#most of all by mandalorian standards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jangofettjamz · 4 months

Text

Unlovable Child

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse

2nd Person POV

"I'm going out of town for a week to see my parents" you tell Jenna. The two of you were snuggled up together on the couch, binge watching The Mandalorian on Disney+.

"Oh, do you want some company?" Jenna offered to which you shook your head no. Your parents wasn't exactly the gold standard when it comes to parenting, in fact they'd probably win an award as being one of the worst.

You've never discussed your parents with Jenna because of this, not wanting her to be involved with them due to their toxic nature. You feared that exposing them to her would only cause more trouble than its worth.

"You sure you don't want me to come with? I can--"

"No no you really don't have to" you said, cutting her off a little too quickly to go unnoticed. She gave you a look of suspicion, knowing there was likely some underlying tension between your parents and you.

You tried to put her at ease "I-I mean... they haven't seen me for a while... I wouldn't want to overwhelm them by introducing you to them... y'know given your fame and all. No offence"

Your stuttering and lack of a believable reason wasn't enough to ease Jenna's growing concern for you, but she smiled anyway, which in turn made you smile. You knew she wasn't convinced.

She pulled you in closer, making sure you were nestled into her chest. She had a feeling deep down that you were keeping something from; something terrible. Anxiousness flooded her nervous system, making her rethink about letting you go.

Her heartbeat quickened because of this, something you caught by having your head on her chest. "Jenna? Are you okay?" You asked.

She looked at you and smiled to put you at ease "Everything's fine, sweet boy. Everything's okay." She reassured, kissing your forehead to ease your worries.

But it wasn't her you were worried about, it was meeting your parents for the first time in years. The last time you spoke to your parents was 2 years prior, just before you moved out for your new job, just before you met Jenna for the first time. It didn't exactly end on the greatest of terms.

You parents were vile; abelists who took pleasure in calling you the most horrid of insults for their own sick pleasure. It made them feel better about themselves, like they were superior. They were never proud of you, even though your academics should make them so. They could never be proud of someone like you, someone who was autistic.

Of course, with many dysfunctional households come with their fair share of physical abuse, which in your case was fairly common place. The slightest of mistakes ended in severe punishment, that being knocking a drink over, talking to loudly .etc.

You were deemed a failure in the eyes of your parents despite everything you've accomplished in school, your well paying job; it meant nothing. You were never good enough for them. You were simply too much of a "spaz" to love. You were nothing to them, only when money was an issue were you of any use.

You held Jenna a little tighter just think about this. Painful memories from your past flashed through your mind, reminding you of the awful people they were.

But you maybe they had changed, maybe they realised the error of their ways, you naively thought to yourself, only setting yourself up for a meeting that would inevitably send you crashing down.

But you had to believe. "They have changed. Of course they changed, they only said and did all that stuff to make me into the man I am today. They love me. Don't they?"

- 1 day later

Jenna was on the phone with her director discussing filming dates. She was currently working multiple films at once and needed to negotiate dates so that it wouldn't impede on her schedule.

You always admired how she could do so many films at once, though, you wished she would take a break sometimes as it can tire her out.

Jenna's phone call was immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening revealing your figure. "Mark I'm gonna have to call you back" she hangs up the phone, confused as to why you were back 6 days earlier than anticipated.

You were wearing sunglasses, unusual considering the weather outside was quite gloomy. Perhaps you just felt like wearing them, she thought to herself.

"Hi, baby boy." She kisses your cheek, but noticed that it looked awfully red and... swollen? "You're back early. Did everything go okay down there?" Jenna asked to which you nodded with a smile, albeit a dishonest smile.

"Yeah everything went great, just gad to cut the trip short because they were busy and stuff. My parents are busy people after all" you say in a somewhat cheery tone. The swollen part of your face was pulsing, as though the nerve endings in your face had been set alight.

Jenna continued to examine your face, still finding it strange that you haven't taken off your shades yet. "Wait, he wasn't even wearing shades when he left. Why was he wearing them now?" She thought, trying to ascertain the situation.

She noticed your hands were shaking; odd considering you were always calm around her most of the time and it wasn't cold indoors because of the heating. One of your arms was holding your stomach too.

All this information, combined with the fact that your back 6 days ahead of schedule is enough to tell Jenna that something was very very wrong.

"Hey babe can you take off those glasses for me? I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours." She asked sweetly, forceful was not the right approach. You looked at her, trying to strum up a lame excuse not to oblige.

"No!" He exclaims, catching Jenna off guard. You quickly try to come up with a better excuse. "I mean i-it's really bright in here Jenna, my eyes are kinda tired from driving, y'know" you play off terribly, adding a smile to try and convince otherwise.

Jenna isn't buying it, you know this. She's too smart. "Y/N your face is bright red, and swollen" His smile quickly drops. "Your hands are shaking too, and I can see a cut behind your hair. You and I both know it isn't cold in here and that cut is recent too." She exhales sadly, turning her attention too your stomach "You're holding you're stomach babe, like you're in pain. What happened over there?"

You panic, you knew she wasn't an idiot but you can't bare to let her find out about your parents, about your past. It was too embarrassing, she'd surely leave you for not being man enough to fight back. That what your father had conditioned you to believe, that you weren't a real man because of your condition, that you were sub-human.

"I-I d-dont--" "let me see your eyes, my love" bowing your head in defeat, you allowed Jenna to remove your shades, the sight horrified her, sending shivers down to the deepest depths of her soul. She gasped, her hands covering her mouth as you she saw the damage.

A massive purple bruise covered your right eye, the eye itself was completely red. The area around the eye was completely swollen too. The left eye was also bruised, not as bad but still bruised nonetheless.

Anger bubbled within Jenna, the prospect of someone hurting her baby was sickening to her, she knoew this had to be your parent's doing. "They did this to you, didn't they"

"W-what no! They would never do this to me. My family love me, Jenna. They do" you tried convince her, you tried to convince yourself mostly. Tears pricked at your eyes, stinging even more due to the beating you took.

"Honey... why would they do this to you? What happened?" She asked gently with a tinge of sadness in her tone. You couldn't keep up with the lie any longer.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to tell her what happened, tell her about the desperation you felt when your father's belt connected with your back. How your mother held you down as he did it, beating and beating and beating you for being the spaz who disappointed his parents just by looking at him. She held your hands "It's okay. It's just me. Just Jenna"

A single tear fell down your cheek causing Jenna to wipe it away. "They wanted money..." you started, taking a deep breath before continuing "They wanted money that were apparently "owed" for not getting rid of me. I said no, and I'm sure you can imagine how they reacted to that. They beat me, Jenna. They both did. I couldn't stop them, I tried as hard as I could but they kept..." you sniffled, holding back what would have been a giant sob.

"They kept pummelling me with the belt, punching me in the stomach. Mom held me down and I couldn't anything. They said I was unlovable... I'm unlovable, Jenna!" He broke down completely, falling onto his knees. Your emotions that you'd been holding since you left your parents had escaped, the dull pain now fresh again.

Jenna lifted the back of your shirt to find the purple lashes that layed there, where your father had taken out his anger with the belt. She immediately held you, her own eyes tearing up at your broken state. You clung to her like a lifeline.

"Shhhh, its okay baby. You're safe now. You're safe with me again." He whales in anguish and pain, his sobs became louder as each one left his mouth.

"Jen it hurts" you said like a scared child, exactly what you were at your parent's house.

Upon hearing this Jenna decided it was best for you to lay down on your side to avoid laying on your lashed back. "Come on, honey let's lay you on the couch. Lay on your side for me, my sweet." You did as instructed.

She lifted up your top to see the bruises on your stomach, purple and still fresh. She was going to annihilate your parents, but that comes later. "I'm gonna go get an ice pack, then we're taking you to the hospital"

"No! No! Please no doctors!" You pleaded

She knelt down and stroked your hair to out you at ease as best she could "Shh shh shh, don't think about that now okay. Let me go get an ice pack for your stomach. I'll be right back." She left quickly for the ice, returning as quickly as she left.

She lifted up your shirt and let you get ready for the ice. "On three. One. Two. Three." She presses the ice to your abdomen, the cooling sensation soothed the pain little by little bringing you great relief. "Good boy baby, you being so brave for me" she cooed, kissing the top of his head.

She held the ice pack as you writhed in pain on the couch. Her free hand alternates between rubbing your arm and combing through your hair. She placed little kisses on your swollen cheek, not hurting at all when she did.

The recollection of events that played in your mind caused you to cry again. Jenna brought your head into her neck as she held you close, her skin absorbing most of the tears. "Oh baby, please don't cry. You're not unlovable. You're my very beautiful boy who I love so very very much. They don't deserve you."

You held onto her tight, thinking how lucky you were to have such a wonderful woman in your life. Your parents would've definitely said you didn't deserve her, and maybe you didn't. But that didn't detract from how much you loved her, and appreciated her.

"I love you, Y/N. I love you with every fibre of my being" hearing this made you smile out of pure gratitude and love.

"I love you too, Jenna" you say, voice still wobbly from crying. You pulled your head from the crook of her neck and the two of you just smile at each other, you took in the beauty of her face while Jenna gazed upon your battered one. She pulls you in for a gentle kiss, a long kiss that you desperately needed.

"Bubs we do need to get your tummy looked at. We'll call my mom to have a look at you, but we may need to go to the hospital if it's bad. We can do all that tomorrow though, just rest in my arms for now. Can you do that for me?" You nodded your head "I won't let them get away with this Y/N. Mark my words they're finished."

You'd never seen Jenna this angry, but it brought a strange sense of reassurance, like everything was going to be okay. "Can we watch a movie? I wanna take my mind off of this"

"Of course we can, bubs. What do you wanna watch? Empire strikes back?" She asked, knowing how much you loved that movie. You nodded making her smile and kiss you again.

She layed down next to you, inviting you to curl up next to her and lay your head on her chest. "You're not unlovable, flower. You're a very loveable and amazing person." You smile at her words, Jenna loved you very much and today was evidence of that.

She cradles your body in her arms, still feeling you tremble from everything that has happened. It would be a long road to you heal from this but she'd be with you the whole way there.

She gently rocks you while you watch the film, the sight of Darth Vader igniting your child-like love that Jenna adored.

"Hey bubs, promise you'll never think yourself as unlovable. Promise me that my love."

"I promise." You say, even though you still didn't fully believe it. Your parents words still hurt.

"Good boy. My special beautiful boy"

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #wednesday x y/n #male reader

264 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 6 months

Text

✧ STILL OF YOUR HAND ✧

a/n: i think this is the only fic i've struggled to title all kinktober. it took me thirty minutes to figure it out, but i can always count on hozier to help me out. so this is messy. honestly it was written in a 4am haze of simply wanting to finish, and i never read it back. so i have no idea if it's okay. but either way enjoy my loves.

day twenty-three - restraints | kinktober 2023

summary: "din was always scared he would hurt you. always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. his life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that."

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, restraints, rough sex, p in v sex, din fucks, dirty talk, yet another man who runs his mouth but we love him, dom!din, yearning, no editing cause it was 4am and i lost part of my sanity.

Two weeks ago you’d proposed the offer to him in the middle of sharing a meal. He was in the middle of hunting a bounty; a way to pick up some extra credits while you traveled. The question wasn’t scandalous. At least to your standards it wasn’t. Yet there still lay some apprehension between the two of you about where you boundaries lay. How far you could truly go with one another when it came to sex.

Din was always scared he would hurt you. Always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. His life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that. And you thrived off it. You loved him and everything he gave you, but the prospect still remained, still continued to flicker in the back of both your minds.

“I want you to cuff me later tonight in bed,” you had said while drinking your caf. While the words came out simple, matter of fact and as if you were discussing the latest news of the galaxy. That’s not how he took them.

Din choked on his spit.

“Cyar'ika?”

You glanced at him over your mug, lips twisting up into a soft smile. “Yes?”

He was silent for a moment, body shifting where he stood and you wondered if he was hard beneath his suit. The question lingered in the air, waiting for a response, but Din was never one to outright tell you things. He was ever the silent man you met on Corellia a year ago. That didn’t seem to change as time went on. You simply learned to read him better.

“Din…”

“You know where the binders are,” he replied at last. His voice was rough through the modulator, body stiff and waiting. It seemed that your request had affected him more than you expected.

With a sharp intake of breath you nodded, slowly walking away from him and towards where he kept his weapons. The doors swung open with a loud creak, echoing in the ship like a fucking blaster bolt being shot off. Or perhaps that’s how you heard it in your head. You didn’t have much time to ponder over it, because there they were. Hanging neatly on the wall. An unassuming thing used on his hunts.

The same binders he had used on fugitives and criminals.

Suddenly the air felt thick with heat in the ship, your mouth dry and eyes dark with lust at the thought of him using them on you. There was always an understanding between you and Din. He liked control. Or at least most of it. Yet you always remained a part of the equation—always there to tell him what you wanted, what worked for you.

With these…you were officially out of the equation.

You felt your heart rate rise, excitement fluttering through your body. Grasping onto the cold metal, you ran your thumb over the slight design on the side. Merely bolts holding pieces of metal together, but the sight alone made your head spin. Digging your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned to head back towards the small cargo area.

Only to ram right into a very broad, very hard Mandalorian. With a soft yelp, you stumbled back, nearly landing into his weapon’s hold if it wasn’t for his hand shooting out to grasp your waist. Dragging him back to his body with a quiet grunt. The binders hung loosely in your hand as he cupped your face, tilting your head up to face his helmet. For a moment you swore you could feel the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“I found them,” you said softly, body humming beneath his touch.

His hand clasped around your wrist, removing the metal from your hold. “Turn around.”

“Am I your bounty Din?” you teased, sliding a hand up his beskar clad chest.

Only for him to whirl you around so quickly you barely had time to gasp in a sharp breath. His hand slammed against the button that shut the weapon’s hold, your body being pressed to the doors within moments. Your eyes fluttered shut, cheek rubbing against the cold metal as he reached for your wrists. The audible sound of the binders locking shut echoing in the small area.

His helmet pressed to the back of your head, a sigh leaving his modulator. “Cyar'ika. Is this…Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing yourself back against him—the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. “Maker, yes.”

He groaned, his hips pressing forward and grinding up into your body. “You want to be my bounty?”

“Fuck,” you breathed. The throbbing between your legs was growing by the second. Yet no matter how much you pressed your thighs together, you couldn’t appease it.

“Is that what this is?” His hands grasped at your pants, popping open the button before he tugged them down to your thighs. Dragging your already soaked through panties with them. “Maker you’re fucking soaked.”

His gloved fingers spread you from behind, taking in the sight of you dripping down your inner thighs. You shifted, whining softly as he took his time sliding his fingers through your slick. Coating the leather of his gloves thoroughly. He’d fuck himself with them later. Tasting what remained of you off the fabric, but for now he watched as his fingers found your clit. The sound you made was loud enough to echo off the walls.

“You wanted me to treat you like my bounty?”

You cried out softly, canting back onto his hand. “Yes. Fuck Din I do.”

His other hand reached up, gripping onto your hair and dragging your head back. The cold metal of his helmet pressed against your cheek, your breath no doubt fogging up the sides of it. But all you could focus on was the two fingers sinking into you, dragging along your walls. He growled when you grinded down onto his palm, a weak moan drifting to his ears, causing his cock to twitch.

“Dirty girl,” he groaned. “You need more don’t you?”

You nodded, teeth digging harshly into your lip until you tasted copper. You wanted to kiss him. To taste him, but this was all you would get for now. Later in the darkness of his cabin, he’d indulge in taking his helmet off. He’d kiss you as many times as you wanted.

For now you’d take this with open arms.

“Need me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as he dragged his fingers out of you quickly. “Oh fuck. Din please—”

The sound of him fumbling with his pants silenced you, dragging a moan from your throat. You nearly crumpled against the wall when his cock slid through your folds, the head of it nudging at your clit. A high pitched whine came from you, hips dragging along the length of him and soaking him in your slick. But Din knew that this couldn’t end so quickly.

He grasped onto your hip, stilling your movements until you were pressed fully against the wall. The cold seeping through your clothes.

“You wanted this cyar'ika.” Lining himself up, he nearly lost it at the way your pussy fluttered around his tip. “Wanted me to fuck you like you’ve been running from me. Needed me to hunt you down.”

The words continued to spill free, unable to be reigned in and it nearly sent you over the edge from that alone. Din filling you in one smooth thrust brought you right there. A sob tore from your throat, knees giving out and if it wasn’t for his hold on your body, you would have hit the floor. He moaned brokenly, hips right against your ass and arm latching around your waist.

“Fucking perfect,” he spit, helmet digging into your shoulder blade. “Always feels so fucking good. Fucking made for me.”

“Din!” you mewled, hips canting back to get him to move and with a deep breath he finally gave in to your request.

