#mando x fem reader
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Don’t Leave Me Hangin’
MANDO x FEM READER
Summary: Reader gets stuck aloft in one of the Kom’rik’s cargo nets and has to call out to Mando for help. Filthy Mando smut ensues.
Warnings: explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, porn without plot, well, maybe a tiny little hint of plot, oral- f receiving, PiV, squirting, cum play(?), it’s messy- nuff said, Kom’rik sex, improper use of a cargo net, reader is an idiot who should think things through, Mando is an opportunist, no use of Y/N, maybe? bondage - Mando doesn’t help her out of the net like- immediately, but reader ain’t complainin’
(N/A: The brain fog has FINALLY lifted, and I wanted to write about my most recent random filthy thot. This is the result. It’s a long-ish, smutty one shot. Reader & Mando are in a situationship - friends-with-benefits type deal. I’m picturing like a live-in nanny/housekeeper kind of thing, but I don’t think I ever specified. This is post-season 3, and Mando’s living his best life on Nevarro. He and reader are in a Kom’rik, because I need room for my smut to flourish, and I didn’t want to resurrect the poor old Razor Crest from the ashes. If I missed any tags, let me know. And I hope you enjoy.)
Word Count: 4280
You really should have thought this through better.
That was your first thought after the cargo net stopped swinging, and you regained a modicum of composure. You winced at the sound of the net’s straps creaking under the strain as you tried to shift your weight and then froze. You remained completely motionless, afraid to even breathe, for several more moments.
“Shit...” you whispered in a quaking voice, peering down at the floor of the cargo hold several meters below you. You then glanced up at the winch mechanism above your head, praying it held. How in the hell were you going to get yourself out of this?
It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. You had just stepped out of the Kom’rik’s small ‘fresher, having showered and changed into your sleep shirt before bed, when you’d felt the ship drop out of hyperspace with a small lurch. You heard something clatter in the cargo hold below and blew out a tired sigh, knowing it was probably nothing but also knowing you wouldn’t be able to rest until you checked it out.
Grumbling under your breath, you had climbed down into the hold. Only the emergency lights were on, the ceiling and corners hidden in shadow, but you spotted something lying near a tier of shelves attached to the hull’s interior wall. It was one of the kid’s favorite cookies, the teal ones with the creme filling. Peering up into the gloom, you spied an opened foil sleeve of cookies perched on the edge of the highest shelf.
“How the hell did he even get up there?” you said aloud, shaking your head. Jedi training aside, the kid was far too much like his dad, a little risk-taker. You heaved a sigh, with no small amount of exasperation.
Stars only knew what else he had left up there. Come to think of it, you had given him your datapad earlier to watch cartoons and hadn’t seen it since. Sighing in frustration, you began looking for a way to reach the top shelf. The propulsor lift was still charging, so that was a no-go, and you didn’t see a ladder of any sort that wasn’t attached to the ship already.
And then you had spied the cargo net.
It was dangling by its hooks from a mechanized winch and pulley system attached to the ceiling. It was used to keep extra containers suspended above the floor to free up space, its track running the entire circuit of the area for maneuverability and convenience. Designed to hold several hundred kilograms, you were certain it could support your own weight. You could use it to lift yourself up to the shelf, retrieve whatever was up there and then lower yourself back to the ground. Easy peasy, jogan squeezy.
Detaching the control pad for the winch from the wall, you climbed inside the net, lacing an arm through the holes for a better grip, and then planted your bare feet on the cross sections of the heavy straps. It was a bit shaky at first, but once you gained your balance, you quickly ascended until you were at eye level with the top shelf. Tucking the control pad under your chin, you reached up to feel your datapad under your fingertips and sniffed in amusement. You’d have to give Grogu a good talking-to in the morning, but for now you at least had your datapad back. Slipping it and the sleeve of cookies off the shelf, you shuffled the objects around, your grip on the net slackening.
It was then that the Kom’rik made another jump into hyperspace, making the ship jolt with the transition. You shrieked when the net began to swing wildly, feet slipping out from under you as you let go of everything in your hands to hang on for dear life. Panting for breath, heart thundering in your chest, you clung like a monkey-lizard to the straps and prayed the net didn’t break.
So, there you were, hanging above the hold like a piece over-ripe fruit, arms and legs entangled in the net with no way down, because, of course, you had dropped the winch’s control pad when you dropped everything else. You could see it lying on the floor below you, right next to the broken casing of your datapad.
“Shit!” you repeated, leaning your forehead against the straps and huffing out an angry breath. Could this situation get any worse, you wondered. You’d have to yell for Mando to come get you down, which you weren’t looking forward to, but who knew how long it would take before he even came back this way? What if decided to just sleep in the cockpit? Would you end up hanging there all night?
The thought made your awkward position in the net feel even more uncomfortable. Your feet had slipped through the holes, so your legs were now dangling under you, the straps cutting into the tender meat of your thighs. One of your arms was still threaded through the net while the other one was pinned close to your side. You could feel the cold air of the hold settling into your bones and making you shiver, the thin material of the tunic doing little to stave off the chill.
You knew that the longer you hung there, the colder you were going to get, the number your limbs were going to grow. Your feet were already stinging and your teeth chattering. There was no help for it. You had to call for Mando.
“MANDO!!!”
Your voice bounced back at you, making your flinch. Holding your breath, you waited to hear his boots thudding against the metal floor overhead, but nothing. He hadn’t heard you.
“MAANN-DDOO! HEEELP!”
You waited. Still nothing.
Oh, stars, maybe he had fallen asleep in the cockpit. after all. With the door sealed, he would never hear you. Panic began to creep in, shortening your breath as it constricted your lungs.
“MANDO! PLEASE! I’M STUCK IN THE HOLD! MAN-DOO!!!”
“What the hell are you doing?”
You heard his voice coming through the ship’s comm system and could have cried in relief. You’d forgotten the cams located throughout the ship. Stars, he’d probably been watching you this whole time. You were never in danger.
“I... I’m stuck, Mando.”
A gravelly bark echoed in the hold before turning to static. Great. He was laughing at you. “Obviously. Listen, I need to recheck the coordinates in navi and set the autopilot, then I’ll come get you down. Just, uh, hang tight,” he drawled, another garbled sound slipping out of his vocoder.
You bit your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. You were in no position to taunt or snark back at him right now. “Fine,” you mumbled, and slumped into the net.
It was only a few minutes before the sound of his heavy boots were thudding across the metal floor above you, his footsteps music to your ears. You heard the clang of his armor hitting against the ladder before he slid down into view, feet landing with a solid thump in the hold. He approached at a leisurely pace, seemingly in no hurry, then stopped to stare up at you. His helmet tilted back, black visor glinting in the low light. Planting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head, first to one side and then to the other.
“M-Mando? What’re you doing? Can you get me down now, please?”
Mando hummed, his stance shifting. His arms dropped down to his sides, hands curling into fists. “You must be getting pretty cold, huh?”
You bunched your brows up in consternation. “Um... yeah? It’s fr-freezing down here.”
He nodded slowly, keeping his visor trained on you. “Hmm. Thought so. You’re not wearing anything but my old tunic. It’s not covering much. Is it?”
You quirked a brow at the change in his voice. His smooth baritone had dropped an octave or three, and it had a distinctive husk to it now. His tone was the one he used when the two of you were alone with the lights off and he was taking you apart, dark and sinfully seductive. It made you squirm despite your precarious position, and the net began to slowly sway back and forth. The edge of a strap slid into the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you felt your lower lips part. A low groan issued from his vocoder. Your mouth fell open.
Sweet Maker, your pussy was on full display for him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear after your shower, planning on putting on a clean pair once you got back to your sleeping quarters. Heat surged through your body, both from embarrassment and unexpected arousal.
“Mando...” Your voice sounded so small and breathy in the cavernous space.
“I can see everything, pretty girl,” he told you, taking an unconscious step closer. He was almost directly under you now, peering straight up at your exposed sex. Mortified, you felt the slow trickle of your arousal easing out of your channel. You weren’t dripping, not yet, but the thought of him standing beneath you, staring at your most vulnerable parts had your breath panting out in little puffs. “You... Are you going to... get me down, now?”
You heard the back of his gauntlet scrape the metal floor as he picked up the control pad for the winch. His breath was rasping through his vocoder, the sound of leather creaking as he moved underneath you. You felt the winch catch and then begin to whir as the net began to lower back to the floor.
“Thank the stars,” you whispered, anxious to be back on solid ground again.
You didn’t quite make it, though. You were still a few meters above the floor when the winch came to a sudden stop, leaving you to sway like the pendulum of a run-down clock. “M-Mando?”
“Look so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he murmured below you, and you felt his gloved fingers trail across the back of your thigh. You gasped at the contact. “Close your eyes,” he husked out, voice gone to gravel.
You didn’t even bother to ask why, just snapped your eyes shut and held your breath, waiting. You heard the slap of leather on the floor, guessing it must be his gloves he’d just taken off, and then you felt his bare fingers tracing the straps that dug into your thighs. His fingertips grazed along the edge where the strap met the skin, the sensation making you tense as heat spiraled in your belly, diffusing through your pelvis to spread in a hot rush of slick that trickled out to cool along the petals of your open folds.
“Oh, mesh’la,” Mando cooed, dark and low. “You’re dripping for me, pretty girl.”
A whine escaped your lips, breath catching in your throat as you felt his fingers slide through your arousal, gathering your essence on his fingertips. There was the pneumatic hiss of air as his helmet disengaged and then the ring of beskar ricocheted around the hold as he dropped it to the floor. You could hear the lewd, wet noises he made as he suckled his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you.
“Don’t move, baby girl.”
“Oh, Maker...” you whimpered in a quaking whisper.
You could feel your walls clenching in anticipation. Mando had never used his mouth on you before, said he’d never gone down on anyone before, but as the winch whirred back into motion only to grind to a stop again a moment later, you guessed you were about to find out if this would be his first time.
When you felt his hair tickle the backs of your thighs, an eruptive shudder passed through your entire body. When his nose grazed over your clit, you jolted in the confines of the straps hard enough to send the net swaying, but he caught you and brought you back to center.
“Sh-shh... Easy, baby girl. I got you...” He paused, sniffed. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he hissed out in a rush, and you heard him inhale, could feel his nose right at your parted lips. It was so filthy, so obscene, what he was doing, but it made you quiver with lust, just the same.
His hands came up to grip your ankles, holding you in place. “That’s better,” he murmured, hot breath gusting over your damp folds, eliciting another shiver from you. “Let me hear you, pretty girl. Want to know how good I’m making you feel. Okay?”
You nodded your head furiously, swallowing in an attempt to bring a bit of moisture back into your parched mouth. “Y-Yeah. Okay, Mando.” You didn’t even care that it came out as a whine.
The first touch of his tongue had you choking on air, hips stuttering, not sure whether to rock forward or away from the lapping muscle, but his strong hands held you fast, not letting your squirm away. He dragged his tongue in a slow, hot line from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned like a porn star. You could feel his cheeks bunch up as he grinned at your reaction, and then he flicked his tongue over your pulsing clit again, pulling a sputtering,” Ha-aaa-aaah!” from your gaping mouth.
“You like it when I do that?” he purred lowly into your folds. “What about when I do this?” He enveloped the sensitive bud with his lips, tongue flickering over it with feather-light touches, making you writhe and grind against his mouth. He groaned, then suctioned his lips around it and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly against it. Your plaintive wail echoed throughout the ship.
“Fuck me...” he moaned, panting for breath, his voice shaking. He was completely wrecked. With a desperate snarl, he dove back in with a vengeance, tongue laving your inner folds, twirling around your entrance, lapping at your juices before kissing and sucking at your puffy, parted lips. He was devouring you whole, winding the coil in your core into a taut vibrating spring of tension. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, your breaths wheezing out of your lungs in desperate pants.
“Mando! Mando, I...”
You couldn’t even voice a coherent thought, couldn’t tell him what was about to happen, but he seemed to understand, nevertheless. His fingers slid along your pulsing folds to catch at the rim of your entrance, circling it once before slipping inside. Your walls immediately clamped onto the digits, muscles undulating to pull them deeper. He growled at the feeling and latched onto your clit again crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, the strokes sharp and quick as they tapped out a devastating tattoo against the spongy membrane of your G-spot.
The world went white behind your pinched eyelids, and you weren’t even aware of the choked scream that tore out of your throat as you were blindsided by your orgasm. The spring in your core gave way with a snap and warmth flooded from your center to gush out around his fingers and over his arm, splattering his lower face, cowl and chest plate.
“Ha!” he crowed. “That’s it! Fuck yes!”
You were barely hanging on, your very bones liquefied as you twitched and groaned with each consecutive pulse of your climax. If you had oozed out through the holes in the net to pool at his feet, you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
“So fuckin’ good, for me. Look at that. Fuck, I need — nngh!”
You heard the motor of the winch whir back into life, then felt the cold sensation of the floor touch the bottom of your feet. You couldn’t have held up your own weight if your life depended on it, however, and so folded up with the netting as it came to rest on the floor. Strong hands lifted you out the mess of straps, hands moving over you, manipulating you as he whispered feverish words in Mando’a like some fervent benediction.
You felt your back come to rest on top of the netting, the worn fabric of his cape spread out beneath you to serve as a barrier against the rough material. You had yet to open your eyes, jaw slack as you floated somewhere high above your physical body in a state of pure bliss.
Mando placed his calloused hand over your eyes, unwilling to test fate more than he already had. He felt crazed, rabid with lust, his only desire to be buried balls-deep in your cunt.
“Need to feel you, sweet girl,” he gasped at your ear, his breath stuttering against your neck. “Please, I need — “
“Yes! Stars, please, Mando. Want to feel you inside me. Do it...”
He whimpered as he lifted himself away long enough to scrabble at the closure of his pants, shoving them down with his underwear to the top of his thigh plates, a frustrating exercise to complete one-handed. When his cock sprang free of its confines, he moaned in relief, pumping it roughly a couple of times as he spread his leaking precrum over the head with his thumb. With a grunt, he fell between your thighs, notching himself at your entrance, inhaling a deep breath before he sank into your greedy, grasping cunt with an audible squelch.
“Fuuuckin’ hellll...” he moaned out as he slid inside your fluttering walls, grunting again when he felt them collapse around his cock and seize it in a vice grip. It was a struggle to draw himself back, the sensation making his balls draw up tight against his body. “Too good... too tight... Gonna make me cum...” he mumbled under his breath, fighting off his orgasm. When he had withdrawn a about halfway, he couldn’t stand it anymore and plunged back in, thrusting hard enough to shift the netting beneath you.
You sobbed, the feeling of being so full overwhelming, your shaking legs coming up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking over the flexing muscles of his ass. He was driving into you with abandon, the toes of his boots squeaking on the floor to find purchase, bracing his body against yours. His other arm he shoved under your back, fingers hooking over your shoulder to pull you down on his cock to meet each hard thrust. He was growling, muttering curses in multiple languages, hissing as you clenched and pulsed around him.
“Ah, fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna — Shit! Fuck, baby, where do you want — “
“Inside... Want to feel you cum in me...” you moaned out, another orgasm rising like a massive wave in your core. “Ah, fuck!” you whined.
Your words snapped that last thread of control he had, and he surged forward, thrusting in wild, arhythmic strokes that sent you careening over the edge. Your climax washed over you like a euphoric wave, slow and liquid, a golden warmth that engulfed your lower half before spreading like molten honey.
Mando could feel your walls clamp down and spasm, milking his cock, drawing him in deeper. He threw his head back and came with a bellow, a primal, jagged roar of triumph. His chest lifted as his back arched, his cock exploding inside your walls, pumping ribbons of his thick seed deep into your hungry cunt.
He barely managed to throw an arm out to catch himself before falling forward. He was trembling above you. and when his elbow buckled, his head fell to your chest. His nose was smooshed into the side of your breast, his panting breaths teasing the sensitive bud of your nipple into a hard little nub beneath the thin material of his tunic. He gave a dazed grin at the sight, wishing he had the energy to take it in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could even lift his head yet.
“Stars, pretty girl. I think you’ve killed me.”
A breathless wheeze of laughter burst out of your chest, and you reached up to pull down the hand now splayed limp over your face to your lips. You left a lingering kiss in the palm as you crooked your other arm over your eyes, just so the temptation to peek wouldn’t get the best of you. You felt him lift his head with reluctance, his weight shifting, before his lips pressed to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.
“You alright? I know I went pretty hard this time. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, but — “
Your hand came up to touch his face, landing on his neck instead. You slid it upward to cup his jaw, the feel of his patchy beard against your palm endearing. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you told him and drew him down for another kiss. “It was perfect. The best I’ve ever had,” you whispered against his lips.
He sighed, smiling against your mouth in relief and pleasure. When he shifted again, he saw you grimace. “Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he rushed to ask, lifting his weight off you.
You giggled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. There’s something cold and sticky all over your chest plate. It feels... icky.”
He glanced down to see your release from earlier smeared over his beskar, and he chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s your fault,” he teased. “You drowned me when you came the first time.”
Your mouth dropped open and, if not for his hand coming down to hold your arm in place, you would have jerked it away from your eyes to stare at him in shock. “I did not!” you gasped. mortified.
“Oh, you did, pretty girl,” he crooned. “I want to make you do it again.”
“What? N-Now?!”
A full-on laugh rumbled out of his chest this time. “No, sweet girl. As much as I’d love to, I don’t either one of us is going to be able to go another round after that last one.”
“Oh, thank the Maker,” you blurted out, and then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean —”
He sniffed in amusement and pecked you on the lips. “I know what you meant, mesh’la.” Sitting back on his knees, he rubbed at his face, grinning at the sticky feel of your spend drying in his mustache. He was positively covered in your cum, and he fucking loved it. His poor cock gave a valiant twitch before he tucked it back into his pants and stood. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get in the shower.” He retrieved his helmet, slipping it back on before bending to take you by the hand.
You groaned. “Just lemme sleep here. Can’t move right now.”
“You’ll freeze down here,” he chided you. “Now come on. I’ll help you.”
You whined as he hauled you onto your feet, and you staggered on your shaking legs. He shook his head and turned his back to you, bending his knees slightly. “Hop on. I’ll carry you up the ladder. Otherwise, we will be down here all night.”
You made a face at him, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, making a weak hop to get onto his back. Grasping your thighs, he hitched you up a little higher and stood, then trudged towards the ladder at the opposite end of the hold.
“Oh, stars,” you moaned out behind him, dropping your forehead to his back. “Do you think we woke Grogu? We were, uh... ahem... We were, you know, a little loud,” you whispered.
“Well, the ship’s still flying, and I didn’t hear anything break while we were down here, so I’m going to say no.”
You giggled. “He’s gonna get it tomorrow morning,” you vowed. “He was the reason I got caught up in that stupid net in the first place. He somehow managed to get on that top shelf with a whole sleeve of cookies and my datapad.” You paused, moaned again. “Shit. My datapad. It broke when I dropped it.”
“Don’t worry, mesh’la. We’ll get you another one, and I’ll talk to Grogu myself tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Okay?”
You sighed, a little grin tugging at your lips. “Okay.” You heaved a sigh, tightening your grip when Mando started to climb up the ladder. “I know one thing. I’m burning that stupid net when we get back to Nevarro.”
Mando huffed and shook his head. “Like hell you are. We’re bringing that home with us. It’s going up in the bedroom, right above the bed.”
You gasped in shock, rearing your head back. “Mando!”
His rumbling chuckle bounced off the metal walls of the ship, and a warmth like the sun bloomed in your chest as a smile as big as the Dune Sea spread across your face.
“Okay, fine. We’ll discuss the cargo net later. But right now, I want a shower.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mando purred, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Taking your hand, he led you into the ‘fresher.
Despite Mando’s earlier doubts, you found out that you both did indeed have another round left in you.
(End notes: Just wanted to mention @saradika because she created the dividers and banners I’m using. She makes them for free. You can check out her masterlist on her blog. Her fics are *chef’s kiss* too.)
#din djarin x fem reader#mando x fem reader#din x fem reader#mandalorian x fem reader#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#din x reader#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian smut#mando smut#din djarin smut#mando fic#mandalorian fanfic
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Stars Too Far
CHAPTER 3 - I Like It Here
The Mandalorian chases a bounty to an unknown planet on the outer rim that is deadly. He becomes stranded and meets a feral woman who lives on the planet.
A/N I had tried to post this without wearing my glasses at 3:00 AM (I don't sleep) which was a big mistake. I accidentally posted it twice and missed a bunch of spelling errors and it was just terrible. So I have reposted with my proper seeing plates on my face now and have even added onto it. Also, everyone loves a little Princess Bride crossover Easter Egg right? There’s also a little TLOU Easter egg near the end.
Minors DNI. No Smut in this one, but violence and some parts that may give you the feels and the sads. Technically, I guess "the sads" is "the feels" to some extent. I should just stop saying either of those things.
CHAPTER 3 - I Like It Here
Skinning and butchering a Rous is never an easy job, but this time it seemed like less work, knowing that someone else would enjoy the fruits of your labour. You slowly stirred the giant pot of stew on your wood burning stove, disassociating from everything as you mindlessly, yet happily, stared into the whirlpool of meat and vegetables below you. You knew Rous didn’t really taste good… or like anything apart from disappointment… but it was food and the best you could offer the Mandalorian and that gave you a sense of pride to be able to offer a small comfort after you both had done a long day’s work stripping your old ship of parts.
Your mind slowly churned the idea of getting, the hell, off this damn planet. You wondered what space really looked like. What it felt like to fly in a ship. Mostly, what it felt like to finally meet another person. What was this new affinity for the Mandalorian and could your night of passion have just been an emotional slip-up on his part? Did this put your trip off the planet at risk? Did you make a terrible tactical error? You brought the large pot over to the counter by the window and was surprised that when you looked up into your reflection, for the first time you saw an unintended smile on your face.
The front door to the cabin creaked open and you turned with a smile holding a wooden bowl of soup, expecting The Mandalorian to be standing there awaiting you to greet him.
The blaster was aimed squarely in between your eyes.
In shock, you dropped the stew and it splashed all over your legs and feet as the wooden bowl thudded and rolled. The sudden action didn’t phase Din. He continued to aim his blaster at your head and though you couldn’t see his expression behind his helmet you could tell by his body language that he meant to kill.
You raised your arms defensively, “I-uh didn’t know my cooking was that bad…” You nervously joke and trail off. He was completely silent and still aiming at you, like a stone statue that encompassed a burning silent core of rage. He didn’t offer a word of explanation. Only the rhythmic patting of stew dripping off your pants onto the floor could be heard, “You’re leaving me here and taking the ship, aren’t you?” you concluded quietly and sadly with your hands raised in the air in submission. It was your nightmare come true.
He had a large tattered blanket wrapped up in his other hand like a make-shift bag that was full of something quite large and bulky. You nodded at it, carefully, “What cha find there, Marco Pollo?”
Din paused, mulling over if he even wanted to interact with you, then released his grip on the corners of the blanket making the make-shift bag and its contents clamour loudly and heavily to the ground.
You see it and your heart leaps into your throat, your eyes grow wide and you shake your head frantically,
“I can explain!” You say trying to move your surrendered hands into a more reassuring gesture but Din took three steps forward and pushed the blaster tightly against your skull. You close your eyes and flinch away in fear as he pushes your head down and whispers ragefully into your ear.
“You’re killing Mandalorians.” He growls uncontrollably.
Your eyes well up with tears as you look down at the old, dusty Mandalorian armor that Din had dumped on the floor.
“I’m not!” The words escaped your mouth, not as a plea, but as chaotic sadness.
“Where did you get this from and why were you hiding it on your ship!” Din screamed in your face. You crumpled down onto the floor trying to stifle your tears but his blaster was still digging into your head and his rage filled stance shook with ferocity. Understanding that his anger was so deep, you realize this could very well be your last seconds alive.
