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cienie-isengardu · 2 years

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My RepCom Musing: Etain, Kal and Vau in TZ

Some time ago I rambled a bit about the parallel between Triple Zero and Order 66 and how in both cases Vau’s accused Kal of going soft by not wanting Etain and Besany face the consequences of their doing even though he was the one responsible for putting both women on that course himself (respectively, interrogation and stealing important data). Walon’s passive-aggressive reaction makes sense because let’s face it, it is always him (and Ordo) doing the dirty work in such situations.

But what I find also interesting in regard to Etain, is how both Mandalorians tried to spare her some unpleasant stuff and how differently she was treated.

I mean, Kal brought Etain to interrogation only partially to help Vau get the needed information as fast as possible. The other reason was to test her, not really the skills alone but if the team can count on her during the black op mission (“But the girl's got an edge to her. Let's see if she'll put pragmatism above principle.", as he said to Ordo). And yet, when Etain cracked up the prisoner’s resolution, Kal did not let her finish the job, leaving the worst for Vau:

So that was what she was doing. Skirata had wondered if she was using her Force powers to cause real physical pain. But she had cut to the chase and re-created the stuff that pain did to you anyway: it made you fear for your sanity long before your life.

He had to hand it to her. It was nonlethal and not that far beyond the usual mind influence. Maybe she was struggling to find an ethical limit in her own mind. Maybe it was her own nightmare, the worst thing she could conceive.

She kept it up for an hour. He had no idea whether she was suggesting terrible images and consequences in his mind, or if she was simply flooding him with adrenaline against his wishes, but whatever it was it was exhausting him and her with it. Eventually Orjul broke down sobbing, and Etain shuddered and looked disoriented as if coming out of a trance.

Skirata grabbed Vau's shoulder and shook him awake. "Get in there. She's broken him down enough for you to finish the job."

Vau looked at his chrono. "Not bad. What's up? Don't want to let her face the real consequences?"

"Just do it, will you?"

[...]

Skirata caught Etain's elbow. He wasn't used to grabbing small people: his lads were solid muscle, bigger and stronger than Etain. He felt as if he were clutching a kid's arm. He sat her down on the little bench at the back of the landing platform and took out his comlink to call for transport.

"No, I'm going back in," said Etain.

"Only if Vau calls us back."

"Kal ..."

"Only if he really needs you. Okay?"

They were still waiting for Ordo to collect them when Etain flinched and then looked back at the lobby doors.

They opened and Vau wandered out, rubbing his eyes. There was a distinctive tang of ozone clinging to him, like a discharged blaster.

[...]

Skirata sniffed the ozonic scent again and switched to Mando 'a, although he was sure Etain had flinched because she had sensed what had happened.

[...]

Orjul would be dead sooner or later anyway. No prisoners: not on this run. It was amazing how many people overlooked the inevitable while hoping for a way out.

Etain said nothing. She almost bolted for the speeder when Ordo settled it down on the platform. Skirata settled beside her. She simply seemed subdued.

Etain felt really bad after this scene to the point she even started questioning her view of Jedi and the Dark Side (“She vomited until she was convulsed by dry heaves. Then she filled the basin with cold water and plunged her head into it. When she straightened up and her vision cleared, she looked into a face she recognized. But it wasn't hers: it was the hard, long face of Walon Vau. Everything I've been taught is wrong.)

Kal spared her a great deal of worse guilt if she stayed with Vau and actually saw the mandalorian brutality but important is this: Etain wanted to finish the assigned job and Kal did not allow that. He decided when to pull her out and let Vau step in, to do the dirty work.

Vau’s jab at Skirata for being soft is nothing new. Surprisingly when he and Etain were hunting for the run away terrorist that managed got past Skirata & commandos “cleaning” the enemy warehouse, Vau also was ready to spare Etain some potentially nasty action:

Mird shot past her. She could feel the disturbance in the Force, and their respective instincts took them both to the 134th floor. Mird snuffled along the passage and came to a halt outside an apartment door, settled on its haunches, and stared intently at the door panel.

Vau put a restraining hand on her arm. "I know a Mandalorian regards a female warrior as his equal, my dear, but I feel I should offer to do this job myself."

"I'll do it," she said. She had to.

Vau disrupted the lock. The strill ran into the hallway, almost flat to the floor, and Etain followed it, drawing both lightsabers.

It occurred to her that she might have stumbled upon a family here, and then been presented with a dilemma: a Jedi with two drawn lightsabers, a room full of witnesses, and a cowering terrorist. What would I do? What will I do? But she sensed that would not be the case. It was just another fear of how far she might be prepared to go.

Vau was willing to do the dirty job himself (including the possibility of eliminating unwanted witnesses?) and offered Etain a way out of this situation that could force her going against her Jedi principles. The same as the last time, Etain felt she should finish the job by herself but in contrast to Skirata, Walon accepted her choice and in result, did not sheltered her from facing the responsibility of her action. She didn’t feel that much guilty for eliminating the terrorist with may means the last experienced hardened her (or just the narrative did not focus much on the afterwards).

Of course, killing a person you consider a terrorist in action is a vasty different experience that being part of process meant to break imprisoned person’s resolution and spirit, but I think these two parallel scenes speaks a lot about Skirata and Vau, two hardened Mandalorian veterans who were willing to spare a young Jedi some crushing feel of guilt but who also had a different approach to making the decision for Etain, who tried very hard to prove herself useful and reliable on this black op mission. Once Kal decided it was time to pull Etain from the job, he was the one calling a shot while Walon accepted Etain’s decision (need?) to be the one killing terrorist.

Etain as a Jedi and “not part of their family” yet may be seen as a special case, however the conflict of Kal “I know better so I make hard decisions for others in my care” and Vau “let them make a choice and deal with the consequence for everyone is adult and should be treated like that” seems to be constant part of the whole book series.

A little explanation: not all of Kal's decisions about his family were actually correct, and neither were all of them with negative consequences. It is more about the fact that Kal often makes very important decisions based on what he personally believes is the best solution. Just to be clear.

#star wars #republic commando #etain tur mukan #walon vau #kal skirata #my repcom musing #i think kal did the right thing by not letting etain be part of the interrogation to the end mainly because she tried too hard to be #part od the team to please kal and darman #but he was the one putting her there in the first place so it is questionable matter to judge i guess?#and then vau just let her in into room where they could be innocent people #yeah etain felt in force it was just the terrorist but vau did not know that #and respecting she wanted be on the jobs whatever the consequences could be #relative speaking mando morality is far from ours #but i like that vau respected etain and her decision to finish the job #despite being younger inexperienced jedi #and ironic he talk how skirata was soft but was willing (again) do the dirty job himself #also the talk about clones making the decisions despite what mando sarges may want is pretty often mentioned in regard to kal and vau

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jksprincess10 · 2 months

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Fix it part II

Summary: Din Djarin promised to break more things to bring them to you. After many moons, he comes back - with another woman, and Grogu. You're furious with him, but your patience is eventually rewarded. (3700 words)

CW: two idiots in love, Din is a dumbass, Bo Ka-Tan is kind of mean, fast paced romance, angst, fluff, reader has a nickname related to her work (fix), jealousy, canon divergent, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m), come eating, tummy bulge I guess, fingering, pet names in mando'a, praise kink, squirting, marriage.

Catch up on part 1 here.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“I will keep breaking things and bringing them to you.”

That’s what he said. Many moons ago. You kept hoping, counting the days since he last came. You knew he was gone to get his redemption. Maybe he had run into some trouble… Or maybe he had found another woman, more worthy of being his wife, elsewhere.

So, you occupied your days. You fixed an old ship that a past costumer left as payment, hoping to make it fly some day. Hoping to go through the galaxy to find Din Djarin. Maybe hope was futile. And maybe you were a hopeless romantic. But you thought he truly liked you.

You were stuck in your daydreaming when the bell announced someone coming into your workshop. You had expanded it since the last time, business was booming, and you could now park a full ship in it. You came out from under the ship you were fixing up, your exposed skin dirtied by grease and various substances. You wiped your soiled hands on your apron, leaving a trace of grease on it, before looking up to see who had come by. There was a woman with short red hair and a square jaw. She wore Mandalorian armor.

The woman gave you a disgusted look and you were going to greet her rudely when you heard the familiar heavy steps of your Mandalorian. Your chest tightened. Was this his new woman?

“Fix, I hope we’re not bothering you.” He said as he looked around. “I see you extended your workshop. It’s nice.”

There was a third person, little steps behind him, and you looked down to see Grogu. You gave him a smile and approached Mando, totally ignoring the woman with him.

“Always have time for my favorite client.” You looked up at him, clearly remembering the pretty brown eyes and the beautiful face under the helmet.

The red-headed woman sighed loudly. “If you’re done flirting, I need you to fix my jetpack. Can you do it?”

“Of course, she can.” Cut Din. “You can, right?” He added quietly.

“I’m rebuilding this whole ship, so I don’t think a jetpack is a tall order for me.” You took the object from the woman’s hands, a bit roughly. “Do you have anything to pay, ma’am?” You asked through gritted teeth.

She handed you a small bag of credits, that you grabbed.

“This will do. Now, I don’t really like having strangers around when I work.”

“Lady Kryze, why don’t you watch the ship for me?” Din asked, and you’re thankful that he did.

“Of course. Please don’t take too long.” With that, she was gone, and you finally felt like you could breathe again.

You dropped the jetpack on your worktable while Grogu stood curiously next to you. You took the little creature in your arms and put him on a stool next to you, so he could watch.

“You seem tense.” Noticed Din in an awkward tone.

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to come by after many moons with another woman.” You said as you opened the jetpack. You noticed that a few parts were burnt. You turned around to look at Din.

“It’s not what you think.” The Mandalorian rushed to say, gloved hands up in the air as defense.

“Yeah, so what is it then, Din?” You asked, your fists against your hips to restrain yourself from punching him.

“Just a friend, whom I’m helping. And who helped me redeem myself.”

“Ah, so it is done, then. I’m glad I had news from you.” You responded sarcastically.

Grogu let out a worried coo, like he was witnessing his parents fighting.

“Listen, it’s not that I didn’t want to…”

You turned around abruptly to examine the parts you would need, purposefully ignoring Din. Nothing you had on hand. “I can’t fix it right now, I’m afraid I will need some replacement parts.” You changed the subject.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Yeah, and you’ll come back after how many cycles, Din? How long will I have to wait for you?” You hated that your voice cracked when you were upset. You heard him come closer, and you felt his gloved hands on your shoulders. The leather felt heavy against the soft fabric of your work clothes.

The Mandalorian hated seeing you heartbroken because of him. He didn’t know what to say and wasn’t good at all with feelings. He just knew he should have stayed with you.

You felt your body fall in his embrace, his arms tightening around your shoulders to keep you close. You felt the heaviness of his helmet resting against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mesh’la. Please, come with us. I promise I won’t leave you anymore.” The modulated voice was shaky.

You turned around in his embrace and pressed your palms against the lines of his helmet where his cheeks would be. You could almost see his eyes. Well, you imagined them.

“I’ll come with you and fix your friend’s jetpack and then what…?”

“Then, we will do whatever you want.”

“I thought you wanted to reclaim Mandalore…” The rough pad of his gloved fingers wiped the tears away from your eyes. You almost forgot Grogu’s presence, until he made a sound that you could only attribute to sadness.

“I can’t do it if that means staying away from you and breaking your heart.”

You were going to respond when you heard the bell from the door. You stepped away from Mando and you observed the woman in Mandalorian armor, visibly impatient.

“So, can you fix it?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“I’m afraid I’m missing some pieces. I have a contact on Tatooine who deals with a lot of recycled Mandalorian armor parts. He comes by once every cycle maybe… but it would be faster for me to get to him. He will be able to help us.”

“Fine, get your things and let’s go.”

You didn’t like being bossed around, but you stayed silent. They waited for you outside with the child as you gathered the essentials for a short trip, and you changed out of your dirty work clothes. You put your pack on your shoulders and went outside to follow Din and the woman.

The silence in the ship was heavy and awkward. So much so that you disappeared in the back of the ship to play with the baby. The woman – Bo Ka-tan – made you feel uneasy and unwelcomed. You wished you were only with Din in this moment.

“Are you hungry, mesh’la?”

You lifted your chin to admire your Mandalorian standing over you, his towering and intimidating stature turning you on more than anything. Maker, if you two were alone in that exact moment…

“Not really. I think I’ll just rest, but I can feed Grogu if you need me to.”

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Where… do I sleep?”

“Take my cot. We have two. I won’t go to sleep in a while.”

You nodded and you gave Grogu back to Din, who soothed him delicately in his arms. Din leaned down and bumped his head slightly against yours, which you could only interpret as a kiss.

The cot was a tight space and once the door of the minuscule room was shut, it was plunged in deep darkness, which made it easy for you to fall asleep. You woke up only when you heard the door slide open and felt the weight of a body next to yours.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry.” Apologized Din when he heard you moving around.

“S’okay.” You slurred, half asleep.

It was so dark; you couldn’t even see his silhouette. You could just feel it. Your hands felt around the minuscule bed until you found the strong shape of his body. Instead of being met with cold beskar, your fingers felt the warmth of his skin. You traced his bicep until you found his neck, then his cheek. It was still scruffy, like you remembered, his unkept beard still on his chin and lower cheeks. You heard him chuckle slightly as he threw an arm around you to bring you close.

“You’re trying to rediscover my body, mesh’la?”

“Yes. I missed it. I missed you.”

“I promise we’ll get married, and you’ll be able to see my face every day.”

“You make a lot of promises.” You whispered back, before bringing his face closer to yours. Your noses bumped together, and you finally found his lips. You abandoned yourself fully to the mercy of his mouth, letting him guide you in softness and lustfulness. “Please don’t tell me you’ll marry me only because you like having sex with me.” You said playfully against his lips.

“I genuinely love you, mesh’la. Don’t want to stay away from you anymore.” And you believed him.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum (I love you).”

“You’re learning mando’a? We’ll work on your pronunciation.”

“Well, I had to occupy myself in one way.” You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“You’re so special, Fix.”

You rolled over so your body was on him, your thighs straddling his waist. You already felt his arousal through the thin layers of fabric you both wore. You rolled your hips slightly against him. You heard him sigh, and you could imagine him lips parted, head relaxed against the hard pillow.

“What do you want, Din?”

“Whatever you think I deserve after leaving you for so long.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” You whispered as you lowered your upper body so you could kiss his jaw with rough hair growing there, his strong jaw, his thick neck. You sucked lightly on the skin there, imagining red staining the gold of his skin. His hands held your lower back, and you heard him sigh again. You missed how vocal Din was when you were alone, but it would be for another time. Your lips traced his chest, following an invisible line until you met with his groin. You used both of your hands to take off his underwear. Your fingers wrapped around his girth, lowering his foreskin so you could kitten-lick his leaking tip. You heard him whimper softly, and you took this as an encouragement as you closed your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks to put more pressure and suction. When you got tired of teasing, you lowered your head, taking more of his cock in your mouth, until your own hand stopped you. Your hand wrapped at the bottom of his girth slid up and down as you sucked the rest in your mouth.

“Kriff… you’re so good at this.”

You sucked a few times, before taking him out of your mouth, licking his length before you said. “I know.”

His hands closed around your jaw so he could pull you up and kiss you. You undressed yourself, barely breaking the kiss. Din switched your positions, his large body a shadow in your vision. Din’s lips latched onto every parcel of skin he could find, until they wrapped around one of your nipples, making it hard as he popped it out of his mouth. He gave your other one a similar treatment as you writhed under him, keeping your mouth closed to keep any sound from coming out.

“You’ll have to be very quiet.”

“I know.”

You felt his fingers spreading your lower lips, as he used the tip of his tongue to find your clit. You bit your lip as you squirmed under him. You were so wet, it was ridiculous. But after all those nights of touching yourself and thinking about him, he was finally yours again. As he sucked on your small bud of pleasure, one of his thick digits entered your slicked walls.

“You’re so wet, I could just put all of my fingers in.”

You let out a noise between a moan and a struggled squeal.

“You’d like that?” He whispered, hot air hitting your wet core.

“Stars, Din, get to it. I want you inside. Please.”

Din chuckled darkly as he entered a second finger. He started moving them at a fast pace he knew would make you see stars. You were trying to be quiet, but the tiny room was filled with your obscene wet sounds already. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on to him as you felt your orgasm hit you.

“Please. Please fuck me, Din.” You asked desperately.

His fingers left you empty, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he entered your walls slowly, stretching you deliciously.

“You’re so tight, mesh’la.”

Your feet pushed against him so he could enter you deeper and deeper. Once entered to the hilt, he started snapping his hips back and forth, setting a slow, but powerful pace. You hid your head in his neck, letting your moans echo against his warm skin.

“Faster, please.”

His upper body left you, and you felt him grab your thighs to secure you as he fucked you harder, using you like you were his personal sex toy. Your upper body was limp, moving in waves with his harsh thrusts. When a moan escaped your lips, he stopped moving.

“Told you to be quiet.”

“I’m sorry Din, please don’t stop…”

You felt him leaving you empty and craving. You wanted to cry. But before any tears rolled down your cheeks, he laid beside you and turned you to the side, one of his strong arms over your body and his palm resting over your mouth. He shushed you, his free hand resting on your hip as he slipped back inside. The angle made him feel somehow even deeper, and you knew he could feel how tightly you were choking his cock. You bit on his palm to muffle a cry, but he did not protest. You could hurt him as much as you wanted in return.

“There. My good girl.” He whispered.

He fucked you deep and slow, the hand on your hip coming down to your mound, two of his thick digits circling your clit as the rest of his giant palm put pressure on your lower stomach. You could almost feel him there, he was so big.

“Give me another one, mesh’la.”

White stars replaced the darkness in your vision as you exploded around him, spasming and trashing as an intense orgasm took over you. It felt like you wanted to pee, and come at the same time. But it felt so good.

“K-Kriff…” Din cursed under his breath. “You’re making a mess.” Drunk on you, he followed closely, erupting between your walls. “Stars, come here.” Before you could protest, the man pulled away and brought your hips close to his face, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs and forcing you to sit on his mouth.

Flustered, you stuttered: “D-Din…”

He licked the mixture of your juices off your sweet pussy, making obscene slurping sounds. His hold on you was so strong, but you tried to pull away. “T-Too much…”

“Sorry.” He let you lay down against his chest, and you pressed your lips against his. He let you taste the potion you both made on his tongue.

Once arrived on the planet with a desertic landscape, you met with your contact, Jafan Typho. A man with a white beard, and kind, wise eyes, who lived in a garage-like house filled to the brim with junk.

You gave him a written list of what you needed as he eyed wearily the two imposing people with you (and the green little thing).

"Who are these... friends?" The man asked.

“I’m her future husband, this is my son, Grogu, and this is Lady Kryze of Mandalore.”

You almost choked on air at Din’s words, and you stared at him. You imagined his amused, teasing grin.

“I see.” Jafan responded. “Stay here while I get what you need.”

Bo Ka-Tan sighed, annoyed. She clearly was excited for this trip to end.

“What is our plan after this?” She asked as an attempt to make a conversation with you and Din.

