societal leaders — usually men — and the poor souls — usually women — who served them. Din had mentioned Elders in his holotext, ones who controlled the females from wherever Marathel had come. The extent of Marathel’s injuries, though, was something unusual in the types of settlements like hers. In Fennec’s experience, the outright killing of females was not conducive to growing or maintaining the population. Obviously, Marathel was made to suffer deeply for whatever sins she had committed … and her injuries were the type that would always end in death without intervention.

Marathel was definitely a mature woman – certainly near her own age — but well-nourished, and all the injuries notwithstanding, in good health. Her bones and teeth were strong, her skin was clear, her muscle tone was good. The incessant bleeding was worrisome. Boba had told her what Din had said about the woman and she did have some genetic form of hemophilia, and Fennec had relayed that to the Modifier and his unknown genetic researcher.

Fennec didn’t like these kinds of problems falling in her lap, but she understood Din’s need for anonymity, especially now that Grogu was back in his care. When one added to the nature of Marathel’s worst injuries, anonymity was a sore necessity, even in this enlightened age of the New Republic. Boba had not asked — could not bring himself to ask — if Marathel had been raped with a sharp-edged object, but she was sure it did in fact happen. Fennec was certainly no reconstructionist, but she’d applied enough knowledge to keep Marathel in a repairable condition until she could get proper surgery.

It was Marathel’s hands that worried Fennec the most. She’d argued with the Modifier at length about taking her hands, as mangled as her fingers were. On his rambling holotext message, Din had waxed poetic about her skillful hands as they spun yarn, cared for Grogu, touched his bare skin — the last of which made Fennec quite curious. They’d finally agreed to try to save her hands. The wooden blocks she’d arrived with were quite well-designed, and they’d decided to keep her in them, but immobilized her arms as well. As they’d transfused more blood into her, Marathel would temporarily regain some strength, even in her unconscious state, and try to fight them. Mostly, she twitched, and her arms and legs would jerk, and it seemed safer to keep Marathel from hurting herself with the wooden hand splints.

Fennec found that she liked this Marathel. She’d read the garbled holotext Din had sent to Boba. Twice, in fact. It had begun as concise as it could be, but as it went on, Din lost his Mandalorian sparseness of speech. It was hard to like someone while unconscious, but as she pieced together Din’s concussed ravings Fennec had developed a favorable opinion of the woman. She only hoped that she could help her, if for no other reason than she obviously meant something to Din.

Speak of the Sarlaac, thought Fennec, as she ran Din to ground just outside the kitchen. Din saw her and immediately went to her. “Fennec, I cannot thank you enough …”

Fennec held up her hand and cut him off. “Stop, please … just stop.” Din fell silent and stood still. Fennec, unable to speak for a moment, said with a grimace, “You know what was done to her?”

“Yes.” Din sighed. “I do.”

“What were you doing at the time?”

“I was unconscious.” Partially true ... When I wasn’t being the worst kind of craven hu’tuun.

Fennec gazed at him for a moment, sizing up his words, and said, “I think we should just bring her out now. The bacta is currently too contaminated for her to stay in there. Then we can take some of your blood and clarify it for her. The Modifier has yet to hear back from his source about her condition.” Din nodded and followed her back to the room with the bacta tank.

Boba was already there, along with the Modifier. Din went straight to the tank and peered down at Marathel. Her loose tendrils of hair still floated about her head, putting Din in the mind of his nightmare again. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked terrified as she twitched. He felt an insane need to remove his gloves and check his own hands, to make sure he was not somehow still stuck in a dream state. I am obviously still unable to think clearly. I should have taken that bacta injection. Fennec readied several injections and began draining the tank. Din stepped back from the tank, watching Marathel’s hair be retaken by gravity as the bacta level went down. As she could reach, Fennec injected Marathel with mild tranquilizers that she hoped would keep her calm as she came out of the bacta.