“I didn’t get it from anywhere!” You sob, terrified. Din shoves your head with the blaster taunting you to continue explaining. He pushes your body back onto the floor and straddles it, his fury had his hand shaking as he held the blaster. You stare at with him with wide eyes and breathe frantically but offer nothing more, too scared that any response you may give will just further his resentment and you may end up dead. He’s frustrated you won’t talk so he offers his observation,
“You’re killing Mandalorians and selling our armor. “ He snarls. You suddenly jolt to try to escape but he easily grabs your wrists and holds you down. “You must have a deal with the bounties that come here. Lure Mandalorians here and kill us and take our armor then split the cost with them. That’s how you knew where I was in the jungle - because I was exactly where I was supposed to be in order for you to lure me here to kill me and take my armor. Why else would you have stayed on this hell-hole for so damn long? None of these broken ships could get a com signal?” He growls into your ear as he puts a hand on your chest and gruffly shoves you all the way onto your back.
You try to sit up and explain, “You can’t get a signal through the atmosphere here-”
He shoots his blaster just past your head as a warning shot. And you flail back onto the hard planks of the floor and wrench out sobs as you curl up and hold your head in terror. Din gets up.
“I’m taking the armor.” He states, “It belongs with my people… And I’m taking the ship parts and your map..” he states simply as he grabs your map off of the drafting table. You are terrified of being left behind and begin to beg,
“No! Please don’t leave me here! You don’t understand!” You plead.
Din wrenches one of your arms forward and cuffs it then secures the other end of the handcuffs to a pipe below the sink. He turns, picks up the Mandalorian armor he found and scoops it back into the blanket again then walks calmly out of the cabin without a word or a look back as the door slams shut.
“No!” You scream over and over hysterically, trying to wrench yourself from the sink pipe. It was no use. Din was gone and so was your ride off this planet.
………………
Din mounded up the ship parts the two of you had stripped from your rusted out Razor Crest onto a hover skid and began slowly walking across the field towards the jungle. The only sound was the gentle droning of the hover skid as it drifted close behind him. He paused at the edge of the field and looked up at the star filled, clear sky then back at the tiny dilapidated cabin. He felt a sharp stab of sorrow then shoved it down somewhere deep and pulled out your tattered map from his pocket he had stolen from the cabin and unfolded it, looking at the decades of your work scrawled out on the stained and delicate paper.
He took one last look at the cabin and could hear your terrified and desperate screams from inside, muffled by the space of the cold night air. He felt his eyes hotly well up underneath his helmet then swallowed, took a deep breath, and concluded that he had known of you had sprouted from lies and deception and weren’t the real you. He felt as if he had gotten attached to a hologram over a trap. He pushed forward down the trail, leaving you forever behind in the cabin. He would find his ship and leave you far behind with everything he felt about you.
………….
You’re finally exhausted from your cries and are curled in a ball with your arm still cuffed to the pipe under the sink. After a few sniffles and trying to wipe your nose on the shoulder of your tunic you realize you need to get free, not only to try and catch up with the Mandalorian, but also, you’ve heard starving to death is one of the most painful ways to die. Then you remember the conversation about the fresher you had with the Mandalorian - that the plumbing hadn’t worked for years because after a flood, the ground shifted and the couplings in all of the pipes under the cabin were all disconnected now. You didn’t want to pull out as you had been, you had to pull up, out of the ground. You yanked wildly up grunting then screaming as you jammed up on the pipe as hard as possible. Your wrist became bruised and cut with friction trauma. It seemed useless. You thought about how you would be forced to spend the rest of your life on this planet, day in and day out, in absolute terror. You thought about the Mandalorian out in the universe, believing that you were a cunning murderer for money. You thought about how at peace you felt in his arms and the last feeling of him you would have is his murderous anger.
Your hair was matted to your face from sweat and tears. With one last air shattering scream you wrenched your whole body up. A coupling snapped just beneath the floor and you flew backwards and landed with a dusty thud on your back.
Shaking off the landing, you raised your now free hand in disbelief with wide eyes. It took a moment for your brain to realize you were free, but once it did you scrambled to your feet, flailed to a small shelf and shoved a pile of ship parts off of a shelf and grabbed a small, dusty notebook then bolted out the front door.
Every muscle in your body worked harder than it ever had to sprint top speed across the field to catch up to Din.
You burst through the underbrush of the dark jungle and ran with your every last breath through the giant leaves and thick branches. As you run, the pitch black jungle begins to become spotted with glowing neon green algae specks that light up the silhouette of the leaves and land that cover their contours. You break through the tattered and knotted bushes to stand at the edge of a swamp. Your worst suspicion was playing out in front of you.
A Harkmon is hunched over on the other side of the swamp and seems to be playing with its food as its giant paws slowly shove and push something below its towering body.
You expertly clamber up the closest tree, grab a vine and swing down landing on top of the Harkmon. It rears up and exudes a jungle-shaking roar as it bucks to shake you off of it.
Din is laying below the Harkmon, injured but still very much alive.
You begin stabbing blindly, hoping to find the correct eye to blind. Your efforts are frivolous as the Harkmon continues to buck and roar. It wasn’t until it decides to ignore you and turns back to Din, who is shuffling back on his elbows, throwing his hands up to protect himself in terror, that you feel something you have never felt before.
“He’s mine…” You whisper through grated teeth at the Harkmon..
You let out a soul shattering scream.
A light emits out from your body, growing slowly.
A lantern light. A room light. A supernova.
Din turns his head away at the brightness and cowers into the ground.
A blinding flash engulfs the world and explodes.
You fall off of the Harkmon.
All of the Harkmon’s eyes were completely blinded by the light at once and it slumps to its side, dead.
You fall into the swamp water, unconscious, and Din scampers over and gathers you in his arms, unsure of what happened, but understanding you just saved him. He looks over his shoulder and sees his Razor Crest.
………….
You slowly regained consciousness and saw towers of metal cargo boxes stacked upon the metal floor you laid on. However, you are surprised to find yourself surrounded by some scratchy grey blankets and a few flat pillows. You appear to have woken up in a really terribly made make-shift bed on a floor somewhere. You hear a faint whirring sound like mechanics working and the sound of an air filtration system mixed with faint beeping.
As your vision becomes more clear and adjusts to the dark you see the silhouette of the Mandalorian leaning against a doorway with his arms crossed, staring at you. He doesn’t offer any words, just is staring at you.
“You’re not trying to kill me.” You state groggily as you shuffle into a sitting position.
Din tosses something on the floor that skids over to you. You look down and see that he’s found the notebook you took from your cabin before you took off after Din.
“My father’s diary…” You say trailing off and looking up at him.
“I owe you an apology.” He says softly, “You were never after my armor. Or collecting Mandalorians’ armor… Your father was a Mandalorian and that was his armor. That explains how you knew so much about my culture even though you had never left the planet or ever met anyone else. He had taught you about the ways of The Creed.” Din walked over and took your folded and weathered map out of his pocket and slowly handed it to you. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. I fixed up my Razor Crest but had to go back to your cabin to gather food. Your map saved me from getting lost and probably kept me alive. I saw the names marked on it - ‘Clara and Shy-Tan Garamond’. That’s where their graves are. I figured out that you never meant any harm to me.”
You struggled to your feet and looked from your map, up into Din’s visor. The overwhelming urge to wrap your arms tightly around Din was no longer controllable and you buried your face in his chest. He slowly raised his arms and you felt his hands slowly caressing your back to sooth you.
“I should have said something before but I didn’t want to answer any questions about my past.” you explain.
“I understand.” Din nodded.
“That’s an interesting bed you made me. Am I in the cargo hold?” you ask.
“Don’t worry, I don’t consider you cargo. There isn’t a ton of room for a person to be sleeping in the cockpit so this was the next best option. I didn’t want to put you in my cot since the door auto-shuts when someone enters it and I wanted to be able to hear you and keep an eye on you in case you needed help.”
“When do we leave this horrible planet?” You ask. Din cocks his head to one side and realizes you’re not aware of the situation yet.
“Come with me.” He takes your hand and leads you down a small corridor to the cockpit.
You feel as if you’ve been winded as your eyes become wide and jaw drops. Sprawling out the windscreen of the Razor Crest is countless stars as the universe stretches on forever before you. Your breath picks up and you almost begin hyperventilating,
“I’m in space?” you turn and whisper in awe to Din. He nods his head once.
“That,” He points out the side window down to a green planet far below, “Is Sypar.”
You look in awe at the seemingly tiny planet that is slowly getting smaller as the Razor Crest gently flies away from it. You put your hand on the window.
“Bye Mom… Bye Dad…” You whisper and trace your finger around the circumference of the planet on the window. Turning back to Din, you smile and he motions with an open palm to the co-pilots chair. You giggle and immediately jump into the Captains chair.
“Nice try…” Din says picking you up and placing you into the co-pilot's chair. “You only have experience with crashed ships so I think I’ll be the one doing the flying for a while.”
“Fine.” you roll your eyes and mope crossing your arms. After a moment you slowly reach forward to push a button but Din grabs your hand and stares at you in warning. Before he releases your hand he slowly guids it to another button and places it on it.
“You can push that one now.” He instructs.
A wide smile stretches across your face as you push the button and you hear the humm of the engines change slightly. You clap with joy and Din smiles under his helmet.
“I like it here.” You say happily, “That’s my button from now on.”
Din chuckles and nods, “Sure. That’s your button from now on.”
Back to Masterlist
#mandalorain fluff#mando fluff#mandalorian smut#mandalorian smutt#mandalorian fluff#star wars#razor crest#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian x fem reader#mando x reader#mando x fem reader#mandalorian#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff
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The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!
Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...
Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...
Word Count: 3,078
“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”
Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.
“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.
Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.
“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”
“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.
You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”
“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”
You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.
Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.
In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.
Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.
You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.
You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.
You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.
He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.
You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.
You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-
“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.
Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.
You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.
“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”
You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”
He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”
What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.
You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.
“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.
Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.
You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”
“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”
Your eyes widen. “What?”
Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.
“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.
“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life. “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”
You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”
Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”
You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”
“Close your eyes.”
“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”
“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”
Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…
It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.
His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.
“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.
“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.
You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”
“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”
You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”
His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.
Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.
Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.
More than anything. And you needed him.
“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”
And just like that, something within him finally switched.
“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”
Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”
“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”
You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.
“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.
Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.
“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”
“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.
“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”
His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.
“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.
“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.
You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.
“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.
“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”
But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.
“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.
And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.
“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”
He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.
His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.
“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.
“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.
“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.
His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.
He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.
“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”
You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”
“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing
#din djarin x reader smut#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you smut#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#din djarin x fem!reader#the mandalorian#mando x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin imagine#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader smut#Pedro Pascal x reader#Pedro pascal x reader smut#Pedro Pascal smut#din djarin x reader fluff#din djarin x reader angst#mando smut#mando x y/n#din djarin x jedi!reader#mando x jedi!reader#mando x fem!reader#the mandalorian x reader smut#mando imagine#din djarin x y/n
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a worthwhile purchase
pedro pascal x fem!reader | 3k words
summary: your new robe grips pedro's attention… leaving the both of you very pleased you bought it
warnings/notes: explicit (18+). smut. p in v. oral (fem receiving). established relationship. mutual teasing (but dominant pedro) some soft pedro. pretty much filth with some lead up.
a/n - first post!!! i've been writing for years but only now have the guts to post anything. sorry if it’s a bit too wordy (i just love writing detailed description) i really hope you enjoy - this one was very fun to make :)
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with a flick of the light switch, you make your way out of the darkened bathroom to join pedro in bed. the thought of curling up sweetly beside him almost as warm as the new robe, fresh from the dryer, that delicately hugs your figure.
to your surprise, he is sitting on the end of the bed, patiently, seemingly awaiting your arrival. the sound of your soft steps against the hardwood floor catches his attention, his head turning to you approaching in the doorway. instantly, his expression shifts - a look all to familiar, happily so.
“what?” you say a few times, at first with genuine curiosity, then more so with slight tease. you can’t help but smirk at him, against your best attempt at remaining unaffected by his gaze.
you’re stuck standing in your place against the doorframe; his affect on you strong as ever. nevertheless, you try to fight it - the best way you know how.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you say, teasingly. you know the meaning beneath that look. but you also know that how you approach this moment, makes the reason for that look’s presence even more avid.
“like what?�� he plays along, per usual. he has that way of never breaking character. that way of not revealing his fatal smirk until he wants to.
“like a kid in a candy store.” you reply, coyly.
“i can't help it, it's how i feel.” his head tilts to the side, as to take you all in. his stare burns into you, and you love the way it stings just right.
blushing, you walk towards him; pedro’s eyes never dropping their gaze upon yours. his legs spread instinctually to allow you closer, yet his hands stay prudently at his side. you step in as far as possible, thighs touching thighs. as you place your hands at his ever-so-tense shoulders, his hands wrap swiftly around your wrists, grabbing hold of them gently. his eyes remain locked on yours as his lips, in which your timid gaze has fallen to, part to speak. “when did you get this?”
at first, your mind is too blissed out to understand what he’s referring to, but his fingers quickly bring you back to reality. one of his hands now trails to the sleeve of your filly new robe; black and satin, draped over your body in the most heavenly way. the front hangs open, exposing your figure beneath it.
“today,” you state plainly.
“any particular reason?” he says suggestively.
“i like the way it makes me feel.”
“i like the way it makes you look.” he says, eyes widening at his own words as they scan up and down your frame. you scoff slightly in response, unconvinced of his words of praise.
“i’m not even in my sexy underwear.” you find yourself to say in a whisper, though not exactly sure why. probably the nerves from his longing eyes now back on yours.
“i still think they're sexy,” his lips remain parted slightly, as if to say more. his hands fall from their place on your arms to your hips, his fingers hanging gingerly from the waistband of your panties. then he continues, shyly like a child, but with enough charm to kill a village, “can i take them off?”
his hard, dominating gaze falls soft for a moment as he begs beneath you. with the slight shift, a surge of confidence rushes through you.
“i suppose.” you say teasingly, feeling as though you now have the upper hand.
his hands make their way around your waist to your back. icy, their touch sends a shiver up your spine. abruptly, to your dismay, you exclaim "jesus your hands are cold!” your eyes fall shut, head thrown back, as your hands grasp the hair at the back of his head for support.
“not for long.” he claims, the smirk in his voice evident. and just like that, as usual, your short-lived dominance has been stolen. your eyes remain shut for a moment, as if to prepare yourself for what’s to come.
“look at me.” you tilt your head down before slowly opening your eyes; eyelids hanging low as if to cover yourself somehow. but theres no staying covered when pedro is like this.
he looks up at you, pupils enlarging as he takes you all in. you feel his hand gently trace circles on your lower back. you watch him intently as he leans forward, placing a kiss between your breasts. the contact makes you shudder, your breath hitching and becoming heavier, more needy. you’re convinced he must be able to hear your heart beating from the outside; it’s certainly all you can hear in the moment. he hums as he pulls away from the lingering kiss.
“i love that after all these years you still react that way.” he thinks he is in control here, and although you know he is, you’re desperate to act the opposite. after a moment of collection, you have the courage to speak.
“and still, after all these years, i'm impatient.” you say giving him a certain look.
“i’m gonna take things slow.” - again with the assumed control, you think.
“i’ll allow it.” you say proudly, managing to remain serious and self-assured. he chuckles at your words, a defeated grin taking over his lips. that’s better.
both of pedro’s hands trail up, locating the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a swift, skilled motion. you’d hoped he’d find your wearing it to bed silly, leading to this eventually; but this is all the more greater than you’d anticipated.
your breasts spill out slightly, though still somewhat contained by the straps wrapped around your shoulders. pedro’s hands slowly snake out from behind your back, carefully caressing your waist on the way. reaching both arms up the billowing sleeves of your robe, he grabs ahold of the straps, gently bringing them down around your arms.
“now that's real sexy, huh?” you say sarcastically at the odd maneuver. he watches you intently as you speak, spellbound by you. you’re not even sure he heard what you said. then his eyes make way to your chest, your breasts bouncing out from your bra, now fallen to the floor.
“really sexy.” he says, eyeing your now exposed chest.
his hands find their way around you again, pulling you in to close the gap. you fall into him, your legs lazily finding their place on either side of him for support. eager, his mouth finds way to your breasts, leaving a trail of sweet kisses across your skin. the warm, wet sensation leaves you entranced. your chest rapidly heaves as he works his magic. coming up for air, he looks to you, eyes darkened with lust, before diving back in for more - this time to your mouth.
his kiss starts sweet, tender, and deepens to a rough, sloppy fashion. your hands, still tangled in his hair, move down to the neck of his shirt, pulling on it as if to signal him. he obeys, lifting his arms up, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary moment. once his shirt is off, thrown somewhere across the room, he goes right back for more.
his hands are immediately back to your waist, nuzzled under the soft satin of your robe. your lips go numb from the euphoria of it all. gently, he grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it softly. releasing it, with one last peck to your mouth, he pulls away. you whimper at the loss of contact.
“can you lay down for me?” he asks tenderly as he rises, guiding you up with him. you happily take his supporting arms, finding that your legs are no help in the process. eyes lock as you nod, biting your lip as you turn with him, your body now the one at the edge of the bed.
he leads you benevolently to lay on your back, using his knee to spread your legs as he does. your body melts into the mattress, completely at pedro’s will - and he lives for it.
your back arches as you adjust yourself on the bed. pedro’s rough hands lay softly on your knees, holding them open as he watches over you. “fuck,” his tone is rough before it turns sweet, “look at you...” you wonder if the words weren’t meant to slip out. you blush at them regardless.
as his hands slide up your thighs, your eyes squint shut in anticipation. pedro, however, wildly gazes down at you. “so wet for me already, huh...” he says brazenly, noticing your already soaked panties. his hands linger closer to tease the skin just before your still clothed pussy, achingly taking his time.
“pedro,” you whimper. the pace, although clearly stated earlier, is driving you crazy with need. he ignores your words and continues his game. climbing onto the end of the bed, he hovers over you. his hands now on your waist. his eyes locked on your burning face. you watch him, dazed, waiting for him to make his next move.
his fingers dance around the waistband of your panties, beginning to tug at them, then stopping all at once. you grunt. he laughs to himself, then proceeds again. looping around the hem, pedro pulls them down painfully slowly. the cool air of the room hits your most sensitive spot in a delightfully, erotic way.
as you lift your hips for him to remove the tangled cloth the rest of the way, he helps you - raising your legs the rest of the way then resting them over his shoulders when done. leaning down, you feel his hot breathe right where you want it.
with a kiss to each thigh, ever so close to your throbbing center, you let out an agonizing moan. “pedro, please.” you sound desperate, but you don’t care anymore.
“what?” acting coy, he begins to pull back to look to you, but you force him back down with your legs before he has the chance. you hear that smirk in his voice again when he speaks, “what do you want, baby? tell me.”
“touch me,” you say instantly, breathlessly, “now.”
in lieu of words, he breaks the distance. his mouth crashing into your pussy, spreading you open with his warm, eager tongue. he aims straight for your aching clit. a whimpering mess, your back wiggles and arches with every movement. your hands grasp hopelessly at the sheets before moving to his hair. his head bobs beneath your hands, your body squirming pleasantly beneath him.
“oh fuck,” you let out as his tongue works at all the places you need it most.
“that’s it baby,” his words are tender as he pulls away briefly. a whimper is all that fills the air as you mourn the loss of his sweet contact. with composure, you lift your head to look down at him. his face shiny, lips dripping with your slick, his eyes fixated on yours.
with a smirk he spits directly on your clit. your back arches at the euphoric sensation. eyes rolling back, your head follows swiftly with a thud to the pillow beneath it. before you can even plead for him to hurry up, pedro dives right back in for more; eager to clean up the mess he’s made.
your legs struggle to remain open, closing in around his head, as the feeling in your lower stomach builds more intensely. his hands, wrapped firmly around your thighs, hold you down and open for him. breaking contact with your aching slit once more, he speaks softly against your inner thigh, “use your hips baby, take what you need from me.” with a kiss to your warm skin, he resumes his favorite activity.
this time he aims further down, fucking your hole with his skillful tongue. your hips remain still beneath his touch, too focused on keeping a steady breath. but he is clear in his demands; he always is. pressing his nose to your clit, the motion of his work creates the perfect rhythm for an increasing high. tightening your grip on the curls by his neck, you wiggle and grind beneath his face. with every flick of his tongue, every bounce of his nose on your throbbing bud, you’re tugging, pulling at his hair. soft, pleased moans vibrate against you’re wet folds.
“oh god,” you exclaim, “fuckkk,” your words dissolve into a pathetic whimper. he takes this as a sign to go harder. mouth now returning to your clit, he begins to suck, his hand now nearing to join it. two rough fingers slip up and down your opening, acclimating them to your pussy. teasingly slowly and with intentional force, he fills you up just right.
“pedro please,” you huff out in agony. removing his mouth from your wet slit, he looks up to you; pretty as a devil. fingers still working your pussy he speaks, tone low and full of lust, “please... what?” you know the game he’s playing at.
not an ounce of the teasing confidence you earlier tried to possess is left in you as he tires you from the inside out. when you don’t speak quick enough, his rough fingers begin to bend, curling up into you in an assertive manner.
a frustrated “fuck,” leaves your lips, quivering from the overstimulation. “please,” he watches as your chest rises and falls with heavy, shaky breathes, “i need you...” you know that’s not going to satisfy him to the extent he desires, so you breathlessly continue, “i need you to fuck me.”
fingers slipping out of you with a pop, pedro brings them to your mouth with dark eyes searing into your own. “open,” you oblige with no contest. taking his dripping fingers into your mouth, your tongue licks the mess you’d made of them clean.
with swiftness, he’s at the end of the bed, on his feet before you; eyes never leaving yours. your own, heavy with lust, look hungrily up to him. your shaking fingers find their way to peaked nipples from their place clutching the sheets beneath you. circling your raised peaks you begin to thrust your hips at nothing; eager for the presence of him.
pedro’s hands are at his waistband. rapidly, he undoes his belt with ease. jeans falling to his feet, he wastes no time in fully removing them before he’s grabbing you by the hips to pull you to him.
adjusting himself to your entrance, he spits on your open, throbbing pussy once more before he slides in with delicious ease. you pull your bottom lip in to stop the whimper that begs to fall from it.
“that’s it baby, atta girl.” one of his hands presses firmly down on your right hip, holding you in place. at the same time, his other hand lingers up to grab ahold of your breast. the room, dim and hot, is filled only with the sounds of skin on skin, of whimpers and moans, of pure, overwhelming pleasure.
his thrusts are steady and deep before he suddenly pulls out, running the tip of his cock firmly against your aching clit. your back arches involuntarily, head digging firmly into the pillow for support. with efficiency, he’s back inside in an instant.
he’s huddled over on top you now, his chest on yours, craving to be as close to you as he can. as he dips his head into the curve of your neck, hot breathe fans across your skin sending a shiver down your burning hot spine. your rapid pulses and shaky breaths begin to sync as pedro pounds up into your g-spot. your arms go suddenly to grip his shoulder’s for support as he hits it just right.
head still buried in your neck, he leaves sweet kisses behind your ear, nipping at the soft the skin here and there. with his thrusts becoming sloppier and slower he speaks, “you close baby?” your walls clench from his words, your back arching under his weight. “fuck,” he hisses.
“cum for me baby,” he demands before softening his tone, “can you do that?” he slips out slightly before diving deep into you again. hard and fast, he works your body to climax. spasming, inside and out, you begin to whine and cry out. clenching down tight around his cock, you have so much built up energy you simply don’t know what to do with. your nails dig into the toned muscles at the back of his neck as you squirm beneath him. “yeahhh, just like that baby,” he hums, coaxing you through your orgasm.
the pressure in your stomach builds and builds before it collapses like a wave against the shore. gasping for air, your hands caress pedro’s head as he follows right behind you. with a final rough thrust, he’s done for - the tough man that held so much power over you, now a whimpering mess at your will.
“oh fuck baby, fuck,” he whines.
moments pass, your bodies still entwined as you come down from your shared breathless high. with a kiss to your temple, pedro finally removes his twitching cock from within you. a low and gutural groan escapes him as he slides through your tight walls one final time.
falling to the bed beside you, his arms stay tenderly wrapped around your body. laying there easing your breath, you look around the room. layers of clothing lay scattered about, but the only thing you care to take note of is your new robe tousled on the floor. a lazy smirk creeps onto your flushed face.
pedro, watching over you with admiration, brushes the unruly hair from your face. noticing your gaze fixated on something, he follows it. with a soft chuckle and a tender squeeze to your hip he states into the still calm after the storm, “i’m real glad you got that thing.” he plants a warm kiss to your shoulder. turning to face him, you sink into the depth of his big brown eyes.