The pace was ruthless. Quick and deep, each thrust shoving sounds you’d never made before from your chest. It was the opposite of every soft touch he’d given you. The bruising grip on your hip sent pain flickering through you, igniting the pleasure like a match to a flame. You felt your chest swell, head going hazy with the bliss that quickly filled you. And it just kept going.

He fucked you hard. Grinding his hips up with each forceful thrust, until he heard it. The squelch of your slick echoing in the space. The audible slap of his balls against your clit mixing with it. He felt his body fry—the strings that usually kept his sanity together now fraying to their breaking point.

“Can you feel me?” he asked, sliding a hand around to your pelvis, pressing down right above your mound and as if you were electrified, pleasure rocketed up your spine. “I’m so fucking deep inside of you.”

“Oh—fuck—”

Tugging your head back to his shoulder, he placed his slick covered fingers at your lips. “Suck.”

And you did without question. You took his fingers with a happy hum, sucking them into your mouth as if they were his cock. Your taste burst across your tongue, heady and tangy. He groaned deep and guttural as his body began to grow taut, balls drawing up painfully, but if there’s one thing you understood about Din…you always came first.

In everything.

Ripping his fingers from your mouth and gasping at the string of saliva that connected him to you, he dropped them down your body. Sliding them along your clit with ease. A sob was wrenched from you, fingers digging down on his arm as he rammed into you with quick stunted thrusts. Shoving you towards the very edge.

One pinch of your clit between his fingers and a deep grind of his hips sent you flying. A cry of his name hitting his ears as you clamped down around his cock, soaking him as your body writhed in his hold.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.

Grinding up into you, he felt the white hot burn of his release rush through his body. He cried out against your shoulder, pressing his body against you completely. You were shoved up against the wall with nowhere to go, but you had never felt so safe. So content to remain right where you were. He came down with a sharp gasp, the last of his cum spilling into you, sending a warmth through your body that elicited a soft moan from your lips.

“You never answered me,” you slurred, body lax against the wall.

He huffed, hands sliding along your hips—soothing the places he’d held you too hard. “No.”

“No?”

“Don’t pout,” he replied, pulling from you with a rough breath.

You grinned, letting him collect you in his arms. “‘M not pouting. Just thought you wanted me to be your bounty.”

“You’re more than that,” he murmured, hand pressing against your stomach gently. “You always have been.”

Giggling, you felt the high of your orgasm begin to fade slightly, bringing you back to reality. “You say that as if I wasn’t your bounty once.”

“Cyar'ika.” The warning was clear in his voice, tingeing with something you never touched on, but the box had been opened.

You simply turned slowly in his hold and placed a kiss on his chest. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you never took me in?”

He muttered under his breath, but still held you close. You’d have to ask him about it later, but for now you let it go. Accepting his soft response of me too as a final answer to something bigger.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #my writing #kinktober 2023 #pedrostories

260 notes · View notes

theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

Text

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact. Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

Tag list: @pr0ximamidnight @ktheunready @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @neverwheremoonchild @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @xoxabs88xox @guelyury @its-nebuleuse @deadly-femme-bimbo @covetyou @christinamadsen @mirandablue1 @clawdee @youandmeand5bucks-blog @hiddenbabynyc @stevie75 @star017 @vabeachazn @darkheartgatita @patti7dc @pastelnap @beskarandblasters @jksprincess10 @beefrobeefcal

Join my taglist here

Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me!

153 notes · View notes

moxie-girl · 20 days

Text

um ok Strawhats Star Wars au (think like clone wars era-ish) where they’re all space pirates…

- Luffy is a force-sensitive Mandalorian foundling from a covert of True Mandalorians hiding bc the New Mandalorians currently control the planet (Shanks is his buir btw) (he’s standard human …?)

- Zoro is a former Jedi youngling who left after his crèche-mate and best friend Kuina died, he fights with two of his own lightsabers as well as Kuina’s white saber (he’s an oni-like species)

- Nami used to work for a group of bounty hunters/spice runners from an aquatic planet and was picked up by them after they took a bounty out for Bell-mere (she’s half aquatic species, half human, so Arlong’s crew like her even less…)

- Usopp is another Mandalorian from Luffy’s covert and a sniper who’s skilled with any weapon, but especially an energy slingshot he modified from an energy crossbow (he’s a near-human species notable for their long noses)

- Sanji is a modified clone who escaped from the cloning facilities as a kid, his siblings are an enhanced special ops team (think bad batch) and the rest of the clone army look pretty normal (black hair, no curly brows- those are a sign of enhancements) so most people don’t clock him as a clone at first

I’ll figure out the others later…

35 notes · View notes

court-jobi · 7 months

Text

Screaming Color

Gif credit by @ahsokastars Divider credit by @saradika

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 3,062

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: tw: hospitals, minor descriptions of injury, descriptions of anxiety, resolved angst, worried Mando is worried, but extemely gentle. crying, feels w/a happy ending, gn reader

A/N: Back from an accidental haitus! Fortunately, I have a few fics to crank out at a hopefully quick pace, so enjoy a bit of Mando comfort! Had a piercing headache while writing most of this, so tis fitting~

Summary:

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward, likely still on Londor somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is running in these rooms. As your memories seep back in from the moments leading up to the accident, there's much you don't recall at first. Last you remembered was suggesting to switch roles: bounty hunter and getaway driver swapped between your Mandalorian's expertise and yours for this job. It'd be worth it, surely, since you were in a rare position to come through with a good contact and 'you could handle it, just this once'.

Until you've wound up here: you with a round of rushed stitches and your Mandalorian resting next to you in full armor-- and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep.

The lights of the room finally come to life after you wake from your black-and-white dreams... once you will your eyes to open up to your Beskar Getaway Driver.

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

There's few weirder feelings in the galaxy than coming out of a forced subsonic sleep.

Rather than remaining blissfully suspended in a bacta chamber, worlds that couldn't afford those tanks used this: pacs of portable, bubbly liquid that quick-started healing through an IV bag, the old fashioned way. It's effective, for the most part. Only it’s thick and cold, like you could feel it enter and sift through you with every ebb of your pulse...

When you opened your eyes -only a moment, mind you- you only barely caught the blurred color— purple. But this exhaustion, it was bone deep. Your eyes fell shut as quickly as they'd opened. The very lashes of your eyes felt like they were sticking together uncomfortably by some Force: tempting you with 'five more minutes' while your will screams to 'wake up already'.

It's clear by the sounds and smells; you're in a med ward somewhere. It's drafty and deathly quiet, so you doubt even the heat is on in these rooms. A grace that there is a blanket atop you, this you can tell only by the feel of it weighing down your arms.

By each of your senses, you gather this is not a standard hospital. Mando swore off those quick-service med stations, because they-- no, surely--

All at once, your gut sank. A heavy thickness rose in your throat, the nausea flared within you. It's right at your mouth now, as you remembered:

You and your stupid ass ideas.

You remembered through the fog of these drugs, the ones that matched the stuffy feeling in your ears; the bits of the last few hours that echoed in your chest in synchronized, double beats.

Thought you had a great idea, did you? Your mission pitch? Switching roles: leave your Mandalorian to sort out the getaway ride and meet you at the extraction rendezvous.

This has been an exercise of trust already, suggesting this job. He deferred to you as the lead on this one, for the connections inside the complex were yours to begin with– which prompted the idea of trading responsibilities, too. In every way, this was as good a time as ever for you to try your hand at bounty hunting and make off with the pay grade since it was your intel. You held the cards– a winning hand with this plan.

You hazily recalled that it went well, at least up until the very, very end where you needed the fast exit and didn’t have the luxury of his muscle as backup. No, he was practically spinning his wheels at the pickup point, waiting for you to hurry it up, for once.

You remembered holding onto your Mandalorian partner-in-crime for dear life and having to intervene as a backseat driver. You remember thanking the Maker and every celestial god out there that there was too much electromagnetic activity surging above you in this energy depot for anyone to be foolish enough to follow and shoot at you.

But this, the last part of the plan, you remember all too well.

The nagging itch of your nerve’s warnings and hypotheticals you'd covered over the rec table in the hull of the ship? It came to the forefront with a guilty vengeance. You remembered Mando’s initial doubts and how you turned the tables by making this about trust and reciprocity, and nearly challenging him. You can vividly see him bristling back, and your smug-as-hell words that ‘riding a cinder-fuel bike was like muscle memory that you could never forget’, and that he’d be just fine. You remember the elation of getting your way, and earning the chance to call the shots.

You remembered…

One lane change from the projected route, Mando took a reasonable detour without asking first. You might have warned him against it had you not been watching the rear mirrorcams. But where that turn took you both was just one ill-timed jump, slamming the brakes -ah, yes- just a moment too soon before you could warn him about the auto-stall function of the speeder bike that would send you both flying off the tarmac entirely…

Mando’s quick thinking is typically invaluable in the zero gravity of space. But here, making those hard rights will make you crash: and that’s why you’re usually the driver on the ground. Always.

Accidents. Too-close calls. The kind that's gonna get you killed– or near to it.

You will never be doing that again.

‘Stick to your lanes’, he said, likely unaware of the apt wordplay; ‘--Now’s not the time to start switching things up just because you’re bored.’

Only now you could only manage one thought–

Not 'how bad is it' or 'where the kriff am I' or 'please tell me I have all my limbs attached'. Not 'can’t they play some music in this place' or 'am I dead right now'.

Where is he. Where is he, where is he, where is he.

You need him. Your Mandalorian. Good god– if you crashed, he would have too. He would have hit the ground right after you, and his feet were set in the metal guards prior to spinning out, meaning he would have been sealed to the deathtrap, if he didn’t release in time.

Fear brought your eyes to squint open, and you found the ashy purple fluid pac in its fullness hanging in suspension above your cot. You didn’t process the shiny quality of the bag earlier, but rather, how it looked in its reflection: the sight of it on Mando’s helmet as it laid on the bed, by your side. That vibrant color shone against the curve of his chromed helm in a vague copy of the original.

Your Mandalorian rests next to you in full beskar, and he’s holding onto your hand in sleep.

While the visor is turned to face the monitor high over your shoulder, you know he can’t be awake. His breaths are deep and long– you can watch it over the bump of those broad shoulders. Should you take a look across the expanse of him, all across where that brilliant armor shines, you take in all the colors of the room.

Emergency lights casting their gold glow, the odd dotting of red from the distorted curve of a heat lamp, the purple of your medicines, the electric teal of LEDs bringing inspection light to the space, and of course the harsh, medicinal glow of white– the bare minimum to see your steps along the floors. Why bother looking at your surroundings and moving your hurting neck, when looking at him can tell you everything you need to know?

It’s your not-so-secret way to take in the flurry of hyperspace, too. All these months, you’ve watched the streaks paint his helm and chest plates. The wonders of your galaxy -big and small- all reflect in him.

If he’s here, you wonder with renewed worry, then he must not be hurt. But– what happened to him then? And where’s the kid?!

Your thoughts clearly rang loudly through whatever aether those stories of the Jedi referenced, because the surprised chirrup of the little green Child you’d made space in your heart for cried out in the dead silence– and subsequently popped Mando’s head up in an instant. His visor shot over his shoulder, in which you saw the Child stand up in his pod and wave at you with a big smile on his face. Without turning much, you made to wave your free hand up so he could see your response.

The mere attempt to smile shot a searing sting back to your face on one side, and brought a moan from your still-thick throat. Unseen by your wince, Mando centered back to you in that moment of shutting your eyes against the flare of pain.

He calls for you in a whisper, but it’s shaky. Wet.

The Child bounces in the pram making happy, enthused noises as he expresses his relief that you’re awake. His performance aims to try and get his Carer to come pick him up and to get a closer look. Mando says something to abate him for the meantime and instead straightens himself, rolls closer to you from the stool he’s seated on.

“Hey-” Mando welcomes you back to the land of the living, “Hey, you.”

You don’t answer. The pain starts pounding and is not letting up.

“Easy now, relax-” Mando’s instruction reaches you, “Don’t tense– we don’t want those to open.”

Those?

With a new sink in your chest, your very core muscles fluttered from creeping anxiety. They tensed and shook already, so there was no prayer in willing yourself to make a move to sit up yet. Taking a deep enough breath would cause them to sieze, certainly. The numbness, next, became apparent to all your limbs. ‘Til now, these drugs kept you asleep and impervious to the pain in your–where is it, your face? Neck? Your helmet had stayed on, but now it was off. Your worry mounted, since the data chip you’d recovered was supposedly safe in its hiding spot you’d kept along the back charging compartment. With it off, you panicked that it was gone now and all this had been for nothing.

Maybe something broke inside and tore past the padding, and that’s why it cut up your face. Dammit, you liked that helmet. Mando made all those custom adjustments for you…

A terse exhale out, and you can feel how tight your lips are.

You squeezed your eyes tight for a beat, then your brows. You wrenched your mouth to the side until you felt tightness. Sting. There it is, on your cheek: curving up along your hairline, to your temple where you know you've felt Mando kiss you in the dead and dark of night.

There are stitches laid there now where his affections once made their home. After the pull of pain, there was a faint tickle, meaning the artificial seams were quickly done and left finished in a rush.

Trying to speak on your confusion, a little, pitiful noise left you.

“Wayy– m’helmt…”

Mando pieces together your words, seamlessly on track with your concerns.

“I have it,” he readily assures you, “The faceshield shattered when you fell, and bashed in one side– only the outer plating of the chip cracked. The rest is fine.”

It’s a quick summary, but gives you that small peace of mind. Buckets can be replaced. Though your cheek– that’ll take a bit longer to repair, nature’s way.

“It’s okay, kid,” Mando answers the nervous gargle of the Child, “Just try to–; no, wait there.”

His hand left yours and while the meds still left you feeling drugish, you felt the loss of that heat source and your nerves faltered. Just that subconscious warmth soothed you like nothing else in this room would, save maybe for the feel of the little munchkin curling up on your chest like he does in the cockpit.

You wish you knew his name. Something beyond ‘sweet boy’ and ‘lil bub’.

You wish you knew his, too. Whatever language it’s in, however short or long it falls off the tongue. Just anything. Something more tender than ‘ace’ or ‘boss’ or ‘honey’.

The way he moved, quick and at the ready, the Mandalorian must not be injured at all. Perhaps there was something to being encased in armor at all times…

“--n’okay. w‘ll do bubblewrap.”

“--what?” Mando turned down to you with absent confusion.

With a funny, tired smirk, you reiterated, “N’think I need a suit of bubblewrap. Yknow– like y’do for vases and shit? Make a living off tha’idea, if no one’s done it yet..”

Despite the circumstances, a huff of air left him- something close to a chuckle.

“How about we work on getting what’s under the bubblewrap better for now? We’ll workshop your side hustles later.”

You savored his laugh and agreed, “Fair ‘nuff.”

The Child’s coos were louder now. Mando must have brought the pod over with that little remote he kept in one of his million secret pockets. Just that tune made you feel infinitely better in this strange setting; like you were simply dozing off in the cockpit with their exchanges -back and forth- as your ambient noise. Of course you wished this attention were under better circumstances, but judging by the constant beeps overhead, you’ll clearly live.

Though not without its scare, it seems. Mando ran his fingers up and down your forearm,

“Outta run a test on you for brain function, too.”

He had to be mad. No matter how softly he spoke, his disappointment was palpable.

“M’sorry,” you offered sadly, just staring off at the beskar design on his chest.

But Mando surprised you once again. After a solemn quiet, even though he had every ground to say a firm ‘I told you so’, he offered a balm to your hurt pride.

“I’ve had my share of bad ideas.”

While not a full acceptance of forgiveness, it wasn’t cruel. You’d take it. After all, your stunt ended up with you in a medward– likely at his expense, which couldn’t have been cheap to come by in these parts. A swallow and a slight shiver reminded you just how uncomfortable that stim made you.

“At least yours was thought out..” Mando continued more gravely,”– mine is what got you almost killed.”

You perked up at that. What, the jump? “No you didn’t…”

“I should have waited. You know the roads, I should have asked you about the turnoff.”

“There was an overhang. Vis woulda been low for anyone, ev’n me-”

“You’re my partner,” Mando landed firmly, “The responsibility is mine when I’m in the seat. If something happens to you, I am at fault.”

These were testier comebacks than you typically heard from him. Emotions were clearly coming out in droves, and that, too, took you by surprise. Not the fact that he was acting caring -you knew he was, by nature- but that he would blame himself to this extent? That seemed unfair. You could go back and forth on which step of this plan’s failures could have been anticipated. In the end, none of that would help you in the present.

You tried to ease that guilt, as succinctly as your drug haze would let you.

“Goes both ways,” you countered gently, fatigue dragging your words down, “We both know that. Accidents happen; s’pecially in this line a’work.”

You flipped your palm over; he laid his inside. You just wanted him.