“We go back to my planet so I can fix your jetpack. I’m thinking it won’t take me more than a day… Then… you’re free to do whatever you want.” You shrugged.

“Then, I will go back to Mandalore with our friends on Nevarro. You’re free to follow, or not.”

Din looked at you expectantly, but you looked away. All that you knew was always on Nevarro. Leaving… would mean leaving a part of your family legacy behind.

“I’ll think about it.” You said with a smile. You felt Din’s gloved hand grab yours, and you enlaced your fingers.

Jafan came back with a few pieces in hands. “There. Will you still be there when I go back to Nevarro, Fix?”

“I… don’t know.” You admitted. You exchanged the parts for a generous pile of credits. “But feel free to come by.”

“Okay.” The old man shook your hand, and you all thanked him silently as you went back to the ship, Grogu waddling behind you.

“You really are doing this backwards.” You let out as you’re crowded in the small space of the ship’s washer with Din.

“What... Do you mean?” He asked, distracted by your hands on his naked, tattooed chest. He put his hands on yours and looked at you with those adorable puppy brown eyes. You could see glimpses of him in the dark, and even though he called himself your future husband, he insisted on keeping the lights closed.

“You haven’t even asked me to marry you officially, and you’re already calling yourself my future husband.”

“Okay, then.” Din rolled his eyes playfully and pulled you closer. “Be my riduur. Please.”

“Finally. Yes.” You squealed and kissed him, long and slow. “For someone so traditional… one would think that you would do things in order.”

“Maybe I lost my brain somewhere while I traveled.”

“I know where you put your brain.” You kissed his jaw, his throat, as you went down slowly on his body, your hands following the sharp lines of his muscles.

“Yeah?”

Once on your knees, you kissed the tip of his cock with a sly smile.

You wiped the sweat off your brow as you finished fixing the jetpack. You tested a few buttons and satisfied, you brought it to Bo Ka-Tan, who sat silently in your workshop, while Din was away, making arrangements for your union.

“You know I do not care for Din Djarin in that way, right?” She asked after clearing her throat.

“I would not blame you. He’s an attractive man.” You put the jetpack in her hands. She looked at it attentively, it seemed like new.

“I do not think of men that way.”

“…Oh. I apologize for making assumptions.”

“You’re fine. Thank you for the quick repair.”

“You’re welcome.”

You thought you hallucinated when you saw a smile on Bo Ka-Tan’s lips, but you were perfectly sane.

There was a small crowd of Mandalorians in various types of armors amassed in the covert. You were wearing a light dress, and not the conventional attire. Din was in full armor, beskar shining under the low lights. Bo smiled encouragingly at you, as you exchanged vows in Mando’a, repeating after the armorer. Your pronunciation was not perfect, which made you chuckle nervously. But Din held your hand and encouraged you. As he repeated the vows back to you, the deep rumble of his modulated voice gave you shivers.

You laid your head against his helmet in an intimate gesture, even though you couldn’t wait to tear off the helmet from his head.

After a celebration, you brought Din back to the apartment on top of your workshop, thankful of the other mandalorians taking care of Grogu for the night. The sun was almost setting, but you could see his golden skin in the sunlight. It felt even more special now that you were his.

“This couldn’t end any quicker.” You said, breathless, between languorous kisses. You almost tore off each other’s clothes, and you stopped for a few seconds to admire Din’s face in the sunlight after you took off his helmet. “There. My handsome man. I missed your face so much.” You cradled his scruffy jaw between your hands, and you kissed his pouty lips again and again, until he groaned in annoyance and pushed you on your bed.

“You will see this face so much; you’ll grow tired of it.” Your riduur settled between your hips, legs over his broad shoulders as he leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“I doubt it.” Your fingers settled in his curls, and you pushed him closer to where you truly wanted him. His nose brushed over your mound, then he spread your lips to gain an easier access, before drowning into you. He lapped and sucked messily at every piece of skin he could access, his head moving to the side as he ate you out with his whole body. “K-Kriff, Din…”

He whispered your name against your wetness, like a quiet prayer, before latching his lips onto your clit, alternating with sucking, and leaving quick licks. “Taste so good, mesh’la…” He said when he came back for air, after diving in again, like a man starved.

Your back arched, your hips bucking uncontrollably against his face as he kept going. His soft, brown eyes were on your face as he watched you coming undone, again and again, until overstimulation. You pulled on his hair and asked him to stop in a tired voice. His lips moved slowly up your body, stopping sometimes to latch onto a parcel of skin or a nipple.

“Can I make love to you, my riduur?” He asked reverently, and you never wanted him to call you something else again.

“Yes.”

Din slicked his cock with your juices, before diving his tip slowly into your hole. You held his gaze, wanting to engrave somewhere in your memory this particular moment.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum (I love you).” He said as he bottomed, his hips flush with yours.

You barely had time to respond, before he started thrusting in and out of you at a slow pace, like you both now had the whole time in the universe.

“Where do we go after this?” Din asked as he stilled to look at the remainings of the sunset reflecting on your skin.

“I will follow wherever you go, Din Djarin. So we’re never apart again.”

His fingers laced with yours as he felt happiness so overwhelming he could not bear it. A soft kiss. Another promise. And you would fly wherever he was needed.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin x you #mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x yn #mandalorian x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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lincolndjarin · 5 months

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Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name.

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge.

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging.

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded.

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot.

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name.

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir.

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm.

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen.

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you.

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind.

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance.

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters.

You do this for quite some time.

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more.

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night.

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work.

You can’t deny his appeal.

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box.

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened.

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat.

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders.

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake.

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop.

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?”

“How many what, sir?”

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now.

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?”

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass.

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on?

He called you pretty.

And his.

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat.

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble.

“I want the exact answer.”

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion.

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him.

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack.

One.

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear.

“Still good?”

“Yes sir.”

Two.

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you.

Three, four, five, six.

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready.

Seven, eight, nine, ten.

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing.

Twelve.

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you.

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses.

Thirteen.

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap.

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole.

Fourteen, fifteen.

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new.

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off.

You swore you felt something press against your forehead.

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with.

It’s as if nothing happened at all.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks.

He barely even looks at you.

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible.

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up.

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand.

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head.

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass.

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place.

He’s welded them together.

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place.

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks.

He put his fucking hammer inside you.

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.”

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected.

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?”

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him.

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace.

Ask for it.

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.”

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace.

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm.

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him.

He doesn’t let up for a second.

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for.

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there.

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt.

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod.

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?”

You grin.

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain.

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him.

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down.

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge.

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand.

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work.

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : best kept secret #one shot #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Lesson

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, dom!reader, sub!din djarin, extreme over-stimulation, pregnant reader (not mentioned until the end), reader is a badass and we love her, restraints, aftercare, fluffy fluff, slight bdsm, Din whimpers bc I want to see Din whimper, im sure im forgetting stuff but oh well

Summary: Din chooses to put himself in danger by changing plans during a mission, and you decide it's about time he learns a lesson.

A/N: Hello lovely people! Hope you enjoy some subby Din for a while. I don't really have much to say this time, so just ignore my rambling I suppose. As always, requests are wide open and reposts, comments, and likes are very much appreciated! <3

***

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

You’re absolutely furious. In all the years that you’ve been with Mando, he’s never made a mistake this detrimental. Not only did he almost lose the bounty with his random change of plan, but he also put himself right into the path of danger. This shouldn’t have been a dangerous mission, but somehow, Din found a way to make it life-threatening.

The bounty the two of you were after had been hiding out in an old, abandoned ship on an old, abandoned planet. The main objective was to get the target outside of the ship to capture him in case there was any kind of fuel left in the corroding ship.

You thought you were both stationed in your respective positions, the bait set to lead the bounty out, when you had noticed something was missing. Din. Din was missing. You curse under your breath as you stand up to get a better look at his empty post. Fucking bastard.

You spot a gleam of beskar in your peripheral and turn to follow it. He’s too far away from you for you to yell at him or try to grab him, practically at the opening at the ship already. There's nothing for you to do but wait and see how everything plays out. You groan as you crouch back down behind the rock you had been hiding behind.

Then you hear a deafeningly loud bang.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you shoot back up to your feet.

“MANDO!” You hear yourself scream his name but you don’t remember making an attempt to do so.

You immediately know what had happened as you get closer to the ruined ship. The first thing you see is the absolute wreckage laying around where the ship used to be, some of it still smoldering. The second thing you see is fucking Mando emerging from the smoke, target in hand.

His armor is coated in a black film, likely from being so close to the tank when he fucking shot it and blew it up. You stand in place and let him walk to you, keeping a firm expression the entire time. You can tell the moment he sees the way you’re seething. His movement falters and he lowers his head ever so slightly, continuing toward you with his tail tucked.

You wait until he is a few feet away from you before turning on your heel and starting the way back to the Crest. You know he’ll follow, so you don’t look back or say a word until you reach your shared ship.

When you climb aboard, you wordlessly signal for Mando to put the bounty in carbonite before you climb up to get the ship into the air. Once you’re out of the atmosphere, you climb back down the ladder to find Mando standing in the middle of the hull.

He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there awaiting your orders. Smart. You point to the bedroom and wait for him to start walking before you trail behind him, still fuming. He stops in front of the bed and watches you walk past him and into the closet. You throw a single word his way as you start digging for the restraints.

“Strip.”

He shudders at your tone but does as he’s told.

***

“Please, Cyar’ika, please!”

The sob that slips from his mouth is delicious even though it’s a bit muffled by his vocoder. You chuckle darkly as you look down at him, The Mandalorian, clad in nothing but his helm and the binders around his wrists and ankles that secure him to the corners of the bunk.

His cock, throbbingly hard and flushed almost purple at the tip, jumps as you speak. The twitch is overstimulating enough to have his whole body try to curl into itself, but it doesn’t budge with the way he’s binded.

“Aww, you poor, sweet boy,” you say with a mock sympathy as you fold your hand to rub your knuckles along the inside of his thigh. “Want to come so bad, don’t you?”

You both know the answer to that question. You’ve been going at this for hours now. You denied him at first, bringing him to the edge and then denying him as soon as you felt him about to bust. You lost count at about nine times—around the same time Din started to cry. After close to an hour of that, you did let him come, just like he wanted. But then you didn’t stop.

The last hour and a half or so have been spent working him up just softly enough to get him hard and leaking again, and then edging him for a while before letting him come. Each time, he grows more sensitive, and each time, it becomes more fun for you.

You know your panties are ruined with your arousal at this point, but you don’t pay too much attention to the fact. This is about Din right now, about teaching your Mandalorian a lesson. You want to rip his helmet from his head so you can see the way his tears streak down his ruddy cheeks, so you can hear his whines for mercy without the modulator warping his voice. But you don’t, not yet at least. You want him to feel humiliated by the way he is being punished and violated while still in his beskar.

He begs you to stop, but you know he doesn’t mean it. You have a specific code for these types of things—if he really wants to, all he has to do is say the word and you’d have him out of the binders and in your gentle embrace within seconds. He hasn’t said the word yet, though. He’s too stubborn to let you win completely, but that's okay, you don’t plan to break him. You just want to make him think that you will.

He tilts his head back and whimpers in response to your taunting question and you take the opportunity to grab his cock. Din’s head comes back up with lightning speed as he shouts at the contact that causes his body to shake once again. Though he orgasms, not much trickles out. A small dribble of cum escapes the tip of his cock and leaks down his softening shaft.

He’s a whining, whimpering mess beneath you, and you can’t get enough.

“Think you’ve learned your lesson, sweet boy?” You pet his flaccid cock, making him sob as you ask him the question. He nods to the best of his ability and you tut down at him. “Use your words for me, baby.”

“Y-yes, I’ve learned my lesson,” he tries to keep his voice unwavering but fails miserably.

“Yes, what, honey?”

“Yes m-ma’am, I’ve l-learned my lesson, I’m s-sorry.”

You hum in consideration for a moment before speaking again. “Good boy. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

He nods and you figure you’ll accept it this time.

“Okay, baby, I’ll be right back.”

With that, you sit up from where you had been perched on the side of the bed and stride into the closet. As soon as you go through the threshold, you hear Din let out a shuddering breath. Poor thing must be exhausted. You smile at the thought. He’s not done yet.

You open a drawer and dig around until you find what you’re looking for. Once you have the wand in your grasp, you walk back out into the bedroom. You hold the object behind your back so he can’t see while you sit back in your original position. He’s quiet as he waits for you to speak.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” you start, trying to hold your smile back. “I’m going to help you with a little toy, and you’re going to tell me why you’re so sorry.” You wait a moment to watch the way he tilts his head back in defeat. When you hear a small blubber of regret slip from his lips, you continue.

“If you can give me the right answer, I’m going to be generous and let you come, and then we’ll be done. If you can’t… well I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, pretty boy. How does that sound?”

“S-sounds fair, ma’am.”

You nod at him and reach your hands up to his helmet. “Can I take this off, sweetie?” He hesitates but gives you a small nod after a moment. He doesn’t want you to see the mess of tears staining his face.

You release the airlocks and lift up, slowly revealing his pouty lips, his prominent nose, his beautiful, begging eyes, and finally his soft, brown curls. He looks up at you slightly parted lips as you set his helmet to the side.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you say before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his lips. You don’t wait any longer to move down the bed to where his swollen cock lays against his stomach. You smirk and take the vibrator you picked out into your hand, flipping the switch to turn it onto a low setting. Din flinches at the sound.

“Okay, honey, I want you to keep your eyes on me while you speak, just so I know you’re not lying to me.” A tear slides down his cheek and you can see him gulp down his anxiety. “Yes, ma’am,” he says after a moment.

Bending down, you place a kiss to the tip of his dick, and he tries his best to get away from the contact. When you look up, he’s staring at the ceiling. You lightly slap his cock, making him shout. “Look at me, baby, I’m not gonna tell you again.”

Once his glossy eyes are on you, you bring the vibrator to the tip of his dick. He immediately bucks his hips away and starts to whimper and pant. “Now tell me, what did you do wrong today?”

Mando is too busy gritting his teeth through the blinding overstimulation to answer your question, and you turn the wand up to a higher setting. It’s a fair warning, you think. He screams and thrashes in his restraints.

“I’m sorry, Gods, I’m sorry, p-please!”

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I went ag-ah-against the plan, Gods, I’m s-sorry,” he tries his best to ignore the way the sobs muddle his speech.

You run the vibrator up and down his shaft before bringing it to the tip and applying pressure.

“Good boy… Are you going to do it again?”

“No, no, please!”

You smile and figure that he probably means it. If he ever pulled a stunt like that again, you’d have him chained to the bed for days. His beautiful brown eyes stay on you the whole time.

“Okay, baby, I believe you.” Even though he’s still squirming beneath you, he looks visibly more relaxed at the knowledge that this is almost over. “I want you to beg for it baby, beg me to let you come.” As humiliating as it is, he doesn’t have to be told twice.

“Please let me come, p-please! I’ve been so good for you! Been s-so good!”

You chuckle at the desperation in his voice as you lean down one more time. Keeping the vibrator on the tip of his cock, you turn it up to the max setting and take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking harshly.

He lets out the loudest shout of the night as he comes. He shakes and sobs underneath you as you prolong it as best you can. You hear him speaking, but it’s so slurred through his cries that you’re not sure what he’s trying to say.

Once he’s done orgasming, you lift up and turn the wand off before casting it to the side. When you look at his face, Din has his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to keep his tears from falling from his closed eyes. Taking pity on him, you decide to wrap it up quickly.

You look down at his belly, covered in his own cum. You take two fingers, being careful to avoid his poor cock, and swipe up a glob of it. Bringing it up to Din’s lips, you tell him to open up, and he does so, licking his own spend off of your fingers.

“What do you say, baby?”

“T-thank you,” his words are breathless but filled with relief at the same time. You bring your forehead down to touch his before kissing him one more time. He gladly reciprocates, chasing your lips once you sit up again.

You tell him to wait just a second as you work at the restraints. Once free, Mando lets his limbs fall into comfortable positions. You smooth his hair down in a soothing motion as you assure him he did good. You stay there with him for a moment before getting up again to get him a glass of water and a fresh set of sheets. You turn the shower on while you’re at it.

Once he’s in the fresher, you change the sheets and grab some snacks for when he comes back. When he does, you’re waiting in the clean bed with open arms. He smiles warmly at you and crawls in, letting you wrap yourself around him. The two of you lay there like that for a while before you break the silence.

“I hope you know I genuinely want you to be safer, baby, that wasn’t just for show.” You know he knows, you just want to be sure.

“I know… I’m sorry I did what I did today.” You can hear the guilt in his voice and you turn to look into his eyes.

“It’s okay, Din… I just…” you trail off as you try to find the right words. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something ever happened to you.” You can feel tears stinging your eyes at the thought of it.

“And now, with the baby on the way…” you trail off, looking at your distended stomach. “ I don’t want our baby to grow up without a buir, Din.”

“I know, my sweet riduur,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your head. You can see the guilt in his eyes as he looks at you. “I never mean to put myself in the way of danger, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You stay silent, but he knows that you’ve accepted his apology.

“And for the record,” he continues, shyly. “I enjoyed what you did tonight.” You look at him and can’t help but giggle at the smirk on his face. It’s not often you take charge in the bedroom, so you were glad to have the confirmation that he liked it just as much as you.

“I love you, Din,” you say softly as you turn off the light and then snuggle into him. He laughs and hugs you closer.

“I love you too, cyare.”

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #smut #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #the mandalorian #din djarin #sub!din djarin #dom reader #sub character #pregnant reader

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joelslegalwhre · 1 year

Text

My Riduur

I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika."

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest.

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you.

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

🩶taglist: @alexxavicry @kittenlittle24 @hereforfics124 @Snow30285 @cl16version

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian #grogu my beloved #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #jealousy #pedro pascal #fluff #em's masterlist

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imaginedisish · 2 years

Text

Graceland Too (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hi everyone!!! Wowowow am I active this week LOL (fyi this is a re-upload. Decided to proofread one more time bc I uploaded at like 2AM last night). Here is a little sick fic I wrote for my friend who isn’t feeling too great (hope you’re feeling okay <3). The fic is heavily based around “Graceland Too” by Phoebe Bridgers but it is also inspired by “oh baby” by LCD Soundsystem. Highly suggest giving those a listen. Anyway, requests are open. Enjoy!

Summary: You’re terribly sick, but one night and one fever dream might just change everything for you and Din.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+, Praise kink (imo at least), oral (f!receiving), fingering, reader is sick, Jedi!Reader (it’s like I only know how to write Din x Jedi!readers I stg), idiots/friends to lovers, pining, mentions of death/major violence (canon typical I'd say), cursing, probably some grammar stuff....that’s it I think.

Word Count: 3,018

The wind is cold as it slices you in half, but you feel overwhelmingly hot, clammy even. Sweat dribbles down your forehead as you tread across the rocks beneath your feet. Blaster shots ring out in the distance.

You struggle to pick up your pace, your boots sticking to the ground as you try to put one foot in front of the other.

