#mandalorian angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

You Over Anyone

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: jealousy, angst, relationship awkwardness, assault (physical), reader gets cut by a knife, description of assault and defense, blood, din takes care of you, allusions to sex

a/n 97 days until the mandalorian returns !!!! somewhat angsty. there isnt quite enough angst on tumblr that doesnt end up with sex. dont get me wrong, i love a good smut, but sometimes i just need some yelling and frustration. longer fic woohoo!!! wrote it in one night too. i missed din djarin.

bonus at the end for you guys :)

summary Y/N gets upset when another girl comes around and questions where her relationship stands with Din

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 9 mins 29 seconds

3 days, 12 hours, and 30 ish minutes. That was the last time Din kissed you, but you totally weren’t counting. How long has it been since he’s touched you? Hugged you? Acknowledged you for anything other than the bare minimum? Your anxious thoughts flew through your mind as you tied up your boots. He had become more and more distant each day since you had found Natalie.

About a week ago you were in the forest looking for a frog to sneak to Grogu. He had listened to you all day and deserved a treat for being a good boy. That is when you came upon a girl, no older than 20. She was almost nude, shivering, and covered in dirt. And drop dead gorgeous.

Against your better judgement you took her back to the crest. Din had basically done the same for you when he found you, why not return the favor?

Natalie showed up in the middle of an awkward time in you and Din’s relationship. Sure, flirty banter has been there ever since you’ve known him. But the last few months you two have been together- sort of. It was confirmed by mutual feelings but never said out loud. You two were everything but girlfriend and boyfriend. I mean, you could have sworn Grogu said ‘mama’ last week. You were raising a child as well as taking the risk of making a new one. He had shown you his face. You had to be something. There was no way you weren’t- right?

Shaking your head and grabbing your weapon, you followed the sound of giggling from outside.

“He does tricks?” Natalie asked, head cocked perfectly in Din’s direction. Her ponytail flew perfectly in the breeze.

“Well, sometimes. Grogu- where’s your ball? Did you leave it on the crest?” Din playfully asked his son, tickling his stomach. All he got and expected as a response was a ‘coo’ from the child.

Taking in the sight of your… Din and Grogu and her made you sick. I mean, she was even wearing your clothes. How much more sick could this get?

“Ready?” you asked, approaching the two hanging your blaster from your belt.

“Actually, I think Natalie and I are going to stay back. I promised her I would teach her how to shoot and…” Din said, the tone in his voice weary.

He saw the way your face dropped, but it flew completely over his head. Your mouth was slightly agape. You stared at him. Then her. Then him.

“Y/N?” Din coughed, breaking you from your haze. “Yeah sure. I’ll take Grogu into town with me.” you said flatly. Without hesitating, you reached for Grogu sitting in his pouch on Din’s waist (god that tiny waste drove you nuts) and secured him in your scarves.

Walking to the speeder, you watched as Din brought Natalie over to the hill the crest was parked on, letting her aim his blaster. His blaster, the one you were forbidden to touch. The pit in your stomach kept growing larger and larger and falling deeper and deeper.

Grogu cooed, noticing his mother was upset. “I’m alright, kid.” you said, smiling putting on a strong face for him. Of course, he could sense everything that was wrong and your phony smile couldn’t fool him. A sad sigh exhaled from the child as he placed his forehead and a tiny green hand on your chest where he sat tightly.

At least someone still wanted you.

Jiggling through the lanyard that was attached to your waist looking for the speeder key, you heard a shout from behind you.

“Y/N!” Din yelled, waving his hand with a slight run towards you.

Your face perked up. A slight smile came on your lips. He was coming back to give you a goodbye kiss, you just knew it.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breathe as he reached the speeder. You were ready. Leaning over the speeder towards him, your eyes met through his viser.

“Don’t forget those to buy those special nuts I like. The ones with dragon berry? Remember?”

Your perfect moment was crushed.

“Yup,” is all you could manage out. Your hand had grasped the right key and you sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind you.

***

It was now midday. The hot sun beat down on the two of you. Your scarves were draped over your head, shielding the sun from your eyes.

You felt a tiny scratch on your chest. “Yes, yes. Calm down, we’re going to the Cantina for some food.”

One more sale and it was lunch. The bag of credits in your sleeve pocket was still heavy. You were skimming the blaster modifications when you heard a squeal.

“Is that her, Din?” you heard Natalie say from feet away. “Shh!” he hushed her.

He told her his name. Not Mando anymore. Din.

“Y/N!” Natalie yelled from across the market. You grinded your teeth and took a deep breathe, abandoning any interest in the parts.

“Hi!” you said with the fakest smile you had ever had on your face. “How did you two get here without a speeder?” you asked, a pissed tone silently rode off your lips as your eyes stabbed into his beskar helmet.

“We walked! It was such a nice time in the forest. An hour goes by really fast when your having fun.” Natalie smiled aimlessly at you.

As you couldn’t see, Din was behind his mask with the most tired eyes and annoyed face known to man.

You swallowed.

“I’m starving. Could you get me some food Din?” she said again using his name. “Mando.” he corrected her. “Oh right. We’re using our made up names.” she whispered, giggling heading towards the Cantina.

He stood there for a second, looking you up and down. You knew him well enough behind the mask to notice what he was doing. “Don’t fucking even,” you scoffed, following the bubbly girl into the Cantina. “Don’t what?” he asked, following you confused into the loud bar.

You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes. Making your way to the bathroom, you shook Din’s hand off of yours trying to gain your attention. “Please,” you yelled a little too loudly, yanking your hand away and making a bee line towards the restroom.

You slammed the stall door shut and waited for the heavy beskar boots to follow you in. He wasn’t the type to leave you. Ever. You waited.

And waited.

And waited. And they never came.

Sitting on the toilet sobbing, you barely remembered Grogu was there. Another scratch on your chest reminded you that he was hungry.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you sniffled, wiping your eyes and attempting to clean up your red face.

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror felt stupid. You had so much pity for yourself. Your braid has become more loose than it was this morning. Strands of loose hair rested next to your face. Your boots had mud on them. Now was not the time to be critiquing yourself but you couldn’t help it. How could you not? Natalie was beautiful, more pretty than you’d ever be. Right?

This time Grogu let out a small growl and you gave in. Turning the corner, you were grabbed near the exit and thrown back into the bathroom.

Laying on the floor confused, you looked up at your attacker. A giant creature with blue horns stared down at you with a smirk on his face.

“I saw that pretty bag of coins on your wrist, ma’am.” he scowled, pointing his long knife down at you. “I would appreciate if we did this the easy way.” he said cracking his neck in both directions.

The blade rested on the middle of your chest. Grogu, being the curious creature he is poked his head out of your swaddle you had made him.

“Well well well, what is this?” he asked, moving the knife to bump the scarf you had around your chest. “I think I will be taking both.” he smiled, revealing his yellow crooked teeth.

Panic flashed your mind as you rolled over, shielding Grogu from his grasp. He let out a loud yell in anger and didn’t hesitate to swipe his dagger at your shoulder, leaving a pretty nasty cut.

“Fuck!” you yelled out in pain, holding the open wound.

Grogu being the good boy he is (he deserves another frog) rolled out of your grasp and waved his tiny hand in the air. The dagger flew from the attackers hand and right into your grasp.

“Good boy,” you whispered as you didn’t hesitate to stab the man near his groin. He cried out in pain as you twisted the knife, then pulled it out. It was covered in purple blood.

You scooped up Grogu and made your way back into the crowded Cantina. You spotted Din with his elbow resting comfortably on the counter talking to Natalie.

“… and then Greef started to complain about-”

“We need to go.” you said in a low voice, grabbing his hand and pulling in the opposite direction. “What?” he asked. “What’s that?” Natalie asked loudly, pointing at the dripping dagger in your hand.

“Shut it for once, won’t you?” you yelled at her. A wave of concern flew over Natalie’s face. “Hey!” Din yelled, sticking his finger in your face. You had to ignore the intrusive thought to bite it.

A large roar came from the Cantina bathroom exit. Everyone’s eyes turned to the creature. “You little bitch!” the man yelled, meeting your eyes in the crowd.

“We need to go.” you ordered, slipping out of the entrance. Looking behind you and gripping Grogu close, you ran to the speeder. Din quickly followed without Natalie on his tail.

You straddled the speeder as you heard your attacker’s yells from behind you. He was a few feet behind Din. At that point, Natalie began to stumble out of the Cantina.

Din held up his hand, signaling for you to start the speeder. The wound on your arm throbbed. With one hand cradling a sleeping Grogu and the other on the speeder handle, you prepared for the worst.

Din made it just in time. “Go go!” he yelled, grabbing your waist tightly as you sped off. That man and Natalie were left in the dust.

The speeder tumbled as you reached the crest. You meant to get fuel on your way back, but that obviously didn’t get to happen.

As the two of you finally stopped, you sat for a moment in silence.

Finally, you flipped around. You handed Din a sleeping Grogu and turned to go back in the crest. Your face was stone cold.

“Are you okay?” Din asked wearily. He was most definitely not getting a response. You walked through the hatch and made it to the medical cabinet. It was funny, you had forgot you had put on a white shirt today and not a crimson one.

“Is that blood?” he asked, removing his helmet and setting Grogu inside of it. He liked to nap there sometimes, it was warm and smelt of his father.

“Why do you care? I’m surprised your not back on your speeder going to find Natalie.” you hissed, cutting your sleeve off to reveal the wound.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the bloody sleeve rolled down your arm. “What? Cy’are what happened?” Din asked, rushing to your aid. “Get away from me.” you hissed back at him, struggling to see straight. “Let me help.” he demanded. “Go ffffucking find her.” you slurred.

Blood was definitely lost.

“Sit for gods sake.” he yelled, pulling up a chair behind you. He pulled out the bacta cream and bandages. “You b-better not fucking touch me Din Djarin,” you yawned.

Ignoring you, he wiped the blood away from the wound. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it would leave a nasty scar. He applied the cream and wrapped your arm up. “Too tight?” he asked, his eyes peering into yours.

“I don’t know why your so worried about me when we left Natalie out there.” you bitched. “Seriously Y/N, too tight or not.” he said ignoring your comment.

“You told her your name?” you slurred, the blood loss just beginning to regenerate.

“What? No. She heard you call me it last night.”

“Oh.”

“Why were you all over her? You could barely even speak to me. It’s obvious that you were just going to leave me somewhere and take her instead.” you mumbled, staring at your muddy and now bloodied boots.

“What?” Din asked, astonished. “What are you talking about, Cy’are?”

He bent down in front of you, his hands on both of your thighs. “Don’t lie,” you said, turning your head away from his. Tears began forming in your eyes.

“Your in love with her Din.”

Din wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your thighs. “You are dreaming, my love.”

“Then why did you-”

“I stayed with her because I thought you couldn’t stand her. I thought I was doing you a favor.” he explained.

I mean he wasn’t wrong.

“But what about-”

“Shh,” he shushed you. “I’m horrible but I’m glad we left her at the Cantina. I didn’t know how much longer I could have gone with her constantly at my hip. I couldn’t be with you, I was starting to loose my mind.”

You carefully grabbed a handful of his brown curly hair. You always forgot how soft it was, never being able to touch it under all that beskar.

“Really?” you sniffled, using your other hand to wipe the tear away.

“We have about another 45 minutes to get off this planet.” he hummed into your jeans, kissing your thigh before returning upright.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked her better,” Din scoffed, now towering over you.

“You let her use your blaster?” you questioned. “She grabbed it.” he sighed, laughing at your question. “So am I allowed to touch it now?” “Absolutely not.”

“But why did you ignore me then? Not even anything. No good morning kiss or sleeping in the same bed or…” “Oh.” he sighed. “I thought you wanted to keep it quiet? Not let her know. I’m sorry,”

“I’d let the whole galaxy see you touch me,” you mumbled. A smile rose to Din’s lips.

His hand turned to your cheek, cupping it ever so lightly. His thumb brushed over your lips. He bent down, giving you a soft kiss on your tear stained lips.

“You over anyone, cy’arika. How I’ve missed you.”

•

yes don’t worry grogu was fed he is well taken care of don’t call cps trust me he got all the frogs and eggs he wanted after that day

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @salliebley @peeta-is-useless @bubsonnobx @kirsteng42

bonus:

You lay in his warm grasp for the first time in over a week. His warm skin rested on yours. The hum of the open galaxy surrounding the ship filled your ears. Din’s messy hair sat on him well. His arms ran across your bare chest, holding you with ever such ease. His breaths became more shallow with each second.

“Hey,” he whispered groggily in your ear, pulling you closer. “Mhm,” you replied, pushing yourself into his embrace. You were expecting an ‘I love you’ or ‘I missed your body’ or something romantic.

“Did you remember my nuts? The dragon berry ones?”

“God dammit Din,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“Did you remember?” he asked, sitting up in bed and peering down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No Din. I forgot your fucking nuts.”

3K notes · View notes

eitaababe · 1 year

Text

˗ˏˋ WON'T HAVE YOU ! ´ˎ˗

din djarin x reader.

this is 100% self indulgent LMAO, based off of kanej from six of crows :) (maybe ooc mando?? it's my first time writing for him lol it might be iffy)

warnings — mentions of blood / injuries, shooting, typical star wars fights

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

You sat on Din's cot in the Razor Crest, desperately trying to get the whining green baby to sleep. Mando was off, collecting another bounty for credits whilst you were left here babysitting. It was part of the deal, after all.

He took you in for protection, and you would prove yourself useful.

Din had found you on one of his hunts for a bounty— well, more like you had found him.

You were being held captive by the very man he was after, and when you ran into the Mandalorian you quickly made an alliance with him, leading him straight to the bounty.

You told Mando little of your past, and he knew better than to push. What he did know, was that you needed out and could be a valuable assest, showing your expertise in mechanics and skilled fighting.

You would almost, dare say, consider the new arrangement, safe for you.

Which was new from what you'd ever known, always trapped and having to report back to the same place all your life. Without knowing if you had a real family out there or not, without knowing how much more of your life you'd have to live.

So yeah, you could get pretty used to this.

A sound of the hatch opening caught your attention, meeting the familiar beskar helmet. You were silent for a moment, trying to hide your excitement at his return when you noticed his limp.

"What happened?" You asked, setting Grogu down carefully and rushing to help him.

"Bounty." Came a curt response, and you couldn't say you were shocked at his cold demeanor.

You almost rolled your eyes in the vagueness of his answer, "Very descriptive, Mando."

No response.

Huffing, you grabbed a kit, handing it over to him.

"Thank you." Was his only response as he tried his best to walk normally over to a nearby table, opening up the kit.

Watching silently as he removed some of his armor (never the helmet, you came to learn), you saw him slightly lift the cloth worn underneath, a wound on the back of his torso. He hissed as he reached back, struggling to clean off the blood.

"Let me help you," you finally spoke up, being met with the stubborn look that you were somehow able to understand underneath his helmet. "Din."

At the call of his name he finally complied, handing over the clumped up rag, turning around.

With shaky breaths you dabbed the cloth in water, hoping to clean the wound up a bit before applying any bacta.

You moved slow, hesitant towards his bare side, the rag finally making contact with him. He jumped at the touch, clearly holding back any noises of pain. "Sorry," you mumbled, retracting your hand away for just a second. "But I have to clean it up before I can put any bacta on."

Finally being able to focus on the task at hand, but still moving carefully, you cleaned it up the best you could, setting the dirty towel aside and spraying bacta on the wound, practically wincing with Din anytime he jolted suddenly.

"Finished." You called out, and only when he turned, helmet almost meeting your face, then did you realize just how close the two of you really were.