“Please don’t beat yourself up for this. Heck, I’m beat up enough for both of us.”

You tried at a joke, but it did little to fall on receptive ears.

Even though you gave an empathetic look as best as you could manage, it seemed to only make him more alert. He sat up and squared up, evenly set to keep your attention. Careful of his reach -shaken by nerves- your Mando ever so gently cupped the uninjured side of your face.

“You and this kid are holding what little heart I have left.” the Mandalorian begged of you softly, “I really can’t lose you now.”

The monitor’s beep increased– though by the look on your face melting into fondness, your protector wasn’t worried about the noise.

Sentimental metalhead, you preened at such talk. Knowing he let loose this deeper side of him free while he was with you warmed you through.

A sensor still lays tethered on your finger for monitoring, but you brought it up anyway to hold his wrist still… to welcome his touch. All you could really manage was a small, borderline kiss to his thumb that was close enough to the corner of your mouth to try reaching with minimal movement.

As you recentered to his visor, the staticky noise from his vocoder returned, and with it, the jostle of his shoulders.

Your eyes stung,too. “Are you–? You ok?”

The Mandalorian forced back a brave sniff. Steeled his voice and his nervous throat.

“This was a close one,” he warned. “I don’t like close.”

Despite clear feelings staining his throat, you didn’t have the luxury of knowing if his face matched the shakiness of his speaker… but you had a good idea. When your eyes fail, music speaks. Your music was the language of his voice– when it’s clipped and raw with emotion, happy and drawled out with laughter, slow and easy when at the edge of exhaustion. Its melody is one you’ll take over sight, even now.

“This was a close one,” you glanced to the rack of more screens and illuminated bone scans beside you: proof of your current state. For the sake of his composure (and yours), you decided to remain optimistic. “Not to be repeated.”

And to deflect the edge of crying in your voice, you deflected-

“We’ll fail differently next time.”

A little shake of that gorgeous chrome showed Mando’s good nature, “Yeah.”

Another stroke of that kind, inner heart brought him down to give your forehead a kiss- as much as he could with a barrier between. He simply mimicked the motion as one would with a gentle touch and even though the beskar’s edge stung with could, it might as well have been a hot brand that seared straight to your heartstrings.

Detangling the hand that had subconsciously entwined with his, you offered up a sole finger to him.

“Pinky promise I’ll stick to my lane? You stick to yours?”

A cut to you hand then back up to you in a huff,

“Why do the weirdest things leave your sweet mouth…” Mando snarked with a shaky laugh.

“Its’a custom on other planets!”

“Yeah right.” your assurance falls on deaf ears once again. “We’re calling the doc in here.”

He evidently meant that, as he pressed a little com button that lit up the panel on the door, requesting assistance. The Child, seemingly chuffed to sense the somber air of your waking has lifted upon hearing his carer happy again, has begun to make more noise. His little arms are all but stretching in your direction, and fussing at Mando for backup to his wants.

You pointed with the waiting hand, “He gets it~”

“Yeah, he does,” your Mandalorian acquiesces, and links pinkies while looking back at the little green buddy in his pram. “Takes after you.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork

140 notes · View notes

rinixo · 2 years

Text

the end of all our exploring

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.6k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, vaginal sex, dirty talk, helmet comes off, canon divergence

The journey is over. Din wants to show you how he feels, and gives the only things he has to give.

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

A/N: This is a jump in terms of "timeline". Future works may explore alternate scenarios and different points in time. Basically - there is no standardized timeline I'm following with this. :^)

read on ao3

“What are you thinking?”

You turned, finding Mando leaning casually against the doorframe. The light coming in from the windows reflected brilliantly in his armor, and – not for the first time – you found yourself in awe of the stoic bounty hunter. You looked around at the beautiful room you were in, the desert sunset casting an orange glow through the open windows. Thin linen drapes drifted lazily with the evening breeze.

After finishing your journey, Mando offered to return you to Naboo. You had accepted, albeit somewhat sadly, with the condition that you stop by a few places on the way there. You were currently on Tattooine, in the Daimyo’s palace. Din had some business with Boba Fett, and you were more than happy to explore Mos Eisley. Your days felt a bit lonely without Grogu there, but you found comfort in knowing he was safely with the Jedi. You hoped you’d see him again someday.

As evening fell, you returned to the palace, and were shown to your accommodations. The staff, “on behalf of the Mandalorian”, had graciously prepared a beautiful room near the top of the palace, overlooking the dunes and rocky cliffs. Along with a delicious meal and a hot bath, you had also been given a gorgeous and delicate gown made of dyed Xamarri silk. It was definitely the most expensive piece of clothing you had even worn, handmade and draped in ways you didn’t know existed.

With a smile, you gestured around you. “Just thinking. You’re spoiling me, Mando. This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.”

“I’m glad,” he replied. You grinned, leaning against one of the terracotta pillars. The impending return to a Mando-less life on the horizon was made easier to bear by these last precious days with your companion.

“I was trying to think of a way to repay you for everything you’ve done. A way to show you how grateful I am.” Mando stepped forward, and reached for you. A soft frown flickered across your face as he gently held your hands in his own.

“I have a gift for you.” His thumb stroked your hand softly, and you felt your heart flutter along with it. “To show you how much you mean to me.”

You shook your head. “Mando-”

“Din.”

You titled your head in confusion. “Is that a mando’a word?”

“No. It’s my name. Din Djarin.”

Blood rushed in your ears and your heart swelled with affection. The amount of trust he had just shown you, telling you his name – you had never expected –

“Din,” you said softly, and his hands squeezed yours. Smiling, you blinked up at him, eyes reflected back at you from his helmet. “Thank you, Din. This…I’m touched that you would share this with me.”

Another squeeze, and he loosened his grip on your hands. “That isn’t all. There’s something else I want to give you.” He raised his hands to his helmet, and confusion turned to panic as he began to lift it off of his head.

“Din!” You gasped, grabbing his wrists and halting his attempt to remove his helmet. “Din, no. You didn’t need to give me anything to begin with, and just your name is more than anything I could have ever wanted. You don’t have to – please don’t break your creed for me.”

“I…I’ve been struggling with the creed for a while now,” Din explained. “Questioning its place in my life – the life I want to have.” You hadn’t wanted to pry, but had a feeling he had been contemplating his clan’s interpretation and strict rules for a few weeks now. Over the past months, his place in the galaxy had been turned on its head. The creed, what once was a unyielding part of his being, had softened into many different paths.

“Meeting Fett, and Bo-Katan, and learning the history of my clan…” he trailed off, and then seemed to re-focus. “There are new things in my life that I cherish, and I don’t want to only be able to see them through a visor.” He moved his hands to cup yours against the rim of his helmet. “To only see you through a visor.”

You felt your eyes begin to water with emotion. With baited breath, you nodded and assisted him in pulling his helmet up and off his head.

Thick brown curls, flattened by the helmet. Brown eyes framed by soft laugh lines, and a beautiful aquiline nose. Full lips that drooped slightly at their sides, and a patchy smattering of dark facial hair flecked with bits of peppery gray. Din was lovely. You had often wondered what he looked like, and sometimes amused yourself by guessing, but nothing your mind made up could have matched the man in front of you now.

Din set his helmet gently to the side, and you tentatively reached up to cup his face. His gaze, already soft, melted as you gently ran your thumb along his cheekbone. Your heart thrummed with anticipation and desire as his hands came to grasp you at your waist. With a soft smile, you cupped the side of his head and tipped his head down so you could meet his lips with your own.

He hummed lowly against you, and you reeled from the feeling of his mouth against you. You started slow, careful, wanting to memorize the sensation of finally being able to kiss the man you had been living with for the past year.

Desire and desperation began to climb, and Din began to back you up towards the large bed in the room. The twin suns had just set, and the lingering light stretched soft shadows across your forms. The back of your legs hit the mattress, and you fell back, bringing Din down with you. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen your kiss. You reached up to grasp his shoulders, widening your legs so that he would fall deeper onto you.

You whined lowly as he pulled away, raising himself over you with his hands on either side of your head. Your lips felt swollen and raw in the most delicious way, and his matched. Even in the low light you could see his pupils blown wide as he drank in your features like a man starved. You rubbed his cheek lightly.

“Everything ok?” You asked quietly. So much had been changed between you two within the last few minutes and your head still spun. You could only imagine how he was feeling. “It’s alright if you want to stop.”

“No,” he said lowly, and you shivered in delight at his unshielded voice. “No, I just…you’re so beautiful, cyar’ika.” He lowered his head to press his lips against your own, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You smiled against him, reaching up to card your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair.

With quiet, practiced ease Din began to remove his armor. You scooted yourself further up the bed as he did so, slipping your own gown down your arms. Eager to be close to you again, Din crawled across the bed dressed just in his most basic layers, and settled between your thighs. His hands came up to replace yours, and slowly pulled the thin layers of silk the rest of the way off your torso. His hands skimmed over your breasts, studying their weight and how your nipples pebbled in response to his touch.

You bit your lip as he continued to pull your gown off, lifting your hips slightly so he could remove it and toss it to the side. You were completely bare, and you shifted your legs self-consciously as he stared. Sensing the slight hesitation, Din moved forward and placed a soft kiss to the middle of your chest. One hand came up to toy with one breast as his tongue trailed a cool path to the other. You moaned quietly at the pleasurable sensation, and arched your back into his ministrations. Din made his way down your trembling body, placing soft gasping kisses to your skin. Maneuvering himself further down, he laid out on his stomach and used his hands to open your thighs.

His tongue licked a long, wide strip through your cunt, and you keened with a burning ache. Din licked and kissed you dutifully, and as your hands came down to grasp his hair he groaned into you. You shifted your hips, following his movements. Din’s beautiful nose poked at your swollen clit, and he followed it with soft kitten licks and sucking kisses.

“Ah!” You could barely find your voice as you chased your release. “D-Din…!”

Another groan from the bounty hunter between your thighs. “I’ve been dreaming of you saying my name for months,” he breathed. “Come on my tongue, mesh’la.” He buried his face against you again, and you felt your orgasm start from the soles of your feet and build like fire up through the rest of your body.

Choking out his name again, you writhed against his vice grip on your thighs. Din flicked his tongue against your clit, and tears sprang to the corner of your vision. His careful work prolonged your release, and you cried out as he pulled a second pulse of pleasure from your shivering form.

He pulled away just before the pleasure turned to over-stimulation, and crawled back up your body. You pulled his mouth to yours, tongue dancing against his own. You could taste yourself on him, and your cunt throbbed with increasing desire.

One of his knees knocked your leg to the side, and he settled his hips against yours. You could feel his cock through his linen pants, twitching as you ground up against him. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, you yanked until he helped pull it off. Your hands then found their way to his chest, and you scratched your nails down his form. He growled at the sensation, and deepened his kiss as you palmed his heavy cock through his pants.

“You’re overdressed,” you mused against his mouth as your hand slipped under the waistband to grasp his throbbing member. Nipping your bottom lip, Din hurriedly slipped his trousers the rest of the way off his body, and you sighed in the satisfaction of his bare body against your own. Between the two of you his cock wept and settled heavily across your abdomen. Din reached down to cup your bottom, moving one of your thighs further to the side and began to shift his hips to your center.

You watched as his cock pressed up against you – Maker, he was so big it still made you ache. He grunted as you wrapped one leg up against his side, and pushed in to the hilt. Even with his earlier work, your smaller form still needed several heartbeats to adjust.

He held himself there, and dipped his head down again to capture your lips. You moaned against him, relishing in the way he filled you. It felt like he reached up into your throat, and your thighs trembled with the effort of willing yourself still.

“You’re perfect,” Mando crooned. “Sky and stars, you are so perfect. You take me so well, cyar’ika.” With great effort, he began to move, and you cried out as your tight cunt was pulled along with him.

“G-goddess, Din,” you gasped. The sound of your bodies moving was firm and reverent against the silent desert night. The candles made the shadows dance along the ceiling above you, and you were mesmerized by how different this joining was in comparison to all the previous times.

Din must have had the same thought, and he gripped your thigh almost painfully. “You are so good,” he moaned. “Fuck, you are so good. You were made for me, for this,” he said possessively.

Closing your eyes, you arched your neck and he followed by sucking the thin skin there between his teeth. Your hands scrambled to find purchase at his hips, desperate to feel him even deeper. You could feel your release building again, this time driven by the sensation of being so full of him you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

“F-fuck,” you gasped. “You’re so deep, Din, you’re so deep.“

He answered by slamming his hips up against you. You wailed at the force, knowing that the ache you would feel later would be worth it. He grabbed your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist, and continued his claiming of your body.

“I’m going to fill you,” he groaned. “Fill your womb with my seed. Do you want that? Do you want my cum inside you?”

You nodded deliriously. “Yes yes yes Din, cum in me, I nee-I need it-“

“Yeah?” He panted. He stared into your eyes, nose hovering just over your own. “You need to feel me fill you up? Make you mine?”

“A-already yours,” you choked out. He keened at that, and you felt his hips begin to falter.

“Say it,” he commanded. “Tell me what you need me to do.” Your nails clenched his side, and the faint pain seemed to give him a second wind. You were on the verge of cumming.

“S-stars, Din-“

“Say it.”

Crying out, you reached one hand down to grasp his thigh as he squished up against you. He was barely pulling out at that point, his hips flush to your own as he stabbed jerkily up into you.

“Cum in me,” you begged. “Cum in me, fill me, I need you-“

Your orgasm washed over you with a white-hot intensity that made your vision go blank. The feeling of your spasms wrung the same from Din, and he thrusted once more before burying himself as deep as he could go, semen surging into your body.

“I love you,” he groaned lowly. “Fuck, I love you.”

Hours later, the two of you laid sleepily together in the bed, the thin blankets draped over your still-nude forms. Your head rested on his chest, and he stroked your side absentmindedly. After your passionate love-making, you both had cleaned up a bit and returned to the bed to bask in the afterglow and each other’s wholly bare presence.

“What are you thinking?” Din asked, voice low from exertion and on the edge of sleep. You hummed at the feeling of how his chest vibrated, and you lifted your head to look at him.

How could you put in to words what you were thinking? A year ago you were a busy scholar who cared about little else but your research. Now there you were, held by a Mandalorian bounty hunter who you had traveled across the galaxy with, unraveling long-lost secrets. A man who had saved your life on many occasions, who both exasperated and delighted you at every turn, and who you were certain you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

Smiling, you laid a gentle kiss to his chest. “Just thinking,” you murmured. “You said ‘I love you’.”

Din blinked slowly at you, fingers tracing imperceptible patterns along the curve of your hip. “I do,” he said simply after a few beats of silence. “I have for a long time,” he added. “Is that-do you…?

Closing your eyes, you sighed against him. “Yes,” you breathed. “I don’t know when or why or how, but I do too.”

Din pulled you up closer to him, so that your chest pressed up against his own, and caught your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. You hummed happily into it, fingers dancing delicately over his collarbone.

“Good.”

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

389 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

Blister

Find my masterlist

Okay! Here we are with the ace alpha Din story I’ve been teasing the past couple weeks! Honestly I’m super happy with how this turned out. Could I talk more about this universe and the gender assumptions and norms? Yes. Could I talk more about the experience of being ace in this universe? Yes. But this also covers everything I wanted to cover here.

Maybe I’ll write more. Who knows...

Warnings: Talk of sex, feelings of inadequacy, feelings of confusion, brief derogatory language, non-explicit violence, A/B/O dynamics.

Word Count: 5k

Ace alpha Din x ace omega f!reader

You'd been with the Mandalorian and the child for weeks. Since he'd stepped in and saved you.

You'd always thought those stories of alphas protecting people were just bedtime stories. You certainly had never expected to be proven wrong so thoroughly and repeatedly.

After that first incident, you had apparently somehow become one of two people Mando protected. The other was the child, precious and precocious and adorable.

And it was good. Better than good, really. You got to see more of the galaxy than you ever would have on your own. You helped take care of the child, and Mando when he needed it. (Which was often. He didn't always remember to feed himself, and you were ruthless about shoving food at him and leaving before he could do anything like hand it back.) You never felt like you were in danger, and for all that your life was constantly on the go now, you also had more of a sense of belonging than you had in years.

Sure, you didn't need an alpha… but it was nice to have one around, anyway.

Speaking of the alpha…

He dropped lightly to the floor of the hold, child cradled in one arm, armor gleaming and in place as usual.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised you, handing over the child. "Be good."

You weren't sure if that last was aimed at the child… or at you. So you just smiled. "Good hunting."

He nodded once before he turned and left, apparently already supplied and ready to go. He did grab the pulse rifle before he left, though. You'd noticed he hardly ever left it behind.

Then the ship closed up behind him and you looked down at the child, wrinkling your nose playfully. "Well, kiddo, what shall we do for now?"