“Mando!” You call out, remembering not to use his real name. Fog covers the ground, filling the air at an excruciatingly quick rate. You’d never be able to find him in this. You call out to him again, but there’s no answer. You’d take a grunt or even a groan at this point.

Then there’s a disembodied, brittle voice coming from behind you.

“Looking for him?” It’s grating, nasally. You’d recognize it anywhere.

You turn around frantically, practically giving yourself whiplash.

“Bo Katan.” Your voice is low, hushed. Din’s body is limp on the ground, being held up on his knees by the woman in front of you. There’s a smirk on her face. She has the darksaber in her hand…

And it’s at Din’s throat.

“Let him go,” You plead. You go to grab your lightsaber, a blaster, something, anything at your utility belt, but there’s nothing there. You have no defense, just your words. “You got what you came for, you have the darksaber.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, her smirk widening. “I haven’t finished the job yet. I still have to kill you and your Mandalorian.”

Your eyes widen with fear, blurring with tears. “No please, please don’t hurt him.” Your voice croaks as you choke back sobs.

“Too late.” She moves the darksaber from his throat, plunging it into his chest with one fatal swoop.

“DIN!” You scream, crashing down to your knees next to him.

“I’m here mesh’la…” He whispers, but it doesn’t sound like he’s next to you, he’s somewhere off in the distance. His husky voice calls out your name.

“I’m right here.” He repeats himself. Your eyes force themselves open as you shove your palms into the bed to push yourself up. You almost hit your head on the top of the bunk in the process, but Din stops you before you can, his cold, gloved hands coming up to your shoulders. “It was just a nightmare.” His voice is honeyed, gentle.

You look to your left to see him standing at your side, armor off, helmet on.

“M’sorry,” You mutter, rubbing your eyes. You feel like absolute shit, worse than yesterday. Your skin is so hot that it threatens to burn a hole in Din’s gloves. You choke down a cough, the sensation vibrating painfully against your already pounding head. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You had been sick for a few days now, and Din was doing everything by himself: the ship’s maintenance, the flying, the hunting, taking care of Grogu, and taking care of you. Now, to make matters worse, you had woken him up. You know he doesn’t get enough rest to begin with. You feel like a burden – and not just in this moment, always. You were a danger to yourself, to Din, to Grogu; a force wielding ex-Jedi, ex-Empire captive wanted by anyone and everyone. And yet, he had let you into his little clan of two with open arms. Now he was here, caring for you. You could’ve gone home, made a place for yourself in the New Republic, continued your Jedi training, but you didn’t.

You met Din. And you felt so, so guilty for the repercussions of your meeting.

You part your lips, ready to usher him back to bed, to apologize again. But Din doesn’t leave room for you to protest. “Don’t apologize, please.” He shushes you, taking off a glove and pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. You hum lightly under his touch. He feels like ice against your blazingly hot skin.

“Your hand…” You trail off, struggling to speak, “feels good.”

Your hoarse voice sounds like nothing more than a set of incoherent mumblings, but Din seems to understand every syllable. He chuckles shortly and softly, as if the laugh was only meant to be heard by you. “That’s ‘cause you’re warmer now than you were yesterday.” He flips his hand over so that his palm rests against your skin. His forefingers and thumb rub gently at your temples, working tirelessly at your raging headache.

With his free hand, he reaches down for something you can’t quite see. Seconds later he’s holding two pills in front of your face. You immediately take them from him, no questions asked. Whatever it was, you’d take it. This was absolutely unbearable, and the constant fever dreams certainly didn’t help. You swallow the pills with no hesitation, and Din brings a metal cup to your lips.

“Drink,” is all he says, and you do. You take the cup from his hands, the cold water rushing down your throat, temporarily easing the pain you feel there. Din apprehensively settles his arm on your waist. “This okay?” He asks, a slight shake in his voice. You nod in response, smiling appreciatively.

“Thank you,” You whisper, tilting your head to the side with affection. You swallow harshly, clearing your throat. “You can go back to sleep now if you want. I’ll be okay.”

But Din doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t move at all. He ignores your permission to leave completely. “What dream did you have this time?”

You shudder, remembering what you had seen just moments ago. Din instantly takes account of the look on your face, his grip on your waist tightening, stabilizing you, keeping you tethered to reality – to him.

You draw in a deep breath, practically coughing up your lungs in the process. “Bo Katan, s-she,” You stutter, your eyes shutting tightly in between words. You could still see it. It was ingrained in your brain, burnt into the grooves, sowed in between every empty space. You can still feel her. It was so real. “She had the darksaber and she…” But you can’t finish. Your vision is blurry, your surroundings morphing into an amalgamation of streaks of light and grey metallic colors. You blink and a few cool tears drip down your searing cheeks.

“Hey,” Din coos, his helmet inching closer towards your face, his hands still glued around your waist and atop your forehead. “I’ve got you now. It was just a nightmare. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, mesh’la, nothing.”

You cough out a laugh. “Nothing except a red-haired Mandalorian and whatever this fever is.”

But Din shakes his head. “Not if I can help it.” It isn’t until those words fall from his lips that you realize how close he is to you, how intimate this moment is. His armor is long gone, and you can see the outline of his muscles in his shoulders and arms, his deltoids, his triceps, underneath his flight suit.

“I would…” He trails off, a tremble obviously present in his voice. His confidence has completely disappeared. The vulnerability of the moment makes your head spin faster than it already is. You watch his chest rise and fall, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You hear him suck in a sharp breath through his vocoder. “I would do anything for you.”

Anything. He would do anything? For you?

Your heart beats rapidly, threatening to combust against your ribs as Din’s hand on your forehead slides down to your cheek. You’ve forgotten your fever at this point, forgotten your headache, your sore throat. All you feel now is Din, his thumb grazing against your cheek, his fingers ghosting along the exposed slit of skin between the hemline of your shirt and the waistline of your shorts.

You want to keep him here, to ask him to hang on to you all night long, but you don’t know if you have the courage to ask. You close your eyes, inhaling through your nose, gathering your words before they spill from your lips. “Would you…” Your voice fades out, evaporating into silence, unable to finish your sentence.

“Anything,” Din’s modulated voice echoes against the walls of the bunk. “Say the word and it’s yours. Whatever you want, cyare.”

Fuck. He really means anything. Whatever you want.

“Would you stay…with me?” It’s a garbled, incomprehensible mess of a question, but as always, Din knows what’s on your mind better than you do.

Din nods immediately. “Of course.” It’s short, but certainly not curt. Those two words say far more than what they mean. “I have to let go of you for just a second, but I’ll be right back, I promise.” Ever the caretaker, Din Djarin. Eternally putting others before himself. It makes your heart pang in your chest, your breath catching in your throat.

He hesitates a moment before finally letting go of you, his hands brushing over your skin for a few extra seconds, stealing time that had already been borrowed. He slips deeper into the hull. You hear him press a few buttons in the distance, and then with a sudden flick, the lights of the hull go out. Darkness fills the room, and you can hear Din shuffling back towards the bunk.

There’s a click and a hiss, and then the sound of metal falling onto metal. Din had taken his helmet off. It wasn’t the first time he had done this. You occasionally found yourself in his bunk, clinging to him for warmth when you were on a particularly cold planet or when the Crest’s heating system had broken down, but it was rare.

“Should you keep it on?” You ask as Din pushes the covers of the bed down. You feel the mattress dip as he slides into the bunk. “I’m still sick, you know.” The last thing you wanted was to make Din feel the way you feel right now. You didn’t want him to get hurt. You had to protect him, too.

You don’t realize how close he is to you until you feel his breath fan across your lips. “No.” It’s a whisper, barely audible. “Wanna make you feel safe.”

“But-,”

He cuts you off. “It’s worth the risk.”

You were worth the risk.

The darkness isn’t so scary when he’s next to you. You close your eyes, listening closely to his unmodulated breaths. His arm snakes up your body, coming to rest around your waist, in the exact spot he was in before.

“Din?” You call out in the darkness. You inch forward a bit, unexpectedly bumping your nose into his. The sudden touch, the proximity, it’s all becoming too much for you to bear.

“Yes, cyare?” His voice is husky, low, rough.

You can’t even remember what it was you were going to ask him. All you can think about is how close he is, how his fingers graze over your stomach, how his breath ghosts over your cheeks, how much you want him to kiss you.

Maker, you want him to kiss you. Would he if you asked him to? Was that under the category of, anything?

“Cyare?” He’s concerned. You can hear it in the way the pet name plays on his lips, hanging around in the air longer than normal.

“I-I,” You stutter. Was now really the time to do this, to confess your feelings to Din? “I don’t know what to say.” It was true, maybe a little too true. “I just, I like you Din.”

He chuckles. Maker, it sounds so much better without his helmet. “I like you too, cyar’ika.” He’s unserious, carefree.

“No,” You mumble. You feel like a child, a padawan once again, not knowing how to communicate or to feel. “Not like that. M-more than that.” You wish you could see the look on his face, to gauge what he was feeling.

Silence takes hold of the bunk. Shit. Too much. Too much too soon. I shouldn’t have-

And then, like always, Din reads your mind. His lips come crashing down onto yours. The kiss is reckless, frenzied, deep. He molds against you, as if he was always meant to fit here. You almost regret not doing something sooner. You think, maybe you’ve wasted valuable time that you could’ve already spent with this side of him. But you know you’ve lived through everything you’ve been through, just to get to this very moment, to feel his lips taking yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, seeking permission to explore more of you. You part your mouth, gladly accepting his invitation.

His hand at your waist travels lower, resting along the inside of your thigh. You moan against his lips at the touch. You can feel your wetness growing between your legs, the pulsing of your core. You instinctively try to press your thighs together, searching for some sort of friction, but Din stops you, using his hand to keep your legs spread wide for him.

His fingers tread achingly slow up your inner thigh, teasing you, his nails softly scratching against your exposed skin. Din’s hand finally lands on top of your clothed cunt, his thumb tracing circles into the overly sensitive spot. You’re trembling under his touch as he presses harder into where you need him most.

“S-shit,” You mutter. “Feels s-so good.”

Din swallows harshly. “Wanna taste you, mesh’la. Bet you taste so good.” Desire coats his voice. His hand slips away from your heat and you groan at the loss of contact. He finds the waistline of your shorts, tugging a bit, searching for permission.

“Please, wanna feel you,” You whimper. And that’s all he needs. Din drags your shorts and panties down your legs. You’re not sure where they end up, but you can’t be bothered to care.

Din presses light kisses against your inner thigh, his stubble scratching lightly against your skin, until he finally reaches your core. His tongue begins to explore your folds, pushing through before finally settling on your clit.

“D-Din!” You cry out as he takes the sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking roughly. “Fuck, feels s’good.” Your words slur and your eyes blur as he laps at you.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet.” The vibrations of Din’s voice against your clit pushes you closer to the edge. You were already practically there.

He brings a finger to your folds, spreading your slick before sinking deep inside of you. The sensation coaxes a moan from your lips, and Din takes this as a sign to add another finger. He gives you a moment to adjust to him before pulling out and crashing back into you. He’s pushing further inside you as he takes you on his tongue. Nothing else matters, and nothing else will ever be the same.

“Doing so good for me, sweet girl,” He soothes, his tongue swirling around your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of your entrance. “You sound so pretty when you say my name.”

“Din.” It’s a whisper, a plea. More, please, more. “Don’t stop. Fuck.” His free hand glides under your shirt, pushing your bra up and out of the way. He takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching lightly, rolling the nub around before switching to the other. He squeezes softly, luring you closer to your breaking point.

“Taking me so good, being such a good girl,” Din groans. You throw your head back against the pillow. His words alone were enough to drive you mad. “Gonna make you come, gonna give you whatever you want, mesh’la.”

His name rolls off your tongue. You’re unsure of where it starts and where it ends, whispering it over and over again like you’re trying to commit this moment to some eternal memory.

His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers pumping faster, deeper inside of you. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You were right there, your walls tightening around Din’s fingers.

“Din I’m gonna-,” But it’s impossible to get the words out. You’re a bleating mess underneath him.

“That’s it, come for me, pretty girl. Wanted this for so long,” His praises, his confessions, send you over the edge, searing heat spreading across every inch of your body. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect for me.” You can feel yourself shattering under his touch, your walls fluttering around him.

“F-fuck Din,” You whimper, riding out your high. Din slowly laps at your swollen clit, his fingers gently pumping in and out of you a few more times before pulling out. You feel empty without them. “N-need more. Need to feel you.” You can’t help but beg. It wasn’t enough. You wanted all of him, needed all of him.

“Not tonight, cyar’ika,” Din breathes as he finds his way back next to you. “Don’t wanna push you too far. You’re sick, don’t forget. I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, remember?” There’s a faint laugh in his voice, a certain genuine happiness that you can’t wait to hear more of.

“Tomorrow?” You ask, shifting so that your head rests against his chest.

“As long as you’re feeling better…” He trails off for a second, mulling his words over in his head before continuing, “I’ll do anything you want me to.” You know there’s a smile tugging at his lips, you can hear it. It makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Get some rest, okay?”

You nod your head, nestling even further into him. You wrap a leg around his waist, and he follows suit by wrapping his arms around you.

“Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, mesh’la.”

No longer a danger to herself or others

She made up her mind and laced up her shoes…

Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment

Ate a sleeve of saltines on my floor, and I knew then

I would do anything you want me to

I would do anything for you

I would do anything, I would do anything

Whatever you want me to do, I will do

I will do anything (whatever you want)

Whatever she wants (whatever you want)

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pascallllllll1 · 1 year

Text

The Happiest Place On Earth

Request: “Hi can I request a one shot where reader and Pedro Pascal have a daughter named Esmeralda? They go to Disney for the first time, they dress her up in a Grogu costume and go visit the Mando and everybody go crazy to see Pedro and his daughter.”

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: follows the request above, I also made reader pregnant. Lots of fluff. Esmeralda’s age wasn’t specified so I made her like 4/5?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: pregnancy, suggests smut but no actual smut.

Packing the last of the necessary items you’ll need for the day ahead in your backpack, you zip up the bag and readily set it by the front door of your room. Esmeralda had specifically requested that daddy book her in the fairytale suite so she could get her beauty rest like a real princess and being wrapped around her tiny finger Pedro went online later that day to book said room. The room your growing family of three is currently getting ready in. Cressessing your small bump you cross the room approaching your struggling husband who’s trying to fight your five year old into putting sunscreen on.

“NO DADDY!” She screeches, resisting his best efforts to apply the cream to her face and ears.

“Princesa please, the quicker we finish this up the sooner we can leave and check out all the cool stuff.” He attempts to reason with her. Stubborn times such as this one remind you exactly how alike you both are, your living breathing karma of what you put your own parents through. You decide to throw Pedro a bone and come to his long awaited rescue. You fake gasp obnoxiously loud to catch your daughters attention;

“Oh. My. Gosh. Guess who I just found out is here?!” You ask Esmeralda dramatically, squatting eye level with her. Pedro laughs and moves over to make room for you next to him.

“Who?!” She asks, eyes widening in excitement.

“Grogu and Mando!!” You exclaim jumping up and bouncing around. Esmeralda screams at the information and launches herself forward tacking Pedro with a huff.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US DADDY!!!!”

“Careful,” You playfully chastise her. “Daddy’s getting old can’t be as rough with him or he’ll break on us.” You joke causing Esmeralda to throw her head back and fall over sideways exaggeratedly in a fit of laughter.

“I was gonna say sorry and give you your surprise mi hija but not if you two meanies are ganging up on me!” He pouts.

“Aw I’m sorry baby.” You coo, coming up to him to cup his face and kissing the patchy bald spot you love oh so much on his scruffy jaw.

“I promise to make you feel better later.” You whisper low enough for his ears only. Pedro closes his eyes and groans at your hidden meaning before standing to his full height and making his way over to his bag to dig for Esmeralda’s surprise. When he returns she’s waiting patiently trying to get a peak at plastic wrapped, outfit? tucked behind his back.

“IT’S A GROGU COSTUME!!!!!—“

“Wowww, inside voice please! I know it’s very exciting hun but there’s other people in the building.-“ He leans forward swooping Esmeralda up in his arms so she could further inspect the outfit.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Thank you for apologising hun, it’s alright.” God he’s so patient and caring with her. Every time you witness this paternal side of Pedro feels like a gift. You really are the luckiest woman in the world blessed with the most loving, doting husband who excels at fatherhood beyond your wildest dreams and taking to it like a fish to water. This is it. Everything you’ve ever wished for is currently giggling to each other while dressing in the adorable costume. Your beautiful family, that soon but not nearly soon enough your baby boy will be joining.

“What do you think mommy, am I pretty?” Esmeralda asks, twirling around in a circle on one foot then posing with her hands on her hips. The large floppy green ears bounce and swing with every movement, she’s drowning in the baggy brown fabric of the robe, her bright pink converse sneakers peeking out from underneath, and wears a smile that says she’s never been happier.

“I think you look gorgeous baby, right daddy?” You ask teasingly, trying but ultimately failing to hold back a smirk. He crosses his arms and huffs. He’ll get you back for all your teasing later.

“Si te ves muy hermosa hija.” Pedro confirms smiling.

***

You follow and observe from behind while pushing Esmeralda’s wagon stroller as she leads your husband hand in hand through the bustling crowds towards the Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge attractions.

“Where would you like to go first, sweet girl?” Pedro asks, drawing Esmeralda’s wandering gaze to himself.

“I wanna make a lightsaber!!” She exclaims jumping up and down, her big ears slapping her face as she does causing both you and Pedro to laugh.

“Of course, let’s go head over there to… Black Spire Outpost.” He says pointing at the entrance of the workshop.

While Pedro pays for Esmeralda to do the activity you stand with your daughter admiring the beautifully staged rock cavern you're in. You’ve always loved and appreciated the Star Wars universe and its beauty. So many people and stories to explore within it that could continue going on infinitely. A warmth blossoms in your chest thinking about Pedro getting to be a part of that. He’d introduced everyone to a new character and without facial expression, only body language and tone of voice showed us the many layers and personality of The Mandalorian, Din Djarin. You are so insanely proud of him.

A kiss on your cheek and a hand drawing small circles on your belly brings you back to the present.

“Ok we’re all set, vamos!” Pedro announces giddily to which is met by loud cheers from your daughter.

The group you're with is small, usually that’s a positive but at the moment with such few faces amongst everyone to look at, your husbands very pretty and recognizable one is just that, more recognizable. You meet one of Savi’s Gatherers outside his workshop and Esmeralda chooses between four different hilts to build her lightsaber with, all having a different theme. Peace and Justice. Power and Control. Element Nature. Protection Defence. After hard consideration she diligently comes to the conclusion of choosing the Element Nature hilt which embodies the force, but mainly because she thought it was the coolest looking.

Next for the activity Esmeralda gets to choose a Kyber crystal, picking between red, blue, green and violet she confidently swipes the violet crystal.

“Now we get to put it together mommy!” She says smiling up at you with her crystal on display then runs to assemble the lightsaber with the help of her father. The process of putting everything together thankfully didn’t take long and in no time Esmeralda was wielding a blade of her own. By now you could feel the stares from those around you multiplying and you grab Pedro’s hand to signal his attention;

“Baby I think people are starting to notice who you are.” You speak quietly into his ear, playing it off like a playful kiss. He glances around inconspicuously and realises you’re right.