“me too,” you hum, blissfully.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fluff#husband pedro pascal#joel miller#javier pena#din djarin#mando#the mandalorian#pedro pascal fic#pedro smut#pedro fluff#pedro pascal fandom#javier pena smut#joel miller smut#established relationship#fem reader#x reader#pedro is daddy#pedro#fairies-in-the-garden
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I just saw the video of the interviewer and Pedro where she called him daddy and asked how he was doing and his response was, “I’m alright, mama.” And I am in DESPERATE need of a fic. Wherever you want to go with it.
pairing: Pedro Pascal x interviewer!reader
a/n: This wasn't supposed to go like this. It's much more fluffy than I expected, but oh well, hope you enjoy.
You were nervous, as always.
The two years you'd been doing this flew out the window each time you knew you had to interview him.
It was such a stupid thing, a schoolgirl crush, but as much as you reminded yourself just how idiotic it was, the feeling never quite faded.
You had no idea what it was, the way he shook your hand the first time, the way his eyes never left yours, the sweet sound of your name rolling off his tongue...
It was all in the back of your mind, locked and loaded for you to remember.
You try to be calm with him though, playful even, but god if he doesn't make it hard.
He and his handsomeness and what you firmly believed was involuntary flirtatiousness.
You were taking a deep breath when you saw the flashes on the carpet starting to die down.
fuck.
It was time.
just like magic, he appeared before you in a few moments, followed by his assistant.
They exchanged a few words and you saw Pedro's eyes focus on you while the men beside him explained to him something to his ear.
You swallowed thickly, his gaze draining all the breath out of you.
God, he was beautiful, even his outfit fit him to a t.
Before you had gotten enough time to properly freak out, he was walking towards you.
"good evening Pedro!" you said cheerfully.
"good evening to you too Y/n"
You had to remind yourself his assistant had probably just reminded him of your name, and that he didn't just know it on the tip of his tongue.
You knew what you needed to say next, but the pit in your stomach informed you it wasn't a good idea.
You forced the fear down.
"so how're you doing daddy?"
He chuckled, and you couldn't help but stare.
"I'm alright mama" he grinned, and you swore you could feel your brain leaking out of your ears, as it had melted.
mama?
"you don't like that?" he noticed the expression on your face.
"I-I do" you blushed "maybe a little too much"
What the fuck
Why the fuck did you just say that?
He laughed softly, a smirk tugging at his lips " That's interesting" he spoke, and you felt like you were about to die, so you decided to change subject.
"so, if you remember-"
"I remember" he interrupted
"let me ask the question first" you laughed
"I don't have to, I remember every interview with you" he smiled "You're not easy to forget"
oh
If you were having troubles breathing before, your lungs were now completely useless.
"I-" you gulped, your eyes glancing at the expecting man behind the camera.
"It's alright sweetheart, what was the question?"
You were as red as the blood flowing beneath your skin.
"You really wanna get me fired, don't you?" you joked.
"that's the last thing I want" he shook his head "how else would I get to see you?"
"well there are other ways," you said before you could stop yourself.
He smirked, and you noticed his eyes scanning your face "I know there are" he said "Maybe I should get to work on those"
and just like that, your heart stopped.
did he mean...?
You couldn't think about it, not now, you had an interview to carry on, or you were actually gonna get fired.
"You have to stop"
"stop what?"
"I can't interview you if I have a heart attack, Pedro" You smiled, and he reciprocated, his eyes playful and yet somewhat... adoring.
"You're right, I'll stop," he said "What's the first question, mama?"
this bastard.
__ __ __
"thank you very much," you said, ending the interview.
"thank you" he smiled, as the camera shut off and the cameramen slipped away after murmuring something to your ear.
You could hear all the other interviewers shout and call for him, but for some reason, he didn't move.
"You should go," you told him "They're all waiting to interview you"
"I know," he said as if it physically pained him "but first I wanted to do something I've been thinking of for a while now"
"what's that?" you asked
"ask for your number"
You froze. Every molecule of your being stilled in shock.
"I-" you stuttered "a-are you serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"b-because you're Pedro Pascal"
He grinned "And you're y/n y/l/n, the most beautiful and charming woman I've ever met"
Your mouth couldn't help but to break into the dreamiest of smiles, and according to Pedro, the most breathtaking too.
"where?"
he frowned
"Where do I give you my number?"
he too, broke into a smile, relief washing over him as you accepted "here" he patted his pockets "Put it in my phone" he said, handing it to you.
You did, your fingers threatening to type wrong as they trembled.
"done" you said, giving it back
"I gotta go now" he sighed "but..."
your eyes shot up to his
"please don't change your mind sweetheart" he begged
"wouldn't dream of it" you promised, earning a big smile, as he backed away into the crowd on the carpet.
You put your hands on the metal fence in front of you, exhaling deeply as you let your head fall between your shoulders.
did that just really happen?
Did I finally go completely crazy?
And then, just as you were about to accept your fate as a soon-to-be psychiatric hospital patient, your phone dinged.
Two new messages from an unknown number lit up the screen.
-hey mama
-so do you have plans for tomorrow night?
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x fem reader#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal interview#the last of us hbo#the last of us#tlou#tlou hbo#the mandalorian#narcos#joel miller#javier pena#mando#pedro pascal x interviewer!reader#fluff
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HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!
Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!
Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍
HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!
Enough
Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.
Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)
Wordcount: 2.6k
Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff
masterlist
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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display.
But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you.
He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment.
He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.
He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?
So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive?
“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me?
But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.
“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you.
“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him?
“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction.
You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do.
Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night.
——————————————————————————————————
That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with.
But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would.
Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer.
“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.”
And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”.
By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.
“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.
“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor.
“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”
A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another.
You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms.
It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough.
hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore
#din dijarin x reader#din djarin x fem!reader#din djarin x you#din djarin#din djarin hurt/comfort#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin/reader#din djarin/you#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x female reader#mandalorian hurt/comfort#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian x you#mando x reader#mando x reader smut#mando x y/n#mando x you
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Ambrosial
summary: he knows your scent— he knows your heart and now he knows your people.
pairing: din djarin x fem!black!reader
contents: longing, pining, fluff, cultural differences
wc: 2.5k
an: this has been a longggggg time coming but this one's for you @cptn-nash and for all of the black women who feel left out of fandom. there’s always space for you.
pedro characters masterlist
The crest always smells like citrus with a hint of cinnamon these days. If Din closes his eyes he can imagine himself standing in an orchard with you by his side.
The warm, fresh smell is all thanks to you— to your hair, your people, and your culture. All things that you hold close to your heart and in turn, Din tries to respect. But, it is not lost on you that he cannot understand the importance of hair to you and your culture completely, not when his is hidden inside of a helmet day in and day out.
What he does know is how much he enjoys yours— watching the way your curls move when you walk, how they pile into the crown when you tie them up, how a bit of them spill out of the silk scarf you wear at night when Grogu refuses to sleep without you and the two of you take over his bed. He has to tear himself away from the sight of you—dark skin lit up in the moonlight and his foundling in his arms— slinking off to your bunk. But there is a reward when he gets there— the sweet, concentrated scent of you rests on the fabric of your pillow.
In the deepest recesses of his mind, there’s a place where there’s just the three of you. Din holds to his creed, unwaveringly so, but here there is no worry of exile. No worry that you or Grogu will be taken away from him on one of your adventures through the galaxy. There is just you, holding his son, curls blowing in some light evening breeze. There is just him, wrapping his arms around the both of you, his nose pressed into the crown of your head as he is able to succumb freely to your scent. He doesn’t let himself go there often, not when he is so unsure that he will ever have it.
The two of you are charted for a bounty when you ask him to make a detour that is quite out of the way— you need something for your hair. And while he’s more than happy to make sure your needs are met, he has to ask.
He glances back at you, his voice soft and not unkind as he asks, “Could you not use my things?”
If you didn’t share the fresher with him you doubt he even had things. He does, though they aren’t as intricate as yours. There are worse things than smelling like the Mandalorian, yes but proper hair care is sacred to you and your people.
You smile at him, shaking your head, “No, it doesn’t work like that. There are specifics, rituals, ingredients.”
“And it is…strict? Necessary?” You can practically hear the confusion in his voice, his lack of understanding.
“As necessary as this,” You murmur, leaning forward and raising a hand to cup the cheek of his helmet.
He blushes within the space of his helmet, unable to bite away the grin that spreads across his face. You and Din teeter on the edge of more— never explicitly naming or acknowledging any of the affection that passes between you, but undoubtedly knowing that the other is devoted. There’s something particularly sweet about his dedication without words. There is no doubt in your mind that he cares for you, but with this lifestyle, with his creed, neither of you make any move to change your relationship.
This is enough. It has to be.
When the silence sits thick between you for a beat too long, you start to ramble, “Like I told you before, hair is integral to our culture, it helps build every facet of relationships in my village. It sounds silly, but it's the basis of community. We would not be nearly as devoted to each other without hair at the center.”
He hums, delicately taking one of your curls in between his fingers. He studies it closely through the dark t of his visor, noticing the intricate way that it spirals. You let out a soft, shaky breath– feeling his eyes on you is something you’ve become used to, but the effect it has on you never dissipates.
“I could show you,” You murmur shyly, feeling the fascination in his gaze.
“Show me?” He repeats cautiously.
“Show you how my momma taught me to take care of it,” You suggest. After a moment of hesitation, you add, “Show you my home as you’ve shown me yours.”
The two of you have gone to Mandalore—just once, to show Grogu what should be his home and collect water from the sacred waters. You’ve always tried not to put too much stock in Din letting you tag along— where else were you meant to go if you’re his travel partner?
His helmet tilts, shock in his sandy voice, “You would take me to your home?”
You gaze with the black void of his visor breaks for a moment before you look up at him through your lashes, “Of course I would, so that you could see where I come from, how I’ve become who I am. You let me see yours. Would you like to see?”
He nods, finally releasing the curl that he was still holding between his fingers.
“Chart the course and then I will show you why I take so long in the fresher,” You say, backing out of the cockpit.
He meets you there just as you finish turning everything the correct way, labels up. You keep it all in a bin that you take to and from the fresher, not wanting to take up too much space.
You can’t see his shock but you can hear it in voice, in the way he tilts his helmet as he says, “This is…a lot.”
You laugh softly, before explaining, pointing at various bottles as you do, “There are different products for different times of year, holidays, special occasions.”
“Special occasions?”
“For one’s birthday or wedding. Even for a funeral. All milestones in life, from beginning to end.”
“And you must have all of it at all times?”
“You are to be prepared for all of the days of your and your neighbor’s life. If we were to meet someone from home during our travel and they were in need of something, then its my duty to help. It is our custom. Our way so to speak.”
Din hums in understanding. He understands living life a certain way more than anyone you’ve ever known. He starts to understand the importance— but this is just the beginning. He wants to know everything about your people, to fuse the two of your cultures into something loving and uniquely your own.
—
It takes the night to make it to your home, allowing you to arrive in the morning. You’d sent a communication to your mother as soon as Din had agreed, and she had excitedly responded, eager to see you after such a long stint away. Eager to meet Din, though you’d given her no indication that things had progressed romantically between the two of you.
When you wake in the morning, you find Din a little nervous to have the conversation that made you toss and turn most of the night. You know that he’s quite fond of Grogu, that he loves him with all his heart. You feel the same way, happy to take care of the little creature in any way that you can. It’s a bit confusing, raising a child with Din despite not knowing explicitly what you are. But, you love Grogu. Though you don’t let yourself think about it much, you love Din. You’d do whatever you could to make things easier for the two of them.
But what would your mother think about such an arrangement?
Din tilts his head at you in concern when you inhale a nervous breath, fingers twisting in your lap. He reaches for your hands, steadying them. “What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind?”
You gaze down at his gloved hand that covers nearly both of yours before you shake your head, assuring him quickly, “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Then what is it?” He asks gently.
“I know that Grogu is yours, and I’m not ashamed or embarrassed. But, I think it best he stays on the ship while we visit my mother. I don’t want her to assume anything that would make you uncomfortable.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “You were nervous to ask me this.”
You snort, “He’s your son, Din, of course I was nervous.”
“I understand,” He says, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “The next visit, we can introduce him to your mother.”
The next visit. He plans to make this habitual?
“You’re sure?”
“It’s your home. I’m sure if you’re sure,” He declares with a shrug. As if the decision is that easy for him.
“Thank you, Din.”
He simply squeezes your hand again before clearing his throat, saying that he needs to make sure Grogu is taken care of before you two land.
—
When the ship door opens, you and Din are met with a plethora of people, headed up by your mother. Din can’t help but notice how much of her is in you— the same rich color of your skin, the curls though they are greying. Some of your beauty comes from her, and some of it is uniquely you.
She gathers you into her arms immediately, hugging you tightly. She guides your curls back so that her lips are at the shell of your ear, “We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”
“I know, mama. I’ve missed you too,” You whisper back, pulling back to give you a watery smile.
She turns her curious gaze to Din, looking him up and down. “This is who you’ve been traveling with. A Mandalorian who will keep you safe.”
Din nods his head, and you about melt with embarrassment at the way she’s sizing him up.
“Yes, mama, this is Mando. He is my—“ You start to say but Din cuts you off smoothly, extending his hand to your mother.
“Her partner. Din, Din is my name,” He murmurs, taking her hands into his.
The smile on your mother’s face matches your own— wide, flustered and accompanied by warmth that spreads through your entire body. He may be encased in metal but he can always make a woman swoon.
“Din. Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”
“Mama,” You scold, giving Din a nervous smile.
“It’s a pleasure,” He murmurs to her, his voice just as sandy and nonchalant as ever.
Your mother starts to guide you towards the villages, and Din offers you his arm which you take readily. You’re happy to walk in silence as your mother catches you up on all the happenings— who’s married, given birth, changed professions, or died. All of it goes in one ear and out the other as you try to digest what’s just happened.
He gave her his name. What more is to come?
Eventually, the two of you are sequestered in a corner of your mother’s house as she helps another woman with her hair when Din turns to look at you. You raise a brow at him in question.
He leans closer to you, speaking in a hushed voice, “One day you will teach me to care for my own appropriately.”
“What do you mean?” You whisper back.
You feel his gaze meet yours through his helmet as he says, “When you are truly mine and I am truly yours.”
Your heart skips a beat before pounding rapidly in your chest. You stare into the dark t of his visor, mouth open in shock. He’s full of declarations today, ones that you had hoped would be true but never got your hopes up for. He simply nods his head at you, one of his gloved hands coming to tangle with your own.
Meeting your mother has clearly changed things— all that’s been left unsaid is now cleared up with just a single sentence from him.
His hand doesn’t leave yours as your mother shows him around the village, introducing him as your partner to everyone she can get to speak to her. Din feels a little sheepish, heat creeping into his cheeks by your mothers candidness, by the curious stares of those she speaks to. You keep him close, answering any questions and doing all of the talking if anyone is curious enough to bypass your mother and speak to the two of you.
You don’t even let go to hug those you recognize, holding onto his hand firmly as you wrap an arm around a few of those you encounter. At this, Din’s flush deepens, butterflies in his stomach.
You make him feel like just a man— the most ordinary man in the best way— like he isn’t bound to his creed or this life of hunting. You make him feel like he’s just your Din. A man so desperately in love with a woman that he’d do anything she asked and then some.
Your mother sends you home with droves of oils and butters and soaps. Some of them are for you, but by the labeling and color you can tell that many of them are for Din. There’s a variety, as with the helmet she couldn’t properly see the texture of his hair and gather the corresponding products. It’s your mother’s way of telling you she approves and you hold her tight, murmuring a soft thank you as you bid her goodbye.
The two of you unpack Din’s things, setting the bottles and containers up in a perfect line. You even fetch your own, adding more clutter that both of you are immediately quite fond of. It means more than Din could know, but he’s starting to learn.
He invites you into his bed that night and unlike all of the previous times he stays, gathering you into his arms in the pitch-black space. For the first time, you feel him. He buries his nose into your hair the way he’s always dreamed about.
That night once you’re asleep, Din heads to the fresher, curious about all of the things your mother had sent off with the both of you. You spent a lot of time here earlier— even more than usual. As soon as he’s inside, he sees why. You’ve labeled everything step by step and added his name to the products that are his.
He spends an ungodly amount of time under the water, closing his eyes as he succumbs to the sweet smells. And though they all smell wonderful, he finds himself reaching for your things. He wants to be surrounded by your scent.
When he slides under the covers beside you later, he smells like citrus— that telltale hint of cinnamon. He smells like you. One day, he’ll let you bury your nose in his hair so that you can smell him too. Until then, his helmet is filled with the scent of you and he will have it no other way.
#din djarin x black!reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x fem!reader#mando x black!reader#mando x reader#mando x fem!reader#black!reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin fluff#the mandalorian fanfiction#arson writes
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Frozen Ground: Part 1 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)
Content & Warnings: romantic fluff, love at first sight, Mandalorian culture
Word Count: 5.4k
Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.
A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection
Part 2
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
Mando’a Translations:
buir – father, mother
Mando’ade – Mandalorians (plural)
vod – brother, sister, comrade
The N1 Starfighter exits hyperspace and cruises through Itera airspace.
Grogu snoozes softly in Din’s lap. His small body is curled up in a ball, and his face is turned into Din’s chest plate as he slumbers. The foundling has been asleep the entire way to Itera, and he shows no sign of waking any time soon.
Din glances away from his foundling and out the N1’s viewport. A small twang of nervousness coils in the pit of his stomach as he observes the quickly approaching planet. It’s not the planet itself that worries Din, but why he was sent here in the first place. It is the task that Bo-Katan Kryze placed upon him with confidence that sits heavy on his shoulders.
Bo-Katan is uniting the clans. She is calling back the tribes in an effort to reclaim Mandalore. She heard a rumor that a reclusive tribe of Mandalorians dwell on Itera. Din is supposed to find them, and convince them to come back with him to Nevarro.
That is all the information he has. Bo-Katan had little intel to give. Din has no idea if these Mandalorians are more like his tribe, or if they lean more towards the ideals that Bo-Katan and her kin follow.
As Mandalorians, this tribe on Itera should welcome him. But Din knows that isn’t always the case. It wasn’t that long ago that Din had his own misgivings against fellow Mandalorians who walked the path differently than he.
When he first met Bo-Katan Kryze and her Nite Owls, Din shunned them. Even when they stepped in to save his foundling, and then later when a group of Quarren attacked him, Din was still reluctant to engage with them.
It’s not his proudest moment, and since then, much about his life has changed. The way he sees the galaxy, and his understanding of what it means to be a Mandalorian has shifted significantly in the last few years. While he holds tightly to his ideals, he knows that his way is not the only way.
Mandalorians should not hide in the dark any longer.
The cloudy expanse of Itera becomes clearer as Din cruises closer. Itera is a fertile farming planet located on the edge of the Middle Rim. Din rummaged around in some public achieves to scrounge up any information he could about it. According to the information he did manage to locate, Itera is relatively peaceful and mostly inhabited by small farming communities.
Even though Bo-Katan lacked information on who these Mandalorians are, she was able to provide Din with an estimated range of coordinates. She told him that they might be located within this range, but wasn’t entirely sure if her intel was reliable.
He’s worked with less.
Din punches in the numbers and the navigation system focuses in on a small bit of land in the northern hemisphere.
The N1’s engine purrs, and Grogu turns over in Din’s lap. The foundling does not wake.
Din’s ship breaks through the atmosphere and effortlessly transitions into the gray cloud cover. The clouds spit Din out over dreary farmland. Below him, droids and people work the land.
Din does not see any buildings that indicate a settlement. He checks the navigation system again and it reveals his suspicions. The coordinates Bo-Katan gave him cover too much land. He’ll need to tighten the search.
“Kriff me,” mutters Din, as he clears the coordinates from the nav system. “R5, scan the surface. Let’s find civilization.”
R5 chirps, and then a little antenna pops out of its head, spinning slowly in a circle. Din reduces his speed over the farmland, waiting for R5 to give him an answer. After a few minutes, the antenna retreats, and then the navigation system lights up with new coordinates.
Din follows the set path. While most of what Din sees is farmland, buildings start to appear in small intervals. At first, it’s just one or two, and then a cluster at a time. Before long, the wall of a settlement appears. There is open land to the left that Din deicides to land on.
He brings the N1 down softly.
Grogu still doesn’t stir. The little womprat has his right hand in his mouth, and a little line of drool runs down the back Grogu’s palm. Sighing, Din wipes it away.
“R5, what’s the temperature outside?” asks Din quietly as he watches a few swirls of snow drift down from the gray clouds. They land on the glass of the N1 and immediately melt.
R5 responds in a series of binary and Din sighs.
It’s far too cold for Grogu to be walking around for long periods of time. The snowy season has arrived on this planet, and Grogu will need something warmer to wear.
Slowly, Din releases the hatch and cold air drifts in. Using the blanket from Grogu’s pram, Din wraps the foundling in it, gently laying him down in the cockpit seat. Din steps out onto the wing and then the hard ground as the hatch closes.
He turns to R5. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.” R5 beeps in reply and Din heads toward the open gates.
The wood wall of the settlement seems more decorative than functional, roughly stopping at Din’s chest. Once Din approaches the entrance, he notices that there are no gates at all. It’s entirely open.
Strolling down the main street, Din realizes rather quickly that no one avoids him. It’s the exact opposite. Every person he passes greets Din with a friendly “hello” or nodding of the head before going about their day.
It’s bizarre. Strange. And it momentarily disorients him.
Din thought that he might ask around, see if he could find someone willing to talk to him. But every friendly face only causes him to question who he needs to speak to on locating the Mandalorian covert. No one shies away or avoids looking directly at his helmet. Each person is bold and unafraid of him.
Is the Mandalorian covert known to these people? Do they interact with them frequently?
Perhaps. It would explain why no one seems frightened of him.
Din enters deeper into the settlement, seeking out a cantina or public establishment where he might find information. Not finding any such place on the main road, Din tracks back to the very front of the settlement, deciding to head east and take a look around.
Rounding a corner, he hears the distinct sound of laughter. It’s not one person, or even a few, but a low roar like a small crowd. Din keeps walking, tracking the sound, coming across a small building that hardly looks big enough to hold a drinking establishment. In addition, the door is just red fabric handing from the top of the door frame.
The laughter comes again, and it’s much louder than before. He’s in the right spot.
With all the confidence Din can muster, he strides up to the curtain, pushing it aside and he steps into the building.
Din comes to a grinding halt, nearly tripping on his own feet.
This is not a cantina or anything similar.
A group of women, nearly fifteen in total, occupy the space. They all have large canvas sacks next to them, each one full of something different. Some look like they’re full of flower petals while others appear to hold bright red berries. The women vary in age. Most of them are older than Din, but there are a few who look to be about his age, give or take a few years.
They glance up but keep working, several of them smiling softly at him.
Din feels like an unwanted intruder even though the women appear calm and indifferent to his presence. He mumbles a “sorry” intended to back out the way he came, but the moment his boot slides backward, one of the women stands, her full attention on him.
“How can I help you, Mandalorian?”
You dust a few petals off your apron, missing the one in your hair, and approach Din, hands clasped in front of you. Din’s heart temporarily stutters to a stop before revving into a thudding beat he can feel in his ears. You’re pretty, but that isn’t the only thing he notices. You’re delicate lines and curves appeal to him in a way that trigger’s his protective instinct.
The flash of feeling, this need Din suddenly exhibits flashes bright and hot before his brain catches up and tries to smother it down to cooling embers.
“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Din tries to back out again but you only push in, and Din’s hand relexify forms a fist in an attempt to thwart the growing need to touch you.
“There is no interruption. How can I be of service to you?” Your head tilts to the right slightly, and the eagerness on your face sends blood to his groin.
Din’s eyes roam all over your body, but his eyes keep going back to the lone petal that’s tangled in the strands of your hair.
The other women still work, none of them glancing in Din’s direction. He decides to seek help, knowing it might not do much.