You had been raised with the standard omega being a house parent. Omegas on your home planet didn't really hold jobs, more focused on family and home. But you'd never been interested in that. You'd been far too curious, too interested in exploring the galaxy and seeing what all there was to see.

Despite that, you'd settled into the role of caretaker for the little one pretty easily. He was easy to entertain, most of the time, and easy to feed.

You'd just given him his dinner and sat next to him, absently frowning at the rear hatch. Mando's scent lingered on the ship and the child, but not on you. He only rarely scented you, and you had to wonder about it.

You were pretty sure he liked you. At least well enough to let you stay, and he trusted you with the kid. But he didn't scent you, didn't offer that you could scent him, didn't really do much of anything you associated with alpha behavior, except offer his silent protection whenever you went out.

But the lack of action on his part sometimes made you wonder how he actually viewed you.

Which brought its own set of problems.

Making a face at yourself, you reminded yourself to be grateful he wasn’t asking for more. Next to you, the child burped, interrupting your train of thought.

The child finally fell asleep for the night in his floating pram, leaving you to sit in the hold in the almost oppressive silence.

What were you doing, really?

Groaning softly, you rubbed your forehead, feeling a stress headache coming on. Standing and stretching, you absently checked your nest. It wasn't much of a nest, not really, but you'd brought a few pillows and a few blankets to make your hammock more comfortable, the familiar scent of home and omega soothing to you.

(And if you wanted a bit of alpha scent in there… well, that was just instincts, since you were traveling with him. Besides, you couldn't just ask him to scent one of your pillows, that was–no. Just no.)

You woke to the hiss of the carbonite unit, blinking blearily at the ceiling above you. Right. Mando must have gotten back. You yawned, debating trying to go back to sleep.

There was a clang as the slab of carbonite slotted into place, and then footsteps. He was probably going to check on the kid then head up to the cockpit.

But the footsteps stopped outside your nest, the scent of alpha growing stronger. There was something else in there too, a sort of sharpness to his scent that was definitely new. You blinked a couple times again to clear your vision before swinging your legs out of the hammock.

"Mando?" You bit your lip, looking him over as much as you could.

He was still fully clad, armor unscathed and only a little muddy, visor trained on you. He was breathing harder than he should be, holding himself almost completely still, but for the twitching of his fingers at his sides. Your gaze caught on a tear in his flight suit over his bicep, revealing a glimpse of skin and a trickle of blood.

"Mando?" You asked again, a little alarmed now. "Are you okay? Do you need help?" You slid out of your hammock, shivering briefly when your bare feet touched the cold metal.

He still didn't say anything, but he did move. He stepped in closer to you, very much into your personal space, yanking his gloves off with impatient motions. Both hands settled at your waist for a moment, and you could feel the tremble in his fingers. But, when you didn't object to the touch, he ran his hands up your sides to your shoulders.

He was checking you for injuries, you realized, heart squeezing in your chest. Making sure you were unharmed. Why, you had no idea, but he was.

"I'm okay," you murmured, low and soothing. "I'm not hurt. I'm fine."

His shoulders relaxed a little, easing down, and he nodded once.

And then he pulled you close, squished up against his armor, one big hand rubbing up and down your back. His hand paused at the nape of your neck and he growled, alpha-low and frustrated, before rubbing his wrist against your back.

Very confused, but also okay with this so far, you just relaxed into his hold. "Mando?" You tried again.

He huffed, the sound odd through the modulator, and lifted his hand to swipe his wrist over the top of your head. "Din."

"Hmm?" You blinked at him, breathing deeply as the protect-safe-ally scent sank into your skin. It was far too pleasing.

"Din." He dropped his head to your shoulder, cool metal just brushing your ear. This close, you could hear him breathing, long, deep inhales and slow, shuddering exhales.

"Din?"

He groaned softly, free hand clutching you closer and rubbing more of his scent onto your clothes.

Oh. Oh. His name. His name was Din. Your lips parted in surprise, something warm blooming in your chest.

"Din," you repeated, and got another soft groan in response. "Are you hurt?"

He grumbled something vaguely in the negative before he moved, picking you up and ignoring your startled yelp as he moved the two of you to a corner. He sat, arranging you in his lap so you were curled against him, as comfortable as you could be with beskar under your ass. His arms stayed around your waist, holding you there and keeping you warm.

This was… new. Honestly, you weren't entirely sure you were awake, this was so far from the norm of his past behavior. He had always been very hands off. Didn't touch you without permission, and barely ever did touch you. He wasn't ever that verbose, but this level of nonverbal was new. A gentle rumble started in his chest, a soothing sound meant to reassure pack.

Add that to the list of new things from him.

Almost against your will, you relaxed into him. You trusted him not to hurt you, and he hadn't made any moves on you. In fact, he didn't seem to be interested in anything beyond cuddling, which was amazing and perfect and soothed a part of you that had been fretting about what if he wanted more. And, despite whatever had caused this, the cuddling was… nice.

Not thinking too hard about it, you lifted one hand to rub your wrist against his cowl, scenting him in return. The rumbling increased in volume.

A coo caught both of your attention, and you both looked at the child waddling towards you. Big green ears twitched and he lifted one hand in a clear request.

Din huffed but lifted the kid, scooping him up and into your lap before securing his arm around the two of you. The kid nestled in against your front, keeping you thoroughly warm.

Between the kid's soft snores as he quickly fell back asleep and the soothing rumble from Din, you drifted off again.

You woke in your hammock, the child a warm weight sprawled over your chest. You blinked slowly, reluctant to wake all the way, and wiggled a bit to get comfortable.

And then choked when your wiggling caused something to fall over your face. Dark cloth. Saturated in alpha scent.

Din's cloak.

That woke you up real fast, and you clutched the child to you as you sat up and slid out of the hammock. But the alpha was nowhere to be seen.

You drew in a deep breath, sniffing yourself. Yup. He had very definitely scented you and the kid both.

So that really had happened.

But… what had caused it? Something must have.

Confused and a little wary, you left the cloak on your hammock and made your way up to the cockpit.

"Din?"

He startled, shoulders tensing as he turned to face you. His pauldrons were gone, as well as the thigh plates. Something about it felt almost illicit, even though he wasn't actually showing any skin and you two had been cuddled up just hours ago.

"Are you okay?" You stepped cautiously closer, sinking down into your normal seat, one hand absently smoothing across the child's back.

He was very still for a few long moments before he nodded once, slowly. "I… apologize for my actions earlier," he murmured, low and… embarrassed?

"You don't have to apologize to me," you said, slow and careful, testing his mood. "You didn't do anything I was uncomfortable with."

Hands landing on his thighs, he shook his head slowly. "I was not entirely in control of myself."

You blinked once, not trying too hard to hide your surprise. Everyone had heard of concoctions that could trigger heats, or ruts, or amplify instincts, or suppress them entirely. But you were surprised Din had been hit with something. "You were fine. You didn't do anything bad."

Din was quiet, still tense, holding himself very still. "If you wished to leave–"

"No!" You shook your head, something akin to panic rising at the thought of leaving him, of leaving these two. "No, Din. Definitely not."

His shoulders lowered, just a little, fingers relaxing against his thighs. "Okay." He was quiet for a few moments longer. "We're heading to drop off the bounties and collect more pucks."

"Okay." You leaned back in your seat, relaxing a little now that the worst of this seemed to be over. "You want some caf?"

Din nodded once, turning his chair back to the controls. And that was that. You hauled the child with you as you went to make caf for yourself and Din.

Hopefully he felt better after actually talking to you.

But you had no way of knowing, not really. He kept himself hidden behind his armor, kept quiet, and didn't reach out again. He accepted food gracefully from you, but didn't push.

He didn't scent you again, either. And a part of you was deeply disappointed at that.

But you continued on, doing what you could to take care of him and the child both. Life had fallen into a sort of comfortable rhythm with them, honestly.

And if you quietly watched Din and longed for his scent, for the opportunity to cuddle up to the fearsome warrior… well, you kept it to yourself.

He clearly wasn't interested in you.

Which wasn't an entirely bad thing, you reminded yourself on the next planet. You stuck close to Din after the first alpha had leered at you and started towards you, a familiar (and still horrifying) lust in their gaze.

Din had stepped between you and the threat without a word, hand on his blaster. The other alpha had backed off.

Din didn't say a word, just motioned you to keep close. And you did. Even if he wasn't interested in you, you trusted that he would protect you.

That was enough. That would be enough.

The child looked between you and Din and murmured a soft concern. You rubbed a hand over his back.

"It's okay, kiddo," you whispered back for those big ears only. "Your dad is very good at keeping us safe."

Din didn't stumble or even look your way, but his chest did puff out, just a bit.

The cantina Din led you to was like so many others across the galaxy: dimly lit, warm, and with a potent mixture of scents. You wrinkled your nose, and the child in your arms sneezed. Twice.

Din sidled up to the barkeep, and you more or less ignored his routine. You knew he was looking for information, you didn't need to listen in.

Instead you surveyed the locals. Many of them were looking at you and Din, which honestly wasn't that uncommon. Din drew a lot of attention wherever he went - something about being the shiniest man in any given room.

But one of them actually approached, an older man with a nasty scar bisecting the right side of his face. "Hey," he said sharply, frowning thunderously. "Their kind aren't allowed in here." He jerked a hand at you.

Your heart lurched and then sank hard. Omegas. He meant omegas.

Din turned to look at the man, slowly, assessing the situation. "She's with me."

"No omegas allowed," the other alpha snapped, not giving an inch. "Make her leave, or we will."

You swallowed hard, holding the child a little tighter as the tension in the room ratcheted higher.

Din was silent and still but for his helmet shifting just slightly. Taking count, at a guess. Debating his moves.

So you decided for him. "I'll be out front," you murmured to him. You took one step before leather-encased fingers closed around your wrist, gentle but immovable.

"You can wait here," Din murmured. "As soon as I get the information I need, we'll go."

"It's fine," you whispered, gaze darting from him to the locals, tension pulling your shoulders tight.

The barkeep interrupted before anything else could happen. "Guy you're lookin' for lives way out," he said, polishing a glass as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "You'll find him south of here."

Din inclined his head to the barkeep and then stepped in between you and the rest of the room. He didn't release your wrist. Just gently guided you out, keeping himself between you and danger.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly once the two of you were walking away from the cantina.

"I'm fine," you assured him. "Not hurt or anything, I promise. Just… startled."

Din nodded once. But he still didn't release you yet, instead making sure you were with him as he walked. You didn't actually object, content to let him lead.

You didn't really like this planet anymore.

"Do you want to go back to the ship?"

You startled at the question, just a little, before you shook your head. "No. I mean, you said you don't really expect this one to be violent, right? I'd rather stay with you."

Din drew in a deep breath, just loud enough that you could hear it. And then he nodded once, swift and businesslike. "Okay," he rasped.

The two of you traveled in silence after that but for the child cooing or burbling. And Din didn't release you.

You tried very hard not to dwell on how nice it felt, how warm his hand was even through the leather, how easily he kept hold of your wrist. How much it made you feel wanted.

Din finally released you as you two left the town behind. But he didn't move away from you, the closeness appeasing something tight in your chest and letting you breathe easier.

Finally, Din paused. You could see a lone building up ahead, worn down and sagging.

"Wait here," Din murmured. "I don't expect a fight but I know you'll be safe here."

"Okay." You huffed but settled the kid more firmly against yourself. "We'll be here."

Din stood for a moment longer, visor trained on you, before he nodded, short and sharp. And then he turned and was gone, stalking towards the building.

You sighed and looked down at the kid, who had a handful of your top on hand. "Your dad, I swear," you muttered. "Alright. We might as well get comfy." You sat and settled the kid on your lap.

It wasn't hard to keep the kid entertained with quiet games, and it helped distract you from the waiting too, which was good.

Although, as it turned out, you didn't have to wait long after all.

Din returned with the bounty in binders and nodded once to you. You stood and followed him, kid once again held against your front.

The bounty took one look at you, sniffed the air, and grinned, showing off yellowed, sharp teeth. "Well, Mando, bet I know what you keep this one around for," he hissed, the insinuation clear in his tone.

You went hot, outraged and embarrassed and flustered. But you never had a chance to say a word. Because Din's fist shot out and caught the bounty hard in the head, dropping him like a stone.

"Let's go," Din grunted, hauling the bounty across his back and shoulders. You swallowed at the sight, at the very obvious show of strength, and followed him back to the ship.

It didn't take him any time to get the bounty in carbonite, and then he was up the ladder and doing his pre-flight routine. You followed him up, sitting in your normal seat. You liked to watch him work, liked the casual competence with which he handled his ship.

But it didn't ignite any kind of sparks in your belly. You'd heard (and read) so many accounts where omegas got hot under the collar from various things, usually describing how warm they felt, or how certain parts of them reacted.

And you just… didn't. You never had. Most of the time, you kind of thought you were broken. Even during heat, you didn't want a sexual partner, just someone to be with you and take care of you.

Sounded to you a lot like you were broken, or something.

And you never intended for Din to find out, because he'd probably leave you if he did. (He wouldn't even be the first, and you couldn't blame any of your previous partners, alpha or otherwise, because how could they be expected to stay when you didn't even experience heat like a normal omega–)

"We've got a few days until we get to the next stop," Din told you without turning around, piloting the ship easily up and through atmo, back into open space.

"Okay." You waited until he'd made the jump to hyperspace before you stood and stretched, putting the kid down in his lap. Din just grunted and moved one hand to help support the kid, and to keep him away from the controls. "I'm gonna take the 'fresher for a bit."

Din nodded, and you headed down into the hold to grab fresh clothes and then lock yourself in the 'fresher.

You didn't even notice all was not well for another standard day. The first hint was the heat, leaving you uncomfortable even in the cool hold, until you had kicked off your blankets. Then you sat up and looked around, instincts itching, chewing on your lip. You needed… something.

Sliding out of your hammock, you shoved a couple crates around to make sure more enclosed space for yourself, and then pulled your blankets over. It wasn't until you were half way through constructing a basic nest that you realized what was happening.

You were going into heat.

Your eyes closed for a moment, shoulders tensing. Oh this was bad. You were still at least a standard day away from the next stop, and by then you'd be well in heat.

And of course you didn't have the meds to delay this heat. (Not that you liked doing that - it always made the next one more intense.)

Fuck. Oh fuck.

The sound of a hatch opening made you startle, and you turned to see Din emerging from his sleeping cubby. He was dressed down, armor stored for now, but helmet firmly in place as always. He looked good, still rumpled from sleep, and you honestly wanted nothing more than to curl up in the safety of his arms and sleep.

A soft call of your name brought you back to attention from your mental wanderings. "Are you okay?" He stepped closer slowly, hands loose at his sides. Trying his best to be non-threatening.

Not that he could ever really threaten you. You doubted you would ever find him scary.

"I'm…" you paused, hands trembling, unable to look at him. "I'm going into heat."

The statement sat between the two of you, heavy and dead. You swallowed hard, shifting your weight. When he still hadn't responded after a few moments, you hurried to continue.

"I don't expect anything, of course. I mean, I know you're busy, you've got a lot of things you have to do, but maybe you can just… drop me somewhere for a few days? I don't want to–to–make you uncomfortable."

Din shook his head slowly, taking another step closer. "No," he murmured. "You won't. But I can't… I can't give you what you need." He shifted his weight, shoulders curled in, hands twitching at his side.

Your heart cracked, pain an immediate and undeniable reaction to the admittedly gentle let down. You sucked in a sharp breath, looking away.

But. Wait. Rational thought partially returned. He could cuddle you. He had before. Sure, it had kind of been under the influence, but he was clearly capable of it. You wouldn't even ask him to remove any clothing or anything, you could work with clothed cuddles.

"Din," you started slowly, lifting your gaze again, "what do you think I need?"

He shifted again, shoulders curling in, about as sheepish as ever you'd seen him. "Well, you're in heat, you need…" he trailed off, making an aborted hand gesture.

"Din." You licked your lips, hope curling delicate and tentative in your chest. "I don't want sex."

He stopped, holding so still you wondered if he was even breathing. "You… don't?"

"No. I'm, uh." You swallowed, nerves fluttering in your stomach along with the hope, making your fingers tingle and your heart pound. "I never want sex. I'm not… I've never been interested. I think I'm broken."

Your heart raced with mingled relief and dread. You'd never admitted it aloud, that you felt broken.

"You're not broken." Din stepped closer to you, hands reaching out to cup your elbows. "Don't say that."

You nodded, a little helplessly, swaying in closer to him. He just smelled so good and warm and safe.

"I can't give you sex," Din murmured. "But anything else is fine."

"Stay," you pleaded, unplanned but honest. "Please. I want you to."

Silence held for several moments before Din nodded. "One moment," he murmured, releasing you and stepping back. You really couldn't help the little whine at the loss of contact, and he twitched. "I'll be right back."