Marathel, for her part, had been floating in darkness, nowhere, for an impossibly long time. If she’d been pressed to tell someone where she was, the phrase in between would be what she’d say. She knew Olba had come to her, to aid her, to prepare her, to send her off to her final sleep. But all that she’d been told about the gentleness of falling into her final sleep had turned out to be untrue. There were moments of indescribable agony, of anguish, of feeling that she was slowly drowning in dense mud. In between those moments she could hear a low quiet voice, one that she thought might have been the Bounty Hunter as he had sounded without his helmet. But that’s impossible … He has taken the coins and gone to be with his people, as he should. And yet, in another moment of clarity, she thought Grogu was with her, the little green child that she loved as much as any children she should have borne but hadn’t, even though she had assumed her whole life she would bear many children, for as the Bishop’s Whyn she was compelled to birth as many as possible. But why was Grogu there? Mad ravings of a dying woman. It doesn’t matter. Just enjoy the memory of the sweet child; let him send you off to your final sleep.

However, Marathel was apparently not drifting off to infinity in between, as she now had the sensation that she had been pulled up from her abyss, and now she was suspended in a shallow sea. Her eyes were closed; she was still too far down to open them, but she could feel, could see the light of the sun above her. Was there … an actual somewhere the dead went? Am I now in the skies, above the clouds, with the other mothers that had gone before me? Would they allow me, a childless Belwhyn, to weep with them when a girl-child was killed?

There were … hands? Birds? Something touching her face, pulling at her, pushing at her, dragging something from her mouth. She couldn’t raise her hands to stop them, and the light of the sun became brighter and brighter. Marathel’s eyes creaked open, and she blinked several times until she was able to focus on a woman leaning over her. It was not Olba; it was someone she had never seen before, but she had a serene face and dark hair.

“Marathel?” the woman said. “I’m Fennec Shand. Welcome to Tatooine.”

Marathel’s heart began to race, and she felt unable to breathe, which confused her, for why would she need to breathe? She was dead, wasn't she? Yet every part of her was in agony. Must I still suffer, even after death? Her mouth, which hurt her terribly, opened just far enough for her to croak, “I don’t understand …”

“It’s okay, Marathel, we’re trying to help you. Mando, Boba, help me lift her onto the gurney.”

Mando? Boba? Who are they? Marathel sensed movement to her other side, and her eyes fell on the armored figure of the Bounty Hunter. Why is he here? Is he dead as well? Did they not give him the Aurodium but killed him instead? Grogu! What of Grogu? She whimpered, and began to mutter, “No, no … no, please …” Marathel wanted to raise her hands and push him away, but even as every part of her screamed in pain, she was also unable to move any part of her.

“It’s all right, ma’mwsh ha’laa, gar morut'yc …" Din whispered.

“No, no … what have you done, Bounty Hunter?!” cried Marathel. Din involuntarily stepped back, confused by her distress. “Did they kill you too? What of Grogu?” Marathel began to sob uncontrollably. “Was it all for nothing? For nothing? WHY, Bounty Hunter? Why have you done … this …” The tranquilizers began to take stronger hold, and her eyes unfocused even as they overflowed with tears. “I’m dead, aren’t I? I’m … supposed to be.” Marathel whispered.

Fennec broke the silence. “Please lift her out, Mando.” Din swallowed and as carefully as he could, slid his arms underneath the whimpering Marathel and lifted her out of the tank, placing her on a gurney. Marathel’s eyes refocused for a moment, and he could see her mouth trembling at the sight of him, and he believed he knew why she was so tormented, so he took off his glove and stroked her cheek.

“Ma’mwsh ha’laa, it was not for nothing, you did not suffer in vain, I got the coins, I did, I have them. You are alive, Marathel, mesh’la, you lived.” Marathel quietly sobbed and turned away from his touch.

Coins. All this, for coins? Fennec felt sick to her stomach. Either she had underestimated Marathel, or overestimated Mando. Or both. “Mando, I think you should leave for now.” Fennec said quietly, but as Din looked up at her, he could tell that she would allow no argument from him.

Din stroked Marathel’s brow, whispering, “Rest, my mesh’la, ma’mwsh ha’laa, both Grogu and I will be near, gar morut'yc.”

Fennec knew some Mando’a, and while she was intrigued by Din’s use of the diminutive beautiful, Marathel was upset by the sight of him at the moment. Despite Din’s words, the woman did not feel safe. She watched Din reluctantly leave. Leaning over Marathel again, Fennec said, “I can tell Boba and the Modifier to leave as well. Will that make you feel better?” Marathel curled up on her side with a sob of pain. Fennec waved the other men away, and they also left the room without a word. “It’s just us now, Marathel. Just Marathel and Fennec.” Marathel continued to sob. Fennec sat down on the metal stool. “No, you’re not dead. Do you think you’re supposed to be?” Marathel did not answer, and Fennec sighed. “Do you wish you were?”