"Thank you. Again." He breathed quietly, also aware of the close proximity. Neither of you daring to break away, you bath sat silently on stools, and for a moment, you swear you saw him lean just forward, his hand twitching to meet yours.

You find yourself caught in whatever trance this was, heart beating rapidly—

When the cooing of Grogu on the floor snaps you back.

"I should, um," you stumbled across your words, clumsily standing to grab the little one. "Take him. You should probably wrap that. So it doesn't get infected, or anything."

Only nodding in response, the Mandalorian stayed and watched as you walked further and further away from him, out of reach.

Once again.

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

You go weeks without addressing anything of the situation.

You tagged along with Mando in the next bounty hunt, leaving the ship and Grogu in Peli's hands as you stopped at Tatooine.

The mission consisted of someone who was associated with the man who once held custody of you— who on a technicality, still did. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified of the chance of you having to go back to that life once more, but found solace in the fact he was captured previously.

You and Din split up, figuring secrecy was best suited for this mission. Stealth was always your forte, and clearly not his. He stood out too much with the armor, of course.

So you two went separate routes to the coordinates, as you took to the rooftops and Mando by streets. You'd kept him in your line of sight for the most part, seeing him successfully locate his way.

"I'm here." You quietly called to the comms, standing on top of the roof of the supposed building.

"Going in." He replied as you watched him head into the building, you looking for a nearby latch or window to sneak in through.

Your plans were cut short, however, when a bullet hits you in the arm.

"Fuck!" You cried out, crawling over to hide behind a large chimney. The shots fired towards the bricks, debris flying. You pulled out your gun, shooting from over your shoulder, taking the sniper out. "Mando! I've been compromised!" Not bothering to listen for a response you peeked in the direction of the (now dead) shooter.

You quickly learned that there were more than one, though, when more shots were fired from a different direction. You ripped off a piece of your sleeve and wrapped it around your arm for good measure on the bullet wound, and dropped from the rooftop to behind the building, shielding yourself from sight.

"Where is she?"

"I don't see her!"

You put your gun back in its pouch, opting for a knife. You followed the voices, locating them and lurking behind before taking them out, trying to find a way inside the cantina Din went inside when you were tazed, groaning in pain as you fell to the ground.

"Did you really think you would get away so easily, little bird?"

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the familiar voice, looking up to see the very face you hoped you wouldn't.

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled, and you were paralyzed, unable to move as he stood over you. "I won't let you get away, not this time. You'll never—"

A simple three shots ended his rant.

"Y/n!"

Your head whipped around to meet the Mandalorian, bending over to check on you. "What happened?"

Almost too much was going on for you to process, you didn't even realize the beads of tears that ran down your cheeks. Too much that you didn't realize how the Mandalorian, the very same, stoic one who mostly only spoke to either Grogu or to say thank you, the very same one who never let you get too close for comfort, was on his knees. For you.

"I'm- I-" you breathed, the floodgates rushing open. You silently leaned into his chest, and for once, Din didn't push you away.

"Let's just get you back to the Crest, alright?"

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

After a brief explanation and some calming down, Peli left you and Mando in the newly fixed Crest, still keeping Grogu inside, both of you insisting not to wake him from his nap yet.

Still shocked, you sat down silently, doing nothing but staring at a wall. You were so numb that you didn't even notice Din taking out the kit, tending to your wound as you did his not too long ago. For once, the closeness didn't affect you whatsoever, the same voice repeating itself in your head over and over again.

"You won't get away this time."

You succumb to the thoughts of your head, still scared, despite knowing he was gone and who was beside you.

"Hey," Din's voice called out to you, your glossy eyes snapping over to meet his helmet. "He's gone now. You don't answer to him anymore. He's gone and he doesn't own you. You're free."

The words you waited to hear all your life don't feel as good as you thought they would.

Freedom was something you once thought was unattainable, something you dreamt of. But now that you have it?

It almost feels just as horrifying.

"You can do anything you've ever wanted to do," Din continued. "You can leave. Be free of this place, go wherever."

"I could leave?" You inquired. The thought of what you'd do now that you have a life that's your own and only yours has crossed your mind just a few times, and not in many of those thoughts have you thought about leaving Din and Grogu.

But would it be for the better?

You contemplate your decisions, would they even want you to stay? They were doing just fine on their own before you even arrived, they clearly would be just fine if you left. Figuring it was an invitation to leave you wordlessly get up, turning your back to him.

"You could also stay."

Four simple words make you stop in your tracks, and cowardly, you don't look back at him. "And why should I?"

"Because I want you to," He speaks, and after all this time, only now are you able to detect the emotion in his voice. You turn around to the beskar covered man, never seeing him look so small. "For him. For us."

For a moment you think he's talking about both himself and Grogu, but you understand that when he says us, he means you and him. And it should be heartwarming, it should make you want to jump into his arms and accept, but it only makes you angry.

"Us?" You repeat, and in a tone that chills him to his core. "There is no us, Din."

He's pleading now, and if only you could see his expression under the mask. "Please."

"And if I stay?" You push, walking slowly towards him. "How will I have you?"

"All of me."

You only shake your head, knowing it wasn't possible. "All of you, with a full armor of beskar every night. All of you, with short and meaningless conversations. All of you, with gloves on and hands I'll never get to truly hold. All of you, with lips that will never touch and a face I'll never see."

"My creed-"

"This isn't about your creed, Din Djarin," you practically whisper, scared if you talk any louder your voice will crack. And Din knows, Maker he does, that this isn't about his creed. It isn't about the armor that he's wearing but about the armor he puts up, about the space that he's put between you two and what he guards his heart with.

"If you think for a moment that this is about what you wear," you pause, and Din has never wanted you to see his expression underneath his helmet more than his does in this moment. "Then you really don't know me at all. If I cannot have you, truly have you, without the armor," you press against his chest plate with a light hand, and stuck in place, he doesn't give into the instinct to hold it.

"Then I won't have you at all."

─── ⭐️.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin angst #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian angst #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x reader

464 notes · View notes

miercoooles · 1 year

Text

Only for You

Summary: You have never seen him remove his mask, not even when Luke took Grogu away.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Former Jedi GN!Reader, Luke Skywalker x Platonic!Reader (kinda?)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Season 2 spoilers, Angst (it took a turn, ig), talks about past trauma, no use of y/n, cursing, fluff maybe?, and ofc awfully written

A/N: I don’t know if anyone has written something like this, it’s more of a self-indulgent fic just because. I made this to be fluff, idk how that turned out ;-; Also please be nice, this is my first ever Mando fic.

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

Din Djarin or better known as “the Mandalorian” for others, was a man of few words. When he first stumbled upon you on a mission, he didn’t even bother to bat an eye. It was because of the little green foundling, Grogu, who took interest and became immediately fond of you, that forced the bounty hunter to take you aboard the Razor Crest.

During the first six months you have spent with him, your relationship with Mando remained stagnant and purely professional. He only saw you as a colleague, someone who can help him accomplish tasks quicker, and take Grogu off his hands when he has something important to do or so that was what you thought. Although, you can’t say the same for yourself because you were attracted to the masked man, whom you have never even seen the face of.

Today was no different when he asked you to accompany him in collecting supplies and resources as it was running low. As you were about to leave the ship and follow him, Grogu swaddled to you and embraced your leg, not letting you go. “Me and Mando will just go out and gather supplies, little one.” You explained to him, crouching down and carrying him back to his makeshift cradle. Grogu whined, shaking his head in protest and reaching his arms back for you to carry him back.

“I can’t, little one. Don’t worry, we’ll be quick.” You assured him, caressing his head. Once he made a satisfied grumble, you let go of him and gave him one more wave before rushing outside the ship.

“You clearly took your time.” Din stated, and you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was annoyed.

You rolled your eyes at him walking past him, your shoulders brushing against his beskar. “Well you can’t really blame me, can you? Little Grogu didn’t want to let go of me.”, you retorted, shrugging and looking over your shoulder prior to sticking your tongue out like a child.

You heard him grumble something about him being the one who saved Grogu but is more attached to you, which made you laugh.

A few months later, you can safely say that your relationship with the head of the ship improved. He started engaging in conversations with you more often, joined in your daily activities a.k.a. playing with Grogu, and even taught you his native language, Mando’a, and trained you self-defence in case he wasn’t on the Crest.

Be that as it may, you’re unsafe to say that the relationship you have developed with the Mandalorian caused your little crush on him to bloom into something more treacherous. There were often times where you found yourself thinking and daydreaming about him as well as imagining how he looks without his helmet on to the point where you get too distracted doing your routines.

A year has passed since Grogu went with Luke to train and ever since then, things between you and the bounty hunter have changed. He grew distant and cold towards you as if the friendship you have established has turned into nothing but dust, and it left you confused as you returned to the first step. But you missed the little goblin whomst you had created a bond with, and you missed the relationship you’ve previously had with the Mandalorian.

You sat on the co-captain’s chair in the cockpit, staring in the distance as your mind aimlessly wandered in your thoughts while you waited for the bounty hunter to return from his current mission. You spun your chair as you replayed that night the Jedi ransacked the ship.

Just as Djarin rescued Grogu, another alarm rang through the cruiser when a X-wing fighter flew past it. You were so engrossed by the ship landing on the dock that you did not notice Grogu appear on your lap and watched along with you. Silence loomed across the room, as a hooded figure dismounted the ship. The moment you saw the green lightsaber flash from the mystery man’s hand, you felt as if a bucket of ice water fell on you.

Grogu seemed to have noticed your change in demeanour that he made concerned, little gurgling noises that pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked at him and caressed his head, giving him a small smile to assure him you’re alright.

As Gideon saw the commotion bother the crowd, he took his chance, pulling out his blaster and shooting Kryze, pummeling her to the floor. He then turned around to aim at you and Grogu, but Mando was quick to act and jumped in front of you as you shielded Grogu.

Opening your eyes, you saw Gideon knocked out on the ground and Grogu reaching his hands up to the monitor wherein the not so mysterious man (to you anyway) just finished the dark troopers. You heard Djarin command someone to open the doors, but you were too fixated on the man walking towards it that you did not hear who.

Once the door is open, the man removes his hood revealing his face. No one said a word as his eyes travelled and studied each person in the room, definitely searching for someone. When you met his gaze, he looked at you with familiarity, making you look away.

“I am Luke Skywalker”, he introduced himself. You discreetly rolled your eyes at the mention of his name.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, to which Skywalker answered and confirmed. You turned your chair so your back is facing him, Grogu, on the other hand, peeked at the side of the chair, interested in the man.

You heard Luke call onto Grogu, you looked down at the foundling who hasn’t moved an inch. “He doesn’t want to go with you.” The masked man said, stepping forward. Luke went on explaining that Grogu was asking for Mando’s permission to allow him and that the Jedi will do his best to protect the Child with his life and train him which made you scoff.

You did not have to look to know that the bounty hunter was reluctant in letting Grogu go, but you both knew that was what he was meant to do. So when you heard his footsteps coming towards you, you faced him and handed him the Child.

“Go on, little one. That’s who you belong with, he’s one of your kind. I’ll see you again, I promise.” Mando assured the little one, but you knew that he was also assuring himself that they will be reunited again.

You watched them intently as the Child held up his hand to touch the beskar helmet of Djarin. You heard about Djarin and his affiliations with The Children of the Watch. You also know that group teaches its foundlings that they should never reveal their identity to the presence of another living being. So when you saw him clutch the material that covered his identity, you turned your chair away from him, respecting the belief of the group he is in.

You felt trinkets of water on your cheeks as you heard Mando usher the Child to go with Luke. Once you heard your partner put his helmet back on, you assumed that the Jedi master already left, and you huffed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, thinking you were finally safe. Or that’s what you thought…

“I see you’ve joined the other side,” the blonde spoke up, proving your assumptions wrong and making you inhale sharply as he was clearly talking about you.

You felt everyone’s eyes fall on you, but you were particular about only one. You felt Djarin’s eyes drill holes at you with curiosity through his helmet, and he did not have to remove it for you to figure out that he was baffled about what was unfolding in front of him.

You spun your chair once more to face him, glaring at him and crossing your arms. “So? What is it to you?”, you retorted sassily.

“Ah, still the same old you. It’s nothing really, I just never expected it, especially with you.” He taunted.

“Oh really? I would beg to differ.” You protested, quirking your eyebrow and leaning forward. “Or have you already forgotten what you did to me?”

Luke stayed quiet for a moment, speechless that you remembered what happened years ago. “You know I never meant for that to happen.”

What he said infuriated you, but you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, fisting your hand. “I never left you on purpose. I was needed elsewhere. I had a duty. And if I had let you know, would you have let me go? I don’t think so because you wouldn’t have understood anything since what do you know about duty and responsibilities, huh?” He continued, raising his voice as he defended his previous actions.

That stunned you, but he was right. You had no sense of duty as you were a young, reckless, and carefree person. You had no care for your responsibilities. You wanted your life to be filled with fun and joy, not with stress and worry. You had potential with the Force even Kenobi foresaw that, and had you taken your training seriously, your skills would be equalling Luke on a par or duel, maybe even bested him. But you had let your childishness win. Yet he had no right whatsoever to talk to you like that, like he knew what happened to you.

You stood up from where you were seated and started striding towards him, forgetting the existence of the others. “How dare you speak to me that way, Luke Skywalker. Do you have any idea of what I went through the moment you left? NO! You have no idea what hell I have experienced and encountered when you abandoned me. You have no idea about the pains and sacrifices I made in order to get back up again. You have no clue how long it took me to fix and find myself once more. I waited for years Luke, years thinking you would return for me but no, you never did. I felt like I had no purpose anymore, but thanks to them…”, You argued, looking at Din Djarin before continuing. “I found it again. Without them, I would probably still be wandering the outskirts of wherever. I was saved by them, by Grogu and Djarin.”

Once you were face to face with him, you pointed your finger at him, stopping the urge to slap him, “You have not one shittiest hint of what I have been through, so you have no right to talk to me like that. You were the only one I had, you were my best friend, yet it seemed so easy for you to leave me. I only wished you told me, then maybe it would have been easier for me.” You whisper-shouted, your lips quivering as you held back your tears and softly punched his shoulders, avoiding to hurt the Child.

You felt yourself become light-headed from all the emotions that you let out. The last thing you felt was strong, cold arms catching you before your vision turned dark and passed out.

When you woke up, you looked over to the side hoping to see the man you were completely infatuated with, instead you were disappointed when you were met by Bo Katan. When she saw you open your eyes, she immediately told you that Grogu went with Luke to become his apprentice. You scrambled on your feet, Kryze behind you as you searched the whole ship looking for any signs of Grogu, but there was none. And that broke you even more as you never got to say goodbye.

An hour or so has passed by and you were still deep in thought not hearing the bounty hunter return from his assignment. He removed his armour, leaving his helmet on as he went to look for you in the ship. When he found you, he saw you lost in thought, your chin placed on your palm. He let out a sigh, leaning against the doorframe and watched your reflection on the window.

Before he left, he told you that he was going out to complete a mission he accepted, the truth was he went to see Ahsoka. The confrontation that happened between you and the Jedi bothered and confused him. He thought that the connection you both had meant you trusted him enough to tell him those kinds of things, apparently he was wrong and expected too much that he ended up getting hurt in the process.

The feelings he had towards you puzzled him, and he wondered if there was a chance that you felt the same towards him. But seeing how you and Luke fought, he gave that thought up and started distancing himself to lessen the pain. He knew what he was doing affected you both badly, but he thought it was for the best.