You nodded, teeth clamped together, and Din slipped away, back to his bunk. But he came right back, as promised, with a blanket. He held it out, a little awkward but still sweet.

"Thank you." You took the blanket, resisting the urge to bury your nose in it, and instead added it to your nest. Satisfied, you nodded once.

"Do you have supplies?" Din asked, still standing a respectful distance from your nest.

"Not yet," you admitted, a little shame-faced. "I was still… figuring out. Uh. What I was going to do."

Din nodded, shoulders more relaxed now. "I'll be right back."

You nodded and sat in your nest, starting to get comfortable. The warmth under your skin was more bearable now that you had alpha-scent on your nest, and you sprawled out to wait.

Gentle nudging woke you, and you blinked a few times, momentarily disoriented. Din stood over you, still outside your nest. A small pile of supplies sat next to the nest, and you blinked.

"You awake?" He asked quietly.

You grunted noncommittally, not entirely sure yourself.

"You need anything else?"

You huffed and forced yourself to sit up, looking over the supplies. Food and water, chem cold and hot packs, and another cloak. Also, the kid was awake and cooing at you, ears wiggling.

"Gimme." You held your hands out for the kid impatiently.

There was a soft huff of laughter before Din handed him over, and you cuddled the kid into your chest.

"Anything else?" Din asked again, crouched outside the nest.

"Get in here." You wiggled around a bit to make room for him.

Slowly, a little hesitantly, he moved into your nest. And then settled down, laying stiff as a board next to you.

You hesitated, child still held to your chest, the burning in your veins settling down to a simmer with the skin contact. "If you don't want to be here–"

You yipped as Din cut you off, striking fast and bringing you down next to him. One hand cushioned the back of your head, his other gripping your hip to tug you into his warmth.

You melted into the contact, nestling the kid safely between the two of you and tucking your head down against Din's chest. He hummed softly, and your eyes slipped closed. Stars, this was nearly perfect. You considered for a moment before you briefly moved the child, tucking him against his dad before you wiggled out of your top. Left in your chest binding, you cuddled back in against the two of them and sighed happily.

This was perfect.

None of you moved unless the kid had to use the 'fresher, since Din brought enough food for you both.

And then the navcomp beeped, and Din swore softly. "I have to get that," he murmured regretfully, slowly extricating himself.

You pouted. But settled into your nest with the kid tucked under your chin, reaching one hand out to rub your scent into his neck. His breath caught and he went stock still. You blinked slowly at him, languid and pleased. The navcomp beeped again, louder this time, and he was gone.

You grumbled under your breath, annoyed that he'd left. Even if you understood rationally that he needed to. But you didn't want him to go, you wanted him to stay here where he was safe and warm and content–

The child whined a little and patted your cheeks, ears back.

"It's okay," you soothed automatically, rubbing one hand over his back, and then your wrist to smother him more in your scent. He calmed again, though he didn't settle entirely. He kept looking over his shoulder towards the ladder.

Din hit the floor with a thud, walking swiftly back to the two of you and getting back in the nest. "Easy, omega," he murmured, low and soothing and raspy. "We're fine, you're okay."

You huffed and grabbed his arm, pulling him in closer. After a bit of creative rearranging (and one slightly pained groan when you accidentally elbowed him) you set the child on the pillow next to Din, and then flopped across the top of him. Din huffed out a breath but slung his arms around you, settling down to cuddle.

You hummed happily and tucked your head down under the helmet. Closing your eyes, you nosed closer until your cheek was pressed to his shoulder, your nose tucked against the bare skin of his throat. He made a little choking noise but didn't move you, so you stayed right there. His heartbeat slowly settled down and relaxed back into sleep, his arms lax around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. The child snored softly from his spot next to Din.

Warm and content, you smiled, but didn't move. You were perfectly happy here. Your heat was less intense than usual, less of the cramping and aching that you usually associated with these few days. You didn't feel like you were burning from the inside out, either.

But you also still felt no desire for more than this. Well. Okay. That was a slight lie - you would love more skin contact. That was even better for heat cuddles. But this closeness, being surrounded with his scent and with him shoving food and water at you, was more than enough to satisfy you.

Actually, the thought of having sex right now made you wrinkle your nose. Apparently some distress must have leaked into your scent, because Din woke up and rumbled at you, rubbing his hand up and down your back until you relaxed again. Then he huffed and tipped his head to press the helmet briefly to the top of your head. And promptly went back to sleep.

Yeah. This was pretty much perfect right here. You absolutely, selfishly hoped that you had a chance to spend many more heats just like this.

Later, you'd find out he set the ship to orbit until you were all ready to go. Later, you'd learn that he squirreled away one of the blankets from your nest to keep for himself. Later, there would be shy admissions and careful talks about what you both wanted and didn't want. Later, there would be an actual offer.

But that night, you slept soundly, pressed against your little family, and felt nothing more than warmth.

#Silent Voice #ace alpha din #f!reader #ace omega f!reader

379 notes · View notes

attonposting · 11 months

Text

I tend to think that for the most part, Atton has the Ebon Hawk's crew fooled. He's not perfect, he lets things slip, but overall he is good at playing the scruffy smuggler and the people around him don't see him as anything more than an unreliable and annoying pilot. Give credit where it's due, this guy managed to fool Kreia for the entirety of Telos, and then she cheated by using the Bash option on his brain while the Exile was stuck with Security: Impossible for a couple of planets.

Obviously those two know the truth, and Brianna had the benefit of Echani training to sniff him out, but that's not the baseline. Atton got astonishingly unlucky with his company between probationary Sith Lords and empathic black holes. I generally don't think anyone else looks at him and thinks something doesn't add up… minus one.

I really love Mira. I definitely have a thing for the scrappy irreverent ones, and Chaotic Good will always be my favorite flavor of hero-adjacent. But I'm not just playing with my favorites like a bunch of dolls (...though I also do that.) Mira outright calls Atton out on his bullshit in one of the Ebon Hawk 'btw, your crewmates hate each other' cutscenes, alongside roasting him within an inch of his life like he deserves, and even threatens that she's going to figure out what his deal is. She doesn't know what's up, and I don't think 'elite Sith assassin' or 'ex Jedi hunter' is high on her list of guesses. But she knows that something's wrong with the picture.

Part of it is that like him, Mira's very observant. Setting aside the actual Mandalorian slave childhood of working with explosives, wherein you are either alert or very dead... it's a simple fact of life on the Shad that you either shape up or you end up under someone's boot, and one of the first lessons the Smuggler's Moon teaches you is to keep both eyes on everyone around you. She watches people – heck, casing people is explicitly her Special Unique Force Power. So when Atton accidentally shares things he shouldn't know, Mira's watching.

But she also has the dubious benefit of keeping company with bounty hunters… and as she personally notes, the profession has, in recent history, lost its way. To the current guild, there's very little difference between a bounty hunter and an assassin, and many of her competitors on Nar Shaddaa are straight-up contract killers. I know that this was meant to be part of a cut plot involving the GenoHaradan... but also consider that a decade of full galactic war just ended, and there's a lot of restless ex-soldiers filtering into every profession where being good at killing is a job requirement.

So I think she'd recognize pretty quick that while Atton plays the idiot, when there's an actual situation underway, the act chinks. He's way more competent in a fight than your standard freighter pilot should be, illegal cargo or no. He's not especially strong or anything - if you've got a stuck jar of space pickles, you go to Bao-Dur - and his accuracy is decent but she's known better shots, but that's not really it. It's the way he moves. Mira's seen it before. It's too efficient for some two-cred Exchange runner. He's got professional training, and she's pretty sure they don't teach you to snap necks like that in the Republic Navy.

All of that to say, she's pretty sure he's on their side, or at least the Exile's side... but she's always got one hand near her blaster where he's involved.

#atton rand #mira #mira the bounty hunter #kotor ii #kotor 2 #how do you tag mira...#girl get yourself a last name

80 notes · View notes

dindjarindiaries · 1 year

Text

Dincember - December 3: Gloves

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: Gloves

main masterlist • dincember 2022

You tighten your hands into fists and spread your fingers back out once again. Each tendon is stiff, like icicles that refuse to be snapped in half. You’re reluctant to take the tool back out from under your armpit as you heave hot air onto your frozen fingers.

The buzzing hum of Din’s drill beside you stops. “Hey.” You turn your head to look at his tilted helmet. “This is the seventh time you’ve had to stop.”

You sigh, creating a tuft of wispy mist around your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.” You reach for the tool tucked under your arm. “The faster we work, the faster we can get off this hellhole.”

Din stands at your side before you can resume your work on the broken down Razor Crest. He lifts a hand and sets it over your tool. “That’s not my concern.” Din’s gloved fingers move from your tool to your stiffened fingers. “Your hands are.”

Your face becomes the only thing in this vicinity to burn hot. “They’ll be fine.”

Din’s visor rises to your gaze. “Seven times, cyar’ika.”

You shrug. “Better than eight.”

Din shakes his helmet. He lifts his hand from yours and tugs at the material that covers the tips of his fingers.

“Din, don’t do that. I really can . . .”

“Cyar’ika.” Din pauses and tilts his helmet again. “Don’t bother.”

You bite your cheek and watch him pull the leather off one of his hands. He takes yours and slips the roughened material on, repeating his actions with the other hand. You look at him with awe, only to earn a nod as he turns back to his work. You smile down at the side of your covered hands before doing the same.

Thanks to the warmth already trapped within Din’s gloves, you get your work done much faster than before. It’s only another half-a-standard-hour or so until you both finish for the night, at least allowing the Crest to power up enough for a heat source to be created. Din’s quick to bring you both inside, where the child’s already been nestled up in an attempt to keep him warm amidst the brutal chill.

Once you and Din have gotten more settled, you take his gloves off your hands and offer them back to him. “Thank you, Din. Really.” You offer him your most genuine smile. “That was very kind of you.”

Din shrugs, nonchalant. “You would’ve done the same.” He sets the gloves aside and takes your bare hands within his own. He clicks his tongue and gives his helmet a single shake. “They’re still cold, though.” His visor studies you, despite the void it provides you with. “Permission to warm them?”

You attempt, and fail, to bite back your smile. “Granted.”

Din lifts your hands towards the lip of his helmet, sliding them between the beskar and his skin as he sets the warmth of his lips on your ice-cold fingertips. You look away from him, bashful, though you know the physical warmth he’s providing you with dulls in comparison to that which he’s created within your chest.

main masterlist • dincember 2022

all star wars characters: @hugmekenobi @themarvelousbee @nembees @amneris21@wildmoonflower @bombshe77 @harriedandharassed @againstacecilia @ladykatakuri @bludyl @acourtofdreamsandnightmares

din djarin: @swol-bear @notagamersdey @les-ingenue @booksaremyyoga @hp-hogwartsexpress @dheet @mccn-bcys @alwaysdjarin @reader-without-a-story @cyaredindjarin @toobsessedsstuff @unofficialavenger90 @tizylish @your-slutty-gf

↳ add yourself to a taglist here!

#always a fave prompt for me to use #what a classic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #dincember 2022 #dincember #dindjarindiaries

233 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 1 year

Note

if you’re doing the fanfic trope mash up, can i suggest 42 and 56 for jangosoka?

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

This ask meme is from over a year ago. Please don't send new prompts.

42. The Big Damn Kiss

56. Awful First Meeting

Okay, so: time travel, as is standard for this ship

We'll say Ahsoka is ehhhh 23, has been doing Fulcrum stuff for five or so years, is very competent but not perfect. She falls into the past, as one does, shows up about a year pre-Galidraan, so Jango is 21.

Ahsoka has slipped into some undercover work, eeling her way into the upper echelons of society, attending galas and events and so on in fancy dresses and jewelry. How is she funding this? However you want. Maybe she robbed a Hutt. Maybe she has the codes to some shadow accounts nobody knows she's accessing. Maybe she found teenage Bail and talked him into bankrolling her based on The Future. Doesn't matter.

(Actually, the Bail thing would make a great fic on its own, especially if Ahsoka were young enough to pretend to be his girlfriend. Tell me that wouldn't be hilarious. Not here, but somewhere. Bail is absolutely in love with Breha, but like... the fate of the Republic! The fate of the Jedi! That's a cool thing to be doing! With a cool person!)

Point is, she's lying to a lot of very wealthy, very dangerous people when she shows up at these things. She could have theoretically tricked her way into being someone's long-term date, but that would mean dating to attend more than one, and she's not doing that. Better to just pretend to be the heiress to a company from the rims that's very rich but not quite rich enough for everyone in the Core to have heard of.

She is using these events to spy, of course. Slipping into hotel rooms to slice datapads, bugging white collar criminals with a tap to their favorite watch, wandering into servant's tunnels while pretending to be drunk, all the usual fun stuff.

She gets caught, of course.

Jango's side of the story starts about when Ahsoka's does, with him hearing tales of someone stealing information and sabotaging deals, and he gets hired as security by one of those especially important events. He keeps an eye on this, and he... notices Ahsoka.

He does not notice her as a spy, but as a person who is being harassed by an intoxicated, rich old man, whom she'd clearly like to ditch but cannot safely do so.

(At least, as far as he can tell. We know her better than that.)

Jango steps in, because it's not like he's got a lot to do right now, and intercepting drunk old men has been about the only interesting thing he's had to do all night. Ahsoka... I mean, she thanks him. Technically. She doesn't hide her distaste for him as a person. Jango would think this is just about him being Mandalorian, except she doesn't react as negatively to any of the others. She's neutral and ignores most of them, but there are two moments where she interacts positively, laughing at a joke or something. So. She just doesn't like him.

The night ends without incident. It's not until weeks later that there's an information leak. It could have happened during the party Jango was guarding, but it could have happened at any of three other incidents that same month. There was at least one midnight break-in, several days after the party; there's a solid chance his presence did discourage whoever this spy was from engaging, and made them delay their actions to a Plan B.

Months later, he's doing personal guard duty for the king of something or other. It's another gala or fundraiser or coronation or--honestly, he doesn't care. He's getting paid to keep this one specific person safe, and that's all that matters.

He's not the only mando there, so when he sees a young woman, vaguely familiar, stumble out of the hall with an expression that says 'drunk' as much as it does 'roofied,' he doesn't commit any dereliction of duty by excusing himself to just... see that she's okay. The woman is familiar, even if he can't place her. That usually means something; what if she's an assassin he's run into before, here to kill his client?

(That really is why he's following her. If she's familiar but unplaceable, that usually means she's In The Business.)

He follows her at a safe distance, and sees her ask for a bathroom, get pointed in the right direction, and then... go down the wrong hallway, and enter a room that he's pretty sure is supposed to be locked.

He gives it a few seconds, edging closer slow enough that his boots can't be heard (the music and carpet both help muffle the noise, but he's still wearing a lot of metal), and then opens the door to a library-esque space.

The "drunk" girl is hard at work slicing into a computer terminal she 100% should not be at.

They stare at each other.

"Give me one good reason to not shoot y--"

"I can give you intel on Death Watch."

Jango pauses. Considers. It is not his job to keep information safe, this time. His job is to just keep one specific man alive, and this is an unrelated crime.

There are footsteps in the hall, and he sees her start to look around the room for an exit route. He tries not to think too hard on how she was planning on making the very-much-screwed-into-the-wall vent work.

"Fine," he says, and she looks quick at him, and then at the door, and then disengages from the computer and hops the desk to--plaster herself against him?

She giggles, high and drunken, and fumbles for his helmet. "Oh, come on, Mr. Mando, just a kiss? Just one ki--I told my friends I'd run into a Mand--ma--Mandaloriana... Just a kiss! I wanna--wanna one-up 'em..."

He hears the door crack open, and has no idea what he's supposed to do to play along to this... cover? Cover, sure. "Ma'am, I'm on a job."

"And you can't play? Your friends are totally--"

There's a cough from the door, and Jango turns, and the security guard that actually works here is grimacing.

"You can't be in here."

They manage to talk their way out of suspicion, something about how she claimed she'd seen something important but was just trying to seduce him, does the guard know anywhere a drunk guest can be deposited? Thanks.

She does give him information, but she disappears before he can learn anything more about her.

(Galidraan is avoided, oh so narrowly, because of what she gives him. He may never know how close it really was.)

Months pass. He gets invited an event that isn't a job, but is rather some large gladiatorial event. He's not a fan of it--he's pretty sure the fighters aren't nearly as voluntary as people are claiming--but he goes. He watches.

A familiar face enters the arena. He stiffens.

His helmet can zoom in and analyze, and he finds that the cuffs she wears are Force-dampening.

Definitely not willing.