Marathel’s eyes, still overflowing with tears, flicked to Fennec’s. Their eyes locked for a few moments, and Fennec knew the look in Marathel’s eyes well. Marathel closed her eyes tightly, and then relaxed some. She took a shaky breath. “How are you allowed to tell the men what to do?”

Fennec shrugged. “That’s the way things are here. It’s very different than what you’re used to, I know. It does make it easier when the men just do as you say,” she said, smiling.

Marathel’s lips curved upwards for a brief moment. The two women remained silent for a while as the tranquilizers and pain killers did their work. As her pain lessened, Marathel became calmer. “Why did the Bounty Hunter bring me here?”

Fennec shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. His name is Din Djarin, by the way.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you call him Bounty Hunter?”

Because that’s the only name I knew until moments before I handed myself over. “That was how he introduced himself to me. Why do you call him Mando?”

“Short for Mandalorian.” Fennec could see that Marathel’s face gash was seeping again. “I want to try something else for your wounds. Are you all right with that?”

Marathel shut her eyes. “As you wish.”

“I will take you to a room where you will have privacy. No one will be able to enter unless you say so. Not even me … or the Bounty Hunter, for that matter. Now carefully and slowly roll over, face down, so I can move you.” Marathel did as Fennec requested. It took a while, for even though Marathel was now feeling very little pain, she had no strength. She finally got into a comfortable position and groaned. “You’re doing great, Marathel.”

Marathel’s face crumpled and she began to cry again. “There is so much I don’t understand.”

Fennec covered Marathel with a clean sheet. “How about, for now … you just concentrate on healing?”

Marathel took a breath. “Why?”

Fennec replied, “Well, to find out why you are so important to Din Djarin that he flew here like a maniac to keep you alive.”

“He … he did?”

“Mm-hm. With a concussion, even.”

“Concussion?”

“Bad head injury. You should see the back of his helmet.” Fennec gave the gurney a little push, and it floated beside Fennec as she began to walk. Marathel might have been impressed if she knew she was floating as she was; but, for the moment, she was distracted by too many other questions.

Fennec stepped out into the corridor and was surprised to see Din hovering right by the door. Din looked down at Marathel’s prone body, the tears on her face, and he wanted so much to comfort her, but Fennec mouthed not right now at him, so he stepped back. Fennec saw Boba speaking to headwoman Silnima and said, “Silnima, just who I wanted to see.” The woman came over next to Fennec. “Silnima, please meet Marathel. Marathel, Silnima is the headwoman here. She runs this whole palace.”

Silnima smiled at Marathel. “Hello, my dear. I am here to help you in any way you need.”

“Silnima, would you please check the stores for some clothing for Marathel? Something that will be easy to wear.”

“Nothing blue,” called out Din before he’d realized he’d spoken. Everyone in the corridor — save Marathel — turned to look at him, and Din was quite thankful he had the helmet as he grimaced in embarrassment.

Finally, Silnima nodded, saying, “I’ll see what I can do,” while Boba stepped towards Din and led him back to the bacta chamber, muttering that it was high time Din gave blood to the cause. Fennec and Silnima guided the gurney to a large room nearby. There was a bed and a long treatment table that the two women gently shifted Marathel to from the gurney. After closing the door, Fennec told Marathel that the door would only open to her voice commands, which Marathel tested several times in amazement.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Marathel marveled.

Fennec smiled as she and Silnima carefully cut away the compression garments Marathel was wearing. Silnima had not seen Marathel’s injuries before and was aghast at what had been done to her, but she remained silent and calm. Fennec was attempting an outdated treatment for wounds, which was simply gluing the skin back together. The Modifier used a specific cyanoacrylate glue to help skin attach permanently to cyber augmentation, so he suggested they try it on Marathel’s external wounds while they waited for his contact to come up with something for her hemophilia. It was a long and painstaking process, requiring Marathel to have more doses of painkillers. Silnima disappeared briefly and returned with some soft dark loose clothing for Marathel to wear — none of which was blue, Fennec noticed with some amusement. After gluing together the worst of Marathel’s wounds, the women both helped Marathel put on some clothing, which nearly exhausted Marathel, but then Fennec said, “Okay, Marathel, let’s get you up and walking.”