“There is a Mandalorian covert on this planet that I’m searching for. Do you know where I might find them?”
“Oh,” you murmur. Your eyes round slightly, and your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t realize—I thought you—” You shake your head and the petal in your hair stays put.
“Is there anyone here that might know?”
The gentle surprise morphs into amusement. “Everyone knows where they are.” The corners of your mouth curve up into a soft smile and Din nearly melts under that gaze. He is so absorbed in your beauty that your words are the last thing to catch up to him.
Everyone knows where they are?
Din does not have the chance to follow-up, you’re already talking, telling him exactly what he needs to know. “Just to the north of here. There’s a forested area where the covert lives.”
This is unusual, and Din is slightly unsure whether or not he can trust what he might find once he ventures in that direction.
“Do you know where exactly?”
You shake your head. “We do not go in. They like their privacy, and we are respectful of that.”
This is better news. The two groups must interact frequently. It would explain why everyone in town isn’t afraid of him.
“You’re not from around here?” you ask, curiosity tinging your tone.
“No,” replies Din. “I’m not.”
Your gaze softens. “If no one has, allow me to formally welcome you.”
Without thinking—without pausing to reconsider—Din reaches toward you, his gloved fingers plucking the petal from your hair. He presents it to you, open palmed.
Delicately, you lift it, rubbing it between your fingers. With your gaze on the petal, Din takes a step back, the curtain brushing against his back. You glance up, and Din inclines his head, disappearing quickly before he does something he’ll regret.
Din still burns beneath his armor even after he arrives back at the N1. Grogu is still sleeping, and his ship is entirely untouched. Din is careful with the foundling when he settles back into the cockpit.
He relays the information to R5 who promptly scans the area, sending new coordinates to the navigation system. Once clear, Din follows the trail north, finding the forest you mentioned. Din circles around a few times, eventually settling on a flat spot of land just outside the tree line. Din lowers the N1 to the planet’s surface. Grogu stirs in his lap but doesn’t wake.
He leaves Grogu behind again with R5, knowing that he can come back for Grogu later. The droid will look after him until Din can assess the situation.
As Din approaches the tree line, he pauses, surveying the ground around him. At first glance there are no footprints of even animal prints. He engages the scanner in his helmet. The moment it switches on, his screen lights up with glowing boot prints. They are everywhere, moving in so many directions that Din cannot find a pattern.
Frowning, Din switches over to another scanner. This one seeks out what only Mandalorians leave behind for others of their kind to find. He sweeps the scanner over the ground, and then the trees. He comes up empty.
Sighing, Din starts walking, stepping past the tree line and tries again, this time doing a slow sweep of the ground and trees. The hard ground crunches under his boots, and it is incredibly quiet, the only sound is the whistling wind.
On a tree in the distance, a soft glow catches Din’s attention in the scanner. He pauses, takes one step back for a better view. It’s a glowing Mythosaur with an arrow beneath it pointing to the right.
This is his lead. This is his break. You were telling the truth.
Din heads toward the glowing symbol and then follows the direction the arrow indicates, scanning the area for any other markers. He locates another that directs him deeper into the trees. It leads to a large rock formation. The stone slabs are layered over each other like a twisted crown.
There, glowing bright against the gray rock, is another Mythosaur.
“Hail, vod.”
Din whirls around, his hand on his blaster. The only thing that stays his hand from drawing the weapon is the use of the word vod.
A male Mandalorian drops from a tree branch and strides forward, stopping a few feet away from Din. His armor is dented in a few places and painted in various green tones that emulate the trees.
No wonder Din didn’t see him.
The man has not drawn his weapon, which means he does not see Din as a threat. But why would he? Mandalorians are stronger together, and any reunion, even between tribes, is a joyous one.
Din immediately removes his hand from his blaster, standing tall and proud. He has a job to do. “My name is Din Djarin. I’ve come on behalf of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.”
The green-clad Mandalorian crosses his arms. “I see,” he replies, tone grim. “And what does Lady Kryze want with us?”
Better to get it out now in case he’s turned away. “She is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”
The man is quiet for a beat before he answers. “And she wishes for us to join her?”
“She does.”
The Mandalorian nods, and drops his arms, striding forward. “Well, Din Djarin. You are welcome in our enclave, and we will hear what you have to say.” He presents his hand and Din clasps it. “I am Crix Lera. Welcome to our home.”
Crix releases Din’s hand. He brushes past Din and heads to the rock.
Din follows, and notices a small opening that Crix disappears inside. The space isn’t tight but the formation of the natural rock hides the entrance. You’d need to know exactly where it is to see it.
Din slides through the opening, only to find himself in a small tunnel. Crix walks ahead, and Din follows on his heels along the path. They don’t walk for long. The small tunnel begins to widen, and then opens up into a large communal area.
The first thing Din immediately notices are the lack of faces. Everyone wears a helmet except for a few small children. The communal area is circular, and the center of the room is lower than the rest of the floor. There is a fire burning there, the smoke curling upward to exit through a naturally formed ventilation shaft. In the rocky ceiling are small cut outs that let in some natural light.
When Din enters the area on Crix’s heels, several people pause and glance up, watching the duo as Crix walks along the edge of the room. Din takes this time to take a closer look at the Mandalorians he’s been sent to speak with.
They all appear healthy. Their armor is relatively clean and in good repair. The ratio of men to women is fairly equal, and the number of foundlings is much larger than his tribe’s. Din’s gaze passes over a woman standing by the far wall with a man and a small child. She’s clutching her belly, and that is when Din notices the slight bulge underneath her chest plate.
“You’ll meet with our armorer and tribe leaders,” says Crix over his shoulder, drawing Din’s attention away from the slowly growing crowd of Mandalorians.
“Do they make all the decisions?”
Crix shakes his head. “No. We make them as a group. But when it comes to matters pertaining to the whole clan, they are the ones who mediate the discussions. We will often look to them for final guidance.”
Din does not reply. It’s similar to how his own tribe operates, but he still has too many questions.
Crix guides Din to a small cut in the rock wall. It’s an archway, and it deposits them into a much smaller chamber. A simple forge sits in the center of the room. A Mandalorian Armorer and a child stand together near a workbench. The child is young but old enough to start their training. The two of them talk softly.
On the opposite side of the room, another Mandalorian hammers away at some armor. It’s clear that this is still a child, perhaps a teenager, and must be an apprentice of some kind because his armor is like that of the armorer’s.
The armorer and child both look up when Din and Crix enter the room. Din hangs back near the archway as Crix addresses the armorer.
“We have a visitor, Vikal. This is Din Djarin. Sent to us by Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. He says she is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”
At the mention of retaking Mandalore, the apprentice pauses mid-swing to glance over at Din. The small child at Vikal’s hip shifts slightly, clearly nervous.
Vikal sets the vambrace he’s holding on top of the workbench. He turns toward the apprentice. “Darro. Take your brother and leave us.”
Darro immediately responds, heading in their direction.
“But buir!” protests the child, his little fist tugging on his father’s hand.
“Hush. Go with your brother.” Vikal places a hand on the child’s shoulder just as Darro presents his hand. The child takes it, and Din steps to the side as they pass through the archway.
Once they leave, Vikal steps out from around the workbench and strides forward, pausing just a few feet away from Din. Vikal’s armor and clothes are all black. It’s almost like looking into the void of space. He’s tall, too. Perhaps as tall or even surpassing Paz Vizsla in size.
“Yours?” asks Din, using the question to learn a little bit about the tribe’s practices.
“Mine,” confirms Vikal. But he doesn’t elaborate, and Din decides not to say anything more. “Have you just arrived?” inquires Vikal. “From Mandalore?”
“No,” answers Din. “I came from Nevarro.”
“That is far.”
Vikal closes the distance, his helmet moving with him as he clearly observers Din’s armor. It is not an objectifying look, but an appreciation. “You wear fine work.”
“The armorer of my tribe forged it for me. I am honored by it.”
“This is the Way,” states Vikal.
“This is the Way,” replies Din.
Vikal inclines his head and takes a step back. “You are our guest here. You shall have our hospitality before we speak on more serious matters. As warriors, we are always so quick to take action. Rest. Eat. We will proceed from there.” He turns to Crix. “See to it that Din Djarin has a private room and a hot meal.”
Crix nods, and he and Din depart.
In his private room, Din removes his helmet, and eats.
The food is hot. Fresh. So different from the plain rations he’s used to eating with his tribe. Din wants to know more about this one. He is curious to their ways. When Crix comes for him, the two return to the main communal area. The entire tribe is there, including all the younglings. It is then that he notices several Mandalorians clutching infants.
Din scans the crowd and his heart drops into his stomach.
R5 is here. The droid is on Vikal’s left side. On the armorer’s right, sitting on the floor near his boots, is Grogu. The foundling has a wooden bowl before him. He reaches in, and lifts a handful of something that Din doesn’t recognize and shoves it all into his mouth.
Din immediately aims for Grogu. Seeming to sense him, Grogu glances up and coos, his food covered hands reaching for Din.
“I assume this one is yours?” asks Vikal as Din lifts Grogu and holds the little womprat up to his face. Din checks him over but the foundling is fine. No signs of injury expect the food that’s smeared all over the child’s hands and face.
“Yes,” sighs Din. Crix holds out a hand, indicating he should take a seat. Din does so but he puts Grogu back on the floor. The foundling immediately crawls toward the bowl.
“Your foundling and the droid arrived not too long ago. Found us quite easily. Impressive for one so young.”
Din smiles softly behind the helmet.
Vikal rubs his knees and then stands, striding forward, stopping before the fire. The entire room quiets.
“Mando’ade! We welcome Din Djarin.” Vikal turns toward Din and extends his arm in Din’s direction. The Mandalorians in attendance beat their fists against their chests three times before dropping their arms. “He brings us an important message.”
Vikal retreats, stopping before Din. “Approach, vod. We will hear you.”
Din stands slowly. Grogu’s head tilts to the side, watching Din, his mouth full of food. Din walks to the center of the room just shy of the fire.
“I am Din Djarin. My tribe lives on Nevarro. I have come before you at the behest of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. She is rallying the clans in an effort to return to and reclaim our ancestral home world of Mandalore. She sent me to ask you if you are willing to join our efforts.”
Din pauses and every single person in the room is watching him, saying nothing. He swallows, knowing that he’ll need to say more to convince them to join.
“I know that I am in no position to ask this of any of you. But we have lived in the dark for too long. Our people are scattered. Like stars in the galaxy. Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again. So that our culture may flourish and our children can feel what is it to play in the sunlight.”
The Mandalorians around him chatter softly, but Din cannot differentiate between their conversations. He turns toward Vikal, and the man stands. “Is Lady Kryze certain of success?” he asks, addressing Din. “Mandalorians are few, and our preservation is important. Can she guarantee that there will not be needless death?”
No.
Din sighs, his shoulders heaving slightly. “I cannot give you any such certainties.”
Another Mandalorian stands. It is a man, and his armor is a deep red. “That planet is cursed. The air is unbreathable and nothing grows. We have all heard the stories. Why should we go back to a dead planet?”
“This is not true,” says Din vehemently. “I have been to the surface. I have seen Mandalore with my own eyes. The air is breathable. Life is possible.”
The quiet chatter heightens. Becomes a dull roar.
“What is Lady Kryze’s plan for when the planet is retaken?” This time, a woman asks the question.
“Her goal is the Great Forge. That will be our place of operations and base for reconstruction.”
Din will tell them the truth. There is no reason to hide anything.
“But will we have a place there? Can we call Mandalore home? Or must we return to this planet?”
“All Mandalorians are welcome.”
Vikal nods and stands. “Does anyone else have questions for Din Djarin?” No one replies. “Thank you for relaying Lady Kryze’s message. You have given us much to consider.” Vikal addresses the room. “We will reflect on this, and then convene tomorrow evening for deeper discussion.”
The crowd of Mandalorians incline their heads and place their fists over their hearts. When their arms drop back to their sides, many start to get up and leave.
This isn’t the outcome Din was hoping for. He thought he might receive a quick answer, or even an indication that they are willing to join.
Crix comes up beside Din. “Decisions are never made quickly. You’ll likely be here a few days.”
“As long as I can return with an answer.”
“I’ll come for you tomorrow morning. The local population is holding a festival to celebrate the coming cold.”
Din thinks back to you and the women in that small dwelling. He didn’t exactly get a good look at what you were doing, but Din can only assume the two are connected.
Din tips is head to the side. “You mingle with them?”
“To an extent,” shrugs Crix. “They have no standing army or protection. We look after them, and they take care of us. It has kept our tribe safe for many years.”
Din nods and then bends at the knees to pick up Grogu, cradling the foundling close to his heart.
Crix fetches Din in the early hours of the morning. Grogu is left behind with the other younglings. Din is reluctant to do so, but Crix is persuasive, and Grogu is visibly happy to be amongst other children.
The two men head back through the tunnel, stepping out into the forest. The sun is starting to rise but it’s hard to see through the gray clouds. It snowed overnight, and there is a dusting across the forest floor.
Three Mandalorians mingle just outside the exit. Two men and one woman. They greet Crix with firm handshakes.
“This is Din Djarin,” says Crix. “He’s joining us on our visit into town.”
“Passionate speech you made last night. I’m Jido. Welcome.” Jido and Din clasp forearms and shake.
Jido steps back and points his thumb over his shoulder at the other two Mandalorians. “That’s Ran and Cerra.” Ran gives Din a half-hearted salute while Cerra lifts her hand in greeting. Jido leans in and whispers. “They’re a bit boring.”
“Heard that,” snaps Cerra as she turns her back on the group. “We going?”
The five of them head into the trees, walking in the direction that Din entered from. When they exit, Din heads for the N1, looking it over for any signs of tampering. It’s clean, and Din sighs with relief.
“The people here don’t touch things that aren’t theirs. Your ship will be fine,” states Crix as he walks up beside Din. He runs his gloved hand over the wing in appreciation.
“On Tatooine, I had a run in with some Jawas,” replies Din.
Crix snorts. “What was left of your ship?”
“Nothing.”
Jido, Ran, and Cerra’s jetpacks ignite. Crix and Din follow suit, the five of them launching into the air. Din trails behind, following the four Mandalorians as they jet across dreary farmland.
In minutes they approach the small settlement Din visited yesterday, landing right outside the wall. The people moving about don’t even seem to care that a group of Mandalorians landed amongst them. They keep going about their lives as if is this the norm. It’s the same reaction they had with Din.
Din is almost always the stranger. The unknown variable. In crowded places, he is avoided unless someone needs something from him.
He stays at the back of the pack. Jido, Ran, Crix, and Cerra all appear relaxed. They chat amongst themselves, and even stop for an old woman who presents a basket to them full of the red berries Din saw yesterday. Each Mandalorian takes a handful and deposits the goods into various pockets of their flightsuits.
The old woman approaches Din and holds the basket out to him. He doesn’t want to offend her. He scoops out a decent handful and finds a home for them. He’ll share it with Grogu when he returns.
The old woman inclines her head and moves on. Din’s helmet follows her but Crix taps against Din’s upper arm, drawing his attention away from the woman.
Din inhales, and he isn’t sure if the voice receiver in his helmet picks up the soft sound.
You’re standing right there, eyes bright and eager.
“You found them,” you say enthusiastically.
“I did.” Din is nervous. Why is he nervous? Do you do this to him?
Crix crosses his arms and pops a hip. “The two of you know each other?”
You laugh, and it’s the loveliest sound Din has ever heard. “He stumbled in to Tarra’s workshop while we were preparing the Daily Strands.”
“Make enough for us?” asks Jido, his voice a bit sultry. A bit teasing. Din instantly hates that he’s speaking to you that way.
“There are plenty. So, yes,” you tease back, smiling widely.
Crix shifts, turning his body toward Din. “Since you’re our guest, you don’t need to follow us around while we work.” Crix inclines his head in your direction. “She’ll show you around a bit.”
You look so hopeful that Din cannot say no.
He walks beside you the entire time as you go on about the important buildings, the history of the people, and the finer details of your culture. Din is enraptured by how animated you are toward him. He hardly risks asking any questions, mostly wanting to hear you talk.
“Here we are.” You extend your hand toward the building Din stumbled into yesterday.
“Are we going inside?” asks Din skeptically.
You grin and push back the curtain, gesturing for him to come inside. He follows, and this time there are only two other women in this space. They greet Din politely, but return to their work. You walk over to a large table. On it, are…necklaces? Din isn’t entirely sure what they are.
With caution, he approaches, you present one to him.
“These are Daily Strands. We wear them every day during the winter observance.” You point to the threads holding it together. “The threaded cord is the base, symbolizing the importance of community.” Next, you point to the flower petals. “These symbolize the eventual thaw and growth of new life.” Then the red berries. “These are native to the planet. We dry them out to represent the frozen ground.”
“And what do these symbolize?” asks Din, pointing to long, thin, green, stick-like leaves.
“Abundance. These are needles from local trees, and they grow everywhere.” You smile softly. “But it’s more of a wish for prosperity in the future.”
These are what Jido and Crix were referring to.
You gently lift the Daily Strand, presenting it to Din like an offering. “It’s customary to wear one of these.”
Din does not refuse. Instead, he lowers at the waist so that you can slide it over his helmet and around his neck.
You gently draw away and your hands fall to your skirts, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in nervousness. “It is also customary for the giver to kiss the cheeks of the receiver.” You shrug. “But I can make an exception given the circumstances.”
Din remembers how eager Jido was to receiving one of these. Briefly, Din imagines you kiss the sides of Jido and Crix’s helmets, and Din instantly simmers.
Not knowing how to ask, Din bends again, this time just enough that all you’ll need to do is to go up on your toes to place those gentle lips against his beskar.
“No exceptions,” he murmurs.
Your mouth forms a soft o, and then it cools, turning into tender satisfaction. Slowly, you kiss the curve of his helmet on the right side and then the left.
Even with the helmet on, Din still manages to catch a whiff of your scent. You smell like the trees and warm sugar. Without instruction, his hand brushes against your hip.
You do not draw away, and that pleases something deep within Din. When you pull back, Din instantly misses your heat.
“I will wear this every day,” says Din, his hand resting against it briefly.
You laugh, and Din doesn’t understand what you find so funny. “It’s a Daily Strand. You receive a new one each day.”
Every day? Does that mean you’ll kiss him every time you place a new one around his neck?
“Then I will be back tomorrow for a new one.”
“Promise?” you murmur.
“Promise.”
Part 2
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Girl, I need me some dom! Possessive as hell Din. Maybe him having reader chained up or tied up or something for acting like a brat or flirting with someone else and he punishes and edges her, learning her body and discovering what kinks make her go BRRRRR. Maybe some nipple play? Some choking and breath play? THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE 🫡🫡🫡
Who Do You Belong To?
Possessive/Brat Tamer!Din Djarin x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Summary: You and Din are on a random planet for a bounty. You split up to gain intel and he flirts to get what he needs from the locals. You get jealous and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine for the next bounty. He causes a scene and drags you back to the Crest where he makes sure you know who you belong to.
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, established relationship, canon divergent (he’s still got the Razor Crest in this and Grogu is with Luke), Jealous/Possessive!Din, Dom!Din, Brat Tamer!Din, restraints, edging, teasing, nipple play, helmet stays on, fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, two different positions, choking, creampie, slight breeding kink, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics
You and Din are fighting currently, giving each other the silent treatment. Which is hard to do in a small space like the Razor Crest and when you sleep together on the same tiny cot. The fight started last night while looking for a bounty
You were on random some Outer Rim planet and staking out the local cantina. You and Din decided to split up and chat up some of the locals to gain intel. And that’s when a certain female green Twi’lek got a bit too touchy feely with your Mandalorian. You watched it happen across the room. She touched his bicep and giggled. You could hear her shrill voice above the loud noises of the cantina, marveling at how strong he felt. You saw her scooch closer and whisper something beside his helmet. You could only imagine what she could’ve possibly said to him but that’s when you decided you had enough of this. You walked right over there and stood in between the two of them at the bar. Her smile melted into a scowl at your presence.
With a hand on your hip, you asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Excuse me?” she laughed, “Mando and I were having a conversation and last time I checked you weren’t included.”
“So? He’s with me,” you challenged.
“Doesn’t seem like it, sweetie. Your man was flirting pretty hard with me,” she said smugly.
“Oh you think he was flirting with you?” you laughed, “He’s using you, to get what we’re both after.”
The smile faded from her face. And she knew exactly what your deal was.
“Oh I know exactly what your deal is. And I’m not giving you any information,” she said, turning to face the bar again.
Din sighed and stormed out of there. You followed him outside and as soon as you were alone he said, “Really? Was that necessary? Now the bounty is going to know we’re after him.”
“Well I’m sorry it looked like she was flirting with you,” you said, folding your arms.
“She was,” he said nonchalantly.
“Were you flirting back?”
“Yes, but it’s for the sake of getting the job done. It’s not real,” he shrugged.
“It’s still flirting,” you scoffed.
“It doesn’t even matter now. We’re going to have to get a new bounty because this one is out of the question now.”
You rolled your eyes and followed him back to the Crest. He lowered the exit ramp and you headed inside, climbing up the ladder to the cockpit and sitting down in one of the passenger seats without saying a word to him. He prepared the Crest for takeoff and set a course back to Nevarro. The whole trip back was silent, the tension hung heavy in the air around you. You resigned to staying back in the Crest as he collected a new bounty from Karga. The sun started to set by the time Din returned. You ate your ration separately like you always do but again didn’t speak the whole time. You changed into your pajamas and got into your routine of sleeping pressed against each other every night. He still held you despite the two of you being angry with each other. You drifted off to sleep replaying the night’s events in your head.
That was last night. Now it’s the following evening on some other Outer Rim planet again. This bounty brings you to a cantina… again. The sun is about to set and the town is winding down for the night (except for the cantina of course). You walk through the desolate streets, completely silent. Which you’re honestly getting really fucking tired of.
“I’ll go in first,” he says, stopping you in front of the entrance.
You roll your eyes. “Sure whatever you say,” you respond, deciding to act like a brat. Just to get a rise out of him.
He enters without saying a word to you and you follow soon after, eyes scanning the room. You watch him make his rounds, chatting up some women in a booth. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, along with a bit of rage. But you’re gonna give him a taste of his own medicine.
You spot a decently attractive man sitting at the bar who just happens to have an empty seat next to him. You head straight over there and sit, not saying anything to him just yet. But it turns out you don’t have to.
“Can’t say I’ve seen you here before,” he says, turning to face you. But you don’t meet his gaze yet.
“You haven’t,” you say, flagging down the bartender for a drink.
“A place like this is too rough for a pretty girl like you,” he says, sipping his own drink.
“Is that so?” you ask, turning and placing your elbow on the bar, resting your head on your hand.
The bartender stops in front of you and the man speaks first.
“Put whatever she’s getting on my tab,” he says, winking at the bartender.
“Oh, thanks! I’ll just have some spotchka.”
You glance over at Din in a booth with three women across the room. You could hear them laughing at practically everything he was saying. One of the women said something and Din’s response practically has your jaw on the floor. He’s laughing, like genuinely laughing, which is a rare occurrence.
She can’t be that fucking funny, you think to yourself as you seethe with anger. The man gave you the silent treatment for the past day and these random women in a cantina manage to pull a laugh out of him? Absolutely not.
The bartender brings your spotchka and you immediately start taking frequent sips, needing a little bit of liquid confidence for what you’re about to do. The man starts talking you up, asking all sorts of questions about you. You give him lies of course. This random man on this barren planet didn’t need to know about your life. You learn that his name is Orron. He’s a mechanic on this planet, mainly working on speeders. And he honestly seems like a nice guy. Throughout your conversation with him you glance over at Din, who’s still talking to those women but at one point he meets your gaze. So you decide to turn up the flirting. You start twirling your hair and laughing at pretty much anything he says. You even touch his bicep at one point. Honestly you’ve forgotten completely about the bounty Din’s after and you’re just flat out flirting now. You notice Din looked away from you and has gone back to talk with the women, so you feel a little defeated; defeated that that wasn’t enough to get his attention completely. You resign to letting Orron buy you more drinks and listening to more of his stories.