“Hey princesa, how ‘bout we go find some snacks, daddy’s getting hungry. Sound good babe?” He turns his head patiently waiting for confirmation from you. You peck his lips and respond with a, sounds good, and move to start making your way to the cantina cafe.

***

“Hi! could I get three small blue milks.. two roasted pork wrap Ronto Roasters and.. one grilled sausage, please!” You smile up at the cashier, she confirms your order and you tap your card on the scanner to pay then move closer to your family while you wait.

“Three small blue mills!” You grab your drinks thanking the worker and pass Esmeralda her own. She’s off in her own little world enthralled by the new strange drink.

“Babe,” Pedro says, getting your attention, then thanking you when you hand him his cup. You look up at him, eyebrows raising in question.

“People are starting to take photos and record, it’s only a matter of time before they start coming up to me-“

“-Two roasted pork wraps and one grilled sausage wrap!” Pedro sighs, moving over to grab the food, smiling at and thanking the worker again. He passes the food out and Esmeralda continues to zone out of yours and Pedro’s conversation and focus on the food set in front of her.

“How about you and Esmeralda finish up here and head towards a gift shop, I know she wants to grab some stuff for home. I’ll go use the washroom and walking around alone gives the fans some time to approach me without interfering with family time. I’ll come meet up with you both after a few photos.”

“Works with me.” You agree, smiling.

“Esmeralda, you wanna go space shopping while daddy goes pee?” The question has her snapping her head up at you and rushing to clean up her mess from eating.

“Ya! Ya! Let’s go, mommy!” She reaches for your hand not being used to push the stroller to hold and moves to leave, yelling over her shoulder to her dad;

“Don’t pee your pants, daddy! Mommy won’t be there to clean you up!” Pedro lets out an obnoxiously loud belly laugh that makes you giggle back at him before letting your daughter pull you down the path towards the promise of toys. After you and Esmeralda leave Pedro unwrap his food and scarfs it down quickly on his way to the washroom.

Esmeralda spends 20 minutes sorting through the many different options to bring home with her in Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities. By the time the two of you make it up to the cash register she’s piling shirts, stuffies, one lanyard, a handful of pins and a few toys onto the checkout counter. When you paid the outrageous cost for her small hoard of items you tried to reason with yourself that it was Esmeralda’s first trip to Disney, special occasion means special treatment, right? As you’re walking out of the shop you spot Pedro finishing up with some fans a few feet ahead of you. Immediately, Esmeralda spots her daddy and is rushing over to him and jumping up into his arms.

“Daddy! I wanna show you all my new toys!” The group of people now forming around Pedro laugh and gush over your precious daughter, commenting on how much she resembles him. Esmeralda, like her father, soaks up with attention like a sponge and loves every second of it. As far as she’s concerned this group of people are for her and not her father. They all adore her Grogu outfit and one person tells Pedro he should’ve dressed as Mando to match.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet all of you and I’m sorry I can’t stick around longer but I have to get back to my family now. Everyone have a good time and enjoy yourselves!“ Pedro waves and smiles to everyone, carrying Esmeralda back over to you and continuing on in a new direction.

“How was that?” You ask him curiously. He turns to you and huffs out a breath;

“Good. I love getting to meet and interact with my fans, I wouldn’t be anywhere without their support. But sometimes I wish I could draw that line of time and place a little more clearly to them, ya know.” He shares with you. You nod in agreement and wrap an arm around his waist to comfort him.

“Yeah, I get it.” You say staring up at him. He leans down and softly kisses your lips letting them hover after.

“Ew! No kissing!” Esmeralda gasps grossed out before falling into a fit of laughter. Pedro attacks your face in kisses to bug her more and all you can do is laugh and enjoy this time with your family.

“Ok! Ok! Ah, ok!! Let’s go check out something else, huh?” You question both the Pascal’s before you.

“Falcon one next!”

“To the Millennium Falcon, vamos mi familia!!!” Pedro shouts with a loud clap of his hands.

The three of you spent the rest of the day exploring the galaxy via rides and interactive activities, gorging yourselves on as many sweet treats as your bodies could handle. Later that night you’d reward your husband and show him how much you appreciated what a perfect father and spouse he was. Meanwhile twitter and Instagram would become flooded with photos of your family adventuring Disney, Esmeralda as Grogu causing fans to go wild.

Open to requests!!

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sofasoap · 1 year

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Nightmare

Pairing : Din Djarin x GN!Reader + Grogu

Summary: Din's biggest nightmare is losing his family, his clan, losing you.

kind of set after Grogu comes back from Jedi training, and let's just pretend Din still got Razor Crest or bought a similar size ship. Starfighter is just too.... SMALL! Warning: M rating ,strong languages. English is my 2nd language, not beta'ed either, so I apologise for any mistakes. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please don't enter if you are under 18 or of legal age in your country and turn around NOW. minors DNI. A/N: For @deakyjoe again. I promised her if she did her Uni work I will write something lol. Here it is.

MASTERLIST

"I am leaving." Din's hand froze. He slowly look up from the blaster he was cleaning. " I don't think I can do this anymore Mando." Shaking your head. " I am sick of this... fighting, and this, " waving your hands around, " I am sick of being trapped inside all the time, in this enclosed space." His hands start to shake. He open his mouth, but no sound is coming out.

"I want to settle down... not hiding from the enemy all the time, and this is not a good environment to bring up the younglings!" Turning towards your cot, you pick up your bag and started stuffing your belongs into it.

"And this bullshit of creed, not showing your face, and Oh, they ditch you even though you are the holder of darksaber just because you showed your face to outsider?" You rolled your eyes.

Din try to argue, still, he couldn't make a sound. As if someone has taken his voice away from him.

" So you got nothing to say to me Mando? Not even going to try and persuade me?" Sighing as you walk past him, picking up Grogu as you head out of the ship. " I am taking Grogu with me. I hope this is the last time I see you, DIN DJARIN." You spatted out his name, not even looking back and walked off into the forest.

Din screamed as he sat up from his bunk. Sweat completely drenching his body. Totally disorientate he turn on the night light beside his head and look around. It's too quiet. Usually he hears sounds of you walking around the ship, doing chores or fixing things, or little cooing sound of Grogu, and you telling him off for being a mischief. The fear surface again, was that nightmare real?? and I am just replaying the episode again and again in my mind ? Quickly donning his helmet, not even bothering with rest of his armour, he stepped out from his tiny bunker. No one in the cargo area, refresher empty. Climbing up towards the cockpit, not a trace of you two.

Lastly checking your bunk space, blanket folded neatly, your bag is missing. Din feel likes he was about to have a breakdown. He couldn't imagine his life without you. Without the little Munchkin. His clan of three. He hasn't even confess his feeling to you yet. Rushing to putting his armour on, he set out to find you two. Guessing you two haven't made it too far, there is still a chance. Just as he was about to step out, the cargo hold landing door opened up. And there's you, with his son tucked away in one of the bag, holding some sort of sweet pastry in his hand, and your backpack on your back and another satchel full of groceries and supplies. The two of you were giggling and laughing, as if sharing a joke. " OH! Mando, you are awake!" You greeted to him as you spotted him standing by the entrance. Din rush up towards you, pull you into an embrace. " Mando...are you OK?" You still haven't change your habit of calling him Mando. Even though you heard his real name already through Moff Gideon. You thought Din haven't given you the permission to use his name, you will stick with calling him Mando. Letting out a shaky breath. " Where did you guys go?" " We went out for supply run, it was such a good weather and you mention this area and town is relatively safe... So I thought I take Grogu for a stroll." putting down one of the side satchel and Grogu force jumped out from the bag. "Sorry I didn't wake you up. You were in such a deep sleep and you haven't had a good rest for last few weeks.. So I thought I'll let you be." You replied apologetically and gave him a squeeze. " Come on. I bought some of your favourite fruits. Turns out they had a very good harvest this year on this planet. I can make them into ration bar and preserves, so you won't need to hunt for them for a long time." You smiled at him. Just as you about to turn away and head back into the ship, Din moved his hand, cupping your face and pull you head in, lightly touching his forehead. "Man.. Mando?" Your face heating up. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Cyare..." He whispered back. You closed your eyes. Enjoying this intimate moment. "That's a new word...what does it mean Mando?" " I'll tell you one day... not now.. but one day."

"....and please.. call me Din." ".. Din." The sound of his name , so sweet and loving coming out from your mouth. Din felt someone tugging his pants and little coo sound. " I think he feels left out." You laughed. Din let go of you, bending down to pick his son up and gave him a little knock forehead to forehead.

" Come on, let's go help your buir to put away the groceries." Din commented. " that's ANOTHER new word Din... what does it mean? You got to start teaching me some Mando'a soon.. otherwise I would think you two are talking behind my back! " You said half jokingly. ".. It means parent." You raised your eyebrow as he explain it to you. You stood there for a moment as the two boys walk up the plank back into the ship. Took you few second to understand the implication, his words, and his action from before. Your heart flutters. Maybe.. Just maybe? That little hope and desire you have tucked away starting to rise.

".. I thought you two left me.. " " Never Din... We will never leave you. I will never leave you. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. "

I know its a common joke and meme how he is technically the holder of Darksaber and they just flick him away like that.. unless they come up with a good reason.. to me it's just a major plot hole. Thank you for reading, liking and reblogs!

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin imagine #the mandarlorian

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 9 months

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Honey, I love your hc! OK I need another set of the Noticing You've Picked Up Their Mannerisms but with Tyelko and also Glorfindel! Please and also thank you in advance! 💚💚💚

Noticing you’ve picked up their mannerisms - Celegorm and Glorfindel

Author’s note: A bit late but here it is! Enjoy queen💅🏽

Celegorm

Ever since he was little, Tyelkormo has had the habit of persuading others with a specific move whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to be doing

He told you about it once, and you had burst out laughing because you simply couldn’t imagine him acting this way, since he was usually the one receiving the compliments — why would he need to turn it around?

It had all started as a joke, when he had asked his mother permission to follow his older brothers into the woods past sunset to go bird watching

Nerdanel, however, had denied her then youngest child and that was when little Tyelko had found out that his silver tongue could get him anywhere

You didn’t believe him when he had told you about this sneaky tactic of his, but then remembered how many times he had persuaded you to do certain things or turn a blind eye on what he was doing

Usually, he would have no problem with you doing your thing but today, you really wanted to practice sparring with the Ambarussar who were insisting you brought their brother’s precious longsword

You knew he wouldn’t allow it, since that weapon meant a lot to him it’s basically an extension of his ego but you decided to give it a try

So when you enter his room, ask nicely and end up getting rejected, you gently hug him from behind and tell him how much you would appreciate it, how he had such a generous heart and how his sword would be the only worthy weapon yadayadayada

Basically you’re sucking up to him like a champ, touch his biceps while you’re at it

Someone with an ego like that simply can’t resist a beautiful person complimenting him right?

“I suppose I could- hey!” He frees himself from your sensual grip and stares at you with wide eyes, a surprised, playful grin spreading across his face seconds later “I don’t believe it, using my own evil ways against me,” he muses in disbelief, feline eyes twinkling mischievously

You feign shock, mockingly placing your hand on your heart “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A for effort queen

Nevertheless, Tyelko is impressed. You almost tricked him! That deserves a reward

But now he’s staring at you through the window, hawk eyes watching his precious sword in your nervous hands — performance anxiety incoming

And be prepared to be charmed when you return

Glorfindel

This one is bittersweet

When he first returned from the Halls of Mandos, Glorfindel wore his hair in a single braid, never once letting it down like he used to ages ago

You know it was because of his last battle, and you also know that it had taken him a long time to overcome the habit of putting his golden tresses into a braid whenever he was about to leave his chambers

It just made him feel safer

You’ve seen him do it countless times. You’d wake up to him sitting on the edge of the bed, hands quickly working to weave a specific pattern into the braid

You hardly put your hair up, the sole reason being you preferred it down

But today was rather windy and you’ve been running around with hair blowing all over the place, blocking your view, tangling itself in your jewellery and tickling your face and neck constantly

Glorfindel is at your side, helping you pick some seasonal herbs for you to dry and press later this evening when a lock of your hair blows in his face, making him scrunch his nose

You laugh, gently pulling it back and begin to complain about the windy weather while your hands simultaneously start gathering the hair and braiding it in his unique style

He’s stunned and just watches you without really listening to you talk — that braid looks awfully familiar

The way your hands subconsciously move just like his astounds him

“Wait, Y/N, let me see,” he softly turns your head to the side to admire the intricate pattern worked into your braid, you literally copied each and every one of his techniques flawlessly

For some reason he feels emotional, knowing that this braid emerged from a deep wound within, and now his beloved is wearing it with a smile on their face

In a way, he feels proud to have had such an impact on you — a person who never really braids their hair in the first place

“What is it?” you ask before connecting the dots “I didn’t realize!” Your hand flies up to touch the back only to be met with his already caressing your hair in awe

“It looks beautiful on you,” he sighs, gently laying the braid across your shoulder

In that moment, Glorfindel feels closer to you than ever

He sees your love in that braid, his story coming into contact with yours and creating something wonderful

You make a mental note to wear your hair like this more often just to see the wistful expression on his face

He doesn’t talk about his last battle very often, but you feel like you got a bit closer to him today

And he feels it too, he’s already contemplating how to share more of his past with you, step by step :)

#celegorm #celegorm imagine #celegorm headcanon #celegorm x reader #tyelkormo #glorfindel #glorfindel imagine #glorfindel headcanon #glorfindel x reader #request

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604to647 · 3 months

Text

Safest with You (Ch. 12 - The Workout)

7.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din “work out” at Mando’s gym and you end up getting sick.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), reader ogles Din like a piece🥩, smut, unprotected PiV sex, semi-public sex (car), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, light daddy kink, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), description of flu symptoms (it's gross y'all), reader is described as shorter than Din and he strokes her hair while she's sick.

A/N: Oo! This is a long one; it's just because The Workout and The Cold used to be two chapters and I ended up shmushing them together. There was an ask about Din taking care of reader while she's vulnerable; I hope this chapter fulfills that ask! 🥰 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“You know, you can come work out at Mando’s, if you want.”

“Really? That won’t be weird? Like, I’m moving in on your space?”

“I like you in my space.”

Din says it like a simple statement of fact, not even looking up from the cutting board where he’s slicing the steak he grilled for dinner. You’re not big on working out, but once in a while you just like to go for a run or a row and zone out to some TV; it’s not a regular thing so you don’t have a membership anywhere, and your building has a gym on the third floor that you can use whenever the urge strikes you (not often). But this morning when you went downstairs, ready to put in the hour you needed to catch-up on your favourite trashy reality show, you had found a temporary closure notice on the gym entrance.

It's not a bad idea. The weather is getting a bit chillier so your walks with Al haven’t been as long as both of you would like; it might be nice to have another option to get a little bit of exercise, “It’s okay if I just use the cardio machines? I won’t use any of the weight lifting equipment or anything.”

“You can use whatever you like. I’ll even have Jimmy fetch you water and towels.”

“Noooooo,” you make a face and shake your head.

“Yessssss,” he mimics you, “You’re the boss’ girl, you should be treated special.”

“You treat me special enough, for you and Jimmy both, thanks,” you say, still scrunching up your nose, but you tell Din you’ll take him up on his kind offer.

---

The next weekend, you leave Al snoozing on the Din’s bed and head down to the gym with the intention of saying hi to Din while he works, but also to run off some of the stress from the work week. Like the gym in your building, there are enough empty machines so you have your pick, but unlike your gym, the patrons all seem to know one another and are treating their workouts like a social event. Din’s helping out with the training today; you give him a little wave when you walk by the ring so not to distract him, and pick a treadmill off to the side so you can still see him and also simultaneously do some innocent people watching while you run. Headphones on, your phone jacked in to the console so you can stream your show, you pick the program you want the machine to run and start your work out.

Your plan is almost immediately derailed. As the familiar title sequence of your show starts to play, your eyes drift up past the screen and lock onto Din’s figure in the ring. He’s sparring with Chris today; having already gone a few rounds while you were upstairs, both men are sweaty and breathing heavily, chests and shoulders heaving as they circle each other. Din has sweated through his t-shirt so that it’s now sticking against his body, making him look even more immense than usual, and you openly gawk at the strong lines of his back and arms visible through the darkened fabric. As if he’s somehow reading your mind, Din puts a pause on the bout in order to remove his wet shirt; it’s not an easy task given his gloves, but he manages it with some grace and the use of his teeth to pull and hold the collar. When he finally whips the shirt over his damp curls, you’re treated to the sight of his thick, hard chest, glistening and flexing as he stretches out his arms; you feel a heat pooling below your abdomen and a flush spread across your chest that has nothing to do with your lackluster exercise efforts.

Far from doing any people watching like you had planned, you’re now struggling to make sure that you yourself don’t become a spectacle by openly drooling while you watch a shirtless Din fight in the ring. Every one of his punches is quick and agile, arms extending perfectly to show off his control and precision; his muscles prominent and flexed, the veins on his forearms protruding as his gloved fists clench, ready for impact. He’s a mammoth force, a powerhouse, somehow both immovable and unstoppable, and he looks good enough to eat.

You haven’t watched single a minute of your show and it’s actually getting to the point where the voices coming through your headphones are an unwelcomed distraction from the actual show you’re engrossed in, so you take off your headphones and place them next to your water bottle. Big mistake. Now, you can very clearly hear Din’s groans and pants as he ducks and punches. It’s like the thirst trap video you’ve been watching all of a sudden turned up its pornographic soundtrack. Din’s low, throaty grunts as he exerts himself, coupled with the words of praise you hear him shout out in his deep, encouraging baritone, have your mind running wild.

When Chris lands a hard punch to Din’s shoulder and you hear him grunt out, “Fuck!”, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You’re pounding back your water, throat parched and sweating profusely, and you’re barely 20 minutes into the preselected program; you’re not even going to lie to yourself, the flush of your skin and your shortness of breath have absolutely nothing to do with this treadmill. You’re about to admit defeat and cut the run short, thinking you could definitely benefit from a cold shower, when you see Chris and Din touch gloves, seemingly done training for the moment. Din ducks under the ropes and starts taking off his gloves; as he walks past you, he throws a towel around his neck and you a quick wink. Where is he going? You watch as he heads to the front of the gym, disappearing around the partition wall that rests between the front door and the main gym.

Without even thinking, you stop your machine, grab your things, and try to quickly and discretely follow. You find Din outside, having put on a dry shirt, standing behind his truck with the trunk door opened above him as he rifles through the box full of equipment he keeps in the trunk. Wordlessly, you put your things down on the trunk bed next to the box, surprising Din at your sudden appearance, “Hey pretty bird, what are you doing here? It’s cold, you sh-“. Taking his hand, you lead him to step back before pressing the auto-close button on the trunk door; as it folds down; you open the door to the back seat of the truck, and gently push Din to get in, with you following directly.