“Excuse me?”

Fennec put a pair of soft slippers on Marathel’s feet. “Up. Let’s go.”

“I … I couldn’t possibly …”

“I know you don’t want to, but you have to, Marathel. Mando told us you developed fluid in your lungs on the way here, and you nearly drowned. I can hear how congested you are. We’ll get you on oxygen, but the best thing is to get upright and move around. This would be easier on you if you would respond to bacta, but you don’t, so …”

Marathel sighed. They’d had to do the same thing in the Hold, when someone had nwymunwya. She had spent many a long night holding the hands of little ones while walking around and around the courtyard in the cool night air. She wondered if the Bounty Hunter had done the same with her. Perhaps Grogu had done something to help.

Marathel rolled to her side and pushed herself up to her elbow with a moan. Fennec and Silnima helped her up to a sitting position and carefully put her feet on the ground. The two women put an arm around Marathel and supported her as she slowly put weight on her feet. After two steps, they were at the door, which Marathel opened with her voice command. Directly on the other side was Din.

“You’re standing,” he said, surprised.

Marathel briefly furrowed her brow at the non-mechanized sound of his voice, which pulled at the glued slash on her face. “They made me.”

Silnima said, “If I could run to the kitchen, I’ll get something easy for you to eat, Marathel.”

Fennec nodded. “That’s a good idea. You need to eat to heal. And I suspect Mando is a quart low on blood and should eat as well.”

Marathel was still staring, unblinking, at Din. “Is it far?”

Din shook his head. “No, not far. I’ll help you,” he said as he immediately took Silnima’s place beside Marathel. “If it’s too much, I’ll carry you.”

Marathel had no fight in her anymore, so she let Din slowly guide her the short distance to the kitchen as he quietly whispered encouragement to her. His continued use of the words mesh’la and cyar’e was grating to her, and he also said ne’kar’ta — a word she still didn’t know but could guess — but she remained silent. Upon entering the kitchen, she saw Silnima setting out a small bowl of something that looked like soup along with soft bread. Silnima had also padded a chair with soft cushions, which Marathel was thankful for as Din helped her sit. Her hands were still in the wooden blocks, so holding the soup bowl herself was impossible. Din turned her chair to face him, and he held the bowl for her and carefully tipped the soup into her mouth, the intimacy of which was unnerving to her. She was already riddled with shame that he was so caring, considering that she was now a Belwhyn, living or not. She was also nearly at her wit’s end being this close to him while her questions burned through her mind. Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you just leave? How did you get me out? What did you do? Why? WHY?

The Bounty Hunter, of course, remained inscrutable in his helmet. He continued to carefully feed her the soup, which was warm and flavorful — a puréed stew, Marathel thought. She did her best to not look at him but concentrated on getting the soup in her mouth instead of down her front, even though every sip was painful on her broken teeth. Din carefully applied a napkin to her lips and said softly, “Are you … angry with me again, mesh’la?”

Marathel looked away. “Why did you do this, Bounty Hunter?”

Her use of Bounty Hunter, even though she knew his name, hurt his heart. “Why did you lie to me about what they’d do to you?”

“You should have taken the coins and forgotten about me.”

You told me you loved me. You told me to remember you. “No coins are worth what they did to you, mesh’la.” Marathel shook her head, tears spilling over from her eyes. He brought the bowl up to her mouth again, but she turned her head away. “Please, you need to eat, Marathel.”

Marathel looked down at her hands, turning them over, inspecting the blocks that held her fingers immobile. “You were supposed to take the coins and leave.”

“You wanted me to leave you there? After what they did to you?” Din swallowed and the bowl shook in his hands. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A bounty hunter. You find the person, you get the reward, you leave.”

“Mesh’la …”

“No more mesh’la!” spat Marathel.

“You will always be mesh’la to me, ne’kar’ta, cyar’e.” He held the bowl up to her lips. “Please, drink the soup.” With a grimace, she sipped at the bowl and wiped her lips with the back of her bandaged hand. “Good girl,” said Din idly, and Marathel suddenly shrieked and hit the bowl away with her splinted hands.