And although he believes that what happened that night doesn’t hurt him anymore, he knows deep inside that he’s only lying to himself, especially because it was the night where he had to let go of his ‘kid’. But what wounded him more than it should was that it was Baby Grogu that bridged him to you. During your first encounter, he only saw you as a burden. But the immediate close proximity you have made with the Child, allowed him to give you the benefit of the doubt and accepted you anyway.

He stayed distant, watching you and Grogu interact and play while he worked or rested. In those moments, he felt his cold heart warm up to you, thinking that maybe it would not be so bad to make a bond with you. Afterall, you’ve known each other for how many months already.

So in a few months, he joined you whenever he had nothing to do, helping you in taking care of Grogu or just spending time with you and getting to know you better. As you got together frequently, his feelings evolved. Being with you made him at ease, made him feel he was safe. You welcomed him with open arms and open heart, not once making him feel uncomfortable or judged. He trusted you and became most vulnerable only to you, the first he has done in a while. But the thing about you that he cannot fathom was that there was something about being around your presence that he could not keep away from even just for a second.

And after everything, after seeing and learning about the things you kept secret from him, all he gravely wanted to do was pull you closer to his embrace and comfort you. He wishes to be there for you as you let the walls you built for years break. He craves to be the person who you will look for and run to when you need someone like how he is to you. He longs to be the person whom you would be comfortable to show the real you without any filters. He aches to be the one to put and protect that beautiful smile and laugh of yours. And he yearns to hold you, to have you in his arms, to shower you with kisses, to tell you what he truly feels about you, to wake up beside you, and to be able to call you his best friend and lover.

That was the main reason why he visited Ahsoka because he had no clue about what he felt and how to express it. When the former Jedi master confronted him and told him bluntly that what he felt was love, he instantly denied that idea until she asked him a series of questions about you. And when he realised it, he promptly stood up and thanked her before sprinting as fast as his legs could back to the ship.

Which brings him to now, still watching you. He observed you quietly, wondering what it was that put you deep in thought. He loves it whenever you use that wonderful brain of yours because you have an adorable habit of scrunching your eyebrows together and pouting your lips.

The moment he saw a teardrop fall from your cheek, he felt his heart shatter. Maybe he doesn’t know the reason but he wasn’t completely heartless. His legs quietly carried him to you, sitting down beside you and wiping your tear stained cheeks, startling you.

You withdrew yourself from his touch, frantically looking elsewhere as you felt his eyes scan, possibly trying to figure out what you were thinking. “Hey Mando! Since when did you get back?” You asked nervously, your fingers fidgeting and legs bouncing.

He hummed before sitting on his respective chair and facing you. “Just a while back. Can I ask you something?” He queried, his voice heavy due to the modulation of his helmet. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”, he continued, checking your body language to see if you were okay with it. You squirmed in your seat, feeling seen by him before nodding, eyes still averted from him, “Ask away, amigo.”

“Why have you never told me?” You looked at him, your eyebrows knitting together, “Never told you what exactly?” Although you can’t see him do it, he rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrow at you. “I mean, why have you never told me that you were a Jedi warrior? I thought that maybe by that time before that Luke guy appeared, we already earned each other’s trust.”

The question took you by surprise, not that you weren’t expecting him to ask, you just didn’t think he would ask you now since it has been a year already. For the first time, you understood why he pushed you away, he felt like you had not trusted him enough to not give him this information that it hurt him.

You finally found the courage to look at him, and you have no idea what he’s thinking or what his expression is behind his mask, making you more jittery.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, sighing it out before opening them once more to look at him. “I presumed that I did not have to remember that chapter of my life once I joined your journey. I never expected Luke to appear out of nowhere and bring that part of my life up. As for never telling you, I did not want to share to you the burden of guilt I carry. You have so much on your shoulders already, that it felt right to just never let you know as I have left it. Maybe also because I was scared that your perception of me would differ when you find out. ”

Your sight dropped to your lap, your thumbs playing with one another, and your whole body trembled as you finished. You couldn’t look at him now, you felt vulnerable as you held back your tears. There was nothing but deafening silence and it scared you because the thoughts in your head are saying that he sees you differently and more disgusting now than ever. But those thoughts evaporated the moment he placed his right hand on yours, caressing it while his left hand softly cupped your chin and moved it up so he could see your face.

His left hand continued moving, stroking your cheeks with his knuckles. You released a relieved sigh as you leaned into his touch. “Darling, I would never look at you differently just because our races hated each other. And I’m sorry if I ever hurt you by distancing myself away. It just felt…”

You pulled your right hand away and placed it on his helmet, gesturing for him to stop. “You don’t have to explain, okay? I should have told you because we made a promise that there should be no secrets between us.”

It was now your turn to place your hand on the cheeks of his cold headgear, running the pad of your thumb against the cold surface. He broke away from your touch, withdrawing his hands from you and moving it towards the end of his helmet. That was when it hit you he was going to take it off for you, but before he could you stopped him.

“Wait, what are you trying to do?”

“Well before you stopped me, I was going to remove my helmet.” He quipped, making you giggle.

“No I knew that, you idiot. I meant why are you doing it? Don’t you have some sort of belief that you shouldn’t show your face to others?” You asked innocently, tilting your head out of curiosity. Din chuckled at the thought of you being dense.

“We did say there should be no secrets between us, right?.”

“Right, but doesn’t mean you have to do that especially if you feel like you’re being forced to. And you already went against that vow when you removed it for Grogu, I don’t want you to do the same just for me.” He laughed at your explanation, the modulation of his voice vibrating to your spine, making you shudder.

“For a genius, you can be the densest person. I already broke the oath for Grogu, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. But even before that, if you had asked me to show myself to you, I would have taken the chance and done it anyway.”

What he professed dumbfounded you. “I? You? Wha? Why?”, was the only thing you managed to articulate, smart right?

“Because…”, he trailed off. “Because you are worth breaking the commitment I made to The Tribe. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and my last thought before I go to bed, you smile at me in my dreams. And only for you, I would risk everything even if it meant getting outcasted by my race since you mean everything to me and I love you beyond the galaxies and more.”

With that he removed the last piece of beskar armour he had on, placing it on his lap and officially revealing his identity to you. Your mind still not comprehending what he said, added with the fact he showed his face to you, had you feeling hundreds and thousands of swirling emotions.

Concerned at your stillness, he asked, “Am I that ugly?” pulling you out of your thoughts.

Blinking your eyes, it hit you that he was there without the headpiece. “Oh my Gooooood!” You exclaimed, astonished by how good he looks.

“Is that a good thing?”, he asked once more, scratching the back of his nape. You nodded your head vigorously. You stared at his features, remembering every detail, in case you’ll never see it again.

He has tousled brown hair from removing his helmet. His eyes were a twinkling chocolate brown doe orbs that seemed to hypnotise you as you stared into it. He had soft and pale red lips. Topping off his features was a peppered stubble that scattered on his jaw and a moustache that made him look more serious and mature.

You timidly move your hand to his cheek, afraid that in a blink of an eye, you will wake up and everything you saw was a dream and t’was too good to be true. He softly gripped your wrist, eagerly placing your palm on his cheeks, making you wheeze at his impatience.

Once your skins’ touch, you stroked his cheeks, feeling the roughness of his stubble underneath your palm. When you made eye contact, you gave him a soft smile. And it didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes flickered to your lips for a moment.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” He asked with no shame, taking you off guard and making you choke on your own saliva. You smacked him in the chest, and he just raised his eyebrow.

“So can I?” You pretended to think for a moment before nodding. “I need verbal consent, darling.” He drawled, leaning forward and boring his eyes into yours. You cannot deny that letting his gentleness lead him gave you butterflies, once more falling head over heels in love with the tin man.

“Yes Din, kiss me please.” You begged, and in one swift motion, he leaned towards you and pressed his lips against yours.

You had thoughts that the kiss you two would share would be heavenly, but you had not expected it to be this good. His lips were soft and light like feathers against yours. His hand held the side of your neck, the pad of his thumb grazing your jaw, while the other found itself on your thighs as he gave it a comforting and reassuring squeeze, resulting in a satisfactory sigh coming from you.

You felt him smile through the kiss before pulling away to catch his breath, making you whine at the loss of contact.

He placed his forehead on yours, piercing into your orbs before mumbling, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, my mesh'la cyar’ika**” against your lips.

“I love you too, Din.”, placing one more kiss on his lips.

Note: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, my mesh'la cyar’ika** - I love you, my beautiful darling.

1K notes · View notes

peppermint-toads · 2 years

Text

synopsis: silly little mando nightmare hurt/comfort trope

cw: nightmares, mando almost dies, blood

You were covered in sweat, hair sticking to your neck and thin pillow. You thrashed and twitched against your cot.

“No,” you mumbled over and over and over.

In your dream, he was dancing between consciousness and complete cessation. You could hear him sputtering through what you assumed to be blood underneath his helmet.

He wouldn’t take it off. He wouldn’t let you help him. Using his last bits of energy, he held your wrists firmly, preventing you from taking his helmet off.

“Mando, you can’t- I have to take it off! You’re going to die!”

Your brain replayed how frantic you sounded. You felt his grip loosen with his last words.

“This is the way.”

The words made your ears ring. You were screaming. Your throat was burning and constricting, but your body wouldn’t wake. You were stuck in this limbo of reliving your worst nightmare, paralyzed in the darkness of the hull.

Warm hands wrapped around your biceps and shook you softly.

Your eyes widened as you tried to make anything out in the pitch black. You grabbed onto anything you could find, clutching onto cotton sleeves.

“Ma-Mando?” You asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Came his modulated response.

“The doors,” you heaved. “They were-”

“You were screaming. I broke it.”

“Broke it?” You repeated back to him. Your hazy mind didn’t process his words right away. It took smelling the blaster smoke that was coming off of the control panel outside of your door to understand.

The cot dipped and creaked under the weight of his knees. He was careful with his hands, not sure where to place them.

“It-it felt so real.” You told him.

“How long?”

“Long. Since-”

“Okay.” He didn’t need you to finish. He knew when.

“They’ve been getting worse.” You admitted softly.

He knew you thought about it a lot, when you almost lost him. You hadn’t been the same since. He’d tried his best to comfort you, told you it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But it seemed like words weren’t going to be enough this time. He’d never heard you scream like that.

He moved his hand down your arm to your wrist, unfurling your pointer and middle fingers from your tight fist. He guided them to his neck, right above his pulse that was still beating from the adrenaline.

He’d been knocked out before he’d heard you through the wall. His helmet was placed neatly on the floor next to his boots. He nearly tripped on it before pulling it over his messy hair.

He punched in code, after code, after code. Met with an error message each time. You screamed his name, screamed for him. Growing frustrated, he ran back to his hatch for his blaster, using it to disarm the locking mechanism permanently.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt the steady thumping of his heart. Eventually, your pulses synced and you took a deep breath.

You felt him move again. He rested his back against the cool durasteel of the ship, knees bending over the metal bar of your cot.

He didn’t ask, and he didn’t have to. He pulled you to straddle his thighs, and you curled into him. Your inner thighs pressed into the scratchy fabric of his boxers.

He held the back of your head with his palm, entire hand covering all of your hair. He cradled you close to his chest.

All of the tension and fear melted from your muscles and you cried into his undershirt. You didn’t know how long had passed, but you cried until you had a pulsing headache.

“It’s the kid’s birthday. The day we found him.” You sniffed.

“What?” He asked quietly, pulling your head away from his chest as if he could see you.

“The code. The code to my door.”

“Oh.”

“Can you stay?”

He didn’t think he’d be able to leave you ever again.

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian hurt/comfort #mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #mando fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin hurt/comfort #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin angst #mandalorian angst

1K notes · View notes

handspunyarns · 1 year

Text

You Were Marked Masterlist

a multi-chapter Din Djarin x O/C

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Pairing: din djarin x *no age gap* *plus-sized* fem!O/C

Rating: will be 18+

Story summary: Din accepts an ambiguous bounty for an impressive sum. It takes him days out of the charted galaxy through hyperspace to an unknown planet with inhabitants ruled by men, secretive, and unlike anything Din had experienced before. He meets a woman living alone outside of the protected boundaries of the community…

Story warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, explicit sexual content, non-con sexual content, extreme violence, rape, torture, misogynic culture, revenge, and gluten

**** please feel free to review, comment, criticize, reblog, and otherwise speak your mind. ****

Click Here to read on AO3

Prologue

Day One

Day One point Five

Day Two

Day Two point Five

Day Three (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Four

Day Four point Five (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Day Five

Day Five point Five (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Six (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, SA)

Day Six point Five

Day Seven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, SA)

Day Seven point Five (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Days Eight through Eleven (18+, MDNI, rape, torture, violence, blood, SA)

Day Twelve

Day Thirteen

Day Fourteen (Din) (18+, MDNI, sexual situations)

Day Fourteen (Marathel)

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel)

Day Fifteen (Din)

Day Fifteen (Marathel & Cobb)

Day Fifteen point Five

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part I

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part II

Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part III (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One (18+, MDNI, rape, violence, sexual situations)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Din)

Day Twenty-One point Five (Marathel)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part I

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part II. (18+, MDNI, violence, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III (18+, MDNI, blood, sexual situations)

Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part IV (18+, MDNI, violence, rape, sexual situations)

Future Days (coming soon)

218 notes · View notes

chaosology · 1 year

Text

home

— the mandalorian x reader

prompt: “where were you when i needed you?”

warnings: angst... angry punching? bad writing

masterlist

Tatooine was a dry, dead place. Full of bounties and killers for hire, you didn’t exactly fit in. You were only scraping by, living off of small tips from fixing broken engines and serving drinks at the cantina.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to have a home - at least, you thought you did. You started to tag along with the Mandalorian and his small green friend after you met him through your friend Cara. He gave you comfort and security in exchange for you taking caring care of the child and fixing the ship when need be.

Slowly, you began to develop feelings. He would bring back small things for you from his jobs and started holding conversations with you, talking for no reason in the dead of the night. Maybe, just maybe, he started to like you too.

Until he didn’t.

‏‏‎ ‎

“Get up. This is your stop.” A harsh voice spoke, awaking you from your slumber. Above you stood the Mandalorian, a small carry bag in hand - your carry bag.

“What in the- stars Mando, it’s barely sun up.” You retaliated, rubbing at your eyes. His hand came to your shoulder, shaking it in frustration. He motioned for you to get up, and you immediately did so. In your tired mind, this was all a game.

“Was I not clear? This is your stop. I’ll give you some credits to get yourself started, but don’t come looking for me. This is done. We’re done.” Although you couldn’t see his face, it seemed as if his eyes were staring into your soul. Piercing through you.

“I don’t... I don’t understand. Where are we? Why are you doing this.” You could feel your eyes tearing up, blurring your vision. His helmet tilted away for a second as he spoke

“This is Tatooine. And I have my reasons. Please, just leave”

You were too shocked to speak. You cautiously grabbed the bag from his hands, throwing it over your shoulder as you walked quietly through the ship. You felt an odd feeling of shame, as if you had just been scolded in front of a crowd. As you stepped towards the Child’s sleeping form, an arm came out in front of you.

“Go. You’ll just confuse him”

If you hadn’t been so emotional in the moment, you would’ve picked up on the sadness in his voice. But you didn’t, so you ventured forward, pushing his arm away and refusing to look back. As your boots hit the sand you could here the Razor Crest getting ready to fly. It hurt that he didn’t stay to watch you go, but then again, why would he? He clearly didn’t care about you.

‏‏‎ ‎

You were on your break from your shift at the cantina when you saw him. He walked confidently through the sand with the floating crib at his side. Bastard. How dare he show his face (well, helmet technically.)