Din chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him with a hunger in your eyes, “Baby, what’s all th-?”. He’s cut short when you silence him by throwing your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his, hard and hurried. You’re embarrassingly pent up from the last 20 minutes of watching the hottest man you’ve ever known show off his power and skill on what was basically a stage you had a front row seat to, and now you need to feel the strength of those muscles on you, under you, fucking up into you.

“Want you,” you mumble against his lips, “…so turned on. Watching you.” You’re barely able to string together your thoughts, you’re so consumed with exploring the cavern of Din’s mouth with your tongue, but Din gets the idea. Feeling incredibly needy, you start lightly grinding down on Din’s lap, and he encourages you by placing his hands on your waist and helping guide your movements; even this light friction feels overwhelmingly good against your aching clit, and you throw you head back and cry out, unabashed and loud enough for anyone walking by Din’s car to hear.

“Fuck, daddy, need you. Please, please…” your mouth back to messy kissing Din’s as your hands thread through his damp hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck and earning you a deep growl from the back of his throat.

“Look at my desperate, pretty girl,” groans Din, eyes greedy as you take off your t-shirt, then your sports bra, letting your tits bounce in his face, “…can’t even go a whole work out without riding her daddy’s dick.”

Unable to wait another minute, you peel your wet shorts and panties off in one go, now completely naked, sweaty and panting on top of a still fully clothed Din. “Not my fault, daddy,” you pout as you press yourself down on Din’s clothed cock, making a wet mess of his gym shorts. “You looked so fucking good in that ring, then you were making all those grunting noises. Couldn’t think of anything else but you filling me with your cock. Ahh-,“ you gasp out loud as Din takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nibbling and rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth before sucking down and flicking it with his tongue. You whine and increase the intensity and tempo of your movements while he moves to do the same to your other nipple, hand palming and tweaking the now abandoned breast. Din’s free hand snakes its way down to your core only to find you slick with want, a sticky mess already coating your inner thighs and soaking through his shorts, “Messy, messy slut. You get this wet just from watching me spar? Good thing you followed me out here, can’t have you leaking all over the gym floor like this.” He brings up his fingers so you can both see how your wetness coats his fingers, even though he has yet to insert them into you. When he pulls them apart, you watch the fluid web that connects his fingers stretch, proof that your pussy is positively leaking; you whimper at the filthy sight and bring Din’s hand to your mouth, popping his fingers into your mouth so you can suck off your own arousal. Moaning at the taste of your own indecency, you grind down hard against Din’s groin, his hard-on straining painfully against his shorts.

“Fuck me,” you mumble, Din’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Let me make you come first, pretty bird,” Din pleads, always putting your pleasure first and wanting to lesson the sting of the first stretch of his cock within your tight walls.

“Can’t wait, daddy… please, I can take it, please.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” grits Din, as he pushes his shorts and boxers down; his leaking cock springing out and slapping against your stomach, coarse hair at the base tickling your clit and making you gasp in pleasure, “YES! Please, daddy, need to bounce for you.”

You’ve never taken him without having come first, and if you weren’t so far gone, answering only to your lust, you would probably be worried; but as you line yourself up with Din, the shudder you get just from swiping his swollen head through you folds and tapping it on your clit makes it impossible to care about anything other than having him inside you right now.

Slowly, slowly you sink down on Din’s length, taking him a little at a time. Din grips your waist tightly, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe; you’re so incredibly tight this, warm cunt practically strangling him, he fights the urge to move and bury himself in you fully. The stretch of Din’s fat cock is almost too much, your soft walls molding so tightly to him you can feel every ridge and vein as you slowly spear yourself downwards. The pain doesn’t register so much as the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your body needing more time and space to accommodate Din’s thickness. When he finally bottoms out, you just sit and sigh, sated from just warming his throbbing cock in your tight heat.

Your lust driven frenzy quelled, you now rest serene in Din’s arms, drinking in his gentle kisses, soothing touches, and words of praise of how good you’re doing for him; Din worshipping you as you take his cock so perfectly, and you getting used to his size and relearning how to breathe. Finally, finally, you look up at Din’s face to see his eyes filled with adoration, and your breathing evens, allowing you to kiss him with renewed passion. Grinning against your lips, Din murmurs, “Thought you wanted to bounce, bunny?”

Pulling away slightly and grinning back, you nod and lift yourself up a little, then slowly push yourself down back down fully onto Din’s length again, eliciting a heady groan from you both. You repeat the action, again and again, each time increasing the amount of Din’s length you work in and out of your pussy, until you’re panting and bouncing up and down on the full length of Din’s dick, “Feel so good, daddy. So full.”

“So fucking pretty, bouncing on me like a whore, bunny,” groans Din, as he mouths at your tits. You love his new pet name for you, the endearment spurring you to bounce harder and chase the high that’s been building since you saw him land a thundering cross punch to Chris’ jaw in the ring.

“Love being your slutty bunny, daddy,” you cry, head thrown back in ecstasy, “wanna ride this cock until it’s all creamy. Until it fills me up, ngh..ahhh-“

Din thinks he’s going to explode from your filthy words, then he knows he’s going to explode when he looks down at where the two of you are connected and sees a ring of white around the base of his cock, “Holy shit, baby. Look at you already creaming around me. My perfect bunny. Doing so good riding this dick, taking me so well. So fucking perfect.”

He presses one of his hands against your stomach, balls tightening when he swears he can feel some movement against his palm from the inside, and uses his thumb to draw his name on your swollen clit.

It’s too much, too much. The stretch and burning sting of having taken Din’s cock without much prep, his filthy words of praise, the lewdness of fucking in his car in broad daylight parked out in the open in front of his place of business, the tenderness of your new pet name, the delicious pressure on your clit – you come. You come with a soundless scream, the stuttering of Din’s name punctuated by sharp gasps of air, you body shudders and shivers as you clench down hard on Din’s cock. Hand threading, then fisting the hair at the base of your neck, Din fucks up into you as he praises you through your high.

“So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, pretty bird.”

“My little bunny did such a good job on daddy’s dick.”

“You feel so good, baby. Made for me.”

You’re still so full, but now also so pliant and eager to please; with what remaining energy you have, you bounce down hard, meeting every one of Din’s upward thrusts so he bottoms out in you each time, the force of each drive has your ass jiggling as it slaps down on his thighs. Din grunts and pants as he chases his own finish; you hug yourself around his neck, and babble, “Thank you for making your bunny come, daddy. Felt so good to gush all over your dick. Want to do the same for you, Din. Please, please, fill me up. Need your cum, please.” Never one to deny you anything, Din comes with a roar, filling your pussy with rope after rope of his milky cum so you grow even fuller and continue to hum, “Thank you, thank you, daddy.”

Your post “workout” cooldown comprises of gentle strokes to the back, soft cradling of heads, and quiet words of devotion; tired and satisfied in Din’s embrace, you start to shiver, and this time not from pleasure. Coming out into the cold air while sweating from a run, then getting naked in a colder car was probably not the smartest idea, but you hadn’t been really thinking about the well-being of your health at the time. Din rubs his big hands over your arms to warm you up, “Pretty bird, let’s get you dressed.” You find your gym clothes but the idea of putting on damp clothes is wholly unappealing, so Din reaches his long arms into the trunk and roots around for some spare clothes. Stepping out of the truck in an oversized yellow Lakers t-shirt and Din’s sweatpants that you’ve rolled up multiple times, you realize it couldn’t be any more obvious what the two of you have been up to.

Getting your things from the trunk, you decide to go through the side entrance straight up to Din’s apartment to avoid any walk of shame embarrassment in the gym. Giving him a parting kiss at the front door, you whisper, “Hope it’s okay we did that, Din. Don’t want anyone to file a complaint against Mando’s.” You look so cute, worried about the reputation of his business, Din can’t help but yank you against him via the waistband of his pants and give you a deep reassuring kiss, “Perk of being a Mando, pretty bird – no one can say shit to you,” before sending you upstairs with a spank.

---

You start to feel a tickle in your throat when you go to sleep on Sunday, and by the time you wake up for work on Monday, it’s a full-blown sore throat. You trudge through a morning of meetings, trying to avoid the pounding of your head and attempt to soothe your throat with lozenges when your team gathers at the door to your office and point a makeshift cross made out of pens and rubber bands at you, telling you to go home.

You gather your computer and some files and tell them you’ll work from home until you’re better, but they insist you rest; you compromise and say you’ll be available by email before heading home.

Din is doing double duty again his week; although you haven’t voiced your concerns, you've noticed that Din’s been a little restless as of late, him and Paz meeting more frequently over an increasing number of border skirmishes and disputes that need to be handled. You’re not sure if it’s anything serious, but you do know that the need to step up security has been weighing on Din – he himself stepping in and putting in more face time than he has since his retirement. You call Din to let him know that you seem to have caught a cold, and you think it’s better if he doesn’t come over, in case he catches it too. With him working long hours, you don’t want anything to risk him getting even less rest than he already is. As expected, he protests, but you insist even though you will miss him.

The next morning you wake up feeling like hot garbage. You slog through about two hours of work before making the executive decision to put your out-of-office on and reschedule you remaining meetings. Your team tells you they don’t want to hear from you until next week but know you’re likely too stubborn to agree to that. You take a bunch of drugs and wonder how you got sick. You’re usually pretty healthy and while the weather is getting chillier, you’re not out much without being bundled up?

Oh.

Your drowsy brain flashes a vignette of sweaty bodies in the backseat of a car, windows fogging as the heat from illicit activities condense against windows cooled by the lower outside temperatures. Of Din’s face buried into your neck, holding you close as you both calm down, your naked body cooling and shivering after your explosive highs. So, this man really will be the death of me, you think, as you pass out.

You wake up groggy and with your throat on fire later in the afternoon. Popping some more drugs, you reply to some work emails and the messages from your friends and Din checking in. You know he’s doing another late night with the Mandos, so you downplay your symptoms a bit so he will acquiesce to your suggestion that he go straight home to rest again. It’s easier to do over text; a phone call would have given away your loss of voice and sent him racing over. With your friends, you can be more candid, I’m dying you tell them – they all immediately volunteer to come over but you tell them to stay away for their own sakes. Going to bed early after taking Al out, you debate dinner but ultimately go without because you can’t handle swallowing any food.

Wednesday is… a blur. You don’t even turn on your computer today or look at your phone. You drag yourself out of bed, take Al out, feed Al, then curl up on the couch shivering. Shit. This is the flu. Your muscles ache, your head is splitting open, and you can add a stuffed-up nose to your growing list of symptoms. Using the energy you have left to grab more blankets, take some drugs and pull down the blinds, you’re guessing the fever is next. That or death.

It's dark when you finally wake up to your phone buzzing on the coffee table; you groggily look at the time, shoot, it’s 7 pm already? You don’t feel well rested at all. You need to take Al out. Ignoring the call and what you think are a bunch of missed notifications on your phone, you thrown on a jacket over your sweats and apologize profusely to Al while waiting for the elevator. Once outside, you have to admit that the crisp cool air feels amazing against your hot skin, and you’re debating if you should risk taking Al for a short walk when your phone rings again. You pick up when you see it’s Din, “Hubo?” you croak out, barely audible.

“Pretty bird… you sound terrible,” Din’s been worried about you all day. He hasn’t liked the idea of you being alone and sick, but you were pretty insistent that it wasn’t anything to worry about while encouraging him to stay at his place. He’s been feeling a bit off kilter being apart from you; even though he’s exhausted from pulling double duty with the Mandos, he misses at least seeing you and Al for your nightly walk. Now he’s even more thrown when he realizes you’ve been downplaying the severity of your illness for whatever reason.

“Thanks,” you joke, but it doesn’t come out sounding jovial; in fact, it’s barely the sound of a scratch.

“Baby, I’m going to come over and-” Din starts to say when you interrupt, “No, no, you’ll get s-” before you’re stopped mid-sentence by a coughing fit.

Din’s already gathered his things and is getting in his truck by the time you’ve finished coughing, “I’m fin-” you’re saying when you’re cut out by the sound of a siren going by.

Din says your name. He hardly ever says your name; it’s always pretty bird, or baby, or sweetheart, or some other endearment. And he never says it in this low, warning tone, like he’s afraid of what he might say if he doesn’t say your name instead. He repeats it, then, “Who is walking Al while you’re sick?”

Why do you feel like you’re in trouble whether you answer or not? Your body clearly doesn’t want to get in trouble either because it figures the best thing to do is launch another coughing fit.

Din softens a little, “Pretty bird, get inside and get in bed, I’ll be over soon,” and he hangs up before you can attempt to argue.

When you and Al come in a few minutes later, you feed him and give him some fresh water, all while giving him as many fussings as you can muster as a continued apology for having ignored him all day. You trudge over to the kitchen thinking you should eat something, clearly the lack of food has not been aiding your recovery, but as you peer in your fridge, the idea of having to prepare anything overwhelms you. You pour yourself some orange juice and use it to wash down some more flu medication and then look through you phone at the messages you’ve missed while sleeping. You’re mid-scroll when there’s a knock on your door; after opening the door, you quickly step back to let Din in and cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t breathe your germs all over him.

“None of that now, pretty bird,” Din says firmly, reaching for you and pulling you in close with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of your hot head.

“You’ll get sick,” you murmur into his chest.

“Then I’ll get sick,” he puts the bags he brought on the foyer table before gently shuffling you towards your bedroom.

When he sees that your made bed (when did you do that!?) does not look slept in, he tsks, “They say that doctors make the worst patients,” he lays you down after pulling the covers back, tucking you in after, “but I think it’s actually stubborn little girls that work in finance.”

His words are lighthearted but you know he’s worried about you, so you play along and whisper as loud as your painful throat will let you, “Sorry, daddy.”

Din kisses you on your forehead, “You’re burning up. I wish you had let me come over sooner, baby. Take care of you and Al.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, Din,” you murmur, snuggling down into your bed; just being in his very presence has relaxed you. That and the drugs kicking in, has you feeling pliant and snoozy.

“You never bother me, sweetheart. Except maybe when you don’t tell me how sick you really are and you go out in the cold while you have a fever,” he says pointedly.

You yawn and close your eyes, confessing, “You seem so stressed out with all the stuff that’s going on with the Mandos lately, Din. Didn’t want to add to your load, make you feel like you have to come and see me and Al when you’ve already had a difficult day.”

“You ever think that maybe seeing you and Al is exactly what I need after a long hard day of seeing some bad shit go down?” says Din, quietly.

Your eyes open wide; you can’t believe you haven’t thought of it like that. You know that anytime you’re having a bad day, it’s been made better the instant you see Din’s face, and even while you’ve been sick this week, you’ve longed for his soothing embrace. Why didn’t you think it would be the same for him? You sit up so fast you get dizzy, but throw your arms around Din’s shoulders and bury your face in his neck, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird. You were just trying to take care of me. You need to let me take of you too, okay? I like taking care of you.”

You nod into him and let Din gently lay you down again. As you snuggle back into your covers, you pat the other side of the bed, “Come and sit with me and tell me about your day and all the shit that’s been going on until I fall asleep.”

Din climbs onto the bed and starts to pet your hair, “Sounds good. But whenever you wake up next, I’m going to feed you some soup, okay?” You nod, and feel the bed jostle some more as Al hops up on the bed to join in on the family time. He lays down between you and Din, resting his head on Din’s lap so Din can pat his head as well.

When you’re all settled in, Din looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, starts to share. First you learn some background: in addition to the Fett family, there other powerful syndicates in play - The Pykes, the Hutts, the Guavians, to name a few. You make a face when you remember Gorga Hutt and his slimey cronies from Jimmy’s fight night and Din chuckles as if reading your mind. Apparently, years ago, before Boba rose to power, the rival gangs ran unchecked, and violence in the streets was a common occurrence. Gangs constantly fighting for territory or profits made for a lot of instability and it was an unsafe time for Din’s neighbourhood as well as many others in the city. Once Boba had built up sufficient territory and muscle to be taken seriously, he had called the families together and brokered a peace treaty; physical borders and commercial limits were drawn that minimized conflict and overlap of business interests, ensuring prosperity and minimizing bloodshed for all. Din recalls for you how many of his earlier years as Boba’s enforcer were spent strengthening and defending these borders and boundaries. Happily, for the most part things have been stable for many years; nothing is ever truly peaceful but everyone has been co-existing without issue.

However, in the past month or so, something had shifted; little problems and violations have been occurring with increasing frequency.

“What kind of problems?” you ask, you’re fighting sleep to make sure you don’t miss any of what Din is telling you. Din sighs, “Things that if they were to happen as a one-off, wouldn’t necessarily be concerning. Like vandalism of a business under one family’s protection, or minor altercations among lower ranking members from rival families in public places, or even the theft of known family members’ property.” Din rubs his face in frustration. There’s nothing to prove it but Din doesn’t feel that these incidents are isolated; there must be something bigger at play. For now, the Mandos are being dispatched to put out these figurative (and in one case, literal) fires, and to beef up security where future infractions are likely to take place, but Din thinks they need to investigate these events as a whole to see if there is something more sinister behind it all. It’s really been stressing him out.

Holding Din’s hand and stroking it so that you’re the one now comforting him, “I think you should trust your experience with this type of unrest. Plus, you don’t have any reason not to listen to your gut. What does Paz think?”

“He agrees with me, but he’s the leader now and his orders are to quell and prevent further disturbances. Any investigation has got to be secondary.”

“I see. What do you think is going on?” you nuzzle Din’s hand with your cheek, letting him know he can think out loud with you.

Din rubs his chin, “I don’t think it’s a new player, they seem almost too careful. None of the incidents ever hit any big enough targets or players that would lead to full scale retaliation. So it has to be an existing family in order to be in the know. The problem is, I can’t see any of the families risking all out war… for what? A couple of corners? The cost of a few repairs?”

Your analytical brain is turning, “Are the other families run like the Fetts? I mean, when you say it can’t be one of the families, what you really mean is you don’t think it’s a family sanctioned plan or attack, like it isn’t approved by leadership? But, are any of the families big enough or loosely run enough that people could go rogue? Or get away with stuff without their leaders knowing?”

“Hmmmmm… good point, pretty bird. None of the other families are like the Fetts, actually. Boba’s power never came from numbers, but from solidarity… stronger together, is the family motto. Everyone knows what everyone is doing and we stick together, no secrets. As I understand it, that’s not how the other families are run – they’re bigger for one thing. And there’s a lot of segregation so no one knows everything. Everything is need to know and people sort of stick to their own lanes – it’s so no one amasses enough power within the organization to overthrow anyone.” Din shrugs, “I mean, seems like a weird way to run things to me. What you're suggesting would still be risky, and I don’t know why someone would take that risk, but it's definitely possible we should be looking for people who are doing things without proper family sanction.” Din grins down at you, “Smart girl.”

You smile back, “Really?”

“Really. I can think of a few people I want to look into right off the bat. You’ve given me lots to think about, pretty bird. Now go to sleep.”

Yawning a big yawn, you close your eyes and smile, murmuring, “I helped.”

---

When you wake up, it’s nearly midnight; you’re groggy and still feverish, but your stomach is growling and there’s a delicious smell coming in from the kitchen.