All of a sudden he goes in for a kiss. And kriff you didn’t mean for it to go this far. But before his lips could make contact with yours you feel a hand grip your shoulder. You look up and see Din, towering over you ominously.
“Hey buddy you’re interrupting something here,” Orron says, the aggravation seeping from his voice.
“Oh, I was? That’s too bad,” Din says sarcastically, “Come on, cyar’ika. We’re leaving.”
“Uh she’s with me, pal,” Orron says, standing and getting in Din’s face (well really helmet).
“No, she’s not,” Din says, grabbing Orron by the collar of his shirt.
“Hey! Knock it off! Go out on the street if you’re gonna fight!” the bartender shouts from behind the counter.
Din lets go and grumbles before storming out of the cantina. You stand and turn on your heel to follow him, not caring about Orron anymore. You try to ignore all of the faces staring at you on the way out before stepping out into the street and the crisp night time air. The alcohol is hitting you all at once, making you stumble a bit.
“What was that all about?” Din angrily asks.
“It was for the sake of getting the job done,” you reply, mocking him from yesterday.
“He was going to kiss you.”
“At least he can,” you snap.
Silence falls between you immediately. He grabs you by the arm and drags you back to the ship despite your protests.
“Let go! Stop it!” you shout but he doesn’t budge, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Thank the Maker the streets are dead or else you’d be getting weird looks. Maybe someone would even intervene.
He drops at the Crest lowers the exit ramp, pulling you inside before closing it behind him. He sits you down on a crate in the storage area of the ship and paces back and forth in front of you. You can tell he’s absolutely fuming under the helmet. You’d give anything to see his face at this moment.
“So you think you can just flirt with another man in front of me?” he says, stopping in front of you.
“So? You flirted with that twi’lek yesterday in front of me, too,” you respond, rolling your eyes.
He takes a step towards you and rests his arm against the wall, towering over you. His voice drops a few octaves.
“Do I have to show you who you belong to?”
“Maybe you do.”
“Strip.”
“Wha-”
“I said strip.”
He removes his arm from the wall behind you and steps back so you can get undressed. The anticipation of what he’s going to do makes your stomach stir excitedly. You rise from the crate you were sitting on and pull your shirt over your head, followed by sliding off your pants. You stand there in front of Din and wait for further instructions. The visor of his helmet trails up and down your naked form.
“Turn around,” he says sternly.
You turn around so your back is facing him. He grabs something off the shelf next to him and he grabs your hands. You feel something cold wrap around your wrist; handcuffs. You feel them fasten and then he pulls you against him, so your back is flush against his chest. The coolness of the beskar is a stark difference compared to the heat radiating off your skin in anticipation of his touch. He brings a gloved hand to your outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. He pinches it, emitting a small gasp from you. His other hand moves down your groin, palming the soft flesh and driving you insane. You ache for more contact, getting sick of the feather light touch.
“Din, please!” you beg.
A low chuckle comes out from under the helmet.
“Cyar’ika, you’re going to be begging all night. Better get used to it now.”
You whine and he brings a finger to the entrance of your cunt, trailing it up and down delicately. He moves his finger painstakingly slow as you grow wetter by the second. He goes to slip a finger in but pulls it away at the last second. You practically cry out at the false sense of hope and stimulation.
“Oh I bet you want it so bad,” he teases.
“So bad, Din. Please,” you whine.
“What makes you think I should give it to you? You were being a real bad girl.”
“I’m sorry, Din. I mean it.”
“Do you know who you belong to?”
“You! Only you!”
Without warning he plunges a finger into you, curling it upwards and working your slick walls. You moan out in response to getting the stimulation you were aching for.
“All this for one finger?” he teases as you writhe against him.
“I need more, Din. Please.”
He pulls his hand away from you and you whine at the absence of touch. But then he pulls his glove off and tosses it on the floor before returning his hand to your cunt.
“Wanted to feel how wet you are,” he purrs.
His other hand continues to pinch and squeeze your nipple, forming into a stiff peak between his fingertips. He slides a second finger in and you feel like you’re already going to cum, thanks to all the teasing. Your walls tighten around him and the muscles in your abdomen tense up in anticipation but before you can cum he pulls his fingers from you once more. You cry out at all of the pleasure that was built up slowly melting away.
“I didn’t say you could cum.”
You whimper. He brings his hand slowly back to your cunt and says, “When I feel you get close you better ask for permission or else I’ll stop again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes,” you say with a shaky breath.
He returns his fingers inside you and brings you to the edge in no time. Your cunt clenches his fingers like a vice, soaking them completely.
“Please, Din. Can I cum?”
“Hmm,” he says, taking a second to think about it before moving his fingers faster. “Fine.”
And so you finally cum, the relief washing over you in waves after all the teasing and edging. Your release soaks his fingers and his hand, all the way down to his wrist. He leaves fingers inside you as you ride out your high, feeling the way your walls clench and release around him. He pulls them out of you when you’re done and says, “We’re not finished yet.”
He drags you by the arm over to the cot, your legs shaking underneath you. He grabs your hips and moves so you’re facing the cot.
“Bend over,” he says gruffly by your ear.
You bend over and rest your upper half on the bend, standing on your tiptoes and arching your back. He grabs one of your asscheeks and squeezes, pulling you into him. His cock is pitching a tent in his flight suit and you feel it twitch against you. He takes his other glove off and tosses it on the bed before pulling his cock out. His fingers breech your entrance again, gathering your release on his hand. He slicks his cock and hooks his hands on your hips. He thrusts into you hard, giving you no time to adjust to his size.
“Din!” you whine.
“You can take it,” he says sternly, slamming his hips into you.
With each thrust he drives his length deeper and deeper into you, hitting all of the perfect angles. The way he’s plowing into you makes you feral but you also wish you could see your man made of beskar above you. But then he grabs your hair and pulls you upright against him. His other hand returns to your nipple again, pinching it and alternating between the other.
“Can he do this to you?” he says, tightening his grip on your hair. “Can he fuck you like this?”
“N-no,” you choke out.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, slamming into you on the last word.
“Can I cum?” you ask, at the brink of release.
“Go ahead. Let me feel it.”
He pulls a second orgasm from you, this one even more intense than the last. You feel your muscles contract and release in erratic spasms, gripping his cock with each movement. He keeps fucking you through it, making it last even longer. You’re exhausted already but he’s not done. He’s still completely hard and nowhere close to coming. He unlocks the handcuffs and pulls out of you. You’re catching your breath as he spins you around before pushing you down on the cot. He pulls your thighs apart and gets in between them, pushing his cock into you once more. This time he grabs your throat, gripping it with the perfect amount of pressure as he fucks you relentlessly.
“Do I have to knock you up to make sure everyone knows who you belong to?”
“P-please,” you say softly.
“Oh yeah? You want me to fill you up?”
“Please, Din! I need it!” you cry out.
His grip on your throat releases and his hands move to your hips, pulling you into him with each thrust. The head of his cock brushes against your cervix and you cum around him one final time, soaking him with your juices. The sensation of you coming pulls his own orgasm from him and he paints your insides with his cum. This is the first time he’s come inside you and you’re obsessed with the feeling. He slows his pace before pulling out of you and laying down next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck as you catch your breath.
“So what do we think?” he asks. “Are we done with flirting for bounties now?”
“Hmm I don’t know. Maybe we should more often if you’ll fuck me like that,” you respond, completely blissed out.
“As long as you know who you belong to,” he says, rubbing your back.
“You and only you,” you whisper, sleepily.
“Good girl… I love you, cyar’ika,” Din says.
“I love you, too, Din.”
And with that you drift off to sleep pressed up against each other like the night before… but no silent treatment this time.
End note: Had to drop a little breeding kink in there lmao. But I hoped you all liked this!! Send me some more Din requests <3
If you want to be notified when I post a new fic follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications!
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x fem!reader#din djarin x female reader#din djarin imagine#din djarin smut#din djarin one shot#din djarin x you#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin#mandalorian#the mandalorian#mando x you#mandalorian smut#din djarin fanfiction#mandalorian fanfiction#mando x f!reader#mando x reader#no use of y/n#star wars fanfiction#star wars#dom!din x reader#pedrostories
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Din Djarin | misunderstandings
Din Djarin x fem!reader
tw: pinning after each other, sorta confessions, misunderstandings, reader used to be mandalorian, reader gets a bit insecure, din is confused, mentions a past-gunshot wound, hurt/comfort, happy ending
a/n: idk if this fandom alive anymore but I still love this man sooo, enjoyment is wished upon whomever this lands upon. This is shit writing and I’m so sorry. I’ll re-read and edit later (if you read and enjoy this now… thank you for loving me at my lowest fr)
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
You’ve been on his ship now for almost a year, the months feeling like they were slowing down the further time went by. He originally treated you like a co, only asking what was needed, very obviously separating you from his personal life.
The ship had crashed some time ago, the both of you stranded on a desert planet for almost two months. Something had shifted, changed, and it got worse. The air felt thinner when he was close and your heart would pound.
You felt he cared to listen when you began to share small details about you like where you grew up, what scares you, how you got a scar on your forearm. You felt he began to change too.
“cyar’ika,” his tone is straightforward, “go to bed, you’re just straining your muscles now.”
It scared you when he began to use that instead of your name. You were too frightened to ask what it meant. The only tone he speaks in is monotone and he wears a helmet, it’s hard to read him. Everytime you think you begin to understand, you feel him slipping further away.
You hear a banging sound, one that happened because you drop the boxes from your grip.
“Was only trying to help,” you quip, stepping beside him to enter into the ship.
He shuts the door behind you, asking about the kid. You arrange the boxes so they’re out of the way, “he fell asleep minute after you left.”
He hums, the sound muffled slightly from his helmet. You stand near him to try and get the last package, though with the distance and your strength the box ends up falling to the ground and on your foot. You almost go still from the pain, chest growing tight as you tried to work through the pain. The mandalorian takes the box off of your foot as soon as it fell, a hiss sounding from him.
His body is tense when you try to walk, obvious pain showing on your face. He’s oblivious to how it cringes even more at the name. Sitting yourself down, you cradle your foot, tears coming to your eyes and you blink them away. The sight of tears startles him.
“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”
“No,” you cut him off, “I’ll be fine, I think it just bruised it.”
He offers you a hand, “ner sarad. Get off the floor.”
You swat it away and attempt to get up on your own. How stupid could you be? He’s only ever called you these names in an accusing manner. You had hope, but now that you’re looking back, you’ve lost it.
Last week he used it when you had gotten shot in the shoulder after chasing him for hours. About a month ago you remember him using his language in an angry manner when you argued.
A quiet sob escaped you, “why are you always getting angry at me?” You go limp when his hands come under you, lifting you so he can place you down on his bed. You’re stuck between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer to you. He works on removing your shoe and lifting your pant leg with a sigh.
“The words I’ve been using are terms of endearment,” he gently rubs his thumb over the already forming bruise, “cyar’ika means beloved.”
“I thought you were cursing my name out, using them as expressions of anger.”
“I started using them since you mentioned you were mandalorian once.”
He pats your thigh, getting off the ground to grab the medical supplies. You wince as he wraps your foot tightly, “I was, but we’ve never used those terms. We only called one another by our given name. I didn’t know those words existed.”
“And I’m a fool for assuming your clan was the same as mine.”
“Not a fool,” you smile at him, “you were trying to flirt and I interpreted it as sarcasm. I’m the fool.”
He stands, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “I can teach you, ner kar’ta.”
Your hand covers his, a shiver going through you at the warm feeling of his glove, “what is ner kar’ta?”
“My heart.”
#mando x reader#mando#the mandaloria/reader#mandalorian x reader#din djarin x reader#hurt/comfort#reader is female#mando x fem!reader#din djarin x fem!reader
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Y/N, relaxes inside of Mando’s embrace : Who knew you were such a nice guy underneath your grumpy exterior?
Mando, tilted his head to look at them :
Mando, caresses their cheek with his fingertips : Don’t go telling anyone else or they’ll be disappointed to find out it’s only for you.
Y/N : and your son.
Y/N, gestures at Grogu who’s asleep inside their arms :
Mando, looks at him sleeping peacefully:
Mando, silently agrees as he’s caressing his little head :
Y/N, just snuggled more into his arms :
Bonus
#the mandalorian#Mandalorian#Din Djarin#Mando#Mando x you#Mando x reader#Mando x oc#Din Djarin x male reader#Din Djarin x fem reader#Din Djarin x gn reader#The Mandalorian x reader#Din Djarin x reader#Original : Terms and conditions By Lauren Asher#Terms and Conditions By Lauren Asher#My 2023 works
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If your reqs are still open, could you do
8) “Don’t argue. Just do it.” with Din Djarin/Mandolorian?
Tysm <33
I’m weak just thinking about this tbh. Your wish is my command 💕
Din Djarin x GN!Reader drabble
Warnings: feisty frustrated mando, dub con⚠️, SMUT (oral m receiving), lil degradation lil praise
Batting your eyelashes wouldn’t melt his heart or expose his soft side for you, not this time. Especially as he practically dragged you back to the Crest from the village you’d settled in for the day, his tight grip rubbing your arm raw. You stumbled over your own feet through the brush of the forest, trying to keep up with him. You’d teased him one too many times today, and he’d had enough. Biting your lip in anticipation, you could only fantasize of how bad he wanted to use you.
Din didn’t even make it inside the ship before he turned to you, and pushed you down to your knees, right into the damp grass.
“Someone’s eager today, hm?” You smirked, finding so much arousal and amusement in his body language.
“Enough” He scolded, his frantic hands working to unfasten the clasp of his pants. You tried to help, but his stiffened cock was already freed by the time you’d raised your hands.
“I dont know, Mando, you seemed pretty frustrated with me earlier. You sure you want me to suck your cock?” You raised your brows, hesitating to touch him, starving him even further.
“Don’t argue, just do it” He growled coldly, commanding you to take him into your mouth, “and I don’t want to hear another word from you. Make good use of that mouth of yours”
Happily, you obeyed, but still teased him with the pace, moving slowly to wrap your lips around the tip of his throbbing length. He clenched his fist, which you only noticed from your peripheral vision. The frustration was evident, but you only found it to be more fun.
“Kriff, Y/N, stop teasing” He groaned.
Deciding to release him from such frustration, you suddenly pushed him to the back of your throat, feeling his cock fill every inch of your mouth. Din threw his head back, a gruff, low, animalistic moan escaped him, which gave you butterflies. You moaned around him in response, feeling an ache form suddenly between your legs.
To tend to your ache, your hand found it way to your arousal, and began rubbing yourself to find relief.
“Look at you, can’t even help touching yourself can you?” He condescendingly scoffed, a smirk coming through in his tone, “does my cock in your mouth really turn you on that much, sweetheart?”
Looking up the length of his body as you kneeled in front of him, your eyes pierced his visor, wanting to stare deep into his soul as you moved your mouth up and down his entire length. His size was impressive, and tears began slowly forming in your eyes with every time you had him fully fitted against your tongue, the tip pressing your throat.
“Fuck, just like that” He praised, finally letting you know that you were doing good.
His hand weaved into your hair, subtly pushing on the back of your head, giving you no choice to stop as you brought him close to his orgasm. You savored the feeling of being used by him, and feeling as though you existed just to please him turned you on.
As you increased your pace, his grip on your head tightened, and he groaned deeply and breathlessly, letting you know he was getting close.
“I’m going to fill that pretty little mouth of yours, cyar’ika” Din whimpered, his hold on you began to falter.
The motions you created against your own pleasure picked up now, tipping yourself closer and closer to the edge. Delicate noises came from deep within you as your orgasm burst open, sending vibrations over his cock as he reached his climax. Your pleasure made you slow down only slightly, and in response, Din pressed your head back down, overwhelming your senses while you rode out your high.
You felt his release coat your tongue as he spat profanities through his modulator, working through the peak of his pleasure and the relief of his pent up frustration. You choked on him, another tear now falling from your eye as you obediently swallowed all of his cum.
“You tease me like that again, and I’ll show you a real punishment” Din promised, taking hold of your chin and pushing your face up to meet his gaze. You shivered in excitement.
-
#din djarin#mando#mando x reader#din x reader#fem reader#male reader#gender neutral reader#smut#fluff#requested#mandalorian#din djarin smut#mando smut#mandalorian x reader smut#Pedro pascal#mando x reader smut#mandalorian fan fiction
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Home (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey everybody! Here is a new Din Djarin fic! I don’t know if I’ve done this trope already...there’s a good chance I did. I had a version of this fic in my WIPs for a while, and I don’t think it ever made it out of the doc, so here it is. I hope you guys like it! It’s heavily based on “Home” by LCD Soundsystem.
Summary: Din learns the truth about your past...
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), praise kink for sure, hurt to comfort, friends/idiots to lovers, Jedi!reader (implied conflict/is training Grogu), implied kidnapping (Inquisitors kidnap reader as child), cursing, Crest still exists because I’m lazy, probably grammar mistakes because again, I’m lazy.
Word Count: 3,661
Your lungs burn painfully as you sprint through the forest, dodging trees, maneuvering through the thicket. You swear Grogu is giggling in his little carrier strapped carefully onto your chest. “This is not funny, little guy,” You mumble in between breaths. Grogu babbles and giggles some more in response.
This was not how this training session with Grogu was supposed to go.
BANG! You flinch a bit to the left as a blaster shot whirls by, smashing violently into a tree, leaving a burning gaping hole in its wake. You make a sharp turn to avoid the tree as it crashes down in front of you. The dark troopers were closing in on you and Grogu; you could feel it. It was only a matter of time until they circled around you, blasters pressing at your back.
Another. BANG! The tree to your right comes crashing down a few feet away. You turn around for just a split second, searching for Din, for something, for a way out. They were gaining on you, you could see them coming from over the hill.
You press a button on your comlink. “Hey Mando?” You practically shout into it. “Things are getting a little messy over here.” Your words are panicked, jumbled.
“I’m almost there,” He reassures. “What’s going on?”
“Well, they’re-,” BANG! That answers his question.
“Just hold on, okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice; it wasn’t something you were used to. Din was normally confident, but this time there was a sense of insecurity, as if this time was going to end differently than all the others. As if he was afraid you weren’t going to make it.
You take a deep breath and navigate away from the now burning, fallen over trees. You turn around; the troopers were even closer than they were before. You swear there weren’t this many a few minutes ago. You turn to the left, trying to find another way out, but it’s too late. You were surrounded. You weren’t fast enough. Maybe this was the end.
“I am not getting killed by a bunch of droids,” You huff, raising your hands above your head. But the troopers don’t stop, they continue to creep closer towards you and Grogu, raising their blasters, readying to shoot, aiming to kill. “We are not going down like this kid,” You whisper, Grogu’s ears picking up as the words slip from your tongue.
The troopers finally stop, their metal joints freezing in place. Their blasters are still pointed towards you and Grogu. You swallow harshly, staring at your reflection in the metallic armor of the dark trooper directly in front of you. You watch closely as their robotic fingers hover over the trigger. You had one shot, one chance to get this right. You shut your eyes, waiting for it.
All at once. CLICK. BANG.
Your hands extend out. You can feel the energy pulsing through you. It’s controlled and stable. You slowly open your eyes, and hovering in the air are at least twenty violently shivering blaster rays, threatening to finish the job if you let go. You can feel the rays dancing under your fingertips, struggling against your grasp. You shut your eyes again, the tension of each one growing. You couldn’t hold this forever.
A new feeling abruptly shocks your system. It’s a certain power you haven’t felt in years. It rattles your bones, sending shockwaves throughout every inch of your body. There’s something delicious about it, tempting even. It’s powerful, yet intrusive, quickly invading your senses and taking over. You allow it to course through you fully. You can almost hear something calling out to you. Let go.
And so you do.
With a swift motion, you release the energy building up inside of you. It’s a radical feeling, but still somehow familiar. The shocks flow through the palms of your hands and out of your fingers. There’s a slight sting. It’s almost painful. And that’s when you remember exactly what this feeling is. Your eyes open wide, and you watch as electricity, and the blaster rays, shoot out towards the dark troopers, decimating them immediately.
Fire consumes the trees around you, embers quickly filling the air. You’re not sure if the electricity you just shot out of your hands caused this, or the blaster shots, or the dark troopers themselves. Most likely, it was some sort of messy combination of all three, which meant that you were in part to blame.
“Cyare?”
And Din saw the whole thing.
He’s standing just a few feet away from you. You can see the flames and carnage reflecting against his armor, and in the center of it all is you. This wasn’t a side of yourself that you wanted him to see, or even know about in the first place.
But it was too late for that now. “Din, I can expl-,”
He cuts you off, curt, emotionless. “We need to go.” You nod, taking slow strides towards the ramp of the Crest. You pass Din along the way. You want him to say something, to look at you, to move at the very least. But he doesn’t. He’s motionless, frozen in the aftermath of what you had done, of the secret you had tried so very hard to cover up.
You reluctantly step into the Crest, taking Grogu and his carrier off your shoulders, placing him in his crib. You throw the carrier to the ground. He gurgles something entirely unintelligible. There’s a tiredness in his grumblings. Good, you think to yourself. At least he’ll be asleep when you and Din have it out.
Din’s steps echo against the walls of the Crest. You know he’s disappointed. You can feel it. You should’ve told him the truth, told him who you were, told him that person isn’t who you are anymore. It’s certainly not the person you are with him. Din makes your past seem like some non-existent, intangible, fictional far-off tale. It was like he made you forget. No. He changed you, altered your brain chemistry, made you feel like you mattered. And not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
You needed him, and it scared you. You were almost afraid of the connection, of the dependency.
But he needs you too, you just don’t know it yet.
You wait a minute, trembling a bit in the hull, watching as Grogu’s eyes struggle to stay open. Within a few seconds, they’re closed. Din’s figure finally appears in the doorway. He’s apprehensive, tentative, as if he hasn’t made up his mind about coming inside. Your stomach knots, twinging as he finally steps all the way inside, pressing a button as the ramp shuts behind him.
He looks over at Grogu, fast asleep in his crib. A modulated breath escapes from under his helmet. It’s a sigh of defeat, of dejection. You build up the courage to stare into his visor, half expecting to get an indication of how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing, no sign of life save the shallow breaths slipping through his vocoder.
“Din, just let me explain.” It’s a plea, a solicitation for forgiveness.
But he isn’t buying it. “Did you lie to me?” There’s no anger in his voice, no agitation, not even an ounce of annoyance. It’s hurt, pain, possibly even betrayal, and that feels far worse than any vexation or outrage ever could. “Last time I checked, Jedi don’t use the force like that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes breaking away from his glare. You know he’s staring at you under his helmet, searching for answers, trying to convince himself that what had just happened was a figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. It was you. The past had caught up with your present, and now they’d fight for control.
“No, they don’t,” You pause, breathing deeply before continuing. “The Inquisitors kidnapped me when I was a kid. I was saved just a few months after the first Death Star was destroyed.” There’s a moment of relief before the fear of waiting for his response kicks in. You had told him the truth, and he wasn’t running away. Din was still in front of you, listening to every word you had to say.
He takes a few steps toward you, slowly closing the distance between you and him. “You could’ve told me that,” He whispers. “You should’ve told me.” He’s more assertive the second time around.
“I didn’t want you to think that I-I was still like that.” You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, begging to be blinked away. “I d-didn’t want you to t-think I was some monster.”
“What are you talking about?” He finds himself being drawn even closer towards you, his gloved hands gravitating to yours, his fingertips brushing against your wrists as he presses his palms into your own. Home. The word flashes in your mind in big bright lights, your hands fitting perfectly into his. “How could you think I’d ever see you like that?”
“I could tell you were scared, when you saw what I did…” You trail off, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t be training the kid. Maybe I’m not…”
Din shakes his head. “Not what?”
“Not good enough,” You mumble, fighting back sobs. “If I can’t let go of my past, let go of those feelings…”
“No.” There’s no hesitance in his statement, no question, no consideration. Din means it. “Don’t think like that, mesh’la. You’re more than enough, more than the kid and I could’ve ever asked for.”
“But I-,”
He cuts you off again. “You protected Grogu. You protected me.”
“I lied to you, Din,” Your voice is soft, quiet, timid. “I did something I’d promise myself I’d never do again.” You blink a few times, letting the inevitable tears stream down your cheeks.