You had to double check you weren’t hallucinating (you thought you saw him once before, but it was just some scammer in armour he bought off the jawas) before your heart started racing and your feet took off before you could think straight. All of a sudden you were walking fast towards him, tears in your eyes as you did so. He noticed you immediately, appearing emotionless as he stared you down.

Before you knew it, your hands were pushing him back, punching at the stiff metal of his chestplate. “Lying bastard.” Push. “Son of a bitch”. Push. “Selfish womp rat”. Shove.

He didn’t fight it, allowing himself to be pushed backwards through your rage. You lost the ability to speak as you cried, your hands puncring weakly at his chest. He looked down at you, one hand coming to wrap around both your wrists. Nothing was said as you sniffled and you could begin to hear his heavy breathing through the modulator.

“Where were you when I needed you? Huh?!”, you cried, “I wanted you. I needed you. And you tossed me out like imperial trash.” His hands enveloped yours as he sighed, turning to face away from you.

“I just... I wanted you safe. I couldn’t have you getting hurt...”

“So you DUMPED me on this trash sand dune? I’m a person, I can do things for myself. I can decide how to handle my safety, that’s not your choice to make.” You fumed.

“I know. I thought that if I did this I would protect you from them. I worried about you, but I knew you’d be okay. If you were to get hurt, I would never forgive myself.” He released your hands, looking down shamefully towards the ground. You were taken aback by his confession. Still angry, of course, but nonetheless surprised.

“I thought you hated me. That you wanted me out of your sight. I spent weeks upset over that. I just... missed you.”

There was a tender moment of silence as his hands moved up to glide across you neck and down your arms.

“You can come back, if you want. I know it doesn’t make up for everything but I’m sure the kid will be happy to see you.”

“Ok.”

“Really?”

“I mean, itll take a while you know. I might need some time. But I’d still love to come back”

“And I- We’d love for you to come back.”

You were home.

#mando x reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x reader #mando oneshot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #din djarin angst #mandalorian angst #star wars fanfiction

240 notes · View notes

dameronology · 1 year

Text

illicit affairs [d.d] - one

summary: the mandalorian is hired for a job - finding the missing king of the planet tanadoia. falling in love with you isn't part of his plan. [masterlist]

warnings: none for this chapter!

enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged

-jazz

Tanadoia was the spitting image of the ideal planet.��

Half-urban and half-jungle, it offered the best of both worlds. A bustling city, tangled with skyscrapers and thriving industries and the home of an ever-growing economy, paired with a thick jungle, heavy with trees and wildlife and sparkling lakes. The coaxium mines on the city’s edge only added to its appeal, making it richer than some of the planets in the Core Worlds. More and more people were flooding to get a taste of it, either as a tourist or a citizen. The culture was growing and so was the public interest in it.

And blessed be the bastard who was chosen to rule it.

Chosen was a strong word, actually. You’d been born into the Royal Family a little over twenty years ago - somewhat against your will - and shoved onto the throne a little after your eighteenth birthday. It was funny that literally every other person who roamed the galaxy would have killed to have been in your position. You would have slaughtered a thousand men to get out of it. The title was a like a collar round your neck; your expensive bracelets a shackle, the crown a weight on your head that was sure to dampen your spitfire nature. That was something they’d tried to whip out of you in finishing school.

(It hadn’t worked).

You tried to stay well-behaved, tending to your duties and even going as far as marrying the pig of a man that your mother had found for you. James liked the money and fame that came with the throne, so he didn’t care all that much that you refused to go near him. You truly feared the day that people started asking for an heir. For now, though, you slept in separate bedrooms and put on the face of a happy marriage every Friday come the weekly council meeting. It was all for show. Everything was for show.

He wasn’t around all that much. You slept in separate rooms and he occasionally joined you at council meetings when they started to ask about him, but by all intents and purposes, he meant nothing to you. The last time you had kissed him was for a photo on your wedding day almost three years ago. He spent most of his time frequenting brothels and trying new types of spice - all of which was paid for by the royal account, of course. James could fuck off for weeks at a time and not say a word - so, when you didn’t see him for nearly two months, you didn’t think much of it. In fact, you hardly even noticed it until your mother was kind enough to point it out.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up. There’s no need to spend so much money on a bounty hunter of all people-”

“- James is our king,” your mother’s voice had been curt. Far too curt for this early on a Monday morning. “You have a duty to find him.”

You were sat on the throne, legs crossed and crown dangling haphazardly from the end of your finger. Morning sucked as it was, but even more so when you were woken at the crack of dawn to be forced into a dress and corset and these stupid high heels. You rolled your eyes, momentarily staring out at the view of the Tandadoian skyline across from you. There were a few ships coming in out, probably carrying cargo and passengers.

“He has a duty not to fuck off every time he feels like it,” you shot back, slumping in your seat.

Your mother faltered for a second, a foul look on her face at your use of language. “You’ve sworn your life to him and to the throne.”

“No, you made me take the throne when father died-”

“- I’ve already found a bounty hunter. He was recommended to be by a High Magistrate on Nevarro.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking recommendations from Greef Karga now?”

“He says that this hunter has never missed a shot or failed a task.”

“I highly doubt that,” you muttered. “We have one of the best militaries in the Outer Rim and they’ve missed plenty of shots.”

“He’s on his way as we speak,” your mother replied. “His prices are dear but I think it will be worth it. You should be the one to greet him. Make a good impression.”

“When do I not make a good impression?”

“One of the hand-maidens will be with you shortly. She’ll escort you to him.”

Standing up, you stalked away from the throne room and back to your quarters.

Tossing the crown and heels aside, you entered your wardrobe and pulled out a pair of more comfortable boots. Your holster was hidden towards the back with your pistol, which you slid up your leg and hid under the skirts of your dress. You pulled a thick leather jacket over your shoulders too - Tanadoia was cold right now, and you needed something to protect you from the cold of the winter whilst you were out wandering.

The palace was quiet today, thankfully. It always was on a Monday. Most of the soldiers were out on military duty or on practice runs, and most of the staff were tending to their morning duties or taking in deliveries. That meant the gardens were empty, dusted with snow and lonely beneath the bright white Winter skies. The grounds of the palace stretched on for miles and miles, only ending when it reached the wall. You hated the structure; it was a prison to you, keeping you in your place, reminding you that you were never truly free so as long as you were the monarch of this cursed planet.

The hangar wasn’t too far from here. How easy would it be to just slip onto a ship and sneak away forever? It wasn’t like money was a problem, and there were hundreds of people out there who could have given you identity-

-you stopped in your tracks when you saw a strange man exiting the hangar. Every morning, a file was laid out to you with an exact list of people exiting and entering the planet. He wasn’t on it; a tall man in a suit of Beskar armour was surely someone you would have recognised, or at least noted.

You could have called in security, or a bodyguard, but wasn’t that just extra trouble? You hadn’t been secretly paying one of the military leaders to train you for the last five years not to use those skills at some point. The element of surprise was on your side.

Quietly approaching him, you ducked behind a pillar and peeked over, only to find he was gone. Not even a second later, you felt a large hand grab you by the waist - you managed to snatch him by the wrist, tugging him away from you and onto the ground. How the fuck had he snuck up on you? Not that that was your biggest concern right now, because you hadn’t at all considered the weight of his armour in your plan of attack. Actually, now it was a plan of…defend.

The Mandalorian was only on the ground for all of a second before he had you flipped over on your back, pinned beneath his spear.

“That’s not the warm welcome I was expecting.”

You thinned your eyes at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the bounty hunter that the queen called for.”

“Oh, right,” you murmured. “You just…you don’t look how I - I mean how the queen told me you would look.”

The bounty hunter stood up, pulling back his weapon and offering you a gloved hand to help you up. He might have been the first person you’d come across in your entire life that didn’t know you were the queen.

“Where can I find her? They made it out like it was an urgent mission-”

“- not that urgent,” you cut him off, holding onto his forearm as he pulled you off your ass. “Just a missing king.”

“That seems urgent,” he replied. “Are you palace security?”

“Of sorts,” you murmured. “I’ll show you the way.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“So…what’s your name?”

Silence.

“Right…well,” you trailed off. “I can tell you’re a Mandalorian so…I’ll just call you that.”

“Okay. What’s yours?”

“Uh…”

“You don’t know your own name?”

“Jane,” you replied. “My name is Jane.”

“That blaster you pulled out…that’s a traditional Tanadoian pistol. I haven’t seen many of those around. Not since the fall of the Empire, at least.”

“Yeah, they’re kind of rare. It’s a family heirloom here. It used to belong to the king.”

The Mandalorian looked at you (or at least his helmet did). “So how did you end up with it?”

“It was a gift from The Queen.”

“Is she nice…this Queen of yours?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged.

“Right,” he nodded. “I’ve heard she can be very difficult. One of my other clients also said she was entitled-”

“- I am not entitled!”

You froze, clamping a hand over your mouth. Having stopped in your tracks, you turned to face the Mandalorian. He seemed unphased…humoured, even. Not that it was easy to tell, but he tilted his helmet slightly, not saying a word as he waited for your next move.

“You know who I am, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Assuming that I don’t extensively research all my clients was a weak move on your part.”

“Weak move?” you blinked in surprise. “Coming from the man who saw me, knew who I was and still chose to deck me?”

“I could tell what you were doing,” he shrugged. “I can’t say I was expecting the monarch to sneak up on me.”

“In any other country, that could have gotten you killed.”

“You were going to attack me first.”

“I wasn’t attacking you…I just saw a strange man in my palace and I wanted to defend myself.”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “Right.”

“I like your blaster, though,” you said. “What is that…an Amban phase pulse rifle?”

“It does the job,” he replied. “It’s not as fancy as yours.”

“Mine is all bells and whistles,” you shrugged. “I’ll show you the armoury when I get a chance. You’re gonna need to stock up if you’re going to be following in my husband’s footsteps. The planets he visits are…well, you’ll find out for yourself.”

You’d reached the palace by that point; the guard saluted you as you passed. He seemed slightly phased by The Mandalorian beside you. You tried to refrain a smile at his reaction.

He had an oddly refreshing presence. In fact, he was the first person you’d met in your life that hadn’t suddenly bowed down and began worshipping you. The only person that had ever conversationally - and maybe intellectually - challenged you were was your father. He was long gone now, and it had been a while since someone had bitten back.

“It might be none of my business, your majesty, but you don’t seem eager for me to find him.”

You grimaced. “Honestly? That’s because I’m not.”

“So why are you paying me to do it then?”

“I’m not. My mother is,” you replied. “James and I have an image to keep. One of a true love, a happy marriage…anything to keep the public happy. The longer he’s gone, the more worried they become, and god forbid the palace look bad to our citizens.”

The Mandalorian nodded: he could see more of the monarch in you now, however bored you seemed. The sudden change from how you’d been outside to how you were now didn’t go unnoticed. It was almost concerning, the quick shift from an easy-going, chatty person to someone who was almost afraid of what might happen should she not find her husband.

“I understand,” he nodded.

“That’s why this has to stay a secret,” you said. “If anyone knows that he’s missing, or that we’ve hired a bounty hunter to find him? There’s gonna be a lot of questions, and I have to answer them.”

You wandered further into the palace. The Mandalorian followed, eyes wandering over the high ceilings and expensive furniture. The walls were lined with paintings and restored weapons; portrays of former monarchs, ending towards the throne room with yours. It was intensely detailed - millions of brush strokes that formed a younger, brighter you. You hadn’t aged - not at all, really - but it was clear you more tired now. More weathered.

“You have my word,” The Mandalorian said. He stopped for a moment when you reached the throne room. “I’ll do my best to find him.”

“Right,” you nodded. A second passed and you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to perk up. “C’mon, I’ll show you the armoury.”

As to be expected, the armoury - which was only a short distance from the throne room - was just as impressive as the rest of the palace. The walls were lined with weapons; guns, spears, seismic charges in various sizes and knives of every shape and colour. The Mandalorian had thought that the armoury aboard his ship was impressive.

You were stood behind him, fingers slowly tracing over the walls. It was a surprise to him that you even had this many weapon; Tanadoia, after all, was a seemingly peaceful planet. It wasn’t one known to enter into battle.

“Take what you want,” you said. “It’s not like we use it, right?”

“This an impressive collection.”

You smiled. “Thank you. Getting to order in our weapons is one of the only things I really get to do and…well, I like to be prepared.”

“Do you know how to use all these?” The Mandalorian asked,

“Oh, obviously,” you shot back.

“So why don’t you?”

You faltered for a second. “I never get the chance. Our military has little reason to use them and even if they did, I would never be allowed to join them.”

“In my culture, our leaders fight with us,” he replied,

“Yeah, not so much here I’m afraid,” you sighed. “I’m not even allowed to leave the palace unguarded, let alone the planet.”

The Mandalorian glanced at you. It was clear that you were unhappy: that bright spark in your eyes that you’d had when you first met was completely gone now, replaced with some sort of willowing sadness. His job had meant he was especially good at reading people, and you were no exception to the rule. The version of you that you’d been in the five minutes where you were pretending not to be queen had been boisterous and upbeat; almost infectious in your energy and wit. Now? Now you were just sad. Cracking under the pressure and conformity that the throne put on you. It left him to wonder how many people had actually seen that version of you: the funny, happy one; the one that knew how to fight and apparently knew how to use every single one of these weapons (though he didn’t doubt it).

Maybe it got to him a little, knowing that had you not been a queen, you probably would have been in the same profession. A bounty hunter or a smuggler, at least someone he would have come across in his journeys. Maybe an ally of his.

“I’ll find your husband,” he said. “And this will remain a secret. You have my word.”

156 notes · View notes

moon-sang · 1 year

Text

𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗

~ 𝘋𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

SUMMARY: A Mandalorian myth is proven to be true, but what’s that got to do with you? Turns out...more than you thought.

WARNINGS: Set before Mando get’s the darksaber, Talk of being possessed, Made up Mandalorian myth, Fem!reader, Reader is described as smaller than Din, ANGST, mature language, a little bit of references to the adventures of puss in boots because the storyline is awesome XD, pls tell me if I miss anything.

~~~

“Well, we’re finally here.”

The triangular obelisk stood proud and tall in front of the four of you. Or should you say hovered proud and tall. The stone the obelisk was made of was eroded and covered in dust, making the symbols carved into the stone almost impossible to read.

Under the markings on the rock was a hand imprint.

“Where’s the cabur? [guardian]?” Exclaims Paz.

“The legend says Sage Vizsla chose three cabur’s; Green, Orange, and Red, Green the merciful yet strong one, Orange the evil merciless one, and Red the chaos one, yet sympathetic.” Taroh states, going over the legend again.

“We faced the green one when we got the emerald flower, we faced the orange one when we got the amber flower, where’s the cabur to protect the ruby flower?” Vizsla groans in question.

~~~~

EARLIER THAT DAY

“So what are we doing on Mandalore?” You ask, all too intrigued.

“I am in debt to Paz Vizsla from when he saved me back on Nevarro, so he has asked me to accompany him on this mission on Mandalore.” He replies.

“And what’s the mission?” You question, eyebrow quirked.

Din sighs coming to a halt.

“It’s a long story.” He argues.

“Well I wanna know what I’m getting into.” You chuckle, batting your eyes innocently at him.

“You? No, you’re staying with the armourer, it’s WAY too dangerous where I’m going.”

“But-” You start.

“This isn’t up for debate, Y/n.” And with that he starts walking in large strides through the remains of Mandalore, not giving you the chance to ask any more questions.