You pad out to living room to find Din working on his laptop, a pair of reading glasses perched on his adorable nose. When he sees you, he sets everything down on the coffee table, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Having decided that honesty is the best policy, you croak out, throat still scratchy, “Hungry.”

“Good!” Din guides you to the kitchen and gently helps you up onto a high top at the kitchen island.

As Din takes out a bowl, you ask, “What’s that?” Curious about the pot that’s simmering on the stove; you think it’s the source of the delicious aroma you woke to earlier.

“Peli’s famous chicken noodle soup,” Din ladles some into a bowl.

“You made this?”

“Yeah right. No, Peli won’t share the recipe. Says if we’re lucky she’ll will it to one of us when she dies. Nah, she made this batch for you when she found out you were sick.”

“That’s so nice. She didn’t need to do that. I’ll have to bake her some cookies to thank her when I’m better.”

“She’ll like that, but she wanted to. Pretty girl, don’t you get it? You’re one of us now and we take care of each other. You have more people than you know that have your back.” He puts the steaming bowl of soup in front of you and tells you to wait. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he wraps it around you, tucking in your arms. You manage a small laugh, “How am I supposed to eat my soup?”

“I’ll feed you,” he holds a hand up when he sees your expression, “you said you’d let me take care of you.”

You nod. It’s not in your nature to let people wait on you hand and foot, but you still feel bad for not telling Din how sick you were earlier so, you sit, bundled up on your chair, and let Din spoon the soup that he blows on to cool into you waiting mouth. It’s incredible. Even your stuffed up head can taste the explosion of flavours, the ginger clearing up your sinuses a bit, and the carrots, chicken and noodles all tender enough to be swallowed painlessly. Din patiently feeds you the entire bowl, and you patiently let him; the look of relief and devotion that Din is giving you is enough to make you glad that you let him. After you’ve brushed your teeth, Din sends you straight to bed, hardly needing any convincing to stay with you until you fall asleep.

The next day, Din calls out from work, both jobs. He knows if he goes in, he’ll just be distracted by how you’re doing – plus, he’s making some headway in the investigative notes that he's making for Paz. He does all the walks with Al, and feeds you more soup. He runs you a hot bath filled with eucalyptus bath salts and stays with you while you soak your achy muscles. When he dries you, you try to give him a seductive look, but end up doubling over coughing and he tells you that while he still finds you very sexy even sick (Is that sarcasm?), you need to conserve your energy. You make a face at him when he tucks you into bed. You sleep. By the late afternoon, you feel like you can sustain consciousness for more than an hour and you opt to lay on the couch and hangout with Din. He puts on the comfort movie of your choice and massages your feet while you eat a yogurt. You fall back asleep before the end of the movie, barely registering when Din turns it off and takes you back to bed.

It's past midnight when you wake up again and the first irrational thing you think is that you’ve somehow gone back in time and gotten sick again, but this time worse. You feel disgusting. Your nose is no longer stuffy, but that’s because the snot is now just free flowing out of your face. You’re so snotty, in no time at all you’re surrounded by a ring of used tissues from having to blow your nose so much, and there’s no end in sight. Your sore throat and dry cough, which had been clearing up, have been replaced with rattling phlegm which you can’t seem to clear no matter how hard you hack, but you try until your eyes water. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

Din, appears in your doorway when he hears you, “Baby, you okay?”

You look up at him, squinting through your tears at his sleep tousled hair and the wrinkles on the pajamas he must have changed into. You woke him. And this is the thing that just breaks you and you start to cry for real. He rushes over, scared, “Pretty bird, does something hurt? Let me make it better.” His obvious concern and caring tone of voice just make you cry harder, and now you’re snotting even more. Great. You hate that he’s seeing you like this. You’re not the smart, pretty, funny girl he dates, you’re this weak thing, sick and tired and gross. Totally unsexy. Completely unhelpful. Needy. Putting so much on him. He can’t even get a decent night’s sleep around you.

You don’t realize you’ve said this all out loud until Din tuffs out a little laugh. He climbs onto the bed and sits right across from you taking your hands in his, kissing them.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“No, it’s not,” you choke out between sobs, “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Din sighs, but it’s not a sigh of exasperation, but of understanding; he tips your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why? I’m so gross.”

Smiling, Din patiently explains, “Why? Because I love you, pretty bird, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen; your drowsy brain isn’t sure you heard him right, “You love me?”

He nods at you kindly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But to you, in your current state, you can’t comprehend it, “Like this?”

Din lets out a deep laugh, one that fills the room, and he strokes your hair and looks lovingly at you, “Yes. I love you like this. Like the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, one who never ceases to think of the welfare and comfort of others even when she’s in an obvious state of discomfort herself. Like someone I truly love taking care of because it’s such an honour to take care of her. She’s strong and capable, and she doesn’t really need me and never asks anything of me, but trusts me enough to let me be around her when she’s not feeling strong and capable even though she is definitely still all those things. It’s an honour to be good enough to take care of you, pretty bird, because the only person that can do the job properly is you, and it’s an honour to come second to you for anything.”

“Yes, I love you like this. And I love you when you’re playing with Al, when you’re sneaking the treats you bake to Jimmy when you think Greef isn’t looking, and when you’re happy just to keep me company while I work. I love you when just the sight of you brings a peace into my life that I didn’t know was possible, and when you laugh, or call me ‘old man’ or when you listen to me talk about the Mandos and never judge. I love you when I see your name pop up on my phone and when you hold my hand when we walk Al together.”

“I love you all the time, pretty bird.”

Now you’re crying for a different reason, though no longer hysterical; just silent tears running down your face as you come to the obvious but inescapable conclusion about your connection to this magnificent force of a man in front of you, “I love you, too, Din.”

And you do. You do love him. You love all that he is, all that he’s capable of, and all of who he chooses to be on a daily basis. You love his kindness, his protectiveness, his compassion, his gentleness. You love that he lives by a code that values loyalty, respectfulness, and helping others, and he practices this creed in every little thing he does. You love his playfulness, and his sharp wit, and how being able to make him laugh feels like an incredible accomplishment and when you do it, you just immediately want to do it over and over again. You love that he always makes you feel wanted and cherished, but never treats you like you’re breakable. You love how he’s constantly pushing up his reading glasses, and thinks they make him look old but will blush when you tell him how attractive you find them. You love him when he’s bringing you and your work team dinner and remembers that someone’s gluten free. You love him when he places his hand on your thigh when he’s driving, and you love him when he pushes up your sleeves when they start to slip when you’re washing dishes even without you asking him to. Yes, you love him all the time too.

You can’t tell him all that right now, though; you’re too sick and sleepy, but you think you’ll be able to tell tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. For now, you love him by letting him love you, snot and all. Clearing away all the tissues on your bed, you lay back down and scoot backwards towards of the middle of the bed, making a space for Din and hold your arms out, I need you. Din’s smile spreads wide across his face, relieved and content, he climbs in and wraps you up in his arms. Stroking your hair, your back, as your breathing evens.

Drifting off, you roll over so your back is pressed to Din’s chest, taking comfort in feeling him there, a physical and proverbial wall for you to lean on, “Good night, Din. I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty bird. Good night.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #no y/n

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kaminocasey · 10 months

Text

Joyride Part 2

Summary: Can you talk your way out of trouble or are you going to go head to head with Cad Bane? Will you get that shower with Hunter that he promised???

Pairing: Hunter x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut, Angst, Unprotected P in V (wrap it up friends), shower sex, Fluff AND Smut AT THE SAME TIME???? Romantic!Hunter.

WC: 4.5K

A/N: Sorry this took a hot ass minute. I hope I made up for it though. I've been thinking about this man literally NONSTOP.

Part One │ Taglist Form

Six months ago.

“Kriff… There’s no way out…” Hunter grunts, shining his flashlight throughout the room.

You put your hand up to shield your eyes as he shines it in your direction, turning around and then notice something you’d all missed.

“If there’s no way out of this building, then where are they headed?” You ask Hunter as you nod toward the large womp rats scurrying through the room behind some crates.

You quickly walk over and start pushing them out of the way, Wrecker quickly coming to move the heavier ones for you. You smile up at the large man, pleased, when you find a large enough opening that’s definitely going to be your way out.

“What, do you want a cookie?” Hunter asks and you shoot him a glare.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, knowing he can hear you anyway.

“Ignoring that.” He whispers in your ear, as he walks past to inspect the opening.

You ignore the slight warmth that runs from head to toe from his low, gruff voice. Ugh. Hunter truly irritates you so much, it's a wonder either of you get anything done.

“Let’s get moving.” Hunter tells the group and once everyone goes through the opening down into some sort of sewer system, Hunter offers his hand to help you down, tilting his helmet at you.

You bat his hand away and jump. But you can’t help but wonder what his hand would feel like in yours.

Present, Lower Levels of Coruscant

“If you touch her, I will rip your throat out.” Hunter’s voice brings you back to the present. You’re still on the garage floor, you realize, your muscles still not strong enough to pull you up just yet. When you try to open your eyes, you feel a cool finger trace down your bare neck and you understand now that Hunter was speaking to whoever the owner of the finger was.

“I told you, one wrong move and I’ll blast her, didn’t I?” A low drawled voice speaks, evenly and calmly. “Now, you’re going to tell me where Cid is and I’m gonna let this pretty little thing go and then you two can be on your way.”

You know that voice… And with knowing that voice, you know you’ve met your match.

Cad Bane… Of course. Why not make your life harder? Maker, you really hate being stunned.

“Nevarro.” You finally open your eyes, looking up at him. “She’s on Nevarro.”

“Ah, little lady’s awake.” Cad Bane pulls you up by your dress strap and Hunter struggles against the two men holding him back.

“Relax.” You whisper quiet enough that Cad can’t hear you but you know that Hunter can.

He stops struggling and settles, looking at you with an expression of concern.

“Proof?” Cad asks.

“She’s making a trade deal with Arua Stullie. Something about Imperial weaponry.” You lie as coolly as you can.

“And what does Arua Stullie want with Imperial weapons?” Cad holds the blaster to your neck and Hunter looks like he’s seriously about to run for Bane and rip his teeth out.

You’ve never seen Hunter look so furious. Hunter isn’t a good liar though. It’s definitely one of his biggest flaws. In fact, none of the Batch are good at lying. Almost humorously so. Except right now.

Lucky for you, Cid taught you how to lie, steal, cheat, gamble, etc. Basically anything that a morally good person wouldn’t do, you were taught the opposite.

“Arua’s planning an attack on some Imperial vessel. Cid came into the weapons yesterday from some rogue Mandos. Don’t know much more than that.” You shrug, keeping your voice steady.

“That true, handsome?” Cad asks Hunter.

Hunter nods, still glaring, and Cad’s quiet for a moment before letting your dress strap go and dropping you to the floor.

“Alright. I believe you.” Cad sighs. “You can go.”

“Wow, thanks so much for your incredible hospitality.” You glare up at him as Hunter rushes to you.

“Next time you plan on crossing my path, don’t.” Cad warns you.

It’s not that you’re necessarily afraid of Cad Bane. He’s just serious about his money and you probably should count yourself lucky that he let you go.

“Yeah, no worries.” You grunt.

Cad and whoever these thugs are make out like bandits and Hunter looks at you for a moment, searching your eyes as he gently cups your face. His hands are so warm against your skin. Or maybe your cheeks are warm from the way he’s looking at you so softly right now.

“Are you alright?” He whispers.

You nod. “I’m fine.”

“You ever lie to me like that?” He smirks. “You’re scarily good at it.”

“Not necessarily.” You grin and he rests his forehead against yours. “I have no reason to lie to you, sarge.”

When he stands up, he helps you up and then leads you into the Marauder, shutting the hatch and locking it. You look at him curiously as he guides you back toward the shower.

“You’re so brave, it never ceases to amaze me.” He pushes you up against the durasteel wall next to the fresher, nuzzling his nose against your neck, breathing you in.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he places a soft kiss to your neck and he lets out a breathy laugh, smiling.

“Can I admit something?” He asks, quietly.

“Of course.” You whisper, afraid if you move, this moment will go away.

“When we’re in tough… or scary… spots on missions, I listen to your heartbeat to calm myself. It’s rarely ever above 65 beats per minute… You’re always so calm in tricky situations.” He admits, pulling away to look at you.

That’s funny because you feel like your heart is beating right out of your chest. “And now?”

You place his hand over your heart and he kisses you. You rest your hand on his neck, pulling him closer as his free hand grips your hip.

“One-ten.” He smiles against your lips.

“Yeah, that checks out.” You laugh.

Hunter grins and then opens the fresher door, pulling you inside.

“Permission to take this off?” He whispers, trailing his fingers down the silk material.

You nod, looking up into his warm brown eyes. “Please.”

He smiles and then turns you around so you’re facing the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you.

“Pretty dress, by the way. I regret not telling you that before the casino mishap.” He smirks at you in the reflection of the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You feel yourself go warm in the face. “Earlier… my dress slid up my thigh a little bit and you walked away.”

“Yeah, I got fucking hard and thought I was gonna lose it…” He whispers in your ear, kissing just below it.

Goosebumps trail down your entire body as his fingers slide your zipper down. He notices as he runs his fingers down your bare back and a full shudder ripples through your body.

“Nervous?” He murmurs. His eyes stare into yours in the mirror.

You shake your head and he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

“And here I was thinking you were a good liar.” He turns you around and lifts you up, sitting you on the sink.

“You caught me.” You whisper, smiling softly.

His lips capture yours again and you moan against his. Hunter’s hands grip your thighs in the most delicious way and you find yourself never wanting him to let go of you.

“Don’t be nervous, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.” He promises you, softly.

“I trust you.” You promise him back.

Trust is a big thing for you. You think he knows that.

“You’re too clothed.” You murmur against his lips. “You’re right.” He agrees, pulling away to unbutton his shirt, revealing his gold chain and the continued skeleton tattoo that travels down his torso, disappearing into his pants.

You gulp loudly, even to your own ears and judging by his smirk as he looks down while undressing, you know he heard it too.

“I knew it.” You gasp when he starts to pull his pants down, revealing the femur tattoo that descends into a fibula tattoo and down to his foot.

“Knew what?” He looks up at you finally, his brown eyes making you go hot all over.

“That the skull tattoo wasn’t just a skull. I figured that it probably-” You start babbling but he cuts you off by crushing his lips to yours.

You moan softly against his lips and he starts to pull your underwear down. The moment they hit the floor, he inhales and grips your thighs roughly.

Oh… he smells you, doesn’t he? Fuck… why is that so hot?

Oh fuck, can he always smell you when you’re-

“You have no idea what you do to me…” His lips find your neck, breaking you out of your thoughts, and then your shoulder, and then he’s pushing you back slightly so his lips can latch onto your pert nipples, begging for attention.

With one hand still gripping your thigh, he reaches into the shower and starts the water. Honestly, you didn’t know the man could multitask so well. The thought makes you chuckle and he lets go of your nipple with a ‘pop’ and looks down at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.”

He nods, clearly unconvinced, with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Right.”

His hand that was gripping your thigh moves over slightly, down toward your bare warmth and your breath hitches again.

“Hunter.”

“Mmhm?” His fingers slide further down and his eyes are still watchful of yours.

“What are you doing?” You smile softly.

“Tell me what’s funny.” His fingers slide slowly over your wet folds, barely entering you, but enough to make you clench around nothing.

“It was nothing.” You try to tell him, knowing if you tell him the truth, he very well might stop.

“Suddenly… You’re a very,” His finger grazes your clit. “bad liar.”

You whimper, biting your lip, trying to hold out. For what, at this point, you don’t know. What’s he going to give you for telling the truth?

“I was just entertained by your ability to multitask.” You gasp when his thumb presses against your clit harder. “W-with turning on the shower while-”

“Oh.” He chuckles, his eyes darkening. “I can show you other ways I can multitask, cyar’ika.”

Before you can ask him what he means, he pulls you up against him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he picks you up and pulls you into the shower, pushing you against the wall as the water falls over the both of you.

“How about this…” He smiles with a knowing look. “I’m gonna fuck you while I wash your hair and clean you up, so that what happened earlier is out of both of our minds for what I have to show you later.”

“Ah, yes. The surprise.” You smile.

He captures your lips softly this time. “How does that sound?”

“Pretty good, honestly.” You shrug, nonchalantly, making him let out a genuine laugh.

Hunter’s laugh does something catastrophic to both your heart and your core. Have you always been this attracted to him? Suddenly, you find yourself needing to know what his hands feel like while they wash your hair. What his face looks like when he’s caring for you.

Why did you waste so much time arguing and fighting when you could’ve had this the whole time?

Hunter reaches around you, lining himself up with you before pushing in, making you gasp against his lips, loudly. He groans just as loud, if not louder, and you’re suddenly so fucking thankful you’re planets away from the rest of the Batch.

“I want to be buried in you every day.” Hunter admits, his voice full of need and desperation.

To be the cause of that desperation is such a satisfying feeling, you can’t help but smirk, looking down between the two of you where your hips meet.

“Whenever you want it, let me know.” You kiss him again and a low rumble in his throat pulls your attention to his face.

“You can’t just say things like that to me unless you mean it.” He rests his forehead against yours.

“I do mean it, though.” You whisper. “Pull me into this fresher whenever you want and fuck me like you can’t live without this.” You clench around him and his grip on your ass tightens.

“Cyar’ika…” He pulls out slightly only to slam back into you. “That’ll be every day.”

“Then let it be every day. Every night. Every hour. Whenever.” You promise him.

With a final groan, he starts thrusting into you and you swear that you see past all of the stars in the Galaxy. This angle is something else entirely, something you’ve never had and don’t think you can live without ever again.

“So fucking good.” You whisper between pants and whimpers, the sound of skin against skin filling the small fresher so much it’s making you wetter than before.

When his hips slow against yours, you look at him, confused, and he chuckles, pulling your shampoo down out of the net that everyone keeps their shower stuff in so that it doesn’t get thrown around while on intense missions.

“Oh, you were serious.” You laugh.

“Dead serious.” Hunter keeps one hand ahold of you, and you genuinely didn’t know he was so strong.

He flips up the cap and pours the shampoo over your head a bit, the aroma of fresh fruit filling both of your noses. He closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the scent as he caps the bottle shut and puts it back. When he opens his eyes, he starts gently thrusting while simultaneously massaging the shampoo into your hair.

“This… is new.” You smile, softly.

“Good new?”

“Mmhm. You do this with all your partners?” You chuckle.

“Only you.” He admits, while still soaping up your hair, making sure to get all of it. “I’ve never been this… personal with any other… partners. In fact… It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Since before Omega?” You guess.

He nods, pulling you under the water to rinse out your hair, still massaging your head. It feels incredible. You’ve never been given this much attention before, though, so you’re almost not sure what else to say.

He stills, still inside you, and you look at him softly.

“There was just never… time, I suppose? No one ever caught my eye either.” He explains, his voice so soft, so gentle that you feel like you’re almost in a trance. “Until we met you.”

Your cheeks go warm under his stare as you realize the weight of what he’s telling you.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat, awkwardly, as he reaches up for your conditioner.

You watch each other as he conditions your hair, smiling ever so slightly at the understanding between the two of you. You’re it, for each other. There’s no one else.