Din squeezes your hands lightly and lets go. Before you can internally grieve the loss of contact, he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He had never been so gentle with you, so kind, so soft. This was so unlike him.
You sob into his beskar covered chest. The cold metal feels good against your burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry.” You croak out, your voice reverberating through his armor.
“It’s alright,” He mutters, the top of his helmet coming down to rest on your head. “I’ve got you, it’s gonna be okay.” You sniffle as he whispers sweet reassurances in your ears, reminding you that you’re good enough, that he’s right next to you, that nothing bad is going to happen. “You should get some rest.”
You nod, and Din pulls you from his chest, stepping away from you and into the cockpit. You wish he was still next to you, his body pressed against yours. The closer you get to Din, the more dangerous things become. Luke and Ahsoka had told you the dangers of maintaining connections, building relationships. Ahsoka had been more forgiving, given that she believed in a more balanced way than the Jedi did. But Luke…Luke had been warning you for years.
Honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You wanted to forget Luke’s grating voice, to dispel each ideal he forced into your head. You wanted Din, needed Din. He was all that mattered now.
Forget your past
This is your last chance now
And we can break the rules
Like nothing will last
Luke’s warnings fade away as you search through your clothes for something more comfortable to wear. Naturally, there’s nothing clean, nothing that Grogu hadn’t spit up on.
There’s one shirt of Din’s that you had borrowed a few nights ago when he was out on a hunt by himself. It still smells like him, feels like him too. You like how you look in it, the way it hangs too long on you. You like that it’s his and not yours. You slip it on and walk out into the hull and towards the cockpit as the Crest takes off.
You can’t see it, but his eyes settle on your reflection in the viewport. He turns around to get a better look. His shirt is massive on you, falling just above your knees. He hadn’t expected to see you in his clothes, but fuck did you look good. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not after today, not after you had sobbed in his arms.
He needed to remind you of who you are. He needed to tell you what you meant to him. Maker, he needed you to know everything, how he wants every inch of you, how much he cares about you, how much he loves you.
You can tell he’s looking at you now. You’re suddenly incredibly self-conscious. “I-I’m sorry,” You stutter. “I took i-it the other day without asking…should’ve told you I had it.”
He clutches his fists as the Crest comes out of the planet’s atmosphere. He presses a button, putting the ship on autopilot. “You need to stop apologizing,” He says, pushing his palms into the arms of the pilot’s chair and standing up.
You tilt your head to the side, confused and somehow even more apologetic than you were before. “I-I didn’t mean to offend you-,”
“You’re not offending me, you never could.” He closes the gap between the two of you with one small step. “So stop saying sorry.” There’s an urgency in his voice, and an undeniable sense of certainty, like he had thought hard about what he was going to say, as if he had wanted to say this for an incredibly long time.
“Sorr-,” You cut yourself off, a smirk spreading across your face.
Din’s hands hover over your waist, softly settling down, waiting for you to protest. But you don’t. “Is this alright?” He asks.
“Y-yes,” You stutter. Din’s grip becomes firm against your hips. You hum at the contact, slowly pushing your body closer to his until your chests are flush against one another’s.
The tension is palpable. This is no longer him simply trying to comfort you; this is much, much more than that.
He makes the first move, taking a step in between your spread-out legs so that your back presses into the wall behind you. You can feel a pulse of heat shoot down to your core. “You need to know what you mean to me,” He whispers, his knee pressing lightly into your clothed cunt. You hold yourself back from grinding against him. “Need to show you how I feel about you, how you make me feel…” He trails off, letting himself get lost in the moment
Your hands snake up to the base of his neck, where his flight suit and his helmet meet. Your fingers slip under the fabric, exploring the exposed skin there. You’ve always wanted to feel him, to let him feel you. But this was never the deal, this was never something you expected. These were uncharted waters, a feeling that was so far shoved to the back of your head that you were positive this would never happen.
But this is happening.
He tugs the shirt up so that his hands can slip underneath. “Take off your gloves.” Your voice is breathy as the plea slips out. “Wanna feel you.” Din nods, quickly pulling them off before gluing his palms back to your skin. His calloused fingertips graze over your stomach, sending chills down your spine. “Din,” You whisper as he trails towards your bra, dipping underneath. His thumb brushes over your peaked nipple. You shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall.
“What is it, pretty girl?” He asks, teasing you, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Tell me what you want, need to hear you.”
He was going to be the death of you. “I-I want you to f-fuck me,” You beg, shamelessly grinding against his knee, searching for some sort of relief. You can feel your wetness pooling in between your legs. “N-need you to touch me Din, please.”
Din nods, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and down to the waistline of your panties. He drops to his knees as he slips them down your legs, practically tearing them off of you in the process. His fingers glide up your inner thigh as he stands. His palm finally settles against your cunt, the heel of his hand pushing into your clit, his fingers teasing at your opening.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, such a good girl,” He praises, moving a bit so that his fingers find their way to your clit. You moan out at the sudden pressure. “You like that? Like my fingers there?”
You hum a yes, unable to pull any sort of coherent thought together as Din’s fingers swirl around your clit. “N-need more,” You mumble. “W-wanna feel you, please.” You can feel his erection against your leg, throbbing in his flight suit. But Din doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their unrelenting circles at your core.
He moves his hand ever so slightly, shifting the angle so that his thumb brushes against your clit, and his fingers begin to tease your folds. Your head falls against his shoulder at the feeling. His fingers suddenly thrust into you, pumping in and out.
“You’re so perfect,” His honeyed, modulated voice rasps. He watches as your chest heaves against his shirt, your back limp against the wall of his ship, your head pressed against his shoulder. Fuck you looked so good like this, taking him, letting him make you his. And Maker, you felt good doing it. Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feeling of having him this close to you. “Doing so good for me.”
“Din,” You whimper. “I-I’m so close.”
He smirks under his helmet. He was going to make you come on his fingers. You clench around him, his fingers hitting the spot you need him in most every time. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that,” Din whispers, his thumb mercilessly toying with your core. You can feel yourself coming undone around him, like a wire snapping in two, heat spreading fervently across every inch of your body.
“D-Din,” You stutter, pulling him against you, his fingers still buried inside you, his thumb still drawing gentle circles. You needed more, you needed him closer than humanly possible. You bring a hand down to his erection, jerking him off through his pants. “N-need you inside me, Din.”
He doesn’t waste any time undoing his belt, shoving his pants off. He’s so fast you’re not even sure any of it happened in the first place. He lines himself up with your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks.
There’s no question. “I’ve always wanted this, Din, always wanted you.”
He rests his forehead against yours. “…‘always wanted you too, mesh’la.” You gasp as he buries himself inside of you with one thrust, splitting you open. “So fucking tight, so perfect,” He praises you again, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words. He gives you a minute to adjust to him before pulling out and shoving himself back in. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, like he’s tearing you apart just to put you back together.
“Feels s’good,” You murmur as Din sets his pace. It starts slow, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He’s taking his time, exploring every inch of you. His thumb finds your clit again. The sensation is almost overwhelming. You’re already on the borderline of being fucked out.
You can feel your core pulsing as he works at you, toying with you. His thrusts become quicker, needier. “So perfect for me,” He soothes, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, brushing away a tear you didn’t know had escaped your eye. “Taking me so well, wanted to do this for so long.”
You were already practically there. Every pump, every praise, every swirl pushes you closer to the edge, threatening to throw you over, to split you in two, and Maker, you wanted it.
“Din I-I-,” You can’t even get the words out.
“I know, pretty girl, I’ve got you,” He coos, fucking you into the wall, his thumb still beating away at your heat, his other hand still holding your cheek. Your legs are hooked around his waist, your fingers digging into the beskar that dawns his shoulders.
Your walls flutter around him, and you can feel yourself falling apart around his cock. Searing white heat floods your vision. You can feel a few cool tears against your hot cheeks. You look into his visor as you come. You want him to see you, to know how he makes you feel. “F-fuck, Din, I-I love you.” The confession doesn’t bother you as it slips out. It’s natural, like you had said it countless times before.
And you’ll say it countless times after.
It’s what sends Din over the edge. “S-shit,” His voice is shaky, breathy, broken, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel him fill you up, pumping in and out a few more times before stopping, still buried deep inside you. His forehead rests on yours, your body limp against his. “I love you,” He confesses back. “So fucking much.” You shut your eyes, letting yourself melt around him. “Can we stay like this, for just a little while? Don’t wanna leave you yet.” You hum a soft yes in response. You didn’t want him to go anywhere either.
His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, keeping you held against his chest. There it is, that same feeling from before, the one you felt the very second you joined this little clan of three.
Home.
If you're afraid of what you need
If you're afraid of what you need
Look around you, you're surrounded
It won't get any better
And so, goodnight
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x reader smut#din djarin#din djarin reader insert#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#din djarin x jedi reader#din djarin x fem!reader#mando x reader#mando x reader smut#mando x reader fluff#mando#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x reader smut#the mandalorian#the mandalorian imagine#Pedro Pascal x reader#Pedro Pascal x reader smut#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader fluff#din djarin x y/n#din djarin x you#din djarin x y/n smut#din djarin x you smut#mando x y/n#mando x you#mando x you smut#mando x y/n smut#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian x y/n
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Close your eyes
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader
Summary: After a few months of living in your new cabin on Nevarro, Din confesses to you he's ready to take the next step.
warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and baby-making sex
[I know his name isn't Din but I couldn't bring myself to call him Djarin, sorry]
"he's getting really good at it" you sighed happily.
You and Din sat on the porch of the new cabin Greef Karga had granted you.
The air smelled fresh, the sky was beautiful as the sun set, and your head rested on Din's shoulder while his arm kept you close.
Grogu was "playing" with the frogs inhabiting the pond right in front of the house, although I'm not sure the frogs would have called it that.
Everything was alright.
After all this time, these fights, these adventures, everything was fine, actually, more than fine.
It was perfect.
"he is" he agreed, his thumb stoking your side "but he still needs training"
You scoffed "Please, he could beat you with a flick of his hand"
He laughed "he wishes"
"don't worry" you pretended to reassure him "There's no shame in being the least strong of the family"
"least strong?"
"weakest sounded mean" You bit down a smirk
"You think you could take me?"
"I know I could take you"
" Sweetheart, there's only one way you can take me," he said "and even for that you needed training"
you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the remark, and it was as if you could see the smug grin tugging at his lips even through the helmet.
"Don't flatter yourself mando" You placed a hand on his chest "there's many ways I can take you" you explained "What you're thinking of is just the one you like the most"
His hold on your side got tighter "I sure do like it"
"do you?" you mocked, raising a brow " Would have never guessed it" you giggled, hearing him chuckle also.
Your eyes trailed to the sun behind him, its light almost completely engulfed by the horizon.
"it's getting late," you said "The kid needs to go to sleep" You got up, walking to Grogu.
He didn't offer much resistance today, and you were able to pick him up with just an annoyed coo.
"say goodnight to Daddy" You stopped in front of the entrance, facing him towards Din.
He emitted the cutest sound you've ever heard, and as always, your heart warmed.
" 'night kid" he waved in return, before you stepped into the house.
In the few months you'd been living here you had managed to already make it a home.
Pictures and memories filled each shelf and empty space on the wall.
Grogu's room was small, but not any less full.
Din had built him a course where he could jump from the floor to the wall and to the ceiling thanks to some wooden panels.
The kid loved it. What was hard most times, was making him stop.
"alright" you smiled, setting him down into the crib Din had created for him "It's time to go to sleep sweetpea" You kissed his forehead, earning a happy coo "Sweet dreams" you whispered, glancing at him once more before turning to the door.
You almost gasped as you saw Din standing there, casually leaning on the side of it.
You shook your head, laughing a bit as you followed him outside, closing the door behind you.
"you scared me" you scolded him
"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said, stoking your cheek.
He paused for a second, like he was hesitant, before speaking again.
"you're really good with him," he said
"I know"
"I mean... you're good with kids"
"thank you?"
He let out a breathy laugh,
"he seems happy"
"well he's got a family" you smiled "We all do"
"right, but don't you think he's a bit..."
"What?"
"lonely?"
your mouth gaped open
"You mean...?"
"Maybe he needs someone his age to interact with"
"like a brother?" you intertwined your hands behind his neck, "you think we should give little Grogu a brother?" you grinned, not able to hide your excitement
You could hear his breathing from underneath the helmet.
he was nervous.
"would you like that?"
you paused, stunned at the fact he even had to ask.
"I would" you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt "I would really like that baby"
He let go of a sigh of relief, and you wondered for a moment, how long he'd been worrying about this.
He gripped your waist, his hands loving yet hard.
"then we better get to work" he smiled, not giving you any warning before picking you up.
A little squeak fled your throat as you grabbed onto him.
"Eager much?"
"you have no idea" he purred, kicking the bedroom door open and closed in one swift motion.
He sat on the bed and you ended up in his lap.
"Close your eyes, sweetheart"
You were just waiting to hear that.
It was such a simple sentence, and yet it meant so much.
It was the symbol of trust and passion, but most importantly, of love.
It was his way of saying he would trust you over anything, and your way of saying it back.
You closed your eyes, the world going pitch black once more.
You heard a familiar sound, and then something hit the ground,
his helmet.
Seconds passed, but the anticipation was so strong your skin felt on fire, and then, like water in the desert, came his lips on yours.
He kissed you sweetly, a way of thanking you, of loving you, and you kissed him back with everything you could.
Your hands went to his face, stoking and palming all you couldn't normally feel, while he was holding yours between his fingers like you were about to slip away.
"You're beautiful" he breathed, leaning back ever so slightly,
"you too" you smiled, making him laugh.
"you can't see me"
"I can feel you," you said "I know you're handsome"
He kissed you again
"I love you"
"I love you too" you promised, but were quickly cut off by your own gasp as he quite literally manhandled you so your back was on the bed.
"maybe give me a warning next time?" you chuckled, as you felt his hand on your thighs.
He was kneeling in front of you.
"oh but I like the pretty sounds you make" he kissed your skin
"do you?"
"I do" he kissed you again, his trail getting closer to the hem of your skirt "I like them a lot" another peck "Although I do like some other sounds you make better"
"Like what?" you asked playfully
He grabbed the end of your skirt "Like the ones you make when you're desperate for me"
"desperate?"
"yes, desperate" he murmured, pulling your skirt off.
Your mouth opened but you forced the gasp climbing your throat back from where it came from, making him chuckle.
"I'm never desperate"
You couldn't see it, but you could feel the smug smirk on his lips.
"Are you now, sweetheart?" he mocked, his fingers grazing your panties and making you hold your breath.
"I actually seem to recall many times where you were the one begging"
touché, he thought
"That's because you tease" he explained, his torturous fingers still just dancing on where you needed him the most.
"so you're telling me that I stopped touching you right now you'd be fine with it?" the bastard asked.
"Din..."
"What?" he kissed your clothed cunt "You wouldn't be desperate would you?"
you sighed, frustrated "No, just-"
"What, baby, what is it?"
"don't stop"
"why?"
God, you hated him so much.
You'd never taken back something so quickly, but he was able to do that. That taunting asshole.
"Because I need you" you confessed "Please"
He smirked "There she is"
You didn't even have time to breathe that your panties were off of you.
He spread your legs, and you had to bite your lips in anticipation as he gripped your thighs.
"you're so wet baby" he groaned, his breath fanning against your core.
"I wonder why, you bastard"
"Easy there" he kissed your clit, making you gasp "Wouldn't want me to stop,"
"Baby-"
he didn't let you finish as he finally dove in, his tongue tasting all of you before he started focusing on your clit.
"Oh my god" you whined, already a mess.
He was holding you firmly as your whole body begged to move.
"fuck baby, please" you moaned loudly, as he kept going unfazed.
It felt like a fire had started inside your body, and once his fingers grazed your hole, a bucket of gasoline spread it everywhere.
"din!" you cried once he pushed them in, your hand going to grip his hair.
"That's right, say my name sweetheart" he murmured as he pumped his digits in and out of you.
A filthy sound spread through the room, and you were shutting your eyes so forcefully you were seeing white dots.
"fuck, din" you breathed, feeling yourself get closer as he sucked your clit so perfectly.
His fingers curled inside of you, hitting your spot and making you cry, but his mouth didn't stop, licking and worshipping all of you.
"c'mon sweet girl, come for me, I know you're close" he murmured "I can feel it," he said, before resuming his work somehow even more intensely.
Shocks of pleasure kept coursing through you, but as he curled his fingers one more time, you were sent over the edge, your orgasm washing over you powerfully as you gripped his locks for dear life.
Who cares if you hurt him. He caused this.
"shit" You let out a breath, once you were done and he leaned away.
"You're so beautiful when you come honey," he said, taking your hand still on his head and kissing it softly " I wish you could see it" he murmured, leaning away.
You whined, reaching for him through the dark behind your eyelids "Where did you go?"
"I'm here baby" You heard some noises and then a louder one.
He had taken his suit off.
When you felt him again, he was holding your waist. Not for long, however, as his hands quickly started exploring your body, spreading goosebumps with his touch.
Then finally, you felt his digits infiltrate under your shirt, and in a moment, you were fully naked.
Next, his lips were on you, on your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, all painted with the sweetest of tiny pecks as he kept caressing your body.
One of your hands went to his back, keeping him close, while the other trailed down his bare chest longing for his manhood.
"please baby" you whined "I know I said I wasn't desperate before but I take it all back" you laughed softly "Please, I need you"
"You need me?" he kissed your mouth, and you nodded
"I do"
"I do too" he purred, kissing you again before positioning himself at your entrance.
"you ready?"
"please"
And just like that, he thrusted into you.
You moaned far too loudly as he groaned.
For as many times as you'd felt him, you could never quite get used to it, he still stretched you in the best way.
"god" he growled "you feel so good sweetheart" he started moving "You're perfect"
There were so many things you wanted to say, but his dick hitting you so deep was causing troubles to the communicating part of your brain.
"I can't believe you're mine" he spoke, "that you want this"
"of course I do" you moaned " I want to be yours Din" you cried "only yours"
The bed was creaking underneath you, and his thrusts were soft and sweet, but god if they weren't deep.
"I want to have your kid"
"you do?" his breath fanned over your mouth
"I do, Din" you promised "I want to have another mini-you that will help you make me go mad" you laughed "I want to have a bigger family" you breathed "to be yours, forever"
He couldn't do anything but kiss you, hoping that at least one percent of his adoration for you passed through.
"I love you more than anything y/n" he said "and I want to give you my kid" he swore "to see in them all I see in you" he continued, as his thrust continued undaunted "and to grant them the best mother one could ask for"
You smiled widely, feeling tears prick your eyes.
"then do, baby" You intertwined your hands behind his neck, bringing his lips to yours "give me your kid"
#din djarin#djarin din#din djarin x reader#djarin din x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x y/n#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x fem!reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin fic#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#mandalorian#mando x reader#mando fic#mando smut#the mandalorian#mando#the mandalorian x reader#smut#fanfiction#star wars#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#din djarin fanfic#the mandalorian season 3
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Rising Phoenix
Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader
Summary: The Mandalorian offers a gift greater than he imagined.
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: M, allusions to sexual acts, some heavy petting, flirty banter up the wazoo, minor injury treatment, hand kink, hand worship, plot? Plot. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.
Notes: Is this an excuse for me to put all of my favorite things about Mando into one story? Yes, yes it is. Including making fun of that tin can man's ridiculous fashion choices.
Takes place after If the Moon Walks Out.
Cross-posted on AO3
I Think of You Series Masterlist
Mando is hiding something from you.
If anyone on the outside was looking in, they’d think the opposite. They might even say he’s being more open than in months. After the bite and subsequent breakdown (which you’re still a little embarrassed about), Mando started showing you how he runs the Crest. Walking you through a takeoff sequence, demonstrating what the other buttons along the cargo hold walls do.
(you didn’t know there was a button to close Mando’s cramped cubby)
(might come in handy when you want a little privacy)
You were appreciative at first, until Mando started disappearing in the evenings with no warning or explanation. One minute he’d be feeding the child, the warm thrum of your cavewoman brain revving up -
(he wiped the child’s mouth with the edge of his cape and you had to go take a breather in the kitchenette)
- the next moment he was gone, up in the cockpit or down in the hold, wherever you’re not. A whiff of solder sometimes wafted by, or the clunk of metal on metal reached your ears. You’re curious, endlessly so, but if there’s one thing you would not betray, it’s the trust Mando has finally given you.
(he’ll come to you when he’s ready)
Instead you prepare food and tidy the hold and read on your holopad until he returns, either to bid you goodnight with the child tucked into his arm, or to put him down before sneaking back to you, large hands on your hips a precursor to his hushed question:
“Can I have you tonight, Mesh’la?”
(more often than not your nights end with him inside you)
But as the days continue, another bounty on the horizon, your treacherous mind begins toying with your insecurities. The next planet wasn’t far but Mando’s taking his time, making short hops instead of fast travel. When you questioned it, the threat of Imps and blaster residue in your nostrils, he said it was to show you how to hop in and out of hyperspace.
(the holopad full of calculations makes your head spin)
(you hold it like a lifeline)
“Mando, I appreciate you taking my feelings to heart, but moving this slow…aren’t we tempting our luck?” you finally asked, legs crossed in the jump seat when Mando pulled out of hyperspace yet again.
“I’m willing to press it,” he replied, “but not much longer. Tomorrow we land.”
“Could have landed three days ago,” you said, goading Mando to turn to you. He cocked the helmet, which still managed to thrill you, and leaned back.
“I thought you enjoyed my company,” he said, the tease making you smile. “You certainly did last night.” Your face turned molten as you played up a salacious gasp.
“That was a low blow, Mandalorian, you won’t get many more nights like that if you use them against me,” you scolded, biting back a bigger smile when Mando stood up to tower over you, cocking his hip.
(what you wouldn’t give to leave a mark on the flesh there)
(make him wear it under the armor)
(your own symbol of devotion)
“That’s an empty threat,” he said coolly, making you roll your eyes before he tucked his knuckle under your chin, swiping his thumb over your lower lip.
(a Keldabe kiss is one thing)
(this kiss is only for you)
“Only a little longer, Mesh’la. I promise it’s worth it.” he said, quieter, and you nodded, wrapping your hand around his wrist. One squeeze before he moved to the cargo hold.
“I was going to show you how to dump the waste reserves today,” he called up the ladder as he descended.
“Oh thank the Maker, the suspense was killing me!”
You chased his huffed laugh.
An arid planet comes into focus, the child perched in your lap as Mando begins descending into the atmosphere.
“We’re a day early, bounty’s not expected to be on world until tomorrow,” Mando says as the Crest leans into entry, hull shaking against the heat as it skims over the bubble-like surface of the atmosphere.
“What should we do until then?” you ask, lifting the child a little higher so he can watch the descent. “Looks like a dry planet, Bean, no frogs for you.” His trill of disappointment makes you wonder, yet again, if he understands you more than the energies you assume he’s reading. The thought is dashed from your mind as you focus on Mando’s technique, riding the curve of the planet until gravity begins to tug you down in your seat. The Crest dives like a much more graceful bird than her silhouette, weaving through clouds and pockets of rougher air as a stretch of open land surges up to meet you. With a gentle lurch (good job landing Mando), you’re back on solid ground and the child is chirping at his father.
“Yeah kid, we can go outside. We’re far out, should be safe,” Mando says, directing the last part of the sentence to you. As you make your way to the ramp Mando calls down.
“Wear something warm.”
Your head cocks at the request.
“It’s a desert, I’ll cook alive.”
“Trust me.”
You exchange a look with the child, who lifts and drops his ears in as close of an approximation to, “Beats me.” You shrug on a long-sleeve shirt (one of Mando’s old ones, you still covet a few) and comfortable boots. Giving the button a slap, you wait for Mando by the cargo ramp as hot air blows into the hold.
“I don’t agree with your opinion on the climate,” you call back, turning when his footsteps near. “I think the armor’s skewed your perception of heat.”
“You’ll need it for this.”
In Mando’s hands is a harness, leather straps reinforced with thick thread along the seams. A hefty buckle centers in the loops, which attach to the baffling item in question.
(a jetpack?)