Soon after, the two of you found the armourer with two other Mandalorian’s; Paz Vizsla and Taroh Nem.

“Ah, you’re finally here.” grumbled Taroh.

Din offers a curt nod, before-

“We must leave straight away, times running out.” Vizsla hurries, ushering both Din and Taroh to their transport.

“Stay with the armourer.” were Din’s last orders before being shoved into the ship.

The engines roar to life and you watch as the ship lifts off of the ground, before zooming into hyperspace. The frown on your face deepens when you can no longer see the it.

With a sigh you turn around and follow the armourer into the secluded covert on Mandalore.

You take a seat by a stone table...if it even was a table and stare into space, already bored out of your brain.

“You want to go with them.”

A voice suddenly booms through the empty hallway.

Your head snaps to the armourer.

“I-” You start.

The armourer tilts her helm to the side, drinking in your form.

“Yeah, kind of.” You laugh.

“Din Djarin is right. It is very dangerous where he is going.” She exclaims.

“W-where is he going?” You ask, getting slightly worried for his safety yourself.

“Multiple places.” She announces, short and sharp.

You sigh.

“Can I at least know what they’re doing?” You plead.

The armourer sighs and takes a seat opposite of you.

“A long time ago, a Mandalorian named Sage Vizsla, Paz’s ancestor, bred a powerful plant, and it was able to create a medicine that could restore youth to those who drank it out of soup and cure their diseases. However, when it got into the wrong hands, it was remade into a killing plant, the pollen was changed to speed up the ageing process until the victim died within seconds. When Sage figured this out, he took every single one of his sacred flowers and killed them all, but one pair.” She explains.

“It took three flowers to create the remedy of curing diseases and restoring youth. A green one, the emerald flower, an orange one, the amber flower, and the main ingredient; the ruby flower, which was red. He hid all three of the last flowers he kept alive in seperate temples, which he then chose three people to guard those flowers, which we call cabur’s, which means guardian’s in basic.” She takes a quick breath before continuing.

“However, instead of trusting the cabur’s to guard it themselves, he put an ancient spell on them which would make them even stronger and deadlier. It also made them only loyal to him only, this way he knew he could trust them. So the cabur’s had no control over what they did, as long as they completed their mission of protecting the last of those flowers, they were satisfied....they could never live normal lives and were bound to their temples.” She sighs.

“Taroh’s daughter is awfully sick, the doctors on Nevarro have claimed that she will die before she is 20. Vizsla and Taroh want to take the last of the flowers to cure her, and any other person who may be sick, they think there is greater purpose in those flowers than keeping them locked up in a temple.” She continues, getting up to pour you a small chalice of tea.

“I can help them,” You blurt, fascinated with this Mandalorian tale.

The armourer scoffs, and then chuckles.

“How so?” She questions, the smile audible in her tone.

“I studied archaeology, I can read seven dialects of ancient symbols, maybe there will be some symbols they will not be able to read.” You suggest.

She hums in agreement and goes silent for a second.

“It will be dangerous.” She says.

“Especially with the cabur’s they will have to fight.”

“I want. to. help.” You affirm.

She clenches and unclenches her fists, obviously debating whether she should let you go or not. But then-

“Alright, I will let you go, but first, you need to be prepared, I will pack you a bag.”

~~~~

Of course you had gotten a scolding from Din when you got to him (the armourer sent you to where they were) for not staying, but he couldn’t be too mad at you, after all, the armourer had let you go, even when he specifically told her not to, besides, you were proving to been very helpful with your reading skills.

~~~~

PRESENT DAY

You stared at the obelisk in amazement. How was it floating without anything supporting it?

“Do you think the cabur for the ruby flower is dead, already?” Taroh ponders.

“I doubt it.” Din replies instantly, fingers twitching at his stun blaster, whilst the other kept you behind him.

“Be cautious, the red cabur is said to be the most dangerous.” One of the Mandalorian’s say, but you’re barely paying attention anymore. You’re too focused on the enchanting way the obelisk is calling to you. Like a siren it draws you in closer and closer until you’re standing right in front of it.

“I’d be careful, Y/n, the cabur could come from anywhere. He wouldn’t let you get anywhere near the ruby flower” One says.

And then, as if on cue, the ruby flower unravels itself right on top of the obelisk, twirling gently in midair.

You can’t help but let out a small ‘woah’ looking at the hypnotising flower. It’s petals were a menacing red with black tips, and rosy pink bits as the petals dipped inwards, towards the centre.

You didn’t get long to admire the lushness of the flower because suddenly a red light bursts out of the flower and surges towards you.

“Y/n!” Was the last thing you heard, before your vision was lost, along with your thoughts.

~~~~

When the light had finally faded Y/n stood still in front of them, perched exactly where she was before the light invaded their vision.

“Y/n?” Din calls, worry evident in his voice.

Her head was dropped as she slowly turned to face him. Her eyes were closed, her eyelids occasionally twitching.

And then her lashes lifted, revealing her eyes...but they weren’t her usual sweet e/c, no, no colour could be seen in her eyes except for the glowing dark red which occupied her pupils and irises, and tinted the white in her eyes slightly pink from the glow.

“...Oh...MAKER.. DIN! SHE’S THE RED CABUR!” Shouts Taroh.

Din’s eyes widen underneath his helmet.

You...were the...guardian of..the ruby flower? But...HOW? He would know if you were...you would have know you were...

Don’t get him wrong...you were more than worthy to be the cabur of the ruby flower, you were strong, intelligent, kind, and beautiful...but...it was you! And now...He would have to....knock you out...hurt you.. so he could get the flower.

“Leave.” Was all you had said before readying the blood red sword that appeared in your hand from the light.

“No, I need that flower.” Taroh growls, before rushing at her.

“No!” Din yelled, but was seemingly frozen in place from shock.

Taroh readies his sword to slash at you in midair, but as he jumped at you, your arm shot out and flung him into the nearest wall, as if he had weighed nothing.

Your eyes were crinkled in a deadly rage of red and this time you had rushed at Paz.

Vizsla ignited his jet pack and flew up, before you got a clean shot at him. However, you had gained the powers of the cabur and your jumps had been heightened. So you jumped onto a wall and flipped off of that onto Vizsla’s back, slashing the jetback. “Shit!” He yells as she jumps off of him and Vizsla crashes into the wall, landing on top of Taroh.

Now that the two of them were unconscious, you had turned your attention to DIn.

“Mesh’la..” He warns gently.

You jump and spin in the air landing your blade on his spear he had managed to pull out in the knick of time.

“Meshurok, you need to-” You slash at his head and he ducks.

“Snap-” Your blades clash, and you push him up against a wall.

“Out of-” You sweep at his feet, but he manages to step over your leg.

“It!”

You growl and twist around him attempting to stab him in the back, but he spins quickly and you stab his shoulder instead.

He grunts in, and quickly pins you to the obelisk when he sees the chance.

You grunt and try to kick him but he’s holding you in place.

“STOP IT! You need to snap out of the spell!” He yells, his voice crackling under the modulator.

You thrash under his hold, trying to fulfil your duty in protecting the ruby flower.

Din is starting to worry. What if he couldn’t save you...what if this spell was going to take over the rest of your life?

What was he going to d-

The...song..

His mother used to sing him...

It was worth a shot.

And so he started to sing to you. Although through the pained grunts he was making it didn’t sound like a chorus he was singing, just broken words he didn’t know the meaning of.

“Quer Shru-”

You grunt and yell and writh underneath his weight, but he doesn’t let up, only continues singing to you, in the hopes it would do something.

“Shrey, doveru.” He grunts out.

Then he sees it.

The raging red in your eyes fades slightly.

It was working..

He continues to grunt out words of the lullaby his mother sung to him as you struggled against his grip.

“Trullap Cro sweo, medalda shiu-”

You start panting as you become weaker and start submitting to Din’s weight. You were transforming back to your normal self.

“Miarwu, soru sha.” He himself pants the words out in laboured breathes.

And finally the last of the red had disappeared from your eyes, and your black pupils came back to you, including your control on your own mind.

When he is certain you won’t attack him, he cups your cheek gently, catching his breath with you.

“Mesh’la.” He says finally.

“Din.” You whisper.

He rests his head upon yours, absent-mindedly giving you a keldable kiss.

“I-I hurt you!” You whimper.

He shushes you and brings you in for a hug.

“I-I couldn’t control it” You sob.

“Shh, I know, sweet girl.”

After holding on to each other for a while longer you smile gently.

“The song.” You whisper.

Din too smiles under his helm.

He had once used that song on you previously to pull you out of a really bad panic attack you were having. It had lulled you to sleep instantly and you had expressed you liked it the day after.

“Let’s go home.” He says, just as the two other Mandalorian’s began to wake up.

You nod.

“Home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just To Clear Some Things Up:

~ Y/n didn’t want to not let them get the flower she had no choice because of the spell put on her and the other guardian’s.

~ Taroh’s daughter was healed because the managed to get the flower with Y/n’s approval and support

~ The two other guardian’s were not killed because lets face it Din isn’t one to kill innocents, so they were just knocked out.

~ The lullaby is a language I made up, and can translate to whatever you wish it to translate to.

If there is anything else you need cleared up please comment.

REQUESTS CLOSED

#Din Djarin x reader #Din x reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #Mando #Din Djarin #Din Djarin angst #Mando angst #Mandalorian angst

180 notes · View notes

aresrambles · 2 years

Note

Hi can you do dinxreader, where the reader is friendly and a bit talkative and all of the sudden din says something that’s makes the reader go completely quite. They just remain quite rest of the way Bcz they’re hurt and din just gets weirded out by the silence. I love angst lol. Thank you so much!

White Noise

mando x gn!reader - din snaps at reader, (maybe toxic!din?), angst, fluffy ending (1028 words)

a/n: thank u for ur request anon!! i hope this is okay, i ended it with a fluffy ending. i'm not great at angst yet but hopefully i'll improve when i keep at it ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Remember the last time we were on Coruscant? I had the craziest kriffing time."

You happily chatter away next to your stoic companion, who stares at the array of dimly lit controls that lay in front of you.

"Maybe it's because I'm just from some lame village," You lean your head back against the headrest and sigh, eyes becoming glossy due to the bright shooting lights of hyperspace. "But Coruscant has always been so attractive to me." You're unaware of Din's twitching fingers, and instead fixated on the expanse of stars behind the glass. Perhaps if you had been paying a little more attention, you would have read the uncomfortable posture your companion had adopted; jealousy settling into his nerves. He remains silent as you continue, not offering any sign of acknowledgment of your monologue.

"The city is insane, and some people there look so high-class. Those silky evening dresses and shirts! Maker, such stupidly unique fashion and the droids are so advanced! I think I went clubbing once and there was this one particular type of droid that-"

"Can you shut up?" Din finally snaps, helmet glaring at you. You immediately pause in the midst of your ramble, eyes wide and heart racing at the sudden outburst. You were accustomed to seeing Din act coldly, however he had never treated either you or Grogu in this manner. Not ever. You can only clamp your mouth shut and redirect your gaze down to your boots, humiliation taking ahold of your body. Were you speaking too much? Did you say something to irritate him? The Mandalorian seemed fine when you had all boarded the ship, and had even insisted on putting the kid to sleep to allow you some time to rest. You wish for the seat to swallow your body up so you didn't have to bear the now aching silence of the cockpit. You wish for Din to tell you what you did wrong. A half-hearted apology begins to crumble and travels down from your mind into your mouth, but you stop yourself. You haven't done anything wrong, to your knowledge, so why did Din feel the need to act like that? To make you feel so shitty for just trying to make conversation?

Instead, you turn your body away from him and settle further down into the seat, face turned away from him so your expression would be unreadable. Or so you thought. Din watches your face through the warped reflection in the glass screen surrounding you both, fixated on every minor twitch or blink on your features. He knows his reaction was unwarranted, but when you don't reply to him at all, he begins to worry. How was he supposed to say that the first time he saw you back in Coruscant he was hellbent on keeping those so called "high-class" bastards away from you? That he trekked through the city in a selfish stakeout to keep you out of harms way, and coincidentally run into you at a bar in the midst of the night? That the very idea of you being impressed by those narcissistic and sleazy bastards was making his stomach turn?

He's unable to do any of those things, and can only grip onto his levers a little tighter than before as the Crest runs the course of its journey in an unsettling quietness. The sort of discomforting silence that it hadn't experienced since back when Din would travel alone. Although it was an unwelcome change to your journey, Din couldn't find it in him to speak once more. Guilt nestled itself between all of the silent gaps and soon enough the only thing to have caused any commotion was Grogu's soft cries once he had awoken from his nap. You inwardly thank the Maker for his well-timed disturbance and rise from your seat to tend to him, before feeling cool leather wrap around your wrist.

You both remain there, still for a few seconds, before Din gets up properly and tugs you back away from the ladder. He leaves you alone in the cockpit whilst Grogu's distressed gurgles turn into barely there snores- no doubt the result of his father's swaying and cooing. The thought makes your stomach tighten in what can only be embarrassingly described as affection. You don't hear him when he returns, too absorbed in your own thoughts to be aware of the faint clank of DIn's feet against the floor.

"I apologise."

"Oh. No, it's fine. I guess all fathers want to spend quality time with their kids."

"What?" DIn's helmet cocks to the side in confusion, before he shakes it and settles back into his seat. "No, I mean about earlier. It was... wrong of me to behave in that manner. I'm sorry."

Oh. You can only shrug your shoulders and smile in an attempt to brush it off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it in front of him. Din seems to know that you're putting up a front, and continues,

"I love hearing you talk, but Coruscant- I'm sorry. It's selfish but it's like it threatens to take you from me. It may be beautiful but it's... unsafe. I don't like remembering when you were back there. What if I can't protect you this time? What if you get hurt?"

Your eyes struggle to focus on the beskar-clad man in front of you, becoming fuzzy with tears. "I thought that I had done something to upset you." You mumble, irritation dissipating. Din was, as always, simply concerned for your safety. You shake your head and stifle a pained chuckle, wiping your eyes. "That was messed up." you end up on, inching towards him.

Din welcomes you with open arms, guiding your head into his chest and settling his helmet into the crook of your neck.

"I really am sorry, I won't ever speak like that to you again. I just need you safe, meshla."

You hum in understanding as his hands drop to your back, drawing soft circles underneath your shirt. It was a sweet warmth in comparison to the icy atmosphere prior, and your mind begins to relax completely. Soon enough, the Crest's quiet doesn't seem so awful anymore.

#mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian #x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin reader insert #din x y/n #mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #ares rambles

509 notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

Note

For your spooktacular:

I've been thinking about haunted!din after all those fanart and fan comics about the darksaber possessing him.

I just want to know how reader would react to it. Would they try to help him? Or would he be too far gone?

I'm thinking a lot of angst since reader is concerned/kinda scared of him now but he wouldn't hurt them. He's just a little unhinged.

Spooktacular Day 7: Possessed

pairing: possessed!din x reader

rating: M (possession, scary!din, mythic dark saber talk, mand’alor!din)

Spooktacular Masterlist

It had been changing him. The Dark Saber—the curse he’d been bestowed with by accident.

At first it was little things you’d noticed: Din snapping at you when he’d typically be patient, his once strict sleep schedule becoming erratic, the softness in his voice when he spoke to you and Grogu now replaced by a gravelly husk that you could hardly recognize.

But soon, things got worse.

“Din?” You woke up in an empty bed, sheet held to your chest to hide your naked form as you looked around the bedroom chamber for your Mand’alor.

A scraping sound against the stone outside the chamber made your head whip to look at the door handle, both curious and afraid of what was on the other side. Swallowing thickly, you slid out of the sheets and threw on your satin robe—fit for a queen, or so Din said when he gifted it to you on your wedding night.

“Din?” You opened the door, looking both ways down the lonesome hall. The two guards on duty were nowhere to be found, the lack of protection suddenly causing the fear you pushed aside in the name of curiosity away to return.

Your feet were reluctant as they padded, bare against the cold and almost wet feeling stone, eyes locked on the shadow at the end of the corridor.

“Din, is that you?” You asked, voice breaking and betraying you, your fear now apparent to the figure. “Din, please…stop playing around. You’re scaring me.”

“Am I?” You nearly stumbled backward at the sound of his voice—him, but so unfamiliar at the same time.

Din walked towards you slowly, your body frozen in place as you awaited your fate. Carrying the Dark Saber, the mythic blade carving into the stone beneath his feet as he dragged it along with him.

“A-are you going to kill me, Din?” Your voice was meant to sound more confident than it came out, the shine of his helmet now visible as he stopped five feet before you, head tilting as he took in your vulnerable state.

For a moment, you thought this would be the end for you. Your friends always told you that your relationship with the bounty hunter would end violently, though you all assumed it would be at the hands of a bounty or another vigilante rather than your doting partner.

“I’m sorry,” his voice returned to normal, his head shaking as though there was some internal tug-of-war over control of his body. He looked down at the saber in his hand, retracting the blade before dropping it as though it was burning hot. “I—I don’t remember waking up.”

“It’s possessing you Din,” you walked to him, now a bit more brave knowing that the soft man you fell in love with had returned. Slipping his helmet off, you ran your hands over his sweat drenched forehead, taking in his pale skin and dark circles. “I’m losing you. Every time you use that thing, I lose you more.”

“I felt…like I was tied up in my own mind, something else taking over. I…thought I was going to have to watch it kill you,” he confessed in a sigh, leaning his forehead down to yours. Your trembling hands slid up his body, running over the unarmored expanse of his chest. “I’m so sorry, mesh’la. I’m so sorry—“

“Din, you’re here, you’re with me now,” you assured, holding his face in both palms as you stared deep into his eyes. “We’ll figure this out, just…lock it away for now. We’ll figure something more permanent out in the morning. For now…just lock it away.”

“Okay,” he agreed, a reluctance in his voice that you attributed to the other thing inside him; though it very well could have been Din. He hadn’t been without it since taking the throne.

Locking it away in a chest and ordering a guard to risk his life watching it, Din returned to bed, cold and clammy, his eyes red from the constant fight to stay in control. You rubbed his back as he laid on his stomach, keeping your kneading as soft as your voice as to not trigger anything violent inside of him that was itching to make another appearance.

“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable sleeping with me, cyar’ika.” His words broke your heart. Though you did carry some hesitance in your heart, there was no other bed you wanted to be in than in this one—possession or not. Din was home to you, and you wouldn’t abandon him even for your own safety.

“You are my husband. My King. I’m not going anywhere, Din. We’re going to figure this out together.” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his warmth returning with every word of assurance. “That thing inside of you is no match for how scary I’ll become if it doesn’t leave you alone.”

“Believe me, mesh’la—I know.”

•••

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @mandomover @chxpsi @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @trickstersp8 @idkifimaliveanymore @trinkets01 @chloeinpink @alwaysdjarin @tizylish @jessie-skywalker @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @dindjarinsmut @jlmaddinson @ladyrebel25 @lexloon @awholelottayeehaw @hungrhay @bxmxtx @funnymcfunbunz @graciexmarvel @a-phan-of-youtube @whoodat @laureliciousdefinition (sorry if your tag isn’t working! as always, let me know if you’d like to be removed/added!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin angst #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #spooktacular ‘22 #mando x reader #mando angst #mandalorian angst #dark!din

257 notes · View notes

elfan22 · 1 year

Text

Broken Soul inspiration

(NOT CANON... Not yet anyway ;) )

Bo Katan and Alora face off when Din goes to take the throne of Mandalore.