He dithers too long to figure out how to help, or if he even can, because she wins her fight (no deaths in these matches; makes it expensive to find new combatants), and is ushered out, and Jango himself is invited to an afterparty. Someone tells him that the winning gladiators get to attend. It's a reward, the food and fancy outfits. Even 'the pretty one you seemed to like' is going to be there.

People are still pretending that the combatants are voluntary. Jango grits his teeth. He goes.

He finds her, removes his helmet, meets her eyes from across the room. She is bruised and bandaged, but alert. She blinks at him, slow and measuring, and then taps her lips twice.

He doesn't understand, until she signs--where did she learn Mando battle sign?--and asks him to lie and say they're a couple.

(Well, she's using battle sign, not actual MSL, but he's pretty sure 'cover spouse you self extraction' is... yeah. Sure, that sign for cover is usually about cover from fire, and 'spouse' is a splice of 'law' and 'partner' that is usually hard enough without trying to hide everything, but he thinks he got the gist.)

(He does kind of owe her; the information she gave him was more useful than he'd expected, and even if it hadn't been, he can probably convince her to share something else as 'payment' for getting her out of this.)

He stomps through the crowd, pushing people out of the way, and then sweeps her into his arms and bends her backwards to plant the showiest kiss he can on her.

He holds it long enough for the silence to spread, and then pulls them back upright, closes his eyes, presses his forehead to hers, and hopes that it's enough to sell it to the people around them.

His hands drift down to her wrists, a calculated move that looks natural if he's lucky, and asks quietly for them to remove the cuffs.

Jango Fett is a very heavily-armored, heavily-armed man. People read into his quiet the way he wants them to: that he is very close to slaughtering a whole lot of them, and trying incredibly hard to stay calm.

There are cuff removals, and 'negotiations' for Ahsoka's freedom (he still doesn't even know her name, but he hears the fake she gave to the people who arrested her), and she leaves the planet on his arm, and on his spaceship.

She explains that getting arrested and sent to the gladiatorial arena was part of a greater plan, but that her extraction partner was delayed. They might be dead. She doesn't know, but she was already planning her own escape. She tells him she's gotten out of worse scrapes before.

The fic would end with them separating, and her promising to come find him again. Any sequel would involve a reveal of the Future thing, possibly after a one-night stand.

#ahsoka tano #jango fett #jangosoka #star wars #the clone wars #sw legends #time travel #phoenix answers memes #this was meant to be a 'how would you' not-fic but it ended up. half fic

126 notes · View notes

furious-blueberry0 · 5 days

Text

Mandalorian Government (All Is Well AU)

Finally managed to make some sense of this old post and change some things, so here is how Mandalore works in my AU!

Enjoy:

First of all, the citizens:

To be considered a citizen of age, and so have the right to vote, it depends on when and how you became a Mandalorian:

If you are born mandalorian in a mandalorian family, or have been adopted as a child, all you have to do is complete the Verd’goten and continue following the Resol’nare.

If you became a mandalorian as an adult or over the age for the Verd’goten, you have to follow the Resol’nare, and you’ll get the right to vote after being a mandalorian for 5 years.

When you reach the age of 60, you can still vote, but you cannot run for any kind of political office.

There are three main bodies in this government:

The Assembly

The Council

The Governors

The Assembly is formed by 30 elements, and with the two Governors they are 32.

To be elected as a member you have to be a citizen of age, so the standard mandalorian citizen can be elected if they're at least 13 years old (since that’s the age of the Verd’goten), but not if they’re over 60. It’s rare to see mandalorians under the age of 18 actually be elected, but some actually managed it.

Obviously the non-human species that have different life spans will have different rules, with their years equating to the human ones.

Each of the nine planets of the Mandalorian System runs elections to choose three mandalorians to represent the planet in the Assembly.

Not only the citizens of the planets can run for elections, but also those who live on their moons, which is a bit tricky for the planets of Bonagal and Shukut, who have 34 and 30 moons, but they seem to manage just fine.

Only one member per Clan can run for election, and more often than not, they are elected based more on the power of their names than their actual worth as a candidate.

But this doesn’t preclude the way to those who come from less known Clans, who are sometimes even preferred by the citizens, because they are considered more part of the people, and not spoiled kids of powerful families.

This way we have 27 members elected.

The other 3 are chosen by the Assembly, and are the representatives of the Three Houses: House Vizsla, House Kast and House Kryze.

This was a rule made to avoid internal conflicts, so that the Houses could not complain about losing power or not being represented in the government. They have the same power as the other members of the Assembly, no more, no less.

For each member their tenure lasts 20 years, with the exception, for example, that if a member is elected when they’re 50 then their tenure will only last 10 years, if elected at 45 it will only last 15 years and so on.

They can decide to withdraw from their position, but only after 5 years of service.

Their position can be taken away with a Vote-of-No-Confidence, who can be called by any individual that brings enough evidence to show their reasoning about the vote.

If any of this happens, their planet is given three months to redo a new election for a new member, if this is not done then the Assembly can choose a new member on their own.

The Council doesn’t have actual political power, their position is more honorary than anything else, they are there to give advice and suggestions to the Assembly and the Governors, but their voice has no power in the actual decision making.

It’s made up of 6 elders, elected by the Assembly, with tenure for life, and to be part of it you need to be at least 60 years old.

Most of the time they are former members of the Assembly, who cannot be re-elected there, and so they are given this position. There have been cases in which some of those elected never held political tenure, but they are rare.

They too can lose their position, but this can be decided only by a Vote-of-No-Confidence made and voted by the Assembly.

The citizens have no say on the Council, since they have no power and are only used as advice givers.

The Governors are the heads of state of the Mandalorian System.

They are chosen with an election done across all the planets of the system, and are voted by only the citizens of age.

To run for the election they need to be at least 20 years old, and anyone from any Clan or House can do so.

Their tenure lasts ten years, and the decade of the Mandalorian calendar in which they governed has the name of the two Governors (for example: the decade of Satine and Arla is called “The Years of Fett and Kryze”)

When one becomes a Governor, they have to wear a purple cloak, to signify their status as head of state, and distinguish them from the rest of the Assembly.

They too can have their power taken by a Vote-of-No-Confidence, that can be called by any individual that brings enough evidence to show their reasoning about the vote, but this happens only if at least 25 members of the Assembly vote against the Governor.

No, challenging one of the Governors to a duel to the death will not give you their position of power, but it will give you the chance to get your ass beaten and obliterated by all the 30 members of the Assembly for even suggesting such a stupid idea.

extra random info:

Mandalore is not part of the Republic, but the System decided to at least maintain a good relationship between the two, and every ten years, they invite emissaries of the Republic to the Celebration of the election of the new Governors.

More often than not the emissaries they send are Jedi, as if the Republic was testing them to see if they cared more about their current peace, or the war of the past. But for now no mandalorian ever attacked verbally or physically any of the Jedi sent there, or at least, none of the Jedi ever said anything about it in their reports, so who knows.

#ok now this mess makes a little more sense #or at least it does to me #don't ask what kind of power the governors or the assembly has #because I have no idea #I kind of used both the spartan government #and the roman consuls to create this structure #and I also kept a element of absurdity by keeping the 13 years of age as the adult age for mandos #or at least that's what I read from the wiki #can you imagine in the assembly a 56 year old having a screaming match with a 15 years old over a law about jetpack fuel?#that's kinda funny #but I mean #they're mandos they had far worse ideas than this one #star wars #all is well au #mandalorians #mandalore

12 notes · View notes

noisynaia · 1 year

Text

Distant Suns - Chapter 4

Among the Stars: Distant Suns

Chapter title: The Crest

summary: You have lived on Tatooine your entire life, never even been off-planet. Your path crosses a mysterious Mandalorian and his even more mysterious child. You end up having to leave your home after getting caught up with the mysterious duo by mistake.

word count: 4.0k

rating: E

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader

note: You have a hard time adjusting to life onboard the Crest. Din has a slight existential crisis. No use of (y/n). The reader goes by she/her pronouns. This has not been beta-read and English isn't my native language. I haven’t had time to proofread, feel like this chapter is kinda bad...

crossposted on my ao3

previous￨series masterlist ￨next

The constant hum from the ship has been your only companion for hours. You have always thought you were good at being alone, often even craving alone time, but the solitude is now feeling suffocating. The thing you need the most right now is a big warm hug, but that isn’t an option right now. There is no way that Mando is going to offer you a hug. The sweet little child probably would, if Mando didn’t keep him away from you…

You’re not scared of the Mandalorian, on whose ship you have become an indefinite passenger, but the longer you stay on the Crest the more nervous you get around him - or to be more precise, you get more nervous from not being around him. You have now been on the Crest for almost 24 standard hours and the words exchanged between you and the Bounty hunter have been few, to put it mildly.

You have already had two meals onboard, both of which you have eaten alone. You try to think back on the time from when you stepped onboard the ship till now to figure out where you went wrong.

Mando had given you a very brief tour of the Crest after you had taken off from Peli’s hanger last night, not that any tour of the ship could be long due to the small size of the ship. Mando had afterwards offered you the bunk in the small bedchamber. You had tried to decline, not wanting to steal his bed from him, but Mando had insisted and left no room to argue as he retreated to the cockpit to get the ship into hyperspace, bringing the child with him, leaving you all alone in the belly of the ship.

You would lie if you said it hadn’t made you feel a bit discarded. You don’t really know Mando, but you had gotten the impression on Tatooine that the two of you were on friendly terms. Sure, Mando had been intimidating, all tall and built, clad head to toe in shiny armour, but he was very polite to you and was so sweet and gentle towards the child that you had felt at ease with him from the get-go. You do not blame him though, he can not sit and comfort you while on the run from a dangerous crime syndicate, but couldn’t he have left the child with you?

It can only be troublesome for him to have to deal with the child while piloting and you saw the hammock in the bedchamber. Mando might be used to take care of the youngling and handle the Razor Crest at the same time, but you were perfectly capable of putting the kid down for bed. It would be nice to have the little one close after what had gone down. He is so cute and small, making you want to play with him and spoil him rotten, but there is something else to it. It is something you can’t really explain, but you feel it. You had felt a weird sensation in your chest when the child had disappeared up the ladder with Mando, almost yearning, like something precious to you was leaving . You think that holding the baby for so long yesterday, while so full of adrenaline and anxiety, maybe had something to do with it. The only coherent thought you had managed to have while sitting in the alley and while following Mando through the dark night to the hangar had been to protect the child, ‘keep him safe’.

What happened back on Tatooine shook you up, the horrible sound of the man Mando had shot outside of the alley still sounding in your ears. It’s not like you have never experienced anything bad, it is not something that can be avoided when you live in a place like Mos Eisley. The smell of blaster gas is not unknown to you, but you have lived a relatively sheltered life - Yina had made sure of that…

You had woken up this morning feeling well rested. You had found a ready nutrition pack and a pot of caf on the hot plate waiting for you, but no sign of Mando or the kid. You ate in silence, debating with yourself if you should crawl up to the others in the cockpit or not, but had decided to stay put. Mando would probably get down to talk with you soon… You were wrong. Hours passed before Mando finally came down the ladder. The child had visibly lightened up when he saw you and that feeling in your chest was back. He had begun to fuss in Mando’s hold and stuck his little arms out towards you. You had, without even thinking, stood up to take the child in your arms, but Mando had walked right past you without offering you as much as a glance. That stung. The Mandalorian walked to the little kitchen section of the cargo hold putting the kid, who was still looking at you, down on the counter. You felt paralysed and swallowed as a lump started forming in your throat, you did not want to start crying over this…

But then Mando spoke. “Did you sleep well?” His modulated voice sounded more monotone and absent of emotions than it had on Tatooine.

“Yeah, slept like a rock.”

“I’m glad.” He said, but still without any emotion to his voice, back still turned to you as he got a couple of ration packs ready. Lunch for him and the child you assumed. But he sat one of the bowls down on the durasteel box in front of you. You wanted to say something, but didn’t know what, as he already was on his way back to the cockpit, balancing the kid on his hip while supporting him with the crook of his elbow, holding the bowl with the kids lunch as he climbed up the ladder with one hand. When does this man eat?!

The afternoon had passed like the morning, you’re now sitting on a small bench in the cargo hold, reading on your datapad. Feeling small and alone and for sure not brave enough to climb that ladder. It’s kind of cold on the ship, close to the night-temperature back home, so you have switched your usual flowy tunics out with a close-fitting shirt in a warmer material, one of your favourite cardigans draped over your legs like a blanket. It would be cosy if you didn’t feel so on edge. You keep reading the same paragraph over and over, your thoughts keep coming back to Yina. You miss her, but you most of all worry about her, is she in danger? If you really had become a target simply because those mobsters had gotten your name and seen you with Mando, what is to prevent them from seeking out Yina and doing her harm?! If they really know who you are it will be easy for them to find out your association to the Nautolan…

You’re lost in your own worrisome thoughts, when you hear the sound of Mando and the child descending from the ladder again. Checking the time at the top of your datapad, you realise that many hours have passed since you last saw them at lunch, your stomach growls at the realisation. The child is squeaking happily when he sees you and you can’t help smilinging at the sweet sound despite your downhearted mood.

“Hey.” You try out, Mando turns the jet black visor to you, it reflects your image in the dark shiny material. He gives you a nod and a quick greeting before passing right by you. Ouch. The kid is, however, more determined than he was at lunch time, wiggling in the Mandalorians arms, reaching his little arms out for you before looking up at Mando, who has stopped in his tracks, the kid exclaiming a couple of pleading grunts. You gather your courage.

“Can I hold him?”

Mando looks from you to the child before finally giving you a nod. It’s a small step but you take what you can get. Mando is walking over to you, focusing the jet black T of his helmet’s visor on you for a second before handing the child over. The little one nuzzles into your embrace, as he begins his cute baby babbling.

“I think he likes you.” Mando says, it takes you by surprise, the man sounding more like he had back on Tatooine and he is still standing so close. You decide to be brave and offer him a smile.

“I like him too.” You say, hugging the kid a little tighter.

Mando seems to be frozen in place now, seconds go by where the two just look at each other, the only sounds that can be heard are the child’s chatter and the constant low rumbling of the ship. A few more seconds go by before Mando finally breaks the silence, clearing his throat and stepping back, turning around to the little kitchen just like he had at lunch.

“You hungry?” His voice is back to sounding more monotone again, but he is at least talking now.

“I am, but Mando you must be starving …”

He just shrugs his shoulders.

“Why don’t you get something for yourself? I can eat with the kid down here and you can eat in the cockpit… I would appreciate the company.” Mirroring what Mando had said when he asked you to eat with the kid at the inn. Silence… You feel your heartbeat pumping in your ears, counting five beats before Mando answers.

“That would be nice…” He says a little hesitantly. “If it’s not too much of a bother.” He is quick to add.

A bother?! Why would looking after the kid be a bother, you thought you had established that you liked spending time with the youngling… Kriff, you already adore him. You let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“It’s no bother at all.” You say, feeling a bit hurt that he even would think that. The weird sensation you had felt earlier is back in your chest, it’s almost like your heart wants to embrace the kid, hold him tight and never let go.

Mando just nods. Continuing preparing the nutrition packs, but he speaks after a little while.

“I think we need to talk after dinner.”

You only get time to utter a quick agreement before the Mandalorian has put the food down in front of you and kid and is on his way to the cockpit with his own dinner in hand. Leaving you and the kid to eat together in the hold.

___

Din has never expected much from life. The life of a bounty hunter is a solitary experience. It’s dangerous, but also monotonous and wearisome. He catches a bounty, brings it to Navarro, gets his cut so he can pay for fuel to go catch the next one. Din has been stuck in that loop since he was a young man. Days, months and years slowly seeping through his fingers like sand. The Mandalorian he is has not changed much, despite the new armour, but the man under the helmet has… The fine lines at the corner of his eyes have gotten deeper, his skin has been painted with evenmore scars and his joints are hurting more. Din has become battle-hardened, but his priorities have changed. It had been a big upheaval when the child had come into his life, having to care for something so small and fragile was foregin, having something as precious and innocent as a child depending on him so alien.

It has made Din have thoughts he has not let himself have in so many years. Like how would his life have turned out if he never had been taken in by the Watch, If Aq Vetina never had been attacked, If he had not become a Mandalorian, but simply a man . Would he have been married now? Maybe even had got some kids of his own… It is too strange to think about, there is a reason he usually doesn't. There is no reason to dwell on the ‘what ifs’ . He has to keep his head clear, focusing on the life he actually is living, and he is living the life of a Mandalorian…

You had been whirled into danger, simply by crossing his path by accident and chosen to show a little kindness. He is feeling terrible for avoiding you, but he just doesn’t know what to say to you. Din has always been a man of few words, but he usually manages. He could talk to you on Tatooine, but having you on his ship is somehow different… Climbing down and seeing you sit in the cargo hold just felt wrong ... You don’t fit in, too soft and fine for his world, the guilt from bringing you into it is eating him up.