Mando has his on too, clasped into the backplate of his armor. This secondary one is more beat-up, yellow and green paint flaking off in places. It hangs heavy, the straps gathered in one hand as he lifts it to you.
“It’s old, but it works fine. Used to belong to Cobb Vanth,” Mando says, shifting a little as you watch him with parted lips. Your eyebrows raise briefly at the name of the Mos Pelgo Mandalorian you ventured to meet when (your) Mando was still among the stars. The jetpack, however, and all its potential holds your attention.
When you don’t say anything, Mando continues. “The Rising Phoenix is calibrated to my vambrace, but this one could be programmed to a…” He trails off as you step closer, shifting the child in your arms to reach out and finger the leather strapping. “Is this okay?” he finally asks, low and quiet as you feel the T-visor burn along your cheeks.
“You made this?” you finally say, barely registering Mando taking the child from you so you can inspect the rig. “This is why we were taking so long?” you breathe out, realization warming you.The stitching is tight and neat, the soldering clean. It even looks like he tried to remove some of the flaking paint but gave up. He shrugs briefly.
“Makes sense for you to use it. It’s likely to draw attention. But if there’s trouble, it’s fast,” Mando says, his body language cautious right now. He must have been nervous at the proposition, anticipating your apprehension, but you feel anything but. This hunk of junk repurposed to protect you is a greater gift than he understands. It makes you break out into a dazzling smile.
“This is karking amazing!” you shout, the child joining in as you turn over the rig and inspect it from all angles. Mando’s chuckle sends tingles down your spine, and when you meet the visor again you can imagine a bashful smile gracing his face.
(a face you’ll never see, but dream of all the same)
“How do you…” you start, holding the jetpack to your chest like a child on Life Day.
“A desert planet with nothing to do seemed like a good place to teach you,” Mando says, sauntering down the ramp, the child’s ears bouncing. Your heart hammers into high speed while sweat beads along your hairline.
(you’re going to fly today)
Mando takes an especially long time to walk you through the components of the jetpack, how it works and what each part does. You’re barely containing your excitement, hovering over his quick-moving hands and nodding endlessly.
“What’s this for?” you ask, pointing at a cylinder in the center that looks empty. Mando shakes his head.
“That’s for another day, Mesh’la, today we’re flying,” he deflects, and you don’t push. The possibility of being weightless, suspended in air the way you’d only experienced in dreams, was a much greater distraction.
“Do you have the controller?” Mando asks. You flash the metal gauntlet on your wrist. It’s just as cleanly built, a small series of buttons that do the basics. You’ve ridden speeders with more complicated controls. Though speeders barely leave the ground.
“Ready?” he asks, holding the straps open for you to slip into. You flash him a bright smile before turning around, shouldering the bulky machinery like a school bag. It settles on the center of your back, Mando fussing with the chest clip and adjusting the tension of the straps.
“This needs a real harness, but for now it’ll work.” Mando slides his fingers under the restraints to test their tautness. “It won’t distribute your weight, so no long trips. You’ll bruise up.”
“I can handle a few bruises,” you challenge, a coy smile melting onto your face as Mando slows his pacing. He tips the helmet in, tugging on the central buckle once more.
“Cheeky,” he purrs before stepping away, typing something into his vambrace. You twist and test the harness. It’s a comforting level of snug, the kind that makes you feel made of durasteel. The child, left to his devices during the suit up, pats at your calf.
“Am I looking cool, Bean?” you ask, doing a quick spin for giggles. “I need a cape like your dad to go…with…” You trail off, a wicked little smile replacing your coy one. “Hey Mando,” you call out innocently, drawing his gaze. “Did you always have the Rising Phoenix?”
He tilts his head with some hesitancy.
“No.”
“So when we first met, you didn’t have it.”
“No.”
“And I remember you having quite the impressive cape back then.”
“I’ve always had…”
“And now it’s a little, you know. Worn. A little tattered. Maybe a little…burned.”
Mando stares you down and it takes all of your effort not to lose it.
“Do you…wear the cape when you’re flying, Mando?”
He shifts from one foot to the other.
“It takes a lot of work…”
“Oh my Stars, you do!”
Mando shifts into what you’ve come to call the Exasperated Stance, hands on his hips, shoulders squared, helmet tipped back.
“It’s easier to…”
“Mando, you are going to set yourself on fire, you kriffing idiot. I can see the scorch marks!”
Mando advances on you, and you skip backwards. Your hands fly to the controller on your wrist. It’s easy to psych yourself out thinking about flying, but with Mando stalking your way, your pounding heart could be attributed to that.
“Mesh’la…” he growls, but with little fire behind it.
(unlike the amount of fire he’s definitely set to that useless piece of fabric)
“Mando…” you mimic, hand dancing over the gauntlet like a gunslinger about to draw his weapon.
“Stop it.”
(perfect)
“Catch me and make me,” you taunt, taking off into a real run. Mando’s footsteps falter, then pick up speed behind you.
(now or never)
You press the short series of buttons to ignite the jetpack, your speed masking the initial jolt of thrust when it catches.
“Wait!” Mando shouts behind you. For a moment you do feel bad for the plaintive plea threading his shout, but adrenaline kicks in and if you do this right, you’ll be flying.
(if you do it wrong, well, you’ll just have a bruised ego…along with a few other places)
Three more long strides and the thrust lifts you off the ground, a disbelieving laugh following. Your feet dangle uselessly as you lift off, the wind in your ears drowning out further shouts. Faintly you hear another roar of ignition, Mando likely to yank you back out of the sky, but euphoria is all you can absorb. The drop in your stomach evens out as you slow your climb, easing the throttle until you’re hovering about fifty feet off the ground. You kick your legs, heat kissing the back of your thighs reminding you to be careful. Below, the sable sand and rock stretches like a rolling canvas, the undulations of hills and sharp creases of mountains in the distance shifting perspective as you absorb beauty at a height you’ve never known.
“Are you crazy?” Mando shouts, zipping into view right in front of you, broad beskar body blocking out the horizon you were just admiring. The startle makes your finger slip, and you drop ten feet fast, Mando’s hands chasing you. Regaining control, you zip away from him.
“I’m getting the hang of it!” you laugh back. His posture is rigid as he flies close behind, more disciplined with technique. You’re just happy that you haven’t crashed face-first into the hard packed dirt yet. Below the child watches you weave around, little hands raised when you zoom overhead. Narrowly avoiding Mando when he reaches out, no doubt to slow you down or scold you further, you speed up with the barest recognition that this is probably a bad idea.
“Look at this Bean!” you shout down, wobbling your shoulders back and forth until you discover how much sway banks you left or right. It doesn’t feel real, like you’re flying in a dream, even though the wind whips past your face and the straps pull painfully against your ribs.
(it feels like freedom)
A flash of silver glints in the corner of your eye and Mando is pulling up beside you, one hand clamping down on your bicep.
“Enough. Land,” he shouts, but for the first time in ages you feel light, like every care on your shoulders was left in the dirt. You don’t want to touch down and let it crawl back up yet.
Plus, it’s been too long since you sparred with Mando.
The controls are surprisingly intuitive, though considering he made them for you might that speaks to his intelligence. Or insight. But now he must be cursing his thoughtfulness because you speed up and up, the weight of his armor lagging him behind. His grip loosens and you spin away again, testing how quickly you can change direction. The dance continues, Mando’s hands coming close, his voice lost to the roar of the packs and the wind whipping against your cheeks. You push him back, kicking him in the chest once and feeling a little bad about it.
He finally yanks you down by your ankle, flipping you so the propulsion shoots you towards the ground. Righting yourself more nimbly than expected, he barrels into you and digs his fingers into your waistband.
“Stop. Teasing.” The growl is heavy, but even he can’t hide the winded excitement of the chase under the vocoder. You’re sure if you palmed him now he’d be hard.
(jetpack sex)
(no way, that’s how idiots go about dying)
“Make. Me. Mando,” you pant, hitting a random button on his vambrace. Thankfully it just stutters his jetpack, grip slipping enough for you to wriggle out. You want to see if you can do a loop, entertain the child below, fly along the horizon the way you’d always dreamed of when two desert suns set on your planet.
The jetpack lurches hard against you. The ever-present heat skirting down your thighs lessens. Something smells like chemicals and smoke.
(out of fuel)
(DANK FARRIK)
All the elation building in your chest freezes to terror when gravity pulls you, but before you can shout Mando’s hands jam under the harness, wrenching you to his chest as all your gravity-defying stunts fizzle out. You thud your forehead against his paudron as he lowers you back to solid earth, talking yourself down from the brief heart attack. Once your feet touch down you back away, Mando’s grip easing as you sweep sweat and dust from your forehead.
“Thanks for the rescue,” you mutter, cheeks hot with embarrassment before you turn your attention to the little green child hurrying his way over. “How’d you like the show Bean?” Kneeling down, he practically tumbles into your open arms, clawing his way up to your face to pat at your cheeks. “I’m okay buddy, had the time of my life up there thanks to…” Looking over at Mando you can almost see the frustration wafting off him in waves.
(kriff, you really pissed him off this time)
“Okay, how about we pop you in here and send you back to the Crest while I get a lecture,” you murmur as you tuck the child into the silver pram and send it scooting. The child looks back once, concerned ears perking, but turns back around when you wave him off. Mando’s footsteps approach heavily, scuffing in the dirt. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face.
“I’m sorry…” you start to say, ready for the harsh reprimand you’re sure is coming.
(how can you explain the wonderful gift he just gave to you?)
“Why didn’t you listen to me?” he says, dangerously low. His shoulders are tight, forehead almost pressed to yours. You can see how intimidating being on the Mandalorian’s bad side could be.
“I was…” you try to say, the emotionless visor following your gaze. The horizon, sparkling with midday sun, is where your gaze finally lands. “I’ve always dreamed of flying. I got carried away. I’m sorry.”
Seconds tick by as you wait for a scold, but it doesn’t come. Instead Mando sighs, and two heavy hands drop on your shoulders.
“You’re lucky I caught you,” he murmurs, squeezing briefly. You bring your eyes back to the smoky T-visor and quirk a wan smile.
“Seems like I’m always falling for you.”
(would that be such a bad thing?)
Mando stills, then cradles your cheek in his hand. The cool kiss of beskar on your forehead raises goosebumps despite the desert heat.
“Mesh’la,” he groans, “don’t tease.”
“Not teasing now, Mando.”
A rumble in his chest burns straight to your sex.
“Yeah? You’ll be good for me?”
(oh kark)
Mando twists you in his arms, back to front. The jetpack puts too much bulk between you, making you have to bend at the waist, but it’s immediately evident this is exactly what Mando wants. He palms your hips, dragging his hand up to stroke your stomach before sliding down to cup you over your pants.
“You want this?” he asks, but he’s already kneading at your mound, the heavy swipe of his fingers through your clothes sparking heat in your cunt.
“Mando…” you choke out, hands coming back to grab at his narrow hips. You’re unbalanced and clumsy against his unyielding stance. “The child.” His little silver pod is ascending the ramp into the Crest. Mando chuckles.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”
Your cunt clenches, ripples of pleasure as you scratch your nails into the rough weave of his pants. The jetpack tugs against your chest and you realize he’s using it as leverage to pull you back into him.
(jetpack sex jetpack sex jetpack sex)
“Feel what you do to me, Mesh’la. All the kriffing time.”
Your hands scrabble behind you, fumbling between your bodies.
(give it to me)
(all of it)
(all of you)
Mando shifts, jostling your body a fraction to the side. There’s a sudden white hotness against your arm and you cry out, jerking against his hold.
(the exhaust pipe)
The jetpack is still cooling down, hot rings of metal that just touched you at the worst possible time. Mando’s grip disappears immediately, the press of his body against you suddenly gone.
“What happened?” he says, and the vocoder can’t hide his concern. You twist your arms back up by your face, straightening back to standing. There’s a small welt, hot to the touch. You’ve barely inspected it yourself when Mando’s familiar orange-tipped gloves take your hand into his.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, careful not to touch the mark but still holding your arm so gently.
(oh Mando)
(never)
“Just touched the exhaust, nothing a little bacta can’t fix,” you say breezily, but you know the moment’s passed. Mando’s already leading you back to the Crest, and you follow begrudgingly.
(trust you to ruin some of the hottest foreplay with an injury)
The child burbles at your entrance, hovering the pram over to where you sit at the table, injury outstretched on the durasteel. You turn your arm to touch the burn against it, offering a tiny sliver of relief from the dull throb. Mando bustles into a cargo cubby, pulling out the medkit you’d put to good use barely a week before. A packet of bacta gel, and the Mandalorian, settle across from you.
“I promise, I’m okay,” you say with a lopsided smile, reaching for the bacta. He snags it up first, motioning for you to reveal the burn. It’s halfway up your forearm, the flesh rising.
“I know,” Mando says before tugging at the tips of his gloves.
(Maker)
The last time you got to watch this ritual closely (not clouded by lust or in a frantic scramble) was when he stood at the foot of the bed in Joeken’s inn. You’d admired his wide palms, his thick fingers, how capable they looked. There’s much there you remember, but age and circumstance changes all. There are more scars along his knuckles, callused and rough. He almost glows in the artificial lighting, a deep golden tone forever under his skin. Being able to savor it screams of transgression.
“Let me,” he says, breaking you from your reverie. You extend your arm into his reach, the scratch of his well-worked fingertips tracing the injury. He squeezes a small amount of bacta onto the burn and works it in with two fingers, the touch featherlight and gliding. Mesmerized by the methodical strokes, your other hand drifts to the back of his hand, your fingertips sliding over the smoother skin. His fingers falter as you both watch the slow advance of skin on skin.
“Mesh’la,” Mando breathes. You start to retract, afraid of an overstep. “No, it’s…” he stutters out, “It’s okay. Just not…used to it.”
(touch him until he forgets what it was like to go without)
Bacta application forgotten (or completed), Mando cups your injured hand, tracing the lines in your palm that supposedly speak of your future. You let your own wandering touch linger along the mountains of his knuckles, slip along the veins and raised injuries, before resting on his wrist. His chest hitches like he’s in pain, or something much sweeter.
“Does it still hurt?” he asks, now holding your hand between both of his.
“No, much better,” you answer, leaning when a flash of black catches your eye. Your mouth and one eyebrow quirks up. “Who gave you that?”
Mando turns his wrist, a black tattoo - two rings around a dot - appearing on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.
(target)
“Paz. A brother in arms.”
You stroke over it, no discernible texture.
“Did he give you more?” you ask cheekily. The child hovers closer to inspect his guardian’s ink, tilting his head and softly cooing.
“You’ll have to find those yourself,” he says, the edge of sass in his voice making you giggle. You move to pull away but his hands wrap around yours, warm and gentle for implements of such bloodshed.
“I never want to hurt you,” he says, much quieter. The vocoder almost loses his consonants. “If I ever do…”
“Hush,” you scold, leaning over the table to meet the visor. “It was an accident. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of them.” The stillness in his posture twists your stomach.
(he’d be devastated if he harmed you)
“You could never hurt me,” you say. Mando tilts his head, the sentiment too simplistic. But all of its meanings fill the silence.
(you would never do it purposefully)
(I’ll always forgive you)
(I would rather be hurt than without you)
With molten slowness Mando leans over your arm, raising it between you. You think it’s to inspect the burn, see that the bacta is working, but he just stares at it for a long moment. His hand drifts to the edge of his helmet, aimless and lost. When you touch him again he snaps back, standing up quickly.
“I have to make some preparations for tomorrow,” he squeezes out, taking a half step back. His movements are sluggish, quickening only when he strides away.
“Thank you, Mando,” you call as he mounts the ladder. He gives a nod, tugging his gloves on before climbing the ladder into the cockpit. The child hovers by your side, looking up at his retreating father figure before reaching up to you.
“Been a bit of a day, hasn’t it Bean?” you say, lifting the child out of the pram. The warmth of his touch lingers, the images of his hands holding yours only a blink away.
The baby yawn is all the answer you need.
In the cockpit, Din leans down and braces his hands on the console, trying to slow his pounding heart. He’s been inside you, why was letting you touch his bare hands more intimate? He’d had to cover them up to stop reliving every caress, the way your eyes roamed along the only bit of skin he’d allowed you to observe. His face burns with self-consciousness but also the thrill of your exploration.
But as much as that all excited him, it was that final moment that drove his heart into his throat and made him feel lightheaded. Because he held your hand and looked at the burn - an injury he caused, however inadvertently - and let a fleeting thought grow wild in his mind.
Kiss it better.
Something his mother would do with a scraped knee or a bruised finger.
Kiss it better.
Those three words grew from a whisper to an ocean roar as he considered how your skin would feel under his lips. If he could lift the helmet just enough to touch but not for you to see.
That wouldn’t risk his Creed.
Yes it would.
He crushed the desire down, left you behind a little more confused than before, but safe and cared for in his ship. Safe with the child and with him.
You could never hurt me.
You’re right. Din would never, could never bring harm to you. But some days, like today, he can see how much harm you could do to him. With your bright smile and open heart and patience, you could destroy the Mandalorian.
But from those ashes, Din Djarin could grow.
A flashing light grounds him as he flips on a holo-message. A halo of messy curls and a sassy expression glows to life, the dull scrapes and whines of a working hanger in the background. Din cocks his head as the message plays.
“Mando! Long time no see! Not that I miss that hunk of junk ship of yours. Well, I do miss the credits it brings in. Anyway, I’ve got a lead for you. You wanted those, right? About the Mandalorians? Got a client who may know where some are. The info’s not for free, I’ll fill you in when you get here. Bit of a time crunch, though, so you better shift that rust bucket into hyperspeed. You’re her last hope.”
Peli Motto’s image fizzles into static, and a blanket of duty settles back on Mando’s shoulders. A mission long paused. An outcome he comes to dread more with each passing day. A galaxy that spun on without the three of you for a long while.
But there is much work still to be done.
END
Episode 11 of the I Think of You Series
#mandalorian x you#mandalorian x reader#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian x f!reader#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x fem!reader#the mandalorian x you#din djarin x f!reader#prolix fics#i think of you series
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THE SILVER LINING — CH. 1
Chapter One: The Mercury Keeps Rising
Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families in need of medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and albeit the bounty hunters as well. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has somehow led you to your biggest adventure yet.
Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader
Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths,
Word Count: 6.7k
A/N: YA’LL IM BACK TO WRITING MY SOUL OUT HERE YAY! I feel like this is gonna be a weekly updated fic or updated twice a week if I’m feeling speedy hehe. Did I turn to the Enneagram again? Yep! You are an Enneagram Two for this fic! Yay! (Cause I’m an Enneagram Two :>) And Din is an Enneagram One, so ya’ll are romantically compatible. Anyways, my thoughts and explanations are gonna be in the end notes! Leave a comment to let me know if you want this series or if I should scrap it. :)
Song: The Great War by Taylor Swift
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NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN
Just a little longer now… Shouldn't be much longer. Wait, what is this about? You’ve been having trouble sleeping since you were young. The nightmares were nothing new, but the sharp flares in your chest and side kept bothering you recently. Your nervous system's acting up and now being awake feels unsafe as you lay there in your cot, clutching your chest, feeling each breath that escapes from your nose and out through your mouth as you stare at the ceiling above you.
You were a long way from Bogden 3, where you were raised. Nevarro wasn’t the ideal place to hide. It was situated within a sector of the Outer Rim Territories, in a system with a singular star and asteroid fields. An ashen world of black sands, with rocky and volcanic terrain that consisted of regions of rocky flats and hills along with vast fields of lava, which contained lava rivers both on the surface and underground.
The planet became a bounty hunter hive after the fall of the Empire. The Bounty Hunters’ Guild owns hubs throughout the Galaxy. One of such hub is located on the Outer Rim planet Nevarro, which functions as a cantina. The cantina works around the clock, has its brewery, offers a wide selection of drinks with snacks, provides coolness from the air conditioner, and is a favorite place for rest and meetings of bounty hunters.
By some luck or the unknown ways of the Force, no one had recognized you nor put a bounty on your head yet. After aiding the Republic during the revolution against the Empire and after the Battle of Yavin as a healer and a medic, you left to medically aid those in need after the war. If you were being honest, you missed your friends in the Soaring Hawkbat Clan and the people who raised you. However, you knew that what you were doing needed to be done.
Droids may sometimes be unreliable, and no matter how sophisticated technology becomes, there is no substitute for the human touch. No droid, no matter how dexterous, can offer compassion. It might be able to store and process more medical information, but only people can offer a truly sympathetic ear. As one of the few who possessed the knowledge to provide primary care to the sick and wounded, Greef Karga eventually established a small medcenter a few blocks away from the cantina.
You decide to push yourself up and away from your cot, seeing the glimmer of light peek through the window. Cleaning up, getting dressed, and after quickly eating a piece of purple fruit, you sling your brown satchel over your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the medcenter. As you enter, you greet the 2-1B droid which had modular limbs that allowed them to use a range of surgical tools and other medical instruments based on their patients' needs. You made your way over to your desk, setting down your bag and then sterilizing your hands afterward.
Different energy and buzz were happening around Nevarro. As you patched up one of the Trandoshan and sold them a couple of cans containing bacta for a good amount of credits, you had overheard them talking about receiving a job from the Client and planning a flight to Arvala-7. Living on this bounty hunter-infested planet taught you to listen for information and to use it to your advantage when necessary. They were usually given a holopuck, a simple holographic device used to display an image of the quarry and the bounty payout. However, they were only given a tracking fob, the Trandoshan briefly flashing it to you before tucking it away in their belt.
The next few hours were spent treating different families with various illnesses and injuries, then sending them off with some medication and a specific date to return. This was your usual routine, nothing new to note except for that tiny piece of information from earlier.
The sound of the doors hissing to life causes you to turn your head. If you were being honest, this was the last person you expected to show up in your medcenter. Your mouth gaped open as you take in the sight of the tall and imposing figure in front of you. The unmistakable shape of the Mandalorian helmet and polished silver causes you to nearly choke on your saliva.
“Do you have any bacta spray?” The sound of his rough and modulated voice causes you to try and gather your composure as he walks towards you, which proves to be slightly challenging. You clear your throat and look at his vizor, “Yeah, let me just go to the cabinet to get some.” He doesn’t respond, leaving you to awkwardly stand there for a few more seconds before moving to retrieve the bacta spray.
You usually aren’t this nervous or anxious around anyone, but the Mandalorian was completely different. As you rummage through the cabinet, you try and fight the overwhelming urge to sense his feelings, but it is no use. He radiates with deep hurt from his past but tries to bury his soul in the dark. This Mandalorian weights living heavy on his spine. A man who has created mistakes grips at them until his hands are bruised and burning. You wince at that, nearly dropping one of the bacta sprays but manage to catch it, turning to the Mandalorian keenly observing you as you make your way over to him, trying to ignore the waves and streaks of grey and silver glowing around his figure, you quickly hand it to him while saying, “I hope three is enough for now.”
He curtly nods, “How much?” You shake your head, “You don’t have to pay. It’s fine.” The slight tilt of his helmet almost causes you to blush, you feel his curiosity and concern, “I insist.”
You blink and shake your head again, “Nope. Just… be careful on your journey. That’s enough for me.” You sense his confusion and interest before he turns and walks away, leaving a trail of gray streaks only you could see, hearing the slight clink sound of beskar, and the doors closing.
Once you’re sure he left, you bring both of your hands to the side of your face, using two fingers to rub into your temple, sighing in embarrassment and disappointment for allowing yourself to nearly reveal who you truly are. Having strong Force empathy abilities involved picking up impressions of an individual's feelings and general emotional state. There was no explanation for the aura you could see around individuals, a specific color for each living creature that encompasses their character, personality, morals, past, present, and sometimes, a rare glimpse of their future emotions.
You try and ground yourself by closing your eyes and breathing, controlled and steady breaths of air as you reassure yourself that you’re safe. The peace doesn’t last long, as flashes of visions begin to cloud your periphery. Loud explosions on Nevarro, blaster fights, the unmistakable loud cries of a child, and the Mandalorian at the center of it all. You fall to your knees, clutching your chest tightly and the other to hold your upper body. You sensed the dark side, anger, fear, aggression, and a lust for power from this planet long before, but now you sense there is something much more sinister approaching.