When he finishes conditioning your hair, he rinses it out just as he did before. And then, you reach up for his shampoo, pouring a bit into your hand, rubbing it between your hands before reaching up into his locks. He groans at the feel of your fingers against his scalp.

“I swear I can feel how tense you are just in your scalp.” You smile, making him laugh.

As you get his hair nice and soapy, you can feel his cock grow harder inside of you, you think. When you tug slightly on his hair, his eyes flutter shut and he groans, pushing further into you.

“You like that?” You murmur, seductively.

He nods, lips parted. “Yeah.”

You guide him under the water a bit and let it run through the soap and your fingers, making it travel down both your bodies, and you realize his shampoo doesn’t have a scent to it.

“It doesn’t smell like anything.” You murmur.

He nods again. “A lot of scents are overwhelming.”

“Oh… I’m sorry if mine-”

“No. It’s just me, being stuck with my own hair 24/7, you know? I love the way you smell. My favorite smell.” He assures you, grinning. “In fact… you’re my favorite everything to my senses… My favorite smell, my favorite taste.” He kisses you. “My favorite touch.” He runs his hand up to cup your jaw. “My favorite sight.” His eyes run down your body and a shiver runs up your spine. “And your laugh is genuinely my favorite sound. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.”

“Oh… Hunter.” You get an unfamiliar lump in your throat and you struggle to look him in the face, but he pulls your face back toward his.

“I love you. You definitely don't have to say it back. I just want you to know.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I hated you.”

It’s right this very second that it’s obvious to you. Why it wasn’t obvious to you before, you don’t know…

“I love you too.” You grin.

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised that you said it back. But then his lips find yours and you're pressed back up against the cool wall. Both yours and Hunter’s hands are in each other’s hair and something changes between you two. Something passionate and all consuming.

This is only the second time fucking but it feels like the hundredth or more. It’s obvious that the two of you are more than whatever this is the start of. Is there a word for something more than a partner?

Hunter’s cock pushes into you repeatedly, coaxing the most perfect moans from your lips. It’s obvious that the desperation between you is bubbling up, threatening to push you over your edge. You reach down and rub your clit, wanting so badly to cum for him again.

How is he reaching into you like this? How does he already know your body so well?

“Fuck…” You groan, your head resting back against the wall and Hunter’s eyes never leave your fingers between the two of you.

“That feel good?” He whispers and you can only nod, your words failing you. “You gonna cum on my cock, mesh’la?”

You whimper and nod, pathetically.

“Atta girl. Cum for me.” Hunter breathes and you curse again, loudly this time, as you clench around him, cumming even harder than earlier and you bury your face in his neck.

His grip on you tightens as your pussy coaxes his own release from him, filling you up so full that his cum slides back out over his cock and down into the floor of the shower.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” He kisses your neck. “In fact, I know I won’t.”

“You say that now. Just wait til we get into our first real argument as a couple.” You tease.

“Oh, is that what we are?” He teases back and you playfully swat him, making him laugh. “So Cid was right, I guess…”

He said your laugh was his favorite sound but you’re pretty sure that his laugh is the best sound in the Galaxy. It’s so strange that this is how your night ended. But you’re definitely not complaining.

“We don’t have to put a label on it if you don’t want to...” You tell him, brushing your fingers across his cheek.

“Well, I’m all yours and I’d prefer it if you were all mine.” He smiles.

Your heart does an entire flip at his confession. You’d prefer it that way, too.

“Couple just seems so… I don’t know. Small? We’ve been through so much together… And your family feels like my own…” You babble slightly, unsure if you even make any sense.

“We clones have a word like that… that’s more than a ‘couple’. Riduur. It’s like a partner or spouse. But it means more.” He explains. “You mean more…”

You grin up at him as he pulls out of you and puts you down gently, still holding onto you. The both of you stay in comfortable silence, between kisses, as you wash each other’s bodies. Your eyes continuously roam over his tattoos and he smirks down at you as he notices.

“I like you like this.” You shrug.

He hums, caging you against the shower wall. “I bet you do. Once we get back to Ord Mantell, I’ll show you just how much I like having you like this too.”

Hunter’s lips brush against yours and then all of sudden, he’s guiding you out of the shower and wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

“So, what’s the surprise?” You ask him.

“You’ll see.” He winks, drying off quickly to go grab a pair of fresh clothes.

You do the same, settling on a sweater and leggings, going for comfort. He looks at you the same way he looked at you in that dress earlier and the realization that he truly does love you, sets in and you know right this very second, you couldn’t go back to what you were before even if you wanted to.

“Mesh’la.” He kisses you on the forehead before settling into the pilot’s seat.

You settle into the co-pilot seat next to him as he starts up the ship flying it out of the garage and up the tubal fly lane back to the surface. When he reaches over to take your hand, you look between the two of you at your intertwined hands.

“I could get used to this.” He squeezes your hand.

“Too bad Tech would never let you.” You chuckle.

He chuckles and leans over to kiss your hand. “I just meant this… You know? Us.”

When he reaches the hyper lanes, he takes off toward the west. You look at him curiously and he winks. You’re still not a fan of surprises, but you don’t say anything. You just continue to smile at the handsome sergeant.

“I can feel the tension in your neck from here.” He teases you.

Within ten minutes, you see a mountainous region next to a giant body of water.

“Is that an ocean?” You let go of his hand to lean forward, looking out of the window.

He chuckles. “It is.”

“I didn’t know Coruscant had anything other than cities…” You tell him, amazed.

He brings the ship down onto the beach, and offers his hand to you when he stands up. Smiling up at him, you take it and he leads you to the hatch, opening it. As soon as it comes down, your mouth drops. You’ve never seen an ocean before.

Hunter leads you down the steps of the Marauder and you step into the sand. It’s squishier than you imagined it would be. You’re tempted to take your shoes off, but you know that with this job, there’s always the threat of some sort of danger. So you keep your shoes on for now.

Looking out at the sea, you breathe in the salty air, feeling at peace, the threat of earlier long gone from your mind.

“I overheard you talking to Echo once about how you’d never seen an ocean before.” Hunter tells you. “Once we got on the ship, I knew it’d be a perfect opportunity.”

You look at him. “Earlier back at Cid’s… you seemed like you didn’t want to go on this job with me.”

“I was just nervous, mesh’la. That’s all.” He kisses your forehead and then leans down in front of you.

Curiously, you watch him as he unlaces your boots and then slides them off your feet, sitting them on the steps of the hatch. The cool sand seeps between your toes and you can’t help but laugh.

“Feel funny?” He asks and you look up at him, nodding.

“In a good way.” You shrug.

He leads you toward the water and you look out at the sun starting to rise. It’s so beautiful here. A little piece of peace in a hellscape. You know right away, you’d like to come back here.

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“Tech mentioned it during a mission here a while back. After Echo left the squad, I brought Omega here before we went back to Ord Mantell,” he tells you.

He wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. It feels so natural like this. So easy.

You rest your hands over his. “I don’t remember that.”

“This was before you came back to Ord Mantell yourself.” He tells you. “I like it here. It’s… different from Kamino’s raging seas… It’s calmer…” Hunter murmurs, looking out at the sea at the rising sun.

“I’m sorry I was such a raging sea in your life before…” You take his hand and bring it to your lips.

“You weren’t a raging sea.” He chuckles, his voice low and calming as you both watch the sunset. “You’re the sunrise. Fiery, bright, beautiful… and something to look forward to seeing every morning.”

Your chest tightens at his sweet words. You didn’t know before today how much of a romantic Hunter is. You love it, though.

“That was really cheesy.” You laugh, pulling away so you can wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He kisses you.

The sun glows against his tan skin and you can’t help but be even more enamored. How did you not allow yourself to appreciate his beauty before? How did you not allow yourself to just fall in love sooner?

“Do you want to camp out here today?” He offers.

“Really?” You ask, softly, with hope.

“Yeah. I’ll send a transmission to the others and update them about Cad Bane and tell them we’re just exhausted from running into trouble.” He smirks.

“They’re definitely going to be suspicious.” You smirk back.

“Just Echo.” He shrugs, with a chuckle.

That’s true. But you think Echo already knew about your feelings before you did.

“When I get back, we’ll set up camp. I’ll make you something to eat and then we’ll take a nap. And maybe when we wake up, I’ll take you swimming.” He promises, letting go of you with one last kiss. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You sit down in the sand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He takes one last look at you in the glow of the sunrise and he nearly says “Fuck it.” and just let the squad figure it out on their own. Except he knows Omega will be worried, so he tears his eyes off of you to go send a transmission to them. You sit and bite your lip, trying to keep the excited giggle inside as you think about what a future with Hunter could be like. It’s still crazy to think that you started off the night by arguing with him… and now… you’re on some sort of date. And… you’ve figured out you’re in love. What a wild turn of events.

TAGLIST: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover

#tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #joyride fic #tbb #the bad batch #hunter bad batch x reader #hunter bad batch

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

Text

live to rise - chapter four

live to rise series

four: where the light won't find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: After the Mandalorian is removed from your barrack and you are given a new assignment, you see him fight for the first time.

chapter warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, implied rape/non-con (NOT involving reader or Din), implied physical abuse, near-death encounter, mando fic tropes galore

Please heed the series and chapter warnings.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reassigned. Not terminated. Reassigned. Your hand rests on your heaving chest as you try to settle from the surprise of it all.

The Mandalorian’s been sponsored.

You hadn’t thought it possible; his price was supposedly astronomical. This person must be obscenely rich.

And then your heart drops further. This is why you shouldn’t have gotten so close. Yes, you’d rather have him leave your barracks alive than dead, but you can’t help the wave of sorrow that crests. You had enjoyed his company immensely, even dismissing the feelings you weren’t acknowledging.

It’s not like you didn’t treat each parting as potentially permanent anyway, but sometimes, with your long-term residents, you got a little too comfortable.

You pack up the bedding hastily and head toward Cresh. You know he won’t still be there, you tell yourself, you’re just going to get the cell turned over as soon as possible.

It hurts a little to find it empty, anyway.

Cresh goes through three more C-5s before you hear about the Mandalorian again.

“How did you deal with him?” Hali asks you one night after the attendants have shared the day’s news.

“With who?” you ask, even though there’s no one else she could mean.

“That Mandalorian. He was so gruff and rude. I’m the fifth attendant he’s rejected, and it’s making everyone on edge. Like there’s something wrong with us .”

You shrug it off. “He’s just guarded. He probably doesn’t want someone in his space.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles. “It’s not like we want to be in his space.”

“Has anyone explained that to him?”

“I tried to,” she says. “But it’s like he wouldn’t even listen to me.”

Cold clarity finds you with your lips parted and eyes wide. You can’t tell her. But your stomach sinks. The design of those cells puts him at the back of the chamber. If they’re being quiet, from fear or otherwise, he can’t hear them.

They come for you the next day. Two guards. The fear when they beckon you is almost enough to bring you to your knees.

The only reason you don’t panic completely is because they don’t bind you. They just march you between them to the upper levels.

When you reach the lounge, they shove you through the door, and you stumble a little.

“This is the girl, as requested, Madame, but we really can’t spare her from her duties,” says one of the commanders. You don’t know his name; the officers never come downstairs.

“If she’s the only attendant he’ll accept, you don’t have a choice. Or am I paying these frankly extortionary caretaking fees for nothing?”

You stiffen, all nerves sparking on high alert.

The commander stammers a little, losing his composure when he realizes credits are on the line.

“I can handle both, Commander, I swear," you say, immediately wishing you hadn't.

The Mandalorian's sponsor turns slowly, a thin eyebrow arched. You figure you’re already in for it for speaking out of turn, so you clench your jaw and meet her eyes.

She’s petite, but there’s an undeniable aura of danger pouring from her. Her dark eyes are cold, and her plum lips narrowed. Her clothing is intricate and expensive in the way of the truly wealthy—it’s not dripping with jewels or gold; it’s quality fabric tailored immaculately, with delicate embroidery creating striking and flattering designs. She does wear jewelry, but it’s subtle and almost assuredly custom.

“Why you?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I was his barrack caretaker.”

She hums and blatantly looks you up and down, circling you like a nexu. You keep your head up and force yourself not to follow her with your eyes. To let her prowl and remain uncowed.

It’s unbecoming of a servant, you know. But you want her to know you can handle him, that you won’t be intimated and manipulated by the infamous Mandalorian.

When she comes back around, she has a pleased, sharp grin. Turning to the commander, she crosses her arms.

“Make it happen, or I’ll withdraw my sponsorship.”

“Yes, Madame,” he says.

You don’t want to leave the barracks. Not Cresh and not the servant’s quarters. It doesn’t really hit you until you hug Eli and realize you’ll barely see him anymore.

“Shut up,” he grumbles when you say as much. “You’re going to come by and report, right?”

You nod, sniffling into his tunic. “I will.”

He puts his hands on your shoulders. “This is a good thing. You’ll have better… everything. And you said you trust him, right?”

“I think so,” you say.

“C’mon, I’ll walk with you,” he says.

You shove his shoulder. “You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well, duh,” he shoves you back.

He only gets to peek in, of course. But he still plays it up to get a smile from you. “This is kriffing wizard,” he teases. “You get your own fresher? Practically Canto Bight.”

But you’re not really seeing it through the same lens. Because your new quarters are in the Mandalorian’s cell. There’s a barred gate between you, but your cot is still behind the solid durasteel door, same as his.

Eli sees the fear on your face. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s not locked for you. Your badge will always open it.”

He sets your bag down on the small cot and hugs you again. “You know where to find me.”

“I will,” you say. You don’t catch the look he gives Mando over your shoulder.

You sit down on the cot when Eli leaves, more unmoored here than you’ve been in years. You let it sit, ugly and misshapen in your chest, before steeling your focus.

“Do you have everything you need?” you say.

“I think so,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, and silence resettles. It’s strange to feel so uncertain around him again. “I’ll go retrieve your dinner.”

“Do you eat here as well?” he asks.

“If you wish,” you say. Your hands are folded together and wrapped up in the top apron layer of your skirts.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” he says.

“I’m here to attend to you,” you remind him, feeling a little frustrated by all the things unsaid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” you say and sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He’s almost relieved when you only bring one tray. Everything about this has been chaotic and messy. But it’s a sacrifice that has to be made.

You retrieve his tray when you return from dining with the others, but this time, you come back to him after. The lights are out, and you think he might be asleep already, so you duck into the fresher from your side of the bars and wash up for the night.

You settle onto your cot, almost grateful that it’s not any more comfortable than your old one. It’s strange, without the shuffling and snoring of your peers.

And then it starts. A horribly unmistakable sound from the cell next door. You hope you’re wrong. You pray you’re wrong.

You’re not.

You sit up, fingers digging into your knees, and eyes on the ground.

You can’t see into the cells around you, but you can certainly hear your neighboring attendant’s screams and cries.

They’re begging and pleading, but no one will help them. It’s the champion’s right. The attendants must serve every request unless it goes against arena rules.

Very few things do.

It’s not that you’re afraid of the Mandalorian. It’s more like you’re just afraid. But he’s done nothing to lose your trust, so you try not to flinch when he comes near the bars between his cell and your chamber.

While you manage not to, you do flinch each time the noises intensify or change. The sound of skin against skin is constant, but some are more obviously violent, emphasized by the nauseating responses.

“Hey,” he says. “Come here.”

You’re trembling a little, but you tense and try to hold steady as you stand and approach him. The gate is not locked. It only locks when you access the main door, so that you may come and go without releasing him.

If you’re inside? All he has to do is push.

But he doesn’t. “Don’t listen,” he says. “Cover your ears if you have to.”

“I’m fine,” you say.

He doesn’t quite catch it, but he can wager a solid guess from your expression. He sighs. “You can look at me, you know,” he says. “You’ll see me eventually.”

“I might be able to avoid it,” you say.

“I appreciate it,” he says. “But this is all going to be easier if you don’t have to be trying so hard.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“I’m asking you to. I don’t want the first time you see my face to be in the arena.”

You bite your lip. It makes sense. “You’re sure?”

“I am.”

And you can’t really argue. Not because you’re supposed to do what he says but because you get it. He’s right; you will see him in the arena. But he can control how it happens this way. It doesn’t have to be another thing they just take.

So you look.

Your eyes scan his face like they always do when you see one of your fighters for the first time. Searing it in so you can find it later in the pigments.

You won’t paint him, though. Not like this.

He holds steady eye contact. You feel like he’s waiting for a reaction, but nothing comes. He’s beautiful, but that’s not yours to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “Worked, though, didn’t it?”

You blink at him for a moment.

The smallest shadow of a crooked smile flickers but doesn’t ignite. “Distracted you.”

The hall is quiet. You hadn’t realized, but the horrors next door had wound down. Stars, you hope they’re okay. Sleeping or tending their wounds. Not… well. Not forcibly silenced.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing your eyes back to him. His fingers wrap around a bar near yours. Not touching, but inviting.

“Okay.” You’re not really sure what else to say. You’ve heard it before. Some mean it, some don’t. You think he’s genuine, that he’s safe, but that caution is like a little burn that never heals, leaving you to flinch away.

Your fingers twitch, and he thinks you’re about to touch his.

But you wince when the main door of the neighboring cell opens. His eyes bear a plea he won’t voice, but you only hesitate for a moment before pressing your badge to the scanner. His gate clicks and the door whooshes open.

They’re already ducking into the medbay when you catch up, so you stick your hand in front of the sensor to force the doors back open.

It’s the girl whose name you couldn’t remember on the Mandalorian’s first night. Sessa. She startles and whirls around when she hears you, hand pressed to her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," you say quietly.

She looks at you for a moment, something hauntingly empty in her eyes before she seems to recognize you. She covers her face with her hands.

“Please,” you whisper. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I—” her voice breaks, and you step closer, offering an embrace she folds into.

You don’t say anything. What could you? That you’re sorry? She knows. That it’ll be okay? It won’t. It’s horrible, she doesn’t deserve it, it’s inhumane, but none of those things will help her. She knows.

She doesn’t even really cry. It aches, but the tears don’t come, just the soft prickle of numbness. She’ll survive this, you think. She shouldn’t have to, but she will.

When the time for softness has faded, you let her pull back, and she lets you assess her. She sits on the counter with an ice pack to her cheek and drinks the tea you press into her hand. Her nose wrinkles at the bitter taste, but the tincture within is worth it. A reassurance. Nothing will come of this that she can’t bear.

When she leaves, she hugs you again, and you stay behind in the dark room, leaning against the counter with your arms folded over your chest.

It wasn’t a secret, what happened here. It didn’t always; a lot of the fighters are honorable people. But sometimes… sometimes this life warps the psyche beyond repair. Sometimes, desperate people do desperate things. Become something terrible to survive.

You just hadn’t been witness to the cruelty before.

When you go back, Mando is still awake. Waiting, you think.

“Is she—” he hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask if she’s okay, because the answer is no. It’s not really what he’s asking, anyway.

You nod, lips pursed tight. She’ll live, your silence says. And it’ll have to be enough.

It’s strange. Waking in his cell but rising to follow your old habits anyway. He gets served first, and then you take breakfast down to Cresh as if nothing has changed. Except you can’t linger, you can’t chat and learn of them as you used to. You have to return to the Mandalorian.