“DON’T YOU CALL ME THAT! NEVER CALL ME THAT!” cried Marathel, and then she burst into tears. “HE called me that! HE NEVER STOPPED CALLING ME THAT! Even when …” Holding up her arms to her face, she sobbed and wilted in her chair. Din gently took hold of her under her arms and pulled her against him. Initially, Marathel fought his touch, feeling too sullied to allow his gentle hands, but eventually relented. Knowing that he would hurt her if he wrapped his arms around her, he put one hand on the back of her head, and the other hand on her hip. It was too intimate of a touch, he knew, but it was the only way he could have her in his arms without causing her more pain. He wanted so much to ask her about Whyns, the Dilimgau, why she chose to endure what she had … but she was still too fragile. One thing at a time. One thing at a time. Din sighed. “Please, Marathel… you need to eat some more. Some bread?”

Marathel was too weary to protest, and Din held a piece of bread to her lips. She took a bite, chewed it twice, and made a noise that sounded like “Urgh!” as she spit the bread out on the table. “What is that?”

Silnima who had been hovering nearby since Marathel’s last outburst, came rushing over. “Goodness, what is it?”

Marathel gagged. “Is that supposed to be bread? That’s not … oh, it’s awful!” Marathel continued to weep, curling up upon herself.

Silnima picked up another piece of the bread, sniffed it, and tasted it. She wasn’t pleased with it either. “I have heard you make exquisite bread, Marathel,” Silnima said in a soothing voice. “Perhaps you’ll show us how while you’re here. But now I think … you need rest. You’re overwrought.”

Din immediately stood and lifted Marathel in his arms, making her wail in pain. Silnima led Din back to Marathel’s room, where they situated her on a bed, lying on her side. Silnima brushed Marathel’s hair off her forehead as Marathel’s breath half-hitched in between sobs. The headwoman gave Marathel another light tranquilizer. “I’ll check on you later. Just rest. Just breathe.” Din moved to stay with Marathel, but Silnima took his arm and all but pushed him out of the room. Out in the corridor, Silnima hissed at him, “Stay away from her for now; you seem to only upset her.” Din nodded, and Silnima returned to the kitchen.

Din was standing, miserable, staring at Marathel’s door, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do, when he heard a familiar drawl behind him. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite suit of armor, causing trouble.” Din turned and looked up into the hazel eyes of Cobb Vanth.

Cobb Vanth.

Cobb.

Cobb’s hand squeezed Din’s forearm, his mouth in his usual lopsided smile. “Hello, friend.”

Din took a breath. “You’re here,” he whispered. “They told me … came to tell me …”

Cobb shrugged. “I wasn’t dead, you know. Just mostly dead.” Din ran his gloved hand down Cobb’s arm, no longer flesh, now cybernetic. “And I got myself a new arm to celebrate.”

Din shut his eyes; the woozy feeling of his concussion was back. “I know … they told me you’d survived. But I never …” He began to weave on his feet.

Cobb put his arm around Din to steady him and began to guide him back the way he had come. They came to a door. “C’mon,” he said, walking Din through the door. “Are you panicking?”

“Yes … I can’t … please, turn off the lights, close the shutters …”

“I know the routine,” said Cobb, as he did what Din had requested, sending the room into darkness.

Din pulled the helmet off, hyperventilating. “You’re … you’re …” Din took hold of Cobb’s cybernetic arm. He hadn’t seen Cobb since the day that Din had asked for Freetown’s help with the Pyke syndicate, and then Cobb was gravely injured, and now here his friend was, overwhelming Din’s sensibilities. Din ran his hand up Cobb’s arm to his neck and pulled him roughly into a kiss as he thought, Cobb, my friend, I wasn’t sure when — or if — I’d see you again. Cobb — only mildly surprised — returned the kiss, gently holding Din’s jaw in his hands. In that moment, they were both transported back to the night before they took on the Krayt Dragon, a night they had wordlessly spent together, two lonely men who tried to make each other feel less lonely, on a night that they both partially believed would be their last. Cobb swiped his tongue over Din’s lower lip, and then their tongues met with relief and regret. Pulling back slightly, Din whispered, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, friend, me too.”

“You’ve been here all this time?”

“Off and on. I was the bacta tank’s most recent resident. The Modifier did … well, an acceptable job. It was quite a process. Still ongoing.”

Din wrapped his arms around Cobb, who returned the favor, and Din dropped his head to Cobb’s shoulder. They were both silent for a long time before Cobb said quietly, “Tell me.”