NEVARRO, 9ABY – NOON
After a few days, you intercepted a transmission from the Mandalorian successfully capturing the bounty from Arvala-7, and must be directly given to The Client. While the Mandalorian was gone you had been secretly training, meditating, and gathering more information about whoever this Client may be, allowing the Force to guide you to the path you must walk on.
You step out of the medcenter to see the Razor Crest preparing to land on the settlement's spaceport and disembark. You toss the hood over your head and use a scarf as a mask, hiding in the shadows, watching the Mandalorian and a hover-pram pass you by swiftly and you catch a glimpse of a green creature inside. Your mouth slightly drops open in shock and the quiet feeling of the Force settles inside of you as you eye the baby.
You follow the two of them from a distance, not wanting to be noticed or seen. The Mandalorian turns right into an alleyway, and you wait a few seconds before trailing him. You hide behind one of the stone pillars, keenly observing his movements. The Mandalorian pounds loudly on a metal door and a TT-8L/Y7 gatekeeper droid, a simple photoreceptor mounted on a retractable eyestalk. The Mandalorian shows a disc as proof of identity. You notice The Child reacts in surprise as the droid retracts.
The door unlocks, and you realize you must follow them without getting caught. Your eyes close as you calmed yourself, deep breaths in and out, registering the light and sound waves around you, every particle and atom. Tiny pieces of music, notes in the air that only you can hear, each sound of your heartbeat, you hold my breath and try to swim. Making infinite room for hope and oxygen, every cell across your skin comes to life, and slowly willing the light particles to bend and render you invisible to visual and audio detection.
When you open your eyes, you silently gasped, seeing a pair of Remnant Stormtroopers exit the house, and watching The Child lowers its ears and head. Your hands clench in a fist so tight you reminded yourself to breathe, following after the Mandalorian and the Stormtroopers before the door slides shut behind you. Inside the corridor, one of the stormtroopers roughly yanks the Child's cradle. Your eyes narrow in agitation and annoyance, the Madalorian is quick to say, “Easy with that.” To which the first Stormtrooper snarkily replies, “You take it easy.”
The stormtroopers lead you to a frail old man who you assume to be the Client and to a familiar-looking doctor on the side, the Client is delighted, “Yes!” He holds the tracking fob and approaches the Child, “Yes, yes, yes! Yes.” The Doctor begins to scan the child with a device, eventually, the scanner beeps to his delight, “Very healthy. Yes.”
The Client stands taller to speak to the Mandalorian, “Your reputation was not unwarranted.” The Mandalorian isn’t the least bit flattered, opting to question him, “How many fobs did you give out?” To which the Client responds, “This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure its delivery. But to the winner…” He walks over to the desk, bringing out a large container, “Go the spoils.” After a few buttons are pushed, the sides of the container bloom open to reveal bars of Beskar. The Mandalorian comes closer to the center table, holding two bars of beskar as you frown in disappointment.
“Such a large bounty for such a small package.” The Client says, and the Child cries and coos for the Mandalorian as he is taken away by the doctor. He can’t help the guilt that bubbles inside of him, he asks, “What are your plans for it?” The Client isn’t amused by his inquiry, “How uncharacteristic of one of your reputation. You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the Code of the Guild that these events are now forgotten?”
Two more Stormtroopers appear from the room to the right, standing behind the Client, “That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” With that, the Mandalorian places the two pieces of Beskar inside the container. No longer speaking and leaving with his prize as you follow him outside undetected.
Once you were in the main streets of the city, you pull back your cloak and render yourself visible, watching the Mandalorian walks through the marketplace and down the steps into the sewer below. You feel the heavy weight on your chest, unsure if the emotions you feel are coming from him or if they are your own. You shake your head and make your way to the Cantina, needing a drink after all of the information you’ve gathered.
You were taught about Master Yoda, a legendary Jedi Master and stronger than most in his connection with the Force. Small in size but wise and powerful, he trained Jedi for over eight hundred years, playing integral roles in the Clone Wars, and helped in the upbringing of Master Luke Skywalker, to which your clan members were deciding to join him or not.
Could this Child be another one of his kind?
The Cantina doors opened and you were immediately greeted by Greef Karga, “Well, look who we have here our favorite medic! Never thought you’d step foot in this place.” You shrugged in response, trying to shake off the stares of the different guests in the Cantina, “I gotta support Mikgel from time to time. Besides, he said he owed me a free drink.” You walk a bit closer to Greef Karga’s table as he asks, “Why would a woman like you, so carefree spirited need a drink?”
You sit on the other side of the booth, placing both of your arms atop the table, “Would… finding out about Imperial Forces hiding in out in a safe house on our planet count?” Greef Karga chokes on air and winces, you tilt your head down and raise an eyebrow, “Did you think you could keep this from me? What the hell are they doing here?”
He regains his composure and leans forward to whisper his reply, “I never intended to keep it from you. I was trying to protect you.” You scoff in disbelief and annoyance, “Protect me?”
To which Karga says, “Yes! Protect you, if they knew who you were and what you are they’d–” You rarely get angry, always choosing to see the good in people, but you sense the feeling of Karga’s greed and mixed lies.
You raise your hand, palm facing him, “Don’t lecture me about something I’ve lived and fought through. Giving them your services makes you an accomplice, a rat, and a damn coward.” The taste of acid and the waves of color that is radiates off of Karga is a mix of a bright lava orange and red, his simmering anger hisses at you, “Look who’s to talk. Hiding all your life. Running from your own future. Isn’t that a bit selfish and cowardly?” You deflate at that, understanding that he is partially right.
But before you could respond to the sound of the doors hissing open, you turn your head to see the Mandalorian entering the cantina, which silences its patrons as everyone gazes at him. Completely decked out with shiny new armor, he is completely unbothered as he approaches the table where you and Greef Karga are conversing. Karga heartily laughs, “Ah! Mando! They all hate you, Mando. Because you’re a legend!”
You try and get out of the booth and leave but Mando uses his right hand for you to stay put, so you settle back down again. You raise your eyes to hear the raspy voice of the Mandalorian confront Karga, “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Greef Karga scoffs and gestures around the Cantina, “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you, Mando. Only you.” The Mandalorian looks at you, “What about her?” To which you look up at him and frown, “No. I’m just a medic getting a drink after a tough day. But congratulations, I guess.”
Greef Karga continues, “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen. Please sit with us, my friend.” The Mandalorian obliges and unclips his Amban sniper rifle, placing it on the side of the couch before you move a little to the right to give him room to sit next to you. He took up almost half of the booth with his width and physique. You feel your left arm warm up with how close he was, the comfort that allures you to his orbit was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You choose to look straight ahead, trying not to acknowledge him pressed up beside you, luckily Greef Karga opens his mouth to talk, “They’re all weighing the Beskar in their minds, but not me. No. I, for one, celebrate your success. Because it is my success as well.”
Your right leg bounces up and down in anticipation Karga continues, “Hell! Even I’m rich.” He chuckled and digs into his breast pocket to reveal the two bars of Beskar he was given by the Client. You roll your eyes in annoyance, but the Guild Master says, “Now, how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable partner?”
Mando cuts to the chase, “I want my next job.” Greef Karga takes a sip of his drink before placing it down on the table, he eyes him with confusion, “Next job? Take some time off. Enjoy yourself. I’ll take you to the Twi’lek healing baths.” You frown at that and Mando doesn’t seem to care, “I want my next job.” Karga sighs, “Sure. Fine.”
“You hunters like to keep busy, right?” Karaga says with an amused tone, “Well, these are all far away.” He places a bunch of holopucks on the table and the Mandalorian reaches out to grab one, “The further, the better.” Karga smiles, “Well, take your pick. You’ve earned it.”
Mando places the holopuck on the table and it whizzes to life, showing an image of a Mon Calamari. “Ah. That’s the best one of the lot. A nobleman’s son skipped bail. Looks like you’re headed to the ocean dunes of Karnac.”
The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything and simply takes the puck and moves away from the table, grabbing his Amban sniper rifle, seemingly satisfied with his pick. You turn to watch him go but he freezes, and you use the force to reach out what he’s feeling, to be flooded with waves of guilt. Your eyebrows knit together as you hear Mando ask, “Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?”
Karga is packing the rest of the holopucks, “With what?” The Mandalorian turns to face him, “The kid.” Karga shakes his head, “I didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild Code.” Mando’s voice goes deeper as he points out, “They work for the Empire. What are they doing here?” You raise your eyebrows at Karga, as you smile smugly at him, “I asked the same thing.” To which he says, “Are the two of you working together? The Empire is gone. All that are left are mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you both, just go back to the Core and report them to the New Republic.”
You rolled your eyes and the Mandalorian grunts out, “That’s a joke.” Greef doesn’t give a remark about his statement, instead, he says, “Mando, enjoy your rewards. Buy a camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperdrive, you will have forgotten all about it.”
The Mandalorian doesn’t reply and simply takes his leave. You shake your head, scoffing at Karga and he calls out your name as you near the exit, “I suggest you keep yourself out of sight with those Imperial troops. For your safety, of course.” You say nothing and leave the Cantina, you feel the ground shaking under your feet and feel the pressure building until you can't breathe.
You shake your head, and the temptation of the dark side calls to you, to give in to your rage and hatred, you internally fight it off, gritting your teeth as you say, “No.” You catch your breath and focus, rationalizing your decision to break into the Imperial Remnant safe house to save the Child, then you will yourself to move towards the medcenter.
You swiftly walked towards your desk, grabbed your satchel, and opened the flap of the leather. Finding the fabric that wraps around the object you were searching for, you pull it out of the satchel and unwrap it. The lightsaber hilt that you haven’t touched since the day you left the clan, weighs heavy in your hands but the familiar cool touch of silver and gold metal forged into one grant you a sense of comfort. You wrap the hilt once more, not yet needing your lightsaber, placing it inside your satchel and instead arm yourself with a blaster. As you were gathering a few bacta sprays, the double doors sounded open, you don’t look over your shoulder as you say, “We’re closed for the day.”
“I need your help.” You feel your eyes expand and widen, the familiar voice of the Mandalorian causes you to wince a little bit as you turn to see his figure standing a few feet away from you.
You try to act nonchalant ask you ask, “What did you um… need?” Mando steps a bit closer to you, which causes your back to hit the cabinet door, his grave voice echoes through the modulator, “I need your help with rescuing the kid.” You swallow away your nervousness, “What? Why would you ask for my help?”
“You never showed up to the Cantina until today. You were asking Karga about the Imperials and you were curious as to why there were here. You never carry a weapon with you so I’m assuming you’re about to infiltrate their base. It looks like our interests are aligned,” Mando stated plainly as you quietly shook your head, “You don’t know me. So why trust me at all with this?”
It takes him a moment to form a response, you watch as his shoulders rise and fall with every intake of breath, then he says, “I’ve heard the good you’ve done for the people of Nevarro. No judgment or malice. Sometimes giving them medical care for free. You’re right, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done before. But right now, I do know you’ve only done the right thing. So, I’m asking for your help.”
You were startled by his response, completely breathless by his honesty and directness. You had thought he didn’t know who you were, just some medic around Nevarro, plain and simple. But it seems the Mandalorian also keeps tabs on the citizens around the town.
The color aura of the Mandalorian returns as you blink at him, feeling his emotions bouncing off of him and you becoming the receiver. Sparks of white and silver illuminate him, sensing his sincerity and need to save the Child. You lick your lips as an anxious tick and then nod, “Okay. I’ll do it. What’s the plan?”
The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows on your figures as you swiftly walk down the marketplace and down the alleyway to see the giant green metal door to the Imperial safe house. You make a right to find the hovering pram in the dumpster, and you feel his rage beside you. Like wildfire within him, mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke. It's fight or flight buried in his mind as alarms will sound.
You both climb up to the rooftop of the building across, positioned on his stomach, using his sniper rifle to listen to his targets. Clicking the side of his helmet to which the device whizzes and the static could be heard as you lay flat next to him. You figured he was listening to the targets and waiting for him to relay the information. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian quickly says, “We need to get the kid out of there before they leave.” You nodded as you lifted your hood up, “Okay.”
You both climb down off the rooftop. The Mandalorian bangs on the green door and is greeted by the gatekeeper droid. However, the Mandalorian violently grabs the stem, causing it to screech and rips off the droid's head, causing it to short circuit. He quickly walks away to the side, causing the two stormtroopers to come out to investigate.
One of them tells the other, “Check the perimeter.”
You and the Mandalorian plant a grav charge on a nearby wall, he grabs your wrist to hide behind another wall, “Cover your ears.”
You follow his instructions, using both of your hands to cover them, the beeping chirps louder, then sparks begin to fly, blowing a hole in the Imperial compound. Alarms are blaring, as you both walk into the corridor, positioning yourselves and waiting for the stormtroopers to advance.
The yellow lights flicker and eventually short-circuit, catching a glimpse of sparks flying on the side of the wall. You see the stormtroopers pass you and the Mandalorian to inspect the giant hole in the wall, using the flashlights on the side of their blasters to find nothing.
You both appear from behind the stormtroopers, the Mandalorian shooting the both of them from behind. Another stormtrooper enters the corridor and finds his fallen comrades, one of whom has a smoking hole in his chest. The Mandalorian once again appears from the shadows, knocking him down with his blaster and shooting him as well.
So far you hadn’t even needed to draw out your blaster, Mando is truly skilled. You walk through the corridors of the facility, checking each corner for stormtroopers. You and he venture deeper into the compound where he traps a fourth stormtrooper with his grappling cable and stabs him with his vibroblade.
You shoot a door open and the stormtrooper manages to get a hit on this shoulder pauldron, causing him to jerk backward but manages to shoot the stormtrooper inside the laboratory. You both walk inside and you spot the doctor and an IT-O Interrogation Unit. The doctor begins to plead for his life, “No, no, no, no, please. Please. No. No, no.” You raise your blaster to shoot down the IT-O Interrogation Unit, watching the pile of junk collapse on the ground.
Mando raises his blaster to shoot at the doctor, but he begs you both once more, “No, please. Please don’t hurt him. It’s just a child.” You and the Mandalorian walk toward him and he continues to plead, “Please. No. No! Please. No. No, no.” Mando grabs him by his chest and shoves him to the side, causing him to fall to the floor. He points and clicks his blaster at him, and he curls into a ball with his arm stretched out begging. You make your way to the machine keeping the child, finding him deep asleep.
You feel the Mandalorian break at the sight, alarms are still blaring, but it's too late for holy water now. He points the blaster, angrily asking, “What did you do to it?” He doesn’t get an immediate response which causes him to repeat the question harshly, “What did you do to it?” The doctor shakingly replies, “I protected him. If it wasn’t for me, he would already be dead! Please! Please. Please.”
The doctor whimpers as you quickly grab the Child and leave with the Mandalorian. You make a right but here the doors open, Mando grabs you and presses you up against a wall to hide behind some of the storage crates. You suddenly feel nauseous and can hear your own heartbeat flutter as you register the cool kiss of his armor against your warm flesh. You close your eyes as you feel the rise and fall of your chest and hear Mandos’ quiet breathing.
You try to push down your powers and senses, not wanting to feel his emotions at this particular moment right now. You feel the strings and waves radiating and intertwining with yours, the silver wisps curling with your bright shining colors. You tightly shut your eyes, hoping that you were almost out of this compound.
Suddenly, you hear the Mandalorian whisper, “They’re gone.”
Your lashes flutter as you open your eyes to meet his gaze through his vizor, there is a spectrum of color, surrounding you both. Your mouth partly opens to say something but there is no sound. For a moment, you believed he felt something too, the pull of gravity within your orbit. However, Mando pulls away from you and the colors disappear once more as if it was never truly there.
Neither of you spoke as you trail behind him and walk into a storeroom. The unexpected sound of the door opening catches you and Mando off-guard as two stormtroopers with flashlights attached to their armor try to shoot you both down. One of the stormtroopers says, “Split up. We’ll flush him out.”
You see their flashlights give away their positions, giving you and him time to defend yourselves. You turn to your left to give Mando the Child, letting him carry it, and make your way to the other stormtrooper.
“Give it up. There’s nowhere to–” You hear the groan of the stormtrooper being taken down by Mando, and you do the same to the other one, hitting him over the head with your blaster before knocking him out completely.
Another stormtrooper announces his arrival, “Hey!” To which you grab Mando’s Ampan sniper rifle on the floor, electrocuting him with the fork end of the device.
As you both exit the storeroom only to run into a stormtrooper. You both exchange gunfire, the sharp whizzing sound of blaster fire echoes in your ears, and the Mandalorian shoots him down. A second stormtrooper blasts his way through, and he unleashes his flamethrower on the second stormtrooper, scorching him. The Child looks away as this happens. The charred stormtrooper falls to the ground.
You groan in annoyance, “How many are there?” Mando hums, “Way too many for the Empire to be considered gone.”
You follow him and enter the meeting room with him holding the Child. Seemingly empty you walk straight to the exit doors, however, they open to reveal four more stormtroopers, “Freeze!” You three are completely cornered, “Don’t move! Hands up!” One of them yells, “Drop the blasters!”
You glare at the stormtroopers as Mando speaks calmly to them, “Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable. Here.” Mando gestures to you to do the same as you get down on your knees to place your blasters on the ground and he gently places the Child on the floor as well. “Now turn and face me!”
A stormtrooper commands, but neither of you moves, allowing yourself to have faith in the Mandalorian’s plans. You watch him clench his fists, and you hear the device on his arm chirp to life. “Stand up!” They command once more but you don’t follow their orders. A beat passes. The sharp sound of whistling birds creating fireworks as he unleashes them onto your enemies, you hear them groan in pain as it takes out all of the stormtroopers.
Mando gently picks up the Child and his blaster to which you grab your blaster from the floor, quickly exiting the compound. You walk side by side with the Mandalorian through the streets of Navarro, feeling the menacing stares of each bounty hunter. You spot their tracking fobs have been reactivated, loudly beeping as they point it towards your direction. Soon enough you are surrounded by several armed bounty hunters.
You spot Greef Karga stepping into view, “Welcome back! I’m surprised to see you ask for help from our talented healer. Now put the package down.” You analyze the several bounty hunters, trying to find an escape. “Step aside. I’m going to my ship.” Mando said, and Karga softly chuckles, “You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass and our medic can be easily forgiven, after all, she’s done for the citizens of this town.”
Mando doesn’t relent and states, “She and the kid are coming with me.” You turn to look at him in surprise that he wouldn’t just leave you here to face the consequences of your actions. “If you truly care about the kid and her, then you’ll put it on the speeder and you’ll let her walk away as if none of this ever happened and we’ll discuss terms.” An R6 astromech droid, on the speeder, turns its head.
“How do we know if we can trust you?” You asked and Karga scoffs, “Because I’m your only hope.” You watch Mando walk over to the speeder and you feel your eyes begin to fog with oncoming tears. Karga says your name, “Walk away and we’ll discuss this later.” You clench your jaw and glare at the bounty agent before turning your back toward him, and placing your hand on your blaster as you sensed it, the tingling in your spine and throughout your body.
Mando whirls around and shoots at the other bounty hunters, jumping onto a repulsorlift vehicle carrying luggage. You quickly take cover and shoot down the other bounty hunters running towards the Mandalorian and hopping onto the repulsorlift. Deep and commanding, he demands the astromech droid, “Drive!”
The droid shakes its head in disapproval and Mando raises his blaster at him, “Drive!” The astromech screeches in fear and drives the repulsorlift vehicle while you and Mando are shooting down as many bounty hunters as you can.
You aim for the sniper above and shoot while Mando covers the ground as you drive by. The astromech is shot down by Karga, you see bright yellow sparks and you hear the droid power down. You hear Mando whisper, “Are you okay?”
To which you hum and nod, “Mhm. I’m fine.”
It’s now deadly quiet as the rest of the hunters step closer toward the repulsorlift. The fork end of the amban rifle peaks through the luggage as Mando aims and blasts bounty hunters into ash. Different species groan and clamor to hide behind various objects.
“That’s one impressive weapon!” Karaga states and Mando’s voice booms as he announces, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna walk to my ship with her and the kid, and you’re gonna let it happen.”
“No. How about this? We take the kid and the medic, and if you try to stop us, we will kill you and we strip your body for parts.” Karga says menacingly, and suddenly you feel someone pull your leg, dragging you and you yelp out in fear and surprise.
Mando is quick to your aid, using the butt of his rifle and then shocking him with the fork of his weapon, completely stunning the first bounty hunter while you shoot down the second.
You spot the rest of the hunters advancing towards you with their weapons, firing every part of the speeder.
Greef Karga yells, “Don’t hit the target or her!” As a last resort, Mando activates his flamethrower, which causes the bounty hunters to fall back for a moment, only for it to run out of fuel. You lay down next to the Child, craning your head to the right to gaze at his peaceful sleeping form.
You feel the sudden weight of Mando hovering over you and the kid, trying to protect both of you til the end. You hear the Child coo beside you and smile in adoration.
You reach into your satchel and dig for the lightsaber hilt, readying yourself to defend Mando and the Child the moment it comes down to it. Without notice, you hear the whooshing sound of rockets streaking through the air to hit one of the bounty hunters straight through the chest. Fortunately, several fellow members of the Mandalorian Tribe, donning jetpacks and blasters, come to your aid, taking out several bounty hunters.
You watch in awe as the Mandalorians skillfully use their weapons in taking out the remaining bounty hunters, the head infantry lands close to the speeder and says, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!” To which Mando replies, “You’re going to have to relocate the covert.” The head infantry responds, “This is the Way.” And Mando echos back, “This is the Way.”
The firing continues and Mando carries the Child and helps to pull you up. You and the Mandalorian board the Razor Crest, but are soon cornered by Greef Karga, “Hold it right there.” You both turn to face Karga as he states, “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code. And you,” he turns to talk to you, “Since you’re with him they will come after you too now. And the Imps will soon follow.” You raise your chin as you steadily replied, “Let them try.”
The Mandalorian uses his grappling hook to trigger the carbonite chamber, unleashing some tibanna gas in an attempt to blind Karga. You expertly doge his attempts to shoot at you only for you to outstretch your hand, using the Force to let his weapon fly out of his hands, he stands there completely stunned and Mando uses his blaster to shoot him off of the Razor Crest.
The hatch closes and you strap yourself in, the Razor Crest takes off, watching the other Mandalorians provide covering fire through the window. You comfortably soar into the skies of Nevarro. You spot the head infantry flying beside the ship and salute him before flying off.
The Mandalorian makes a remark, “I gotta get one of those.” And you snort in amusement. The Child is seated beside his lap and is reaching for something. The Mandalorian unscrews the metal ball on the stick and gives it to him to play with before taking the Razor Crest into space.
End Notes:
YAYYYYYYYYYYYY! SPACE DAD STORY!
You are a force-sensitive empath! HORRAY!
You can force cloak yourself because this skill tends to come to people as more of a natural talent, for it is extremely difficult to learn otherwise; thus, the reason the ability is rarely seen.
The reader is an Enneagram 2! You are a part of the Heart Center; The benevolent, embrace of the good in other people, engage in every emotional love, you experience and feel their emotions more than anyone else. Helpful, natural nurturers, understanding, generous, supportive, mistaken as the passive, embodiment of what love and embrace look like.
The Mandalorian is an Enneagram One personality type with a Nine wing. Enneagram Ones belong to the body center, along with Eights and Nines, and they naturally make decisions based on gut instinct. The Mandalorian likes to feel in control, particularly of his physical environment. For Enneagram Ones, freedom and independence are important.
SO THAT'S A GLIMPSE INTO THEIR PERSONALITY TYPE AND THE WAY THEY MAKE CHOICES!
All will be revealed in the coming chapters! I can’t wait for you guys to read them AHHHHHH
Thank you for all the reblogs, comments, feedback, and likes! Ya’ll really are too sweet and I truly appreciate your kind words. SEE YA IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!
TAGLIST:
@wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers
#din djarin x empath!reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x jedi!reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x female reader#din djarin#the mandalorian fic#mando x you#The Silver Lining#The Silver Lining Masterlist#The Silver Lining Din Djarin#din djarin x fem!reader#pedro pascal x reader
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