It’s strange for the both of you. Your time is usually spent busy or with the other servants. His time is usually spent alone. He doesn’t have a fight that first day and so you are forced to learn to navigate one another.

The gate between you remains closed.

He does push-ups while you fold laundry, executes a series of jumps that cycle between laying on the floor and springing to his feet that exhaust you just to see from the corner of your eye while you clean, and balances on his hands—one and both—while you flip through the agenda on your datapad and try not to be caught impressed.

It’s quiet, this life, with neither of you inclined to interrupt the other. You let him know when you phase in and out to attend to your duties and his needs. Otherwise, you don’t really speak until nightfall.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the safety of the dark. “I didn’t know it would create more of a burden for you. I just… couldn’t trust anyone else.”

“It’s not a burden, just a change. I understand,” you say softly.

He sighs, an edge of frustration biting. “I disrupted your routine.”

You snort. “So?”

“I separated you from your friends.”

You sigh. “Will it make you feel better if I pretend to be mad?”

“Why aren’t you?”

You sit up on your cot. “Nothing about this life is fair, and it’s all temporary. Everyone leaves, one way or another. Everything shifts. This is just another phase of my time here, and there’s no point in being upset about it.”

He lets it sit for a minute. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years. I have just under two left.”

The weight of the time is not lost on him, and you can see the hint of a grim smile. “You haven’t let it break you.”

You return the smile. “Not yet.”

He reclines against the wall, legs sprawled and dangling over the side of his bed. “For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. It was a selfish thing for me to ask of you.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone.” You mean it. It may have disrupted what you knew before, but getting moved here did the same for him. And it took away his opportunity to talk to others. “I’m glad you trust me with this.”

He sighs, bittersweet. “Me too.”

Something shifts, then, that you’re grateful for. The guilt and awkwardness dissipate and leave behind that budding comradery you had started to forge together. A sense of peace.

It’s one of the better nights of sleep you’ve had in a long time.

You’ve never been in the stands before, let alone in the box. Though it’s exposed to the open sun, the vents wash it in cool air, unlike the curved benches where the crowds jeer and hiss.

No, up here in the sponsor box, surrounded by the important and the rich, you’re considered fortunate. The Mandalorian’s sponsor is late, but you’re in place. While he waits for battle, your services shift to her.

“You’re still here,” the Madame says as she approaches her seat.

You stand to the side, stiff and silent, until she draws near. “Yes, Madame.”

She gives you an appraising once-over. “Good.” Her voice is as sharp as her eyes, and she settles to watch.

You don’t really know the protocol here. Your days serving in the lounge were passed silently, circling the room with a loaded tray. Here, you’re meant to cater to her alone.

She doesn’t speak to you, though. Doesn’t acknowledge you. She lounges, coiled and elegant, like a tree viper.

You don’t want to watch the fights. You don’t. But you know, now, that you must. You owe it to the barrack caretakers; you can’t leave this responsibility to the other attendants alone. You all bear the burden together.

When the first fight ends in a double loss, both fighters fatally wounded, you know you’re not strong enough for this. The nausea rises until all you smell is blood, a phantom sense as the sand turns red beneath each pair’s feet. You’re shaking and all you can think is how glad you are not to have to hold a tray of glasses.

And then it’s time.

The Madame sits up, focused, and you know. Teeth dig into the soft flesh of your cheek to hold your breath steady and shallow. Quiet as possible, as if you need to strain to hear what’s playing out in front of you.

And you think, he should not be caged, for he is power and beauty and ferociousness. You can see why his people followed him to death. He is death.

His opponent lands exactly one strike, and you almost think the Mandalorian allowed it. Like he was gauging the strength and will. He prowls, teeth bloodied and bared, a snarl natural in the set of his lips. You think it’s laid in beskar steel, a scar you can’t smooth out into the soft curve of a smile.

No, that’s been stolen from him, too.

He asks his opponent’s name, and you think he’s carving it into his ribcage, so each time he breathes, it impresses upon his lungs.

When he moves, it’s calculated. Like the arena is a map he’s plotting, each strike or dodge choreographed and steadfast. There are no weapons today, just fists, and though his opponent has the advantage of razor-sharp teeth, they never even come close to slicing him open.

And then it’s over. The Mandalorian’s broad hands dwarf the other fighter’s jaw as he secures his grip and snaps. The body falls limp and the Mandalorian sneers at the crowd before he looks up.

There’s no way he can see you, but it feels like it. It feels like he sees you there, and doesn’t find what he was afraid of.

He’s not in the room when you get back down, and you pre-set his towels and clean clothes, so you won’t need to go hunting them down if he wants to shower. It’s still mid-afternoon, and you’re buzzing with the leftover cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol when he comes back.

Neither of you speaks at first as he goes into his half of the cell and cracks his knuckles, sighing deeply once the main doors are shut.

“Are you okay?” he says.

You’re surprised until you realize you shouldn’t be. He knows how weak you are. “Yeah,” you say.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he says quietly, not looking at you.

Oh. You get up and come closer to the gate. “No. I’m not.”

He meets your eyes and must find the truth in them, nodding grimly. “So what did you think?”

“Why do they have you fight with a shirt on?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, they usually—um.”

“What?”

“They usually make the more attractive fighters wear as little as possible. You know. To appeal to the crowds.”

Huh. He thought it was a choice made by the few he’d seen showing skin. And then he can’t help it. You won’t look him in the eye, and he can’t resist. “You think I’m one of the more attractive fighters?” he teases.

Your cheeks burn, and you look very seriously at the ground. “I—I mean like, um, objectively—“

He spares you. “It’s because of my tattoos. They don’t want me out there covered in Mandalorian symbology.”

“Oh,” you say, imagination kicking off. “Can I—I’m sorry, that’s so inappropriate of me. I just… like… art.” It sounds so stupid and crude, but you mean it.

“I’ll show you when I’m clean,” he says with a shrug.

He always seems to understand. It’s a comfort you’ve never known before.

When he gets out of the fresher, though, you realize you have severely overestimated yourself. Because your first thought when he steps into his room is fuck. He’s big. You know he’s big. And broad. But without a shirt on? Stars. And he’s still a little wet, his crumpled curls dripping down his shoulders.

You have got to get yourself under control. You’re pretty sure you’ve already been busted, though, because he’s suddenly looking at you, something a little dark in the lines of his face, and you feel flayed under his disapproval.

Your brain reboots in time to recover, though, as you really do take in the way his skin is bathed in black ink. A lot of it is abstract, sharp angles and curving arcs intertwining with constellations and letters in a language you don’t recognize. Some of it almost looks like smears of paint, the ink laid across his body in a manner so akin to brushstrokes that the craftsmanship is breathtaking.

But there are a few pieces that differ, ones that stand out against the intricate patterns. You realize you’ve stepped up to the gate once he does the same.

“These are incredible,” you say. “How long did this take?” You nod at the swirl of ink on his bicep that wouldn’t look out of place in your own work.

“A very long time,” he says.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What was your first one?”

He turns around, and you’re struck by the mythosaur skull that takes up most of his back. It’s almost shimmering.

“The ink…” you start.

He turns back around. “It’s imbued with beskar.”

Your jaw drops. “It’s what?”

“It’s—I’m going to be honest, I don’t fully understand the process. But we use a small amount of molten beskar in the ink for certain tattoos. These have it, too.” He indicates the two on his front that had stood out from the rest.

“Do you mind if I ask what they are? Why they’re the ones that use beskar?”

“No,” he says casually. “They’re things that I should never be without, parts of my armor that can never be fully taken. This,” he taps the diamond-esque design on his chest, “is a beskar’ta. Every Mandalorian has one. It’s the heart.”

You’re staring, unashamed, as he indicates the other glimmering mark on his shoulder.

“This is a mudhorn, the symbol of my clan. Someday, my son will have the same one. He’s too young. Or, well. He’s…” he pauses like he can’t decide if he wants to get into this. “He’s not ready yet.”

“So… so you always have it with you. Your armor. The beskar.”

“Yes. Not everyone gets them, but many do.”

“That’s beautiful.” You’re a little speechless. Not just from the beauty of the art but the sheer idea. “That’s…”

“You can see why Gideon doesn’t want them to be seen.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small scoff slipping out. “No kidding.”

You step back, and he tugs on his shirt, ruffling his still-damp hair like nothing world-shattering has happened. And yet, the room seems to have tilted and knocked you to the side, the shift undeniable.

You don’t realize why until you remember the look on his face when he caught you staring the first time. It wasn’t discomfort. It was hunger.

It’s not a tension, exactly, that settles between you. It’s more like an acknowledgment. Something is going to change. It’s just a matter of when. And it lingers in the air for weeks.

It happens, like almost all things here, in the wake of fear.

You return to the cell before him, having fled the box as soon as his narrowest victory was called. Not that it gave you much of a head start, but you had time to grab a medpack and fresh clothes before they brought him in.

He never uses the arena freshers anymore, not even just to wash away the sticky, fresh blood. No, he’s still quite coated in it when the door snicks shut behind him, his face gaunt and haunted.

You think, at first, that he was afraid to die.

Who moves first is irrelevant. Your only focal point in the galaxy is the way he feels pressed right against you, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to pull you into his ribcage as you embrace.

You’re not being much gentler, clinging on as you shake with unshed tears.

He lets go of your waist to clutch your face in his bloody hands. “Promise me you won’t watch.”

“What?” you say, rearing your head back to look at his furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Don’t watch. When it happens. I don’t want you to have to see.”

Oh. “Stop,” you whisper, but he’s shaking his head.

“It’s all I could think about. Look away, and don’t find out what they do with my body. Promise me, kar’talyc.”

All that comes out is a sob when you try to argue.

His hand cups the back of your head, and he pulls you against his still-soaked chest.

Once you’ve settled a little, he pulls back but leaves his hands on your shoulders. “Promise.”

“Mando—“

“Din.”

You blink at him for a moment. “What?”

“My name is Din.”

next chapter

*Din calls her kar'talyc, which basically means "bleeding heart" (from kar'ta, meaning "heart," and talyc, meaning "bloody.") He's been calling her that in his head since the last chapter.

*tattooed Din and his mythosaur were inspired by this art by @xxlumos

*title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears, but I listened to the Lorde version while writing this and highly recommend it for the vibes. The original is quite a different mood lol.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian fic #gladiator!din djarin #fic: live to rise

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dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Mando’a

A sweet Mandalorian story, with a sweet idiot Din and his son

The Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was a man of honour.

No, more than that, he was a good man.

Y/N had known it almost immediately, seeing him with the child. He held him like a father held his son, and at first she thought they were related by blood, and that the bounty hunter was green under his helmet.

In the end, Grogu was indeed his son, but adopted, and the Mandalorian was ready to sacrifice everything for him. Except maybe his job, because he needed money to buy food for the kid.

So he had to keep hunting down dangerous individuals, and he didn't like the idea of leaving the child alone, nor the idea of taking him with him.

So that was how he hired Y/N, after saving her from a drunken man in a cantina, and seeing that she and Grogu seemed to be getting along well.

"I will pay you, of course." he promised.

"If I can sleep and eat, and you're not hurting me, then taking care of this adorable baby is enough for me. You helped me after all, it's normal that I'm doing you a favour."

"I insist."

Din didn't insist long, perhaps not to offend her, seeing that she wouldn't change her mind. Y/N really didn't mind just following him and staying with Grogu. She had always dreamed of adventures.

Despite everything, the Mandalorian seemed to find it necessary to show her his gratitude as often as possible, offering her several gifts, such as new clothes, a weapon to defend herself when he was not around, then a chainmail in Beskar, like the one his son was wearing.

"I thought only Mandalorians were allowed to wear Beskar !" she said, wondering if this was a test.

"The Mandalorians and their clansmen. I... You... You are my cya... my burc'ya. You deserve to wear dignified armour, which will protect you."

"It's a real honour, Mando ! I'm happy to be part of your clan !"

"Din. My name is Din."

After that, there were fewer gifts, but lots of lovely attentions. No doubt in Mandalorian custom, the leader had to make sure the other members of the clan were happy, healthy and safe.

As with Grogu, Din always made sure Y/N was okay. He always seemed nervous when he had to leave the ship, and he only relaxed when he came back and found them where he had left them, playing or sleeping.

Adoring his father as much as the Mandalorian adored him, Grogu threw himself into his arms every time he saw him.

"I'm glad to see you too, ad'ika. You were good ? You didn't do too much mischief ? You will always be nice to your buire, uh ?"

"Pato !"

"Yes, that's good. I'll keep him, rest cyare."

"But you just arrived, you..."

"No." Din said, putting a finger to her mouth. "I know the little one. My mission certainly wasn't as exhausting as him, get some sleep."

At first Y/N slept alone, or with Grogu. The Mandalorian had made a bed for her in a corner of the ship, her own space, so she could have some privacy.

Then she had had a nightmare and to reassure her, the three of them had slept together. Then there had been a problem with the temperature controller, and they had huddled together so they wouldn't freeze to death until they got to a planet to fix it. Of course, Y/N still got sick and Din took care of her until she was better.

After that, without them talking about it, they ended up always sharing the same bed.

Y/N had been travelling with him for several months when Din gave her the necklace that indicated they were from the same clan, before removing his helmet to show her his face.

She was pretty sure he had no right to do this, even with his clansmen.

"You are my cyare, and Grogu is my ad'ika. It is permitted."

"Really ?"

"Of course. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Y/N smiled tenderly, nodding, which seemed to please him, and smiling as well, he leaned his forehead against hers.

That was the only small problem with Din.

He often spoke Mando'a, obviously without realizing it, and forgetting that Y/N didn't understand at all what he was saying. But she always tried to guess.

He was certainly polite. Kind. As always.

But nothing more.

His arms around her when he slept, his hand caressing her cheek when he had to leave, his smile when he looked at her, his forehead against hers, it meant nothing. Not what she would hope for, anyway.

When he was talking about her, Din was using a lot of words. At first it had been 'burc'ya', but soon it changed to 'cyare' or 'mesh'la'.

With Grogu, she became 'buire'.

When they met someone, she was 'riduur'.

Y/N dared not ask what that meant. Clan member, babysitter ?

She sometimes talked about it with the little one, who didn't really seem to be listening, or understanding, even if sometimes he would turn his little head towards her, and with his big eyes he seemed to say to her 'you are ridiculous, really ridiculous'.

It was Din who had explained that expression to him. Grogu often looked at him like that, with good reason. The child looked at his father like that when he was giving Y/N a nickname, and when he was offering her something, and when he was stammering, asking if he could hold her hand to not lose her in the crowd.

Grogu was still making that face when they arrived at the Armourer's. Din had found some Beskar and she was the only one who could make something useful out of it, for him or for other Mandalorians.

It was much harder than with Din to know what she was thinking behind her helmet, but she seemed happy to see the child, and surprised to see Y/N.

"Your clan has grown ?"

"Yes."

"Did you take your helmet off ?"

"Only in front of my ad'ika and my riduur."

"Married ? Congratulations. Come see me if she gets pregnant, I'll prepare presents for your children."

"We're not there yet, but thank you. I don't know if Grogu will be happy to have vodes or if he will try to eat them."

The little one then turned to Y/N, who had frozen and he stared at her, as if he wanted to say 'Finally. Finally my stupid father has put words to his behaviour and my oblivious mother will be able to understand that they are married. I'm tired and hungry now, feed me '.

"Uh..." she stammered as she approached the Mandalorians. "Married ?"

"You didn't respect the custom ? You didn't exchange your vows ?"

"I did !" Din replied, before sounded less sure. "Well, I said my vows. After courting her, showing her that I would be a good partner. She accepted them."

"Obviously she doesn't know what she accepted."

"I... Cyare, you... Haar'chak !"

He kicked a crate before leaving the forge, leaving the Armourer, Y/N and Grogu, who ran towards her, asking to be hug.

As if everything was perfectly normal, the other Mandalorian resumed her work in silence, finishing melting the Beskar, but as Y/N went to follow Din, she called out to her without looking.

"Leave him alone for a moment. He needs to understand his mistake, then he'll come back. He's not a coward or he wouldn't be a Mandalorian."

"He really thought we were married ?"

"Obviously. But if he wasn't clear, it's his fault. He won't blame you for not understanding, and for not wanting him."

"... I didn't say I didn't want him."

"Ah. Then maybe you two should talk. Leave the child with me, I'll watch him."

Y/N didn't dare tell her that Grogu was very good at evading people if he felt like it, but she left him near the Armourer before going to find Din, who was sulking near a cliff. His helmet was at his feet and yet it was hard to know if he was happy to see her.

"...Trikayc, cyare. Sorry." he whispered. "I'm not good with words, I thought my intentions were clear. You seemed to appreciate my attentions. I shouldn't have assumed…You were just kind and polite. I'm sorry."

"Actually... I also thought you were just nice and polite. If you had translated some of the words... Or if you had kissed me."

"Mesh'la... You mean..."

"Why didn't you ever kiss me, if we're married ?"

"What ? But I kiss you all the time !"

Approaching her to prove it to her before she could tell him that she would remember if he had ever kissed her, and if he had done it when she was sleeping it didn't count and would be very weird, Din leaned his forehead against hers, looking her straight in the eyes.

Then he didn't move, looking very serious.

"…Yes ? I'm waiting ?" decided to say Y/N after a long minute.

"It's a Mandalorian kiss."

"...Oh. Din, you're adorable. An adorable idiot."

Y/N kissed him then, not like a Mandalorian, and obviously it was the first time someone kissed the poor man, who jumped a little, before relaxing, melting a little when she put her hands on his cheek and neck.

"Kriff, if I had known, I would have done this a long time ago."

"In addition to the rest." Y/N sneered. "Even if it's a little hard in bed with..."

"Pato !"

Unsurprisingly, they looked down to find Grogu standing between them, clutching his father's leg, demanding to be lifted.

Either he had escaped the Armourer's watch or she had let him go.

Despite his sigh, Y/N knew that Din was happy as he took the child in his arms. Grogu squealed with delight as she fiddled with his ear. He was smart, he knew they had finally stopped acting like idiots.

"So I'm his bure ?"

"Buire. His mother. Or relative."

"Riduur ?"

"My wife. Partner."

"Cyare ? Mesh'la ?"

"It's time to go."

"Din !"

"I'll teach you Mando'a, later."

After greeting the Armourer, who seemed relieved that they were indeed married, otherwise Din would have become an apostate, they flew to a new destination. During the trip, when Grogu was sleeping, Din explained his culture a little better to Y/N, teaching her a few words, when she wasn't teaching him new non-verbal ways to show that he loved her in the cockpit.

While they were embracing, he translated to her the vows he had pronounced during their 'wedding'.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.”

"That's terribly romantic... Wait. Raise warriors ?"

"Yes. We already have a child of course, but one day he could have vodes and..."

"Vodes ?"

"... Brothers and sisters ?" Din said shyly, placing his hand on her belly. "If you want, of course !"

Yes, the Mandalorian was a man of honour. A good man, a wonderful father, an exceptional husband, and an adorably awkward lover, and Y/N had known it as soon as she had met him.

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