“I … I wasn’t even sure if it was a real bounty. It could have been a waste of time.” Din clutched Cobb’s jacket as he told the entire story, leaving out nothing. Every word, every touch, every thought he’d had, every observation he’d made about Marathel from the moment she’d hit him with a pebble to the moment he’d laid her limp, bloodied body on the floating gurney, praying to a Maker and some moon-not-a-rabbit named Frith – neither of which he believed in — for her deliverance from death. If Din wept while relaying this story, neither man would ever tell.

Cobb had guided Din to his bed sometime during the story, and Cobb was now folded around Din like a jackknife, Din’s face against Cobb’s throat, almost as Din and Marathel were a few days ago. “I saw her when you brought her in,” said Cobb.

“She sacrificed herself for my sake. For a bounty I had no right to. I could have stopped her; I could have saved her.” Cobb stroked Din’s hair. “Instead, I was frozen to the spot. I haven’t been such a coward since before I took the helmet. A child.”

Cobb let out a long sigh. “Don’t do that … don’t. Concentrate on her healing. Marathel is the only one who deserves an explanation from you. No one else’s opinion matters. Certainly not the opinion of this desert redneck.” Cobb kissed the top of Din’s head.

Din nuzzled Cobb’s throat as he whispered, “I want to ask you to help me feel better … I need … someone. Something.” After a moment, Din continued, “But that would be so dishonorable to her.”

“You’re right. Not with this as an excuse. And not when you’re still concussed.” Cobb went back to stroking Din��s hair, avoiding the large wounds on his scalp. “You give yourself terrible haircuts, Din.” Din chuckled against Cobb’s throat. “I heard her yelling at you in the kitchen. She sounds like something else.” Din was silent. “And you got the little green guy back. Sounds like you almost got a built-in family. Is she good with the kid?”

“She is a mother without a child.”

“How does Little Greenie feel about her?”

“He loves her enough to hate me for letting her be tortured like that.”

“And you didn’t let the little guy heal her?”

Din took a shaky breath. “I couldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t have wanted him to heal her, the way she was. Shab, he’s just a child. She’s probably the only person who’s ever treated him like one. They play this ridiculous game where they run, and I can’t even figure out the rules, but I have never seen that boy so kriffing happy. Everyone else treats that kid like an asset, or like a toy; even I do the same thing. But from the moment we met that woman, Grogu attached himself to her. The only reason I agreed to stay with her was because of him.”

“You sure about that? Because you talk about assets, she’s got a few of those.”

“I forgot what a sack of shit you are, Vanth.”

Both men chuckled, then were silent for a while. “She has been through some terrible things,” said Cobb.

Din swallowed. “Yes.”

“How did she do it? How did she get you to go into that Hold without a single weapon?”

Din sighed. “She told me specifically not to.”

“That’s it?”

“She said, ‘you will not speak, you will not interject, you will not intercede, no matter what happens in there … you will be still, you will do as I say.’ That if I cared for her at all, that I would do as she said.” Din thought about that tremor in her voice as she said be still, be still. As if she’d heard it her entire life. Two words that she had to obey or suffer. “And … that was precisely what I did. It was as if … if I disobeyed her, I would break a commandment stronger than my Creed.”

Cobb mused on this for a while. “That’s some woman, who can get a Mandalorian to give up his weapons, just on her say-so.” Din remained silent. “And I know no one in this damn shithole system will agree with me, but … good on you, friend, for not making Grogu heal her. You could have, but you wanted to protect him from the evil inflicted on her. If you’d had that little baby fix all what’d been done to her … I think I would have hated you for that.” Din said nothing but let Cobb’s large hand stay on the back of Din’s neck, his thumb stroking Din’s neck gaiter.

Din sighed shakily. “Thank you,” he murmured into Cobb’s throat. They remained silent for a long while. “Speaking of…” Din sighed and rolled away from Cobb, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I should find him; take him to see her now that she’s awake.” Cobb said nothing but knelt behind Din and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Thank you, Cobb,” said Din, squeezing him back. “That arm will take some getting used to.”

“Still can’t feel anything with it. It does make for good times when I’m by myself, though.”

Din laughed quietly. “Dank ferrik, you’re such an ass.”

“And that’s why you love me. C’mon, let’s go find your boy.”