Din sometimes fear that he is cursed, which is stupid since he don’t belive in those sort of things, but danger and catastrophe seems to follow him, smearing off on the people around him. Or maybe he is just broken beyond repair, a lost cost… It is not fair to you, he needs to talk to you. He finishes his dinner and slides the helmet back over his head, the familiar heaviness of it has a calming effect, like a safety blanket shielding him from the rest of the world.

___

You are, despite the sad taste of your bland dinner, the happiest you have been since stepping on board the old gunship. The child is munching down on his own food, cooing and babbling at you between mouthfuls, his big eyes rarely leaving you and it makes your chest feel so full. He is absolutely adorable and you can’t fight the urge to stroke one of his floppy ears lovingly, which he seems to enjoy. You already feel much better and you feel that your stay onboard the Razor Crest might not be as bad as the first 24 hours had left you to fear. Maybe you and Mando can actually become friends, and the little green baby is already wrapped around your finger. You’re still wearing the metal nut he gifted you, safely tucked away under your shirt in the makeshift leather string from your boot.

Both you and the child have finished eating when Mando descends from the cockpit, the empty bowl from his dinner in one hand. The kid had gotten sleepy after his meal and had looked up at you pleadingly with his little hands stretched out for you to take him in your arms. He is now sitting in your lap, wrapped in your cardigan while trying to fight the sleep that undoubtedly is creeping up on him. Mando stops in his track when the helmet lands on the two of you, his grip on the bowl tightening a little. You get scared that you have overstepped by taking the kid in your arms, but decide to be brave and break the silence.

“Hey.”

Visor looking from the, now sleeping, child in your lap to your eyes.

“Hi.” He sounds a little hesitant and you get scared that the tiny progress you had made with him has been ruined, but then he sits down on the crate next to the bench you are occupying, turning so he is facing you.

“I’m sorry you got into this mess… And I am sorry I let you sit alone down here. The first 24 hours are the most important when you are on the run, I had to make sure no one was following us or tracking our course…”

You feel your face heat up, suddenly embarrassed that you had let it affect you so much, hoping he had not noticed it. You quickly assure him that it is fine. The apology does, however, make you feel good and it gives you the courage to ask more into your situation. He tells you what he knows about the Bakura syndicate and some vague facts about his bounty hunter career, but most importantly, he tells you that Yina should be safe.

“They are brutal and they will go far, but there are limits. She is too far removed from the heart of the matter, they can’t go and burn bridges for themselves by hurting people left and right.”

You are happy that Mando has stopped ignoring you, but knowing that Yina is safe is the biggest relief of the day. For the first time since you got onboard you feel like you can breathe normally. Now that you know that Yina should be out of danger you’re able to ask about your own situation. Mando seems to think for a while before answering you.

“I’m not the most popular guy in the galaxy, but I have a few…” He pauses for a few seconds, like he is struggling to decide what to say next. “Friends, maybe we can find a place for you to stay till you can return to Tatooine again… A safehouse of some kind.”

You chew on the idea for a moment. It does sound like a good idea, at least safety wise, but you can’t help worrying over the logistics. You are not sure how you will come back to Tatooine when the danger has subsided, bus-pod travel through the outer rim can be dangerous for a woman travelling alone, and the idea of being dropped off at a foregin place where you’re not gonna know anyone is scary.

“How will I know when I can go back home?” You ask him as you lightly rock the sleeping child lightly in your arms, doing so without even noticing yourself.

“I will come for you when things are safe again, flying you back to Mos Eisley myself.”

His statement is making your heart beat a little faster. You had not expected that kind of kindness. The tone Mando had spoken in was so gentle. It all makes you feel so much better, but a part of you is not really happy. You realise that you much rather would stay on the Crest, now that Mando is acknowledging you again and with the child sleeping in your embrace you feel safer than you think you any other place in the galaxy, which is weird but there is something about the mysterious duo that is almost like you’re pulled towards them by an invisible power. You know so little about them, strangers from the galaxy living so different lives from you, like they are opposite poles and you have been attracted to their magnetic field. A comet caught in their atmosphere. Mando is looking at you and you get the absurd fear that he can read your thoughts at this moment.

“I’ll make sure to find a place that really is safe… I’m afraid you will have to stay on the Crest for a little while.”

You don’t mind that, not at all. Staying on the Crest sounds somewhat nicer than being left at a safehouse. The Mandalorian really does make you feel safe and the kid has a weird calming effect on you, you don’t tell him that though, giving him a tired smile instead.

You nod your head towards the sleeping kid. “Does he usually sleep in the hammock over the bunk?”

“Yeah, he does…” Mando answers, fidgeting a little in his seat.

You offer the Mandalorian a frown, somewhere between serious and humorous. “So, you’re telling me I didn’t just throw you out of your bed last night, but the kid too?”

Mando cocks his head, rubbing his neck with his gloved hand. “You had an intense night… I thought you would want to be alone…” He murmurs.

Being alone after ‘intense’ nights is probably how a Mandalorian bounty hunter prefers to cope, but not you. His effort was sweet, but being left alone was the last thing you had wanted last night.

“It was sweet of you, but I’m fine with the kid sleeping in the hammock. He shouldn’t be chased out of his bed because of me, it’s worse enough that you have.”

Mando assures you that it is okay and that it’s no problem for him to sleep in the cockpit. You don’t really believe him, it might be okay for a night or two but his back will surely begin to protest. You are too tired to argue about it now, but you’ll have to insist that you take turns sleeping in the bunk or something, he can not keep sleeping in the pilots chair. You fight to keep back a yawn but fail giving a low apology as you turn your head to yawn down in your shoulder, the soft snores from the kid making you aware of how sleepy you actually are. Mando shakes his head with a low laugh. It catches you off guard, not expecting to hear the warm sound, so smooth and rich.

“Don’t apologise, it’s late, it makes sense to be tired. I… didn't realise that I had stayed in the cockpit for so long before the kid started to throw a hunger tantrum.” He cocks his head at the sleeping baby in his arms, and you can’t help but smile widely at the little kid.

“Also uhm… Feel free to take some food whenever you get hungry, you don’t have to wait on me to make it for you.” You know what he meant, but it is like Mando has regretted his words the second they leave his mouth, quickly continuing in a clumsy tone. “Not that I had anything against making the food, you just shouldn’t go hungry! That’s… that’s all.”

You can’t help but giggle now, he is reminding you of the Mando you had sat with in the dinner hall at the inn and had met on the Mos Eisley market now, and not the Mando that had guided you over the corpse of a mobster he had killed. You really like this version of Mando…

“Thanks, Mando… But, you shouldn’t go hungry either, promise me to ask for me to look after the kid so you have some food too, okay? You can’t only eat when he is asleep.” You try to sound stern, still not sure how he has been able to sustain himself on that arrangement.

“Promise…” He agrees with a nod.

A smile spreads on your lips, but another yawn is threatening to break it.

Mando notices and stands up. “I’ll get the womp rat to bed, you can use the fresher in the meantime.”

His fingers brush over yours as he takes the sleeping child from your arms. The baby stirs a little, but is soon again sound asleep. Mando brings him to the hammock and you go to the refresher to get ready for bed.

Mando is still standing by the hammock when you come back. Silently watching his sleeping foundling with one hand on the makeshift baby bed, making the hammock swing very gently, lulling the kid into an even deeper sleep. He turns his head towards you as you approach, removing his hand from the hammock and stepping back a little. You are frozen for a moment just looking at the giant armour-clad man who has the capability to be so scary, but yet manages to be so gentle and shows so much love and tenderness for his little green child. The feeling from earlier is back in your chest once again.

Mando breaks the silence, clearing his throat before speaking. “If he wakes up and causes any trouble you know where to find me…”

“I’m sure he will be good but thank you, it’s good to know…”

Mando doesn’t say anything but nods to show that he heard what you said. A few more seconds go by with the two of you looking at each other in silence. It should be awkward, and maybe it is and you’re just too tired and too happy that Mando no longer ignores you to notice. But you don’t feel weird or awkward right now, just captivated by the beskar-clad man in front of you. It will, however, begin to be awkward if the silence continues too long, so you pull yourself together.

“Goodnight, Mando.”

“Goodnight.”

188 notes · View notes

ak-vintage · 15 days

Text

Quarry - Chapter 2

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, Din speaks Mando'a

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

You trusted that Mando had told you the truth, that the ration bar he had shared with you was perfectly edible, that he would never attempt something so underhanded as poisoning one of his quarries. However, despite that, and despite the fact that it had to be well past sundown by now and you ought to have been ravenous, you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to eat more than a couple bites. It had finally begun to settle in, the reality of your situation – taken captive by a fierce Mandalorian, bound and chained on his ship, rocketing through the wide expanse of space toward an unknown destination, clueless as to how much longer you had before you were forced back to the last place you ever wanted to see again. It was enough to tie your stomach up in knots, your anxiety burning like acid in the back of your throat. The sticky, crumbly ration bar turned to ash in your mouth.

Fighting the urge to retch, you did your best to tuck the wrapper back around the portion you had nibbled on and slipped it into the breast pocket of your boiler suit. Perhaps later you would have more of a stomach for food, and it wouldn’t do to waste it.

Instead, you shifted your weight and stretched your legs out before you, getting as comfortable as you could manage on the unfriendly deck plating. You also settled your bound wrists around the ladder in such a way that it allowed your head to rest loosely on your arms. The passage of time was nearly meaningless in the vastness of space, but you could feel the hours since you had last slept weighing heavily on your bones. Dwelling on your restless thoughts and allowing your fear to overtake you would do no one any good. You determined it was best to attempt to get some rest while you could.

Breathing deeply, you centered your focus on the constant, low-frequency hum of the ship’s engines and closed your eyes.

Six more quarries. Over a standard month’s worth of work, easily. I have countless opportunities between now and then to secure my freedom, you silently reassured yourself.

Briefly, your reflections turned to the bounty hunter one deck above you. There was no doubt Mando was dangerous, but something at the back of your mind, in the pit of your gut seemed to say that he didn’t intend to harm you. After all, you were his quarry – his bounty. If nothing else, you were worth at least however much the guild was offering for you. He didn’t seem the type to jeopardize that.

After a few minutes, you allowed yourself to drift, but the image of a sunset reflecting off polished beskar seemed to follow you even in your dreams.

___

Something was pulling on your clothes.

Even before you had fully returned to consciousness, you could feel it – small and warm, like a loth cat, gripping onto the cargo pockets of your boilersuit and scrabbling up to sit on your lap. A soft, high-pitched coo sounded from somewhere below your lolling head, and before you could begin to wonder what could have made such a noise, a tiny, three-fingered hand patted your cheek.

With a gasp, you startled awake and almost immediately winced as you forgot your surroundings and wrenched your shoulder pulling on your binder cuffs. The sharp stab of pain, however, was quickly forgotten as your gaze landed on the thing that had yanked you from your sleep.

“Hello,” you muttered dumbly, blinking at the creature now sitting on your thighs.

It was…a baby.

He couldn’t have been more than a foot tall, with wrinkly, pale green skin, a button nose, and a pair of almost comically huge ears sticking out from either side of his head. He had a slight dusting of downy, white hair, and he was staring back with two huge, round, dark eyes that seemed to twinkle in the dim light of the cargo hold.

At your silent, incredulous stare, he cocked his little head and reached out his hand to touch your face again, almost as though he was trying to reassure you.

Something inside of you softened at the gesture. Before you could dwell on it, though, your eyes darted to that hand and instantly matched it with the skin tone and size of the one you had seen waving out Mando’s bag earlier.

He really had been carrying around a baby in that satchel.

The tiny creature smiled at you, babbling happily at finally being acknowledged, and you felt your heart melt at the sweet sound.

“You must be the little friend Mando thought he could hide from me,” you said softly, allowing yourself to smile back at him in a way that you hoped was non-threatening. You introduced yourself to the tiny alien, and added, “What’s your name?”

He made a little gurgling sound in the back of his throat in response, and you frowned slightly. It wasn’t a language you had ever heard before, and it occurred to you that maybe he was too young to speak. However, his dark, beetle-like eyes held such intelligence that you were certain that he at least understood what you were saying.

“You know, I’ve never seen anyone that looks like you before,” you admitted. His species was entirely foreign to you, which wasn’t an experience you had had for many years. “Check out these ears!” Adjusting your hold on the ladder, you managed to extend a few fingers to run over the edge of one of his massive ears. The pocket-sized alien let out a happy, trilling babble, leaning into your touch. “Oh, you like that? Does that feel nice?” you cooed, grinning.

After a few more moments luxuriating in your affection, his green button nose twitched as though he had picked up the scent of something intriguing, and he suddenly shifted his attention from your pets to your boilersuit. You chuckled as his three-fingered hands grasped at the pockets on your chest, pulling and tugging at the flaps with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Hey, what are you…” A realization hit you. “Oh, you want some of my food? Sure, buddy, I don’t mind sharing. Here you go.” You awkwardly reached into one of your pockets and pulled out your partially-eaten ration bar, handing it over to him.

His ears wiggled in delight, and taking the ration bar in both hands, he sank his tiny teeth into it with gusto.

However, his joy was short-lived. A moment later, his ears drooped dramatically, and he wrinkled his face and whined in displeasure.

You felt your lower lip form a little pout in sympathy. “Yeah, sorry, kid. I don’t blame you – I don’t really like them, either.”

The two of you simply sat there for a few moments after that, watching each other in silence. He seemed fascinated by your hair; he played absentmindedly with the ends that dangled over your shoulder in a long, disheveled braid. For your part, you couldn’t get over how expressive his little face was, how even though he didn’t speak to you, you felt as though you could understand precisely what he was thinking. You had never experienced anything quite like it.

“So,” you said after a few minutes had passed in relative quiet, “what are you doing out here with that bounty hunter? No offense, but you seem a little…well, little.”

He didn’t reply. Not that you had expected him to, but you couldn’t quell the burning curiosity in your chest about where he had come from, why he was here, and what in the stars Mando wanted with him.

Above you, a blast door slid open.

“Grogu?”

Speak of the Sith lord, you thought. It was the Mandalorian, and his modulated voice was laced with concern.

“Grogu?” he called again, louder this time.

The thought occurred to you that this must be the child’s name. You leaned over a bit to look up the ladder then, meeting the impenetrable gaze of the bounty hunter’s helmet visor. “I, uh, think I have him down here, Mando,” you replied. “Tiny green thing, huge ears?”

A beat of silence, and then a curse uttered under his breath. “Haar’chak.” In the next instant, your captor was climbing back down the ladder.

“I told you not to come down here, kid,” Mando scolded when he reached the bottom. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring exasperatedly down at the little thing in your lap. “You can’t go wandering off on your own like that – ”

“He’s fine,” you insisted. “He was just keeping me company.”

He crossed his arms at that and cocked his head almost severely, giving you a once-over. “…I can see that,” he said tightly. He sounded as though he was speaking to you through his teeth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Come on. What exactly am I gonna do to him? Tied up, remember?” You shook your arms at him for a second time, drawing his attention to the binder cuffs around your wrists that he somehow seemed to keep forgetting about. “Besides, look at him! He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

You turned your gaze back to your little green companion, your voice and your expression gentling as you took in his sweet eyes, his tender face, his goofy ears. “How could I ever hurt him?” you asked softly, almost to yourself.

Mando was still for a moment and said nothing, appearing to study you both.

“Certainly hasn’t stopped others from trying,” he argued.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, immediately taken aback. Who would ever want to hurt something as…innocent and helpless as the child in your lap? Too young to speak, too small to fight back? The thought turned your stomach, and an unfamiliar anger rose in your chest.

“Well. Sounds to me like you’ve been hanging out with some pretty lousy people.”

His hard stance seemed to soften somewhat at your reply. A soft, chuffing sound rasped through his modulator, and you wondered if that was perhaps the ghost of a chuckle. “You’re not wrong,” he conceded. “There are…very few I trust with him.”

“Who is he to you?” you asked. “The way you talk about him, it almost sounds like – ”

“He is a foundling. He is in my care.”

A wave of understanding hit you, and you nodded slowly. Things were starting to make some sense. Your new little friend was his child, under his protection. It was understandable that he would want to keep a bit of distance between the kid – Grogu – and his bounties.

“Well, he must be very special,” you said softly, giving Grogu an affectionate scratch on the top of his wrinkly head.

The Mandalorian straightened, taking half a step forward. “Special?” he echoed. That harshness was back in his voice. He sounded almost…angry?

You blinked at him, suddenly unsure again. Why would he be angry? “I just mean…clearly he means a great deal to you, with all the effort you go through to keep him hidden, to try to keep others from noticing him,” you clarified slowly. “He must be important to you.”

Mando stared at you silently for a moment, and then you watched as his shoulders dropped and he eased back, as though standing down from a confrontation.