~~~

Bo Katan storms into the throne room, a growl rising in her throat. "Where the hell is he?!"

"What's the matter? Have you lost something?"

Bo stops halfway to the throne as her gaze fixes onto the woman standing in her way with a smirk decorating her expression. The small green child accompanies her, hiding behind the throne while it watches his mother stand her ground.

"Get out of my way, Alora."

"Whatever do you mean? I thought you were looking for someone?" She tilts her head to the side in a mocking manner, a smirk still pulling at her lips.

"Where is your bounty hunter boyfriend?" Bo snarls. "And get away from my throne."

"Your throne?" Alora clicks her tongue. "If I remember correctly, it's my... What was the word you used? 'Boyfriend?' I'm afraid I'm going to have to correct you on two things... One... Din Djarin is my fiancé... And two... I believe this is his throne, not yours."

"He is not fit to rule," Bo snarls, taking another step towards the Jedi.

"And that is one opinion out of many," the Jedi replies shortly, growing weary of this conversation. "Din has earned the Dark Saber out of combat, therefore earning the right to the throne. He is the king of Mandalore, whether you like it or not, Bo."

Alora starts to walk down the steps of the throne, keeping her cold stare on the Mandalorian.

"I believe the words you're looking for are Your Majesty," Bo Katan spits, fury rising in her chest like bile. "I am your ruler."

"The words I'm looking for... I can't say, because there is a child present," Alora says through gritted teeth.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I thought that was obvious, Bo," she smirks, pulling a long silver blade from a sheath on her back. "Care to take me up on the challenge?"