They found him in the kitchen with the other palace children, raucously enjoying an evening meal. Upon seeing Cobb, Grogu launched himself across the table and into Cobb’s arms, making him laugh. “Damn, boy, you got a spring up your ass!” Grogu grinned and squealed.

“Did you have fun today, kid? Get along with everyone okay?” asked Din, rubbing the child’s back. “It’s funny how your mood improves when you get fed regular meals.”

“Yeah, like a certain Mandalorian I know,” said Cobb. “When was the last time you ate something substantial? Never mind, I know the answer. I’ll cobble you together a plate and drop it off in your room. Now take Little Greenie to see his lady friend.” Cobb handed over Grogu to Din and shoved him out of the kitchen in the direction of Marathel’s door.

Approaching Marathel’s room, Din was surprised to see the doorway was open. “Marathel?” he called into the dark room.

“Hmmmm?” said a sleepy voice inside.

“It’s… ah… Din.” Smooth, Djarin. “I have Grogu with me, and he’d like to see you, if that’s all right?”

“Oh! Yes! Just a moment,” said Marathel, and Din heard her moving on her bed, and a dim light came on. “It’s all right now.”

Din slowly came inside to see Marathel sitting up. They’d found an oxygen condenser for her, and a cannula was under her nose. She still looked so weak and pale, even in the dim light. The circles under her eyes were prominent, and she looked gaunt. Still, she smiled at the sight of Grogu, who leapt from Din’s arm to Marathel’s lap. She gasped and grimaced in pain.

“Careful, boy, you’ll hurt her …”

“Never, never,” quickly said Marathel. “Never could you hurt me, my sweet, my love,” she crooned, hugging Grogu as best she could, with her hands still taped into the wooden blocks. Din noticed with alarm that her hands looked even worse: the dark bruising was now past her wrists. “Oh, Grogu, you came to me while I was asleep, yes? I was so badly hurt, and … I’m so sorry you had to see that. I wish you never had to see me like that, stealing your innocence of such horrible things. I wish I could undo it for you.” Din could hear tears in her voice, and tears came to his own eyes. Her first thought, again, was for the well-being of the child, protecting him from the ugliness of the galaxy, even at her own expense. Din watched Marathel softly kiss Grogu on his head. “I think … oh, I’m suddenly so tired. I can’t …” She started to wilt, and Din was immediately at her side, gently guiding her back to a lying position on her side. He lifted her legs back up to the bed, her arms out straight in front of her. “So … sleepy.”

“Rest, mesh’la,” whispered Din. After her eyes closed, Din noticed Grogu’s tiny hand on her jaw. He had put her to sleep. Din stroked the boy’s head. “Good job, kid.” Grogu looked sadly at Marathel’s hands, then up at Din. “Can you help her hands?” They looked terrible, and Din was concerned that the Modifier would remove them. The idea of his Marathel with cybernetic hands made him feel ill, especially after hearing about Cobb's difficult journey with his arm. Grogu moved to the edge of the bed, and carefully placed each of his hands on hers, closing his eyes in concentration. For a long time, nothing seemed to happen. Then Din saw Marathel’s hands take on a glow from inside as the dark bruising began to dissipate. Marathel whimpered in her sleep, and Din gently stroked her head, whispering, “Shhhhh, mesh’la, rest.” Her face relaxed again. After a long time, Grogu finally sat down with a quiet whine. Din picked up the child, hugging him close. “Thank you, Grogu. You did good.” Din held the child so that he could kiss Marathel goodnight on her cheek. The two of them watched Marathel sleep for a moment, and then Grogu pointed at Din. Din frowned at the boy under his helmet, pointing back at himself in confusion. Grogu then pointed at Marathel. Finally understanding, Din bent down to Marathel and lifted his helmet enough to kiss her soft cheek as Grogu had, but he lingered much longer than necessary. When Marathel sighed in her sleep, Din straightened, turned off the light, and quietly left the room. The two finally went to the room Silnima arranged for them. Inside was a comfortable bed and a table, which held a tray of food, probably procured by Cobb. Din laid a sleepy Grogu on the bed. Grogu yawned widely and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately. Din removed his helmet, sat down, and ate while watching the little boy sleep, hoping that the child had been able to help Marathel again …and trying to not feel guilty that he had asked the child to do so.

Next Chapter ->

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