“Yes. He is,” he said.

Grogu made a happy little sound at that, seeming to appreciate the confirmation of his importance to his guardian. He returned then to running his stubby fingers through the ends of your braid, passing it from one palm to the other and rocking gently back and forth in contentment. The tension melted away from your chest as you watched him be so at ease.

“He seems to have taken a liking to you,” Mando rasped, nodding in your direction.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “You think?” you asked, genuine. “I guess I have always been pretty good with kids.”

The two of you sat quietly then, simply watching as Grogu finally dropped his hold on your hair and instead settled himself deeper into your lap, turning to relax back against your stomach. He seemed to be near sleep, his downy head nodding heavily against you. The soft, warm weight of him was oddly comforting, and the way he cuddled up to your body felt familiar despite having just met him. You almost wished…

You wished your arms were free so you could hold him.

“I was going to begin the repairs on the carbonite unit,” Mando said eventually, breaking the fragile peace that had settled over the cargo hold.

You closed your eyes as reality once again made itself known. “Ah. Right.” Your voice was flat and cool. He had stolen the softness of the moment with that reminder, and now on top of your fear, you felt something a bit like guilt licking at your insides.

The Mandalorian looked from the child’s face to yours and back again. He appeared to consider whether it was worth it to take him from you and settle him somewhere else for his nap. However, to your surprise, he simply said, “Let me know if he becomes too much of a nuisance.”

You blinked up at him. “Sure.”

After a second’s deliberation, Mando stepped forward, bent down toward you, and offered Grogu a gentle pat on the head. “Behave, ad’ika,” he said, his voice low and missing that edge you had come to expect from him.

Ad’ika. You mulled the foreign word over in your mind as the bounty hunter stood back up and made his way over to the carbonite unit in the wall. Ad’ika. You weren’t certain of the translation, but it was clearly a term of endearment.

In the last handful of minutes, your captor’s fierceness, his hard edges, his coldness had been tempered somewhat. And it felt…unsettling. It felt significant.

You allowed yourself a few moments to attempt to tease apart the tangle of emotions that this strange man had inspired in you, but it did little good. All you knew was that you had questions, and you doubted whether the answers would be anything close to simple.

___

“Kriffing hells.”

The sound of electricity sparking accompanied by hushed, modulated cursing pulled you from the light doze you had fallen into, and you groaned at the disturbance. Blinking your eyes open slowly, you glanced down at your lap to confirm that your new little green friend was still there. He was, thank the Maker, fast asleep with his head pillowed against your belly, and you smiled in spite of yourself.

On the other side of the cargo hold, however, things were not quite so peaceful. Mando, still clad in his armor and helmet, sat cross-legged on the deck in front of the carbonite unit – a fusion cutter in one hand, a hydrospanner in the other, and surrounded by pieces of bulkhead, wiring, and gas canisters scattered across the floor. Something had clearly just gone awry, as the unit appeared to be smoking, and a dark singe, almost like a blaster mark, now streaked across his helmet, marring its flawlessly reflective surface.

“All right there, Mando?” you asked, amusement rising in your chest.

“Fine.” His voice was toneless, measured.

You snorted. “Don’t sound fine,” you countered. “And, uh…I don’t think that thing was smoking before. Was it?”

Rather than snapping back at you, as you expected, he instead sighed heavily, tossing his hydrospanner onto the deck to join the rest of the detritus. “This isn’t working,” he said, a note of defeat making its way through the vocoder. “I’m going to have to take it in. I can’t finish this run without it.”

You felt your eyebrows raise nearly to your hairline. “You know someone who can work on carbonite technology?”

Mando shrugged and stood. “I’ve got an engineer who’s done work for me in the past,” he explained as he began to gather his tools. “Not sure how much she knows about carbonite tech, but she’s resourceful. And she’s the best option I have.”

The licking sensation of guilt flared up again at that, but you shoved it down quickly.

“Where is she based?” you asked instead.

“Tatooine.”

You balked, redirecting your gaze to the sleepy little gremlin curled up in your lap. “Charming,” you remarked.

A scoffing sound, reminiscent of a chuckle, crackled through his helmet modulator. “Like I said. Don’t have a whole lot of other options. We’re changing course.”

Mando took another few moments to tidy up the tremendous mess he had created with his repair attempt – tossing parts and bulkhead pieces into one of the storage bins, collecting his handful of tools into a black canvas bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The commotion, though quick, was enough to rouse Grogu. His wide, dark eyes gazed blearily up at you, and after a second or two, he sat up and gave his head a little shake, flapping his ears comically.

“Morning, buddy,” you murmured, offering him a smile. He squealed happily at you in return.

“Okay, come on, you little womp rat. Up you go,” Mando said then, bending down to extend an arm toward the child.

However, rather than crawling over into his protector’s arms, as you were sure Mando intended, Grogu paused and whined in protest.

“What? What’s the matter?” the bounty hunter asked, exasperated.

The child’s huge, beetle-like eyes glanced back and forth from the bounty hunter to you a few times, his ears turned down in distress. Cooing in a way that sounded almost concerned, he extended a little three-fingered hand and patted your arm.

When the Mandalorian didn’t respond, he grew more agitated, tugging on the sleeve of your boilersuit rather than just patting. You frowned at the gesture. Surely he wasn’t suggesting…

But you could see the precise moment that Mando understood. His posture froze, his shoulders and arms stiff, and even the faint sound of his breathing through the vocoder fell silent.

Grogu wanted him to take your binders off.

You looked up at your captor tentatively, biting your lower lip at the implication. The child was asking for your freedom. The dark visor staring back at you was as impenetrable as always, giving nothing away as to his response.

The two of you stared at each other for a beat, and you found yourself wondering for the first time about the face behind the helmet. Was he angry? Did he find this situation funny? Were his eyes meeting yours, or was he looking away, unable to hold the gaze of the prisoner that his ward had become so fond of so quickly? What did a person do when their child asked for the freedom of someone whom they were code-bound to turn in?

Before you could contemplate it further, Mando reached out and plucked the child from your lap by the back of his robes, like a mother loth cat could her kitten. “Come on,” he said. His voice held notes of both finality and resignation.

You swallowed hard as you watched him climb back up the ladder, his whining foundling in tow and something like disappointment weighing on your chest.

___

Your muscles and joints had long since begun to ache from the restriction of the binder and the cold metal floor, but at some point after Mando and Grogu’s departure, the stresses of the day finally managed to catch up to you, and you spent most of the remaining hyperspace journey in a deep sleep. You couldn’t have guessed how many hours you spent propped up against the cargo hold bulkhead, your head lolling heavily on your raised arms. All you knew was that by the time you felt the tell-tale, stopped-time sensation of dropping out of hyperspace pull you from your sleep, your mouth felt like sawdust, your shoulders burned more than ever, your right hand was pricking pins and needles, and you were absolutely busting to use that awful ship’s head.

By the time you had fully opened your eyes and started to slowly roll your shoulders and neck against the stiffness, the deck plating beneath you vibrated with a thump, and the hum of the engines wound down into silence.

And Mando hopped down the ladder, landing in a slight crouch at your feet. Grogu was back in his brown satchel across the bounty hunter’s body, blinking brightly at you.

“Tatooine?” you asked flatly, your voice hoarse from disuse.

The Mandalorian nodded once. “Outskirts of Mos Eisley,” he confirmed.

And then, in a move you could never have predicted, he thumbed a few buttons on his vambrace, and your binder cuffs fell off, hitting the deck plating with a loud, metallic clang.

“Come on,” he said, his voice just as blank as yours had been as he extended a gloved hand in your direction.

Your eyes widened, and you felt your already stiff limbs freeze in place. “B-but…wait – ” you stammered. Was he…he couldn’t be…letting you go?

“Peli and her crew will be working in here,” Mando added. “Not exactly a lot of room to move – I don’t want you in the way. Now, stand up.” He opened and closed his extended hand impatiently, prompting you again to take it.

The brief flame of hope in your chest extinguished as soon as it had appeared, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. “Right,” you said. Ignoring the orange-tipped glove in front of you, you instead stood on your own, biting back a wince as feeling started to return to your sore limbs.

If he felt anything in response to your stubbornness, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “Peli, she’s tough as durasteel. If you so much as think about trying to run off, she won’t let you make it very far.” He cocked his head, appeared to consider his words, then added, “As long as I pay her well enough, anyway.”

You paused in your absent-minded massage of your sore wrists. “She sounds lovely,” you replied, words dripping in sarcasm.

Mando took a step closer to you at that, glancing down at your hands. “Let me see those,” he demanded. There was an edge to his modulated voice that hadn’t been there just a moment before.

“I’ll be fine,” you snipped, flinching back.

He took another step forward, almost crowding you back against the wall. “Let. Me. See.” His cold, raspy tone left no room for debate.

Sighing reluctantly, you extended your hands toward him, as though he were about to cuff you again.

Dark, mottled bruises peaked out from the wrists of your long-sleeved boilersuit. With shocking gentleness, Mando pushed them back, exposing the stained skin that had been hidden by the binder, and you could hear him swear quietly under his breath.

“You tried to break out of the binder, didn’t you?” he asked. His voice was soft, gruff through the vocoder.

You didn’t respond.

“I did tell you not to do that,” he added, this time looking up to meet your eyes through the dark visor of his helmet.

Again, you said nothing, simply blinking back at him.

You wondered what he expected. A bounty, who clearly did not want to return to where she came from, who had attempted to run when first discovered, who was then bound by force and taken prisoner in the belly of an old gunship by a man she knew nothing about other than legends of his people’s ferocity, who had explicitly stated that she intended to run again if given the opportunity. Did he think such a quarry wouldn’t at least try to escape her bonds?

And why, in the Maker’s name, did he care that you had sustained some injuries along the way? He was the one who had attempted to freeze you in carbonite stasis. That held the risk of much more serious injuries than a few bruises!

When you still did not respond, Mando sighed and dropped his hands from yours. “Have Peli give you some bacta gel. Tell her I’ll pay her for it with the rest of the job.”

You raised an eyebrow. “…if you say so,” you said dubiously. These injuries, in your opinion, were not worth treating with bacta – it was far too valuable a resource to waste on something so minor – but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him anymore. If he wanted to spend his credits on something like that, you weren’t going to stop him. It was almost…kind. Foolish, perhaps, but kind.

Suddenly, a heavy banging sounded through the cargo hold, as though someone were beating their fists against the outside of the ship.

“Are you done dawdling in there?! I don’t have all day, Mando!” called a muffled voice through the blast doors. You started, but the bounty hunter simply sighed and shook his head.

“That’s her,” he said. “Better get out there before she breaks the door down.” Crossing to the end of the hold, he punched a few buttons on the control panel on the wall. The blast doors hissed open, and a wave of hot, impossibly dry air immediately flooded the space.

Coughing and squinting heavily against the glare of the twin suns, it took your eyes a moment to register the petite, curly-haired, human woman wearing a leather vest and standing with her arms crossed at the base of the gangplank.

“It’s about time!” she huffed, exasperated and hurried. “Show up unannounced, no call letting me know you were on your way, take up my whole hangar with this bucket o’ bolts, and I almost had to go get my energy cutter just to find out what you want!”

Mando glanced briefly at you and shrugged, as if to say, “See? I told you.” You covered your snort of amusement with a cough in a way that you hoped sounded natural.

The two of you emerged from the ship then, the heat and sun hitting you much more severely as you left the shade and relative cool of the cargo hold. You found that you almost couldn’t look directly at your companion, as the harsh reflect of the sunlight off his armor threatened to burn your eyes. Instead, you briefly surveyed your surroundings.

The hangar was large and crafted out of sandstone, the designation “3-5” painted in worn, white glyphs on the far wall. Scattered along the walls were half-finished projects and piles of abandoned parts, racks of tools gleamed in the high afternoon sun, and a handful of pit droids milled about the place, twittering and whistling at each other as they went about their tasks. Deeper in, you could see that there appeared to be an enclosed office space, and further still, an exit into the rest of the spaceport with the door propped open to encourage a cross-breeze.

“Now, where’s my favorite little guy?” the woman you assumed was Peli asked, visually scanning both you and Mando before landing on Grogu in his brown satchel. “There he is! Hey there, bright eyes!” she cried enthusiastically. She met the bounty hunter at the bottom of the gangplank and immediately scooped the little green child into her arms, paying no heed to the hard stare his guardian fixed her with at the gesture. “Look at you, just as sweet as ever!” she cooed, giving Grogu a friendly scratch behind one of his massive ears.

After only a moment, however, her gaze snapped up and landed on you.

“Now, that one’s new! Who’s your friend, Mando?” she asked.

You blinked back at her and opened your mouth to introduce yourself, but before you could manage to utter a word, the Mandalorian stepped out in front of you. “Part of the job,” he said dismissively. “Along with the kid and my carbonite unit. You interested?”

You could feel a frown pull heavily on your brow at the blatant dismissal, but Peli didn’t seem to notice the slight at all. “Carbonite, you say?” she echoed, her eyebrows raised in interest.

“I can’t seem to get it to generate enough pressure to create a seal, and when it does, it loses containment in less than a minute.”

“Huh,” said Peli, rubbing her chin in thought. “Well, that’s a real skank in the scud pie.”

“Tell me about it,” Mando replied.

“I guess I can take a look?” the engineer offered with a shrug.

Your frown deepened. “Do you have any experience working with carbonite tech?” you asked, your voice betraying your skepticism. Mando had said that this woman was skilled, that she had done decent work for him in the past, and he clearly trusted her. But you just couldn’t seem to keep your reservations to yourself as you took in her noncommittal response. “It’s a highly specialized discipline,” you added. “The initial certification course alone is hundreds of hours.”

You felt more than saw the Mandalorian turn to face you, his posture stiff, but rather than looking offended at you questioning her qualifications, Peli simply barked a laugh.

“‘Certification course’? Missy, I don’t know where you’re from, but we don’t have anything quite so fancy here in the Outer Rim,” she chuckled, gesturing to her surroundings. “Besides, I’d say a few decades of experience crawling around the belly of just about every starship ever made is worth a bit more than a cert pip on my collar. Don’t you agree, Mando?”

For his part, the bounty hunter appeared more…confused than anything else. He glanced back and forth between you and the engineer, seeming completely thrown by the direction the conversation had taken. “Look, can you fix it or not?” he asked after a moment, his rough voice curt and edging on impatient.

Peli seemed to weigh her response, rocking back and forth on her heels and shrugging her shoulders. “Probably,” she replied.

“Probably,” Mando echoed incredulously.

“Yeah, probably. But it’ll cost you. The parts you’re gonna need don’t exactly grow on moisture collectors,” she said pointedly as she bounced a babbling Grogu on her hip. “I’ll have to call some of my more…specialty suppliers. And their rates aren’t cheap.”

The bounty hunter nodded once, reflecting a glare from his helmet onto the sandstone wall. “I can pay.”

Peli grinned with something like surprise in her expression. “That’s what we like to hear! And, uh, what about…these two?” She gestured at the child in her arms and at you, and you fought to not grit your teeth at continuing to be talked about as though you weren’t there.

“Same deal as last time, just add one more,” Mando replied. “Keep an eye on them both. Keep them safe, don’t let them run off. I’ll double your rate from last time.”

The curly-haired engineer gave you a long once-over, and you felt your hackles raise at the blatant inspection. “Triple,” she countered. “That one’s more than a foot tall. Bit more of a threat if she decides she doesn’t wanna stick around.”

The Mandalorian shook his head firmly. “Double,” he reiterated. “She’s not going to cause you any trouble. Are you?” The impassive helmet turned back to you, holding your gaze steadily.

You crossed your arms defensively and met his stare. After a moment of tense silence, you agreed, “No. No trouble.”

“Fine,” Peli said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But if she breaks anything, I’m adding it to your bill, Mando.”

“Fine,” you parroted, smiling with false sweetness. You were a grown adult, you had barely known this woman more than five minutes, and although she may have been a few decades or so older than you, Mando was appointing her your babysitter. You could hardly imagine anything more infantilizing.

If he could tell how displeased you were with this arrangement, he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he closed the distance between himself and the engineer and offered Grogu a pat on his wrinkly little head. “Behave yourself for Peli. I’ll be back,” he said softly, a gentleness in his voice that you had come to recognize as reserved just for his foundling. Drawing himself up, he added to Peli, “Call me on my comm link if there’s an emergency. Otherwise, I’ll be in town restocking our supplies for the next couple days. I may try to see if there is any work here while I’m at it.”

“Will do! Good luck!”

Peli and Grogu both waved good-bye as he made his way out of the hangar and into the city beyond, but with a hollow feeling in your stomach, you noticed that he had offered you no farewell as he had the others. So instead, you simply watched his tattered wool cape flit behind him as he slipped out the door.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

15 notes · View notes