"I have no patience for your banter, imposter," Bo hisses, pulling out a blade if her own and lunging for the woman standing in her way.

~~~

:) hope you enjoyed

#alora #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin is hot #mandalorian fanfiction #mando #din djarin x reader #grogu #star wars #faceoff #mandalorian angst #throne

17 notes · View notes

chatoicboy · 1 year

Text

I am saying this in the nicest way possible.

IF YOU HAVE AN OC X CHARACTER DONT USE X READER OR X Y/N TAGS

Don’t say it’s cause you want to reach out more cause WE DO BLOCK THOSE WHO DO THIS

3K notes · View notes

peppermint-toads · 2 years

Note

din djarin asks you said?? what about a raging hurt comfort. like brink of death, Din is distraught at the thought of losing you type deal, maybe you’re tortured and he can’t get there in time and then you’re in and out of consciousness and he’s FREAKING tf out bc he thinks he’s going to lose you and it’s all his fault. basically some real dramatic shit?

an: i got carried away sorry hope you like it, pre-grogu btw

cw: actual torture, blood, be warned, 1.7k words

He prodded your stomach again with his blaster, holding it there so the metal barrel dug into your flesh.

“Where is he?”

“I told you,” you sputtered through a mixture of blood and saliva. “I don’t know.”

You wheezed, gulping down burning breaths through impacted lungs. You were suspended from the ceiling, durasteel binders held up with a chain that was bolted above you. Your feet dangled above the cold, concrete floor of the cell. You pointed your toes as best as you could to take some strain off your shoulders and wrists.

There were two stormtroopers in the small room and what looked like a lieutenant. It was hard to see the markings on his uniform with your blurry vision. The troopers had already battered your face and body, your under eyes starting to swell and bruise. Your lip was busted and you could taste the coppery fluid coating them.

A Galactic Empire general was on the run, seeking refuge with the rebels. Mando had picked up the fob and brought the two of you to some dingy casino on Nar Shaddaa. You were sitting next to one door, Mando at the other.

“Eyes?” He asked through the commlink.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, swirling your drink around with your straw. You were dressed in your best clothes and nicest makeup, Mando had told you it’d help distract the runaway general. You were bait, essentially.

You spotted him, stocky build, stringy blond hair, droopy eyes completed with purple bags. You were ready to get it over with, tired and the constant clinking and whirring of slot machines was about to push you over the edge.

You definitely weren’t as sharp as usual. Mando had been running you around the galaxy for the past few days, which meant no sleep, little food, no showers. You could’ve collapsed face first onto the illuminated table if you wanted. But he had promised. As soon as the bounty was secured, you could return to the Crest and he would buy you colo claw fish, roasted porg, anything you could possibly want. So, you pushed through and did as he asked.

You guessed the Empire caught onto yours and Mando’s little sting operation and decided to interrupt. Blaster shots rang through the dimly lit casino and biotic grenades exploded the walls. Only one thought flashed through your mind: Mando.

You glanced around through smog and blaster smoke, searching for beskar. You saw him. There were four stormtroopers on him, he was struggling. You opened your mouth to scream for him, but the blunt end of a blaster was slammed into your temple, and you were crumpling to the floor. You had woken up in a fog hours later, curled up on a metal cot in a holding cell.

You barely had time to lift your head to your pulsing head before the trio was storming in and suspending you in the air.

“You don’t know?”

You shook your head, hair falling over your face.

The lieutenant glanced at one of the troopers and nodded his head toward you. They exchanged short, firm nods, and the trooper stepped closer to you. He pulled a black rod from his belt, and flipped a switch. You flinched as the end of it jolted to life with blue electricity.

It buzzed louder and louder as he got closer. You thrashed in your shackles, caving in your stomach as far away from him as you could. He pushed the prod onto your bare thigh and you yelped, nerve endings crackling and searing with white hot pain. You swung in the air until the other stormtrooper forcibly stabilized you.

“Where is the traitor?” The lieutenant’s tone was far more insistent now, he was growing impatient. There were so many things you wanted to say, tell him he was the one who scared him off in the first place, but you could barely even open your eyes.

The lieutenant nodded to the trooper again. This time, he shoved the prod onto your hip bone that was barely covered by your underclothes. Your throat strained with the high pitch screech you let out. The thin skin covering your bone was far more sensitive to the pain.

It went on like that for what had to have been hours, days even. The same questions, the same results.

Finally, the lieutenant signaled the trooper to release your binds, letting your wrists free. They had no reason to worry about you escaping, you were barely alive.

Your body smacked against the ground and you grunted. You lifted your hand to brush over your rib cage and winced. You definitely had a cracked rib or two.

You caught a glimpse of the rest of your body, hardly believing what you looked like. Each prod had left a red, blistering center with purple veins blossoming outward. You counted six, maybe seven of them.

You lie on the ground, staring at the grate on the floor that swallowed up your blood with a gross gurgle. Your eyes couldn’t keep up anymore, and the warmth of unconsciousness overtook your body, finally letting you relax.

You dreamt of fond things; finally getting the huge, warm meal Mando had promised, the safe whooshing of hyperspace passing you by on the crest, but most of all, Mando. You were running through a meadow on some sunny planet somewhere. He stood firmly planted in the tall grass that was swaying in the wind. He got closer, and closer, and closer. You could practically feel the warmth of his chest on yours until you were startled awake by the cell doors sliding open.

A stormtrooper was on you quickly, gripping your biceps and trying to pull you up.

“Get the fuck away from me! I already told you I don’t know where he is.” You spat, using the last of your energy to meekly flail and scream and kick against his white, plasticy shins.

“Mesh’la, it’s me. You are hurt.” You didn’t miss the way his hands trembled around you.

His voice sounded a little different through the helmet, but it was still his. The burst of adrenaline seeped from your body, and you slumped back against the floor, knowing you were safe again.

“You look fucking terrible in that.” You flashed him a weak, red-stained smile before your head thumped back against the concrete, and he fell to his knees.

He shook you, whispering your name, willing you to wake up. Your eyes rolled open for a second and you coughed his name back.

He flung you over his shoulder, and thankfully you couldn’t feel the way the plastic armor dug into your ribs and hips.

He carried you through the massive Empire ship. The hallways were all dark, and they all looked the exact same, but Mando managed to expertly navigate through them somehow.

You didn’t wake again until you were back on the Crest. You couldn’t really move. You stared straight up, met with the steel ceiling; you were on the floor. You turned your head, taking in a sharp breath as you did. Half of the med kit was strewn across the floor. You chuckled, it made sense. You were usually the one patching him up.

The bend of your elbow stung where he must’ve administered the bacta through an IV. The rest of your wounds were slathered with a layer of salve and covered with sloppy, rushed dressings.

You tried to sit up, but when your abdomen crunched you cried out. Mando had appeared by your side in an instant. He loomed over you, clad again in the beskar you were used to.

“You’re awake.” He stated, kneeling by your head.

“Thank you, for the,” you gestured towards your body, “patch up.”

“I used you as bait and you almost died. When I reached your cell, you were almost dead. If I had come one minute later, you would be dead.”

He said it like he was replaying the events in his head, confirming that he’d done what he’d done.

He’d like to believe he just didn’t want to be alone again after having you around for so long, that you were just another body aboard his ship. Really, though, the Mandalorian was growing to care for you, and it scared him.

“Mando it-it's not your fault.” You struggled to talk, still finding great difficulty in taking in a full breath. “I should’ve been more careful-”

“No.”

You recoiled at his tone.

“What did they do to you.” He demanded.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Can you be serious?” He begged.

That was the one time you felt like you needed to be strong for him, if you broke down, he would have lost it and you could feel it. You ignored your injuries as best you could, just talking to him, reminding him that you’re alive.

You shifted your weight to one elbow with a grimace, using your other hand to pull his bare hand close to your chest. Mando relaxed, feeling your warm skin and beating heart. You started to speak.

“After they left, the troopers and the lieutenant, I-I must’ve passed out. But, I saw you in my head, and I knew you were coming. I wasn’t scared for a second.” You smiled with fat tears welling in your eyes as you stared where you thought his eyes would be.

You pushed yourself to your knees, stopping midway to catch your breath. Mando had tried to help you up, but you pushed him off.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning awkwardly over his body. Slowly, he lifted his hands to wrap them around your back. You melted into him and he held you tighter. The stabbing pain in your ribs and stomach meant nothing because he was holding you so close. He cradled the back of your head and pressed your cheek into his shoulder.

“I thought I lost you.”

It was a choked whisper crackling through his vocoder.

“I can’t do it without you anymore. I need you here.” He admitted.

You thought for a moment, that you heard him choke down a sniffle. And out of the corner of your eye, you watched a salty tear roll down his neck and bleed onto his cowl.

“I’m not leaving, Mando.”

You’re not leaving.

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian angst #mandalorian hurt/comfort #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin angst #din djarin hurt/comfort #din djarin fanfiction

830 notes · View notes

handspunyarns · 10 months

Text

You Were Marked: Day Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 7K

chapter summary: Grogu has a tantrum, Marathel says "unguent" far too many times, and Din reminisces about the time his mother called him a "son of a b!tch".

warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, illness, mention of blood, mention of past violence, mention of past non-con sexual situations

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Din Djarin was accustomed to sleeping in what would be considered normally uncomfortable positions. Cramped spaces in a ship’s hold, in a hollow under a large rock, tethered off to a branch near the top of a tall tree. The only things that would wake him up – if he had been able to fall fully asleep in the first place – were sudden things pushing against him (or hitting him, or exploding next to him) or suddenly realizing he was somehow wet. Both things occurred in the darkest hours as he was dozing against the post in Marathel’s hut: there was something weighty against his left leg, and that same pant leg was soaked through to his skin. “Haar’chak, Grogu, did you piss on my leg again?” Din muttered as he straightened up his head, which had been dropped down towards his chest. The nerve pain in his neck flared, making him grunt. His ass was also asleep. Aging was not for the faint of heart. His eyes still closed, he felt down his leg, expecting to find a deep-sleeping Grogu draped across his thigh. He wasn’t angry, sometimes the kid had an accident, no big deal. Shit wipes off, as his foster father would say. What Din did not expect was to find that it was not Grogu, but a Dahl’s head pressing against him. It was also raining, and the breeze was blowing the dampness directly on his leg.

Din blinked at the Dahl’s large head. The Dahl’s dark eyes whirled in response. He was pretty sure this one was Rodanthe, Marathel’s oldest Dahl. Her broad forehead and her muzzle were grizzled with white. He reached out and stroked the Dahl’s head, and the animal almost purred. She scooted closer to Din, pressing her entire large body against him, the Dahl’s head now against his stomach. Din tilted his head. “What is it, old girl?” he asked softly. Rodanthe’s eyes continued to whirl as she gazed up at his helmet. He began to scratch at the Dahl’s ear but she nipped at his glove, pulling at it. Then she went back to gazing up at him. “Did you want the glove off?” Rodanthe scooted even closer, her head now practically on his shoulder. Din figured that was some sort of affirmative response, so he removed his glove and stroked the Dahl’s face along her jaw, and immediately felt … possessed by profound emotions that seemed to be coming from the animal. A deep longing, a powerful love, and an aching sadness seemed to emanate from Rodanthe, directed at him. “I don’t understand,” Din said softly, but he continued to stroke the Dahl’s head. She pushed up on the bottom of his helmet, lifting it slightly so that his jawline was exposed before he could stop her. Holding her face against his skin, Rodanthe inhaled deeply and then softly exhaled, so much like Marathel had earlier that night that Din’s eyes drifted closed with the memory, and he could have sworn he heard the words love her deep within the breathy exhale of the Dahl. He then felt Rodanthe disappear into the night, leaving him suddenly bereft at the loss of her presence. By the time he had adjusted his helmet, she had vanished into the tall grass.

Din frowned in confusion, questioning whether the encounter had happened at all. What he did know was that his ass was still asleep and his leg was still wet. He rolled over to his hip and pushed himself into a standing position with a series of grunts. This is what getting old is about, he thought, more grunting. He peeked between the dark curtains to check on Marathel. Her form was a shapeless lump under the blanket, which was tucked all around her like a cocoon, with only a shock of silver hair sticking out. Blanket-stealer, he thought with a small smile. He dropped the curtain, and then looked across the hut at her pale curtains, knowing she had a bed tick in there that was obviously more comfortable than the floor. It was silly to deny himself sleeping comfortably if she was going to crash in his bed, but he still felt compelled to not invade her personal space. Finally he pulled back her curtains and tucked them into the hanging strap to keep them open, laid down across her bed tick (which was in fact infinitely more comfortable than the floor), although he did practice chivalry by only allowing his upper two-thirds to touch her bed tick, making sure he didn’t dirty her bed with his boots. His last thought before he drifted off again was that her bed was at least twice as thick and pillowy as the one he had been sleeping on … that wench.

A few hours later, Din was comfortably sleeping when he felt a staccato four-count beat repeating on his leg. He flexed his leg in his sleep, rolled his ankle until it made a satisfying and loud crack, and drifted off again.

Pat-pat-pat-pat. “Mahr?” Pat-pat-pat-pat. “Mahr?”

This went on for some time, the pats getting more intense until Din finally snapped awake. He rolled his head to the side to see Grogu looking intently back at him. “What, pal?”

“Mahr?”

“Huh?”

“MAHR.”

“Mahr?” The shab? Grogu nodded, looking pensive. Din blinked. “Are you trying to say Marathel?” Grogu nodded again. “She’s sleeping, little guy. She’s over there,” Din waved towards the dark curtains. Grogu looked unconvinced, and began toddling across the room to see for himself. Belatedly Din remembered that she was fully naked under that blanket, and with his luck, she was currently uncovered and spread-eagled over there. Not wanting to have to explain that to the kid, Din lurched to his feet to scoop up Grogu before he made it across the room. “Hold up, let me check before you go rushing in there!” Fortunately, Grogu had stopped moving towards Marathel, but he had found the shredded remains of Marathel’s nightgown and was holding it up towards Din. Oops. “I’ll take that, thanks,” he said, picking up the boy and the nightgown and taking a quick peek between the dark curtains. Marathel was still burrowed in deep, completely covered. With a sigh of relief, Din let Grogu look between the curtains at the sleeping Marathel. Satisfied for now, Grogu gave a happy squeak and patted Din’s helmet. “See? Mahr’s fine. But she’s very tired, and she needs to sleep, so let’s leave her alone for a while, okay?” Grogu gurgled his consent, and Din sighed. He’d better work out some breakfast for this little monster.

Breakfast had come and gone. They both had eaten, Din had cleared up all the dishes, and still Marathel hadn’t risen. Grogu wanted to play in the yard, but it was still raining. Instead, Grogu made a right nuisance of himself, getting underfoot and running to peek in on Marathel every few minutes. Din went in to check on her, gently pulling back the blanket to expose one closed eye. She snuffled and turned her head away. Din quietly grabbed his bag from the corner of the cubicle and returned to the table. He had brought a malfunctioning propulsion unit from the ship with him. It was an extra, but he figured he finally had some time to tinker with it this morning. He tried to keep Grogu occupied with helping him, but Grogu was far too fractious. He couldn’t play because of the rain, and his new favorite person wasn’t showering him with endless cuddles and attention. Grogu wandered around in circles, scowling, earning little attention besides an occasional cut it out, kid from Din. He climbed up on the bench, and pushed some screws and a spanner off the table, and Din sighed for the hundredth time that morning. Days like this were frustrating to them both, and Din hadn’t figured out yet how best to deal with them. Grogu jumped down and waddled back to the dark curtains, saying “Mahr?” again, and Din finally snapped, “I said, leave her alone, boy,” instantly regretting his tone of voice, not only because the kid didn’t deserve it, but also because he knew what would come next: a full-out Jedi toddler tantrum. Grogu’s head whipped around so fast it made his ears flap, and his little face was full of fury as he took a deep breath and opened his mouth in an eyeball-exploding howl. Din jumped up, thinking oh kriff oh kriff as he hurried over to pick up Grogu, attempting to fend off the chaos before it really got going.

It was probably the sharp tone of the Bounty Hunter’s voice that finally woke Marathel up. She’d been hearing the wheedling, Grogu’s whimpers for Mahr, and the snappish words while still dozing and wondering why her boys were up in the middle of the night. Confused, she looked around at the dark fabric surrounding her, remembering that she and the Bounty Hunter … ended up here, and she had fallen asleep instead of going back to her bed. Where did he sleep, then? She wondered. Not here, obviously. Her muzzy thoughts were then interrupted by Grogu’s shrieking wail, which drove any last lingering sleepiness away. She then heard the Bounty Hunter’s hurried footsteps as he picked the boy up and tried to soothe him. Knowing from experience that wouldn’t work, she shouted over the noise, “I’m awake, Bounty Hunter, just let him in here, for Frith’s sake!”

“But …you’re …”

“I’m wrapped up from my toes to my chin, it’s fine.” Din sighed and put the child down on the floor, pulling a curtain to the side but looking away from her. Grogu bounded to her, patting her face, and repeating Mahr over and over. She put out her hand just far enough from her blanket cocoon to grab one of Grogu’s little clawed fingers. “My goodness, all these tears! Did you think I was sleeping forever? I’m awake, child, I’m fine. I promise.” Grogu kept patting her face, so she made a cat-and-mouse game of catching his little hands with kisses until the tantrum storm had passed and he was giggling. Smiling, Marathel said, “Now that you’re feeling better, I need some privacy so I can get up. Would you do that for me, please?” Happier now, Grogu nodded and left the curtains.

“Are you all right?”

Marathel gasped. The Bounty Hunter must be just on the other side of the curtain. “I’m … I’m okay. I’m all right. I’m getting up now,” she stammered. She heard his heavy boots step away. Marathel pushed herself up onto one hip, the blanket falling away from her. She immediately pulled it back up to cover herself, and then she saw the bruising on her wrist. Oh, it was bad. Her other wrist was just as bruised, and so were her knees and lower legs, probably from where he kicked her to make her fall down. Standing, she twisted to look at the large bruise on her hip, but her back sung out in pain, making her gasp again. Oh, Frith, she thought. She hurt all over. Trust her to try to take on an armored man like the Bounty Hunter when her skin was so fragile. Marathel bent down slowly to grab the blanket and then wrapped it around her, covering herself completely up to her face, letting the blanket drag on the floor to hide her bruised feet and ankles. With a little grunt, she moved out of the curtains and began to slowly shuffle across the floor.

She felt the Bounty Hunter’s cool gaze upon her, and she gasped a little when Grogu ran over and grabbed her around her ankle. She stooped down and said to Grogu, “I still need to get dressed, little beetle, okay?” Grogu pouted, but let go. Marathel turned her attention back to her bed, noticing the deep divot across it … and her carefully folded nightgown in the middle of the divot. Shrugging, she shuffled across her bed tick, releasing the curtains from their tether and enclosing herself within.

Din watched her move across the room with amusement, all rumpled from sleep, her hair in a tangled mess, stumbling on the dragging blanket. Osik, she’s limping. Not half bad, Djarin. He knew it was an unkind thought, but he was still a man, regardless, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Sure as a bantha went barefoot, Marathel would smack him into next damn week if she heard him laugh at her again, probably even harder than the time his own mother had walloped him one when he couldn’t stop laughing after his mother, in a fit of pure frustration at her disobedient son, called him a son of a bitch. Smiling at the memory, he recalled that his father had taken him out back to ‘teach him a lesson’ but had only given him a half-hearted lick before dissolving into laughter himself, saying, “Son, don’t ever make your mother call you that again.” Din hadn’t thought about that incident in decades, and it brought a feeling of sweet nostalgia instead of the pain he usually felt when thinking of his parents. He vowed to tell Grogu about it someday.

Marathel reappeared, dressed in long pants with a tunic and jacket that she had tied up between her thumb and forefinger to keep her hands covered. Her hair, still disheveled, was tied back in a kerchief. As she moved to the kitchen counter, her feet made a shh-shh noise, different from her normal footfalls. He looked over to see that she was wearing knitted slippers. She looked at him, then down to her feet. “What?”

“I just haven’t seen you not barefoot, is all.”

“It’s raining. My feet are cold.” Din hummed and went back to sorting the screws that Grogu had pushed to the floor. “Rain makes me sleepy. I’m sorry I slept so long. You must be hungry.”

Din shook his head. “We’ve eaten.”

Marathel’s eyebrows popped up. “You have?”

“Yes. There’s some for you as well.”

Marathel blinked in surprise. Her kitchen was spotless with absolutely no evidence that anyone else had been cooking in there. But on the table was a covered bowl and a mug. She lifted the top plate to a sampling of thin-sliced fatback meat, and under that, a bowl of cooked cereal, topped with dried fruit and a swirl of sweet syrup. Marathel’s hand went to her mouth in surprise, touched. No one had made a meal for her since she was tall enough to stir a pot on the Hold’s kitchen hob. As a kitchen drudge, meals were taken in nibbles throughout the cooking day, and then she would eat some of whatever the girls were eating as she watched the children. Never would she take anything the boys had to eat, that would have been ridiculous. And dangerous. And never, ever, had she considered that a man – a man — would make a meal for her. Tears glittered her eyes for a moment.

Din tilted his helmet in concern. “Is the breakfast not to your liking?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s wonderful, thank you! I’m just … surprised, is all.” She sat and popped a bit of fried meat in her mouth. It had a nice char on it, and the cereal was cooked perfectly. The syrup was a bit much, but she knew that boys liked their sweets, so she figured the same was true for Bounty Hunters. Grogu kept hugging her hip as she ate, impatient for her to finish. He also seemed to keep patting at the bruises on her that he could reach, as if he were trying to heal her. She smiled down at him, stroking his whispery hair. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she whispered.

“Do what?” asked Din, only half-listening, as he was concentrating on replacing a tiny spring in the propulsion unit.

“Talking to Grogu.” Din hummed in response, muttering under his breath as the spring bounced out of place. Marathel spooned up the last of her breakfast and stood. Grogu, happy now, jumped off the bench and followed her closely as she put her dishes in the sink. Carrying her mug of tea, she passed behind Din and ran her hand across the backs of his shoulders, softly saying “thank you” as she went to her loom. Din froze at her fleeting touch, savoring the moment. He turned his head to watch her as she stiffly sat down in front of her loom. She got Grogu involved with helping her, carefully weaving the shuttle in one way, and then back the other. Grogu didn’t think much of this game, and he started getting fractious again. Undeterred, Marathel switched tasks to finger weaving with loops of yarn on their hands, which Grogu also found boring in the extreme. He didn’t want to sit and be quiet, he wanted to play. Din was buttoning up the propulsion unit, wondering how Marathel was going to deal with this active little bundle of joy.

While Grogu was whining and unhappily tossing balls of yarn every which way, Marathel calmly stood, reached above her head, and broke off a number of twigs off the old tree that made up part of her roof. She sat down again, spreading the collection of twigs in front of her. “Grogu! I really need your help! This is a job only you can do!” Marathel said brightly. Grogu stopped his kicking of yarn balls, curious. Marathel turned to him and said, “I need to know which of these sticks is the very best stick. Will you show me? The very, very, best stick? Please?” Din, finished with his task, stayed quiet and watched, curious himself. Grogu wobbled over to her, looking down at the selection of sticks. “Which one, do you think, Grogu? Is it … this one?” Grogu shook his head, pointing at a different stick. “Oooh, that’s a marvelous stick. I think that is the very best one!” Marathel clapped her hands. “Now, if that’s your stick, then I choose … ummmm … this one!” She triumphantly held up another one of the sticks. “Now, which color yarn is your very favorite?” She held up three balls of yarn: one a bright green, one a dark brown, and the yellow yarn from her dress. Grogu immediately pointed at the green yarn. “Okay, you get green, I’m going to be yellow! Which means Patu is the brown yarn. Oh, I forgot! We have to choose a stick for the Bounty Hunter, too! You choose his stick, Grogu, he doesn’t look like he knows the first thing about picking out the best stick!” Grogu giggled at the joke made at Din’s expense. The next part of the game involved Grogu tying a piece of his green yarn to his stick. He didn’t know how to tie a bow, of course, but Marathel put her hands over his and carefully showed him how, and praised his efforts.

With all three sticks now properly dressed with yarn, Marathel jumped to her feet. “That was the boring part. Now it’s the fun part! We’re gonna race from here to all the way over there!” She pointed at the far end of the hut, towards her “leaning post” as Din had come to think of it. “Ready? Now … go!” Grogu giggled and took off at a trot, whereas Marathel pretended to run in slow motion, elbowing Din in the helmet as she passed behind him. “Sorry!” she tossed over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eye. Grogu won the foot race, and he hopped in excitement around the post. “Okay, now, here’s the best part!” She flopped down to her stomach on the floor, leaning out over the edge of the platform. Grogu did the same. “Take the sticks, Grogu. You have the most important job of all. You have to throw all the sticks right in the middle of the stream. All three have to be in the water. Got it?” Grogu, entranced with the new game, nodded. “Okay, and … throw!” Grogu tossed the sticks into the water that ran under the side of the hut. Marathel popped up to her feet, saying, “Oh, that was perfect! Now we have to hurry! Come over here, quickly!” She grabbed her curtains and tossed them over a rafter with practiced ease, kicking her bed tick out of the way. She then flopped back down to her stomach at the front corner of the hut, beckoning to Grogu. “Come quick, come quick! The sticks are almost here!” Grogu ran over as fast as he could, flopping down right next to her. “Oooh, which stick? Which stick will float by first, do you think, Grogu? Here they come! And it’s … Grogu’s stick! Oh, I knew you chose the best stick!” She gave him a hug and a big smacking kiss on the head. “Oh, let’s do that again! I bet I get the best stick this time!” Both of them bounced back up to their feet, running back to the pile of sticks, beginning the game again.

This time Grogu and Marathel both wanted a certain stick, so she challenged him to an arm-wrestling contest, which Grogu obviously “won” when Marathel somersaulted herself over in mock defeat. Marathel went through the process of teaching Grogu how to tie the yarn around his stick, and then they were off and running again. Din ducked before Marathel could elbow him in the helmet, and Marathel stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder. Apparently, Din’s stick won the race downstream, and both Marathel and Grogu protested loudly. Demanding a rematch, the two raced back to the sticks, and this time, Grogu was able to tie the yarn to his stick all by himself. Marathel squealed in delight, and Grogu ran over to Din to show off his masterpiece. Din lavished praise on the boy, and then sent him to throw his stick in the stream before Marathel could get there. “Ooh, you dirty cheat!” she yelled at the Bounty Hunter as she ran to catch up with Grogu. Grogu happily tossed in his stick, and then ran back to collect more of the sticks, tossing them all into the stream.

The stick game then devolved into a loose game of tag, which consisted of Marathel chasing Grogu, and tickling him until he squirmed away from her. Squealing, Grogu tried to find safety behind Din’s legs, but Marathel dove under the table after the boy. “No fair! Bounty Hunter is out of bounds!” She grabbed Din’s ankles, but he pulled both his legs away to sit cross-legged on the bench, out of harm’s way. Grogu shrieked with laughter as he ran in circles around the hut. Marathel would catch him, giving him vigorous tickles, sometimes swinging him high into the air, much to Grogu’s glee. As the running game continued, Din noticed that Grogu was running slower and slower. As Grogu tired out, Marathel continued to slow the running game down, until Grogu became sleepy. Fairly breathless herself, her slippers and kerchief lost during the chase, her hair completely awry, she began humming the same quiet tune she hummed yesterday, as she slowly swung around in circles with Grogu on her hip. Eventually, she shifted Grogu to her shoulder, swaying to the rhythm of her hummed tune, slowly making her way towards his pram. She lifted the lid, frowned at the rumpled nest inside, and began pulling out all the blankets and wrinkled clothing. Without missing a single beat of her humming, or without ending her gentle sway, she one-handedly fluffed out the blankets and refolded them into a more proper nest inside the pram. Marathel laid the now-sleeping boy into the pram, continuing to hum softly as she snapped the lid closed.

“That was impressive,” said Din.

Marathel turned and let out a deep sigh. “Oh, Frith, he is so much more active than Hold children. And it’s so much harder with one child instead of a bunch.” Taking a breath, she smiled and asked, “How much time do you think we have?”

Din chuckled. “I have never gotten him down for a nap, so we could have until the end of this sentence, or he could be out for the rest of the day. I think we should make a run for it.”

Marathel laughed, and bent to pick up her tea. She sat at the table opposite Din and asked, “So what is this metal thing you’ve had spread across my table?”

“A propulsion unit from my ship.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a part that helps the engine create thrust. To make the ship fly, you have to have fuel and an oxidizer. These are mixed and exploded in a combustion chamber. That’s how the fire tetrahedron works. The combustion produces hot exhaust which has to be expressed to accelerate the flow and produce thrust. On this unit, the pressure distribution within the chamber is asymmetric; that is, inside the chamber the pressure doesn’t vary much, but near where the exhaust is expressed, it decreases somewhat. The force due to gas pressure on the bottom of the chamber is not compensated from the outside. So, the resultant force due to the internal and external pressure difference, the thrust, is opposite to the direction of the gas jet. It pushes the chamber upwards, and … then the ship can fly.”

“Oh.”

“Simple physics.”

“Oh.” Marathel looked down into her mug. “Cookies are good.”

Din laughed. “Yes, yes … cookies are good.” He laughed again. “I promise, I’m not laughing at you.”

“I know. Besides, I don’t have any eggs to throw at you.” They both laughed this time, and then settled into silence. After a moment, Marathel quietly said, “I do have a favor I need to ask of you.” Din tilted his helmet, waiting for her to continue. “Last night, when … last night, we must have … tousled some.”

“Tousled? More of a brawl, I’d say.” Din paused. “Did I injure you?”

“Well, you see … I bruise easily. I have an unguent I have to use for healing, and I can’t reach my back. Would you …?”

Din was dismayed. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I don’t … I wasn’t in full control of myself last night. I …"

Marathel reached her hand across the table. “It’s all right, Bounty Hunter, it truly is. But I do need your help, if you would, please. It does hurt so much.” Din knew he couldn’t refuse her, even though it meant his hands on her skin once more. So much for vowing to not touch her again after last night. She handed him a large clay jar, and then she turned her back to him as she slipped off her jacket. He turned away as well, lifting the lid off the jar, and then he was inundated with one of the worst medicinal smells he’d ever experienced, and he almost gagged.

“Dank ferrik, this smells … ugh … worse than bantha piss!”

Marathel chuckled as she pulled off her tunic over her head, and then put her jacket on backwards, exposing her bare back, covering her front. “I don’t know what a bantha is, but I’ll take your word for it.” She sat down next to him on the bench, straddling it, her back to Din.

“Believe me, banthas are the worst.” He turned back towards her, and then his breath was taken away anew when he saw her back. It wasn’t just bruised, it was black. Blood had settled under her skin from her shoulders all the way down to the waistband of her pants, and probably beyond. She must be in terrific pain, he thought. “Marathel … you need real medical attention. No unguent can fix this.”

“It’s nowhere near as bad as it looks. My pale skin makes it look bad.”

“You must have some blood clotting disorder.”

“I wouldn’t know. A few others at the Hold have a similar problem.”

Din removed his gloves and lightly skated his hand over her back. It was warm, almost throbbing with the blood flow just under the top layer of skin. “I’ve seen you cut yourself, though, and you don’t bleed like this then.”

“It’s something about the blood hitting the air. The air makes the blood stop. But under my skin … the blood keeps flowing. Please, just … use the unguent, it helps, it really does.” Din doubted that, but he took a thick blob of the greasy salve, grimacing at the horrible smell, and spread it on her back. “No, you have to press hard. It’s like … you have to press the blood back into me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you more.”

“I need you to do this, please, Bounty Hunter.”

Din took a breath to steel himself, applied his full palm to her back, and pressed hard as he massaged the medication into her skin. He could feel the blood almost squishing under her skin, a completely unpleasant feeling. Marathel grunted in pain and pushed back against his hand. The smell was horrific. “Can’t you do something about the smell of this? Add herbs or something?”

Marathel replied, “I’ve tried, but then it doesn’t work so well. It’s like how the best medicines taste the worst.”

Din began to breathe through his mouth to lessen the disgusting odor. It did appear to be working, however, as he watched her back turn closer to purple than black. He decided to do this more efficiently, and he rolled up the sleeves of his jacket over his forearms, wrapping his left arm over the front of her collarbone. “Hold on,” he said, and then used his full right forearm to massage her back from her waist up to her shoulders. Marathel gasped and clutched at his arm around her shoulders. She looked down to see his muscular forearm, his skin much browner than hers could ever be, lightly peppered with dark brown hair. She had not seen his skin in full light before, only in the dark of night. But she didn’t have the wherewithal to muse on the sight of his skin, as Din stood, put his knee on the bench for leverage, and this time pressed his forearm in a downward motion on her back all the way down to the top of her pelvis. He then repeated the motion, up, then down, as the blood began to dissipate from under her skin back into her body. Marathel went limp against his arm, whimpering, “Stop … please stop … I need to …" She then pushed his arm away, stumbled to the dry sink, and vomited. Not again, thought Din, but he jumped up and caught her as her knees began to buckle. His arm went under her jacket, and he could feel the weight of her bare breasts against his bare arm as he pulled her hair back, supporting her as she vomited again. Blood. Almost black blood. And a lot of it. She coughed and spit, sobbing. Din found a clean dishcloth, soaked it in water, and put it over her mouth. “I’ve got you, my mesh’la, I’ve got you, it’s okay.” Marathel tried to get her feet under her. “I’m sorry, my mesh’la, I didn’t mean to hurt you more.” He guided her back to the bench and sat down, hauling her on to his lap, where she wilted against his chest.

“Ohhh,” she moaned. “Your armor is nice and cool.”

“Beskar.”

“Hm?”

“My armor. It’s made of beskar.”

“Oh.” Her hands fell back into her lap, but her sleeve was caught on her elbow, exposing the blackened bruises on her wrist. Din gently took a hold of her hand, holding up her arm. Oh, Marathel, my mesh’la, what did I do to you? This bruise was a perfect imprint of his hand. He reached over for the smelly unguent, and using both his hands, began to massage her wrist, pushing the blood back up towards her shoulder and her heart, where hopefully it could be reabsorbed back into her. Marathel whimpered but withstood his ministrations, because it was helping even as it was the worst hurt she’d endured in her long life. He did the same to her other wrist and forearm, and then held her lightly on his lap as she rested limply against him. He brushed her hair away from her sweaty face. “Better?” She nodded weakly. “Are you going to vomit again?” She nodded again and made an urp noise deep in her throat. He immediately hauled her up and over to the dry sink, where she vomited up more blood as he held her upright. Haar’chak. What is wrong with her? And there are others with the same problem up there?

His thoughts went back to other things she said in the most off-hand manner: the corporal punishment on her hands. Her throwing herself off a cliff — into water, yes, but he knew from experience that a high fall into water was like hitting a brick wall. Injuring herself in her quest to find relief from the possession of the Dahls during their mating — with objects, as she said. The idea of her doing such a thing — feeling the need to do such a thing nauseated him worse than her vomiting. And most of all, that brand on her leg. Her entire life had been an exercise in pain and humiliation. And one that she had suffer alone, administering care to herself, for kriff knew how long. He knew how hard it was to care for injuries and wounds. He thought about how bad her bruising must have been after she hit that water. And yet, even today, her first thought was for the care of Grogu — and for him.

And even he had chuckled at her expense just a short while ago. Chuckled at her limping as if he had knocked her bow-legged with an inflated sense of sexual prowess on his part, when she had actually been a non-consensual victim.

Even at the most intimate of moments these past two days — she was not even her own.

Marathel wilted against him, and he half-carried her back to the bench, and sat down again with her on his lap. “Is there anywhere else that you’re bruised?”

“I can take care of that myself,” she whispered against his chest.

“Let me help you,” Din insisted. “I’m guessing this is why Grogu was so upset this morning. He knew you were in pain, and he wanted to help you so badly.”

“He tried.”

“But then you played with him, roughhoused with him … threw yourself on the floor and under the table.”

“He’s just a child. He needed to play. My hurts shouldn’t be his burden.”

“You should have told me, Marathel.”

Her exhausted eyes flicked up to his helmet. “My hurts shouldn’t be your burden, either, Bounty Hunter.”

“Well, they are, but not in the way you think.” Marathel blinked at that, confused. Din gently lifted up one of her legs to the bench top and pushed up the cuff, exposing her blackened ankle and a number of bruises up her shin to her knee. Din sighed. “Can you sit up on your own?” He lifted her off his lap and moved down the bench in the opposite direction, straddled the bench, and lifted up her leg, placing her bare foot against his chest. Marathel put her hands behind her on the bench to keep herself upright. Methodically, he took another glob of the foul-smelling goo, and using both hands, started at the top of her foot and squeezed both hands up her ankle, her calf, her knee, and partially up her thigh before releasing his hands off her and then starting over at her foot. Marathel stared at her bare foot against his chest armor, and then at his strong bare hands against her white, white skin as they slid up her leg and disappeared under the hem of her pants leg, up to the middle of her thigh. Her lip trembled. Din was having a similar reaction himself: her bare foot pressed into his chest, his hands caressing her skin, sliding up her thigh, hidden by her pants … it was the most intimate of touches he had ever given to anyone he wasn’t actively having sex with in that moment. Even then, touching was furtive and limited. This touching was exquisite, this touching was magnificent, and he suddenly imagined this same foot pressing on his chest as he lay naked on the ground, this same fine foot and leg clad in a high-heeled boot of shiny shiny leather.

Din startled himself back to reality, shocked and shamed by his thought process, realizing his hands had lingered on her thigh. He carefully took hold of her other leg and repeated the massage process as Marathel struggled to keep herself upright, grimacing. Afterwards, Marathel dropped her feet to the floor and her head to the table. Din moved closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his armor. She groaned. “Better?” he asked. She nodded. “Do you need to vomit again?” She shook her head.

“I think I should lie down for a few minutes, though. I feel faint.”

Din looked across the room. “Stay here a moment.” He got up and put her bed tick back in place, fluffing it up. He returned to Marathel and lifted her in his arms. She hissed at the pressure on her back, but it passed. He began to carry her towards her bed, but she stopped him next to the dry sink.

Rummaging in her spice jars, she set one down by her jar of soap. “Salt,” she said. “Add it to the soap when you wash your hands, and it will take the odor of the unguent away.”

“Won’t it make your bed smell?”

“The smell will fade. And I don’t find the smell anywhere near as disagreeable as you. Perhaps I should rest in your bed.”

“Not on your life, lady.” Marathel snickered and Din dropped to one knee to carefully deposit her on her bed. She rolled to her side, facing him, and Din sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. “Okay?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Din reached over and brushed her unruly hair back off her forehead. “I’m so sorry I caused you so much hurt.”

Marathel smiled, and reached out for his hand. He gave it. “You didn’t know. We both didn’t know what would happen between us last night. I would say that it wasn’t what I expected, but … I had no idea what to expect. I do want you to know, though, before you leave this place …” Marathel swallowed nervously and shifted her eyes away. “I think … I think all the times I found myself elsewhere, lost, when the Dahls were … I was searching for someone, someone to … help me.” Her eyes flicked back to his helmet but she couldn’t keep looking at where she assumed his eyes were. “I’m glad it was you.”

Din was thankful for his helmet; he didn’t think his face could get any redder. “I don’t think that’s something you should be thanking me for, not when … it wasn’t you.”

“But I …”

“And not when I beat you to the point you are literally black and blue.”

“Is that why you keep calling me a wounded acorn?”

Din tilted his helmet in the other direction. “Do what now?”

“Wounded acorn. You called me that last night, and again today. You said ma’mwsh ha’laa. In my Oldtalk that means wounded acorn.”

“I’m not saying that at all.” He liked it, though. He needed to remember that one.

“What are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying my mesh’la. My,” he said, touching his chest, indicating himself, “Mesh’la. It’s from my language.”

“Meaning what?”

He took a breath. He wanted to look away, or least tell her a lie. But he knew he couldn’t. Not to her. “It means beautiful. I’m calling you my beautiful.”

Marathel’s face took on that becoming shade of pink again. She looked down to her careworn hand with its broken nails and ragged cuticles, holding his hand, surprisingly soft while still strong. “You don’t need to make up words to make me feel better.”

“I wasn’t making them up.”

Her cheeks became even pinker. She released his hand. “I think I will close my eyes for a bit now. If I do fall asleep, would you please wake me when Grogu wakes up, or when it stops raining?”

“Of course.”

Marathel’s eyes fluttered closed, and Din stayed beside her until her breathing became even and her face relaxed. He quietly got up, scrubbed out the dry sink, and then scrubbed his hands and arms — the salt did the trick. He rolled down his sleeves, replaced his gloves, and sat at the table, watching the rain.

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

#the mandalorian #din djarin x OC #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin series #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian angst #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff

48 notes · View notes