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amorevolousfaith · 2 years

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Chapter 5 : Armor

Pairing: Din (Mando) Djarin X Reader

Rating: 18+ (MINORS BEGONE!)

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Cannon violence, decapitation, adult language, mentions of kidnapping, Proselytism, Chaotic energy, lots of sexual tension, smut, sexism, consumption of alcohol, talks of polyamory, talks of drugging, fucked traditions, allusions to smut.

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have a complicated history and your future just seems to get more complicated as you go along. No thanks to the strange alien baby you both ended up co-parenting.

I keep to myself the entire ride back to Navarro. I occupy myself by staring down at the child who has awoken earlier on the ride. His brown eyes stare back at me, so wide and full of innocence. My heart cracked hearing Karga’s reply to Mando’s retrieval signal, he was guessing that the child may be eaten or hung on a fucking wall with how happy the client is. I blankly watch as the child slips out of his cradle and over to Mando, my heart swells watching him screw off the ball of the thruster lever, “That’s not a toy.” Mando chides once he notices the child’s doing, “Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” He calls back to me as he places him back into his cradle. I shrug numbly in response, not really having it in me to bicker with Mando about the way he held the child or how it’s my responsibility to look after him.

Upon our arrival I pulled my hood as far as I could over my head, the baby cooing at me to hold him, but I can’t. Not if I don’t want to make this any harder on myself. I follow Mando through the alleyways where the employer is stationed. It was requested that we delivered the child immediately. Two stormtroopers greet us at the door, I cross my arms and bow my head. I’m not in the mood to deal with aimless asses. They guide us into the building, one of them gripping the child’s cradle so hard it tilts. “Take it easy.” I hiss, “You take it easy.” He grunts in return. Mando pulls me behind him, standing taller to block me from sight.

The older man from before chants a quiet ‘yes’s upon our entrance. Standing and rushing over as soon as we enter the room. I grip the back of Mando’s cape feeling my heart tug, I flinch as the doctor scans a red light over the child’s face, the child turns away with squinted eyes and the urge to step in pulls at me. “Very healthy.” The doctor comments, “Your reputation is not unwarranted.” The older man praises. “How many fobs did you give out?” Mando questions, “This asset was of extreme importance to me. I had to ensure it’s delivery.” The older man excuses. “Your asset almost didn’t make it here because of it, Bounty hunters fighting tooth and nail with each other for it.” I grumble. “It would have gotten here. Dead or alive. It’s only because of you I assume, it’s here alive.” The older man hums, “Woman, have...softer hearts.” He muses. I would have been insulted if I knew it wasn’t true, for me at least.

“But to the winners...goes the spoils.” The man continues as he walks over to his desk and pulls out a large canister of Beskar. I watch the man press in a code and it opens up, my eyes widen, I knew it was a lot...but not this much. Mando walks over picks up one bar of it, “Such a large bounty for such a small package,” he croons. My grip on Mando’s cape tightens, my heart throbs as the child coos loudly, I force myself not to look as he pulled out of the room.

“What are your plans for it?” Mando questions, my heart stops, he of all people is the last person I expect to ask questions. “How uncharacteristic of one of your reputations. I expected the girl to question me at least.” the older man grunts, I’m trying to hold myself together here, asking questions won’t help me do so. “You have taken both commission and payment. Is it not the code of the guild in these events are now forgotten?” The old man questions, the air gets tense as more storm troopers enter the room. “You are correct sir, we apologize.” I butt in weakly, “That Beskar is enough to make a handsome replacement for your armor and perhaps something nice for the girl. Unfortunately, finding a Mandalorian in these trying times is more difficult than finding the steel.” The old man continues. Thats a threat, we need to get the hell out right the fuck now.

I pull on Mando’s cape once, a signal to get going. Mando places the bar of steel in his hand back in the container. He closes it and we promptly leave the building, my heart tugging and pulling as Mando leads us through the street and to the covert beneath the city. The other Mandalorians eyeing us as we make our way to The Armorer, our bounty reward in hand, given it wasn’t a well-hidden secret that the reward was Beskar steel. Mando places it in front of The Armorer as I sit down, my hood pulled as far as it’ll reach. The gazes of the other Mandalorians on my back given that they followed us all the way here.

“This amount can be shaped many ways.” The Armorer informs, “My armor has lost its integrity. I may need to begin again.” Mando replies. I grip the fabric of my pants. Your armor's integrity isn't worth the possible life of a child. “Indeed, I can form a full cuirass, this would be in order for someone of your station. Perhaps something for the girl as well, I assume she has earned a share of the Beskar steel.” The Armorer continues, “She has, and that would be a great honor.” Mando agrees. I open my mouth, ready to unleash a full protest about how I want nothing to do with tainted Beskar steel, but Mando’s hand lands on my thigh. “However, I must warn you it will draw many eyes.” The Armorer spoke up, I tossed Mando’s hand off of me and looked over as new Mando approaches. This one bigger and in dull blue-gray painted armor, he approaches and picks up a bar of steel.

The man scoffs, “These were cast in an Imperial smelter, these are the spoils of the great purge.” He announces. I felt my blood boil over, really? He’s going to make a scene here in front of everyone? “The reason we live hidden like sand rats.” He grumbles tossing the iron back onto the table. “Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength.” the armorer educates, “Our strength was once in our numbers. Now we live in the shadows, only coming above ground one at a time, and forced to take dirty Aruetii as brides.” He scoffs, my blood freezes and Mando goes stiff, this time it’s my turn to take Mando by his leg grounding him from doing anything rash. “Our world was shattered by the empire, with whom this coward shares tables.” He continues, my breath stills as I’m pushed and Mando’s helmet is touched.

Mando leaps across me and takes on the gray Mandalorian, the two fight right over the top of me, it’s only when they draw blades do I slip out from underneath the two and out of the way. The Armorer stands as the two fight, my irritation growing thick when the two continue to fight and make a scene of things. A snarl rips from my throat as I stand and draw my swords, I press one to each of their throats, “Ke’mot.” I hiss out. The two Mandalorians turn to me, I have only recently begun to learn Mando’a from the data pad Mando gave me, but I know enough to give a single worded command.

“The empire is no more.” The Armorer steps in, “The Beskar has returned, and the Aruetii has proven herself to have Mandokar there for worthy of our secrets.” She continues. “When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalore you are both hunter and prey. How can one be a coward if one chooses this way of life? Have you ever removed your helmet?” She questions Mando, “No.” He answers from against my blade. “Has it ever been removed by others?” She questions again, “Never.” He answers firmly. “This is the way.” The Armorer preaches, “This is the way.” I respond softly against the others pulling my blades away from the two men. “This is the way.” The Mando in gray pledges, “This is the way.” Mando replies in kind.

“What caused this damage?” The Armorer questions pointing at Mano’s armor. “A Mudhorn." I answer softly, “Then you both have earned the Mudhorn as your signet. I shall craft it.” She announces. “I don’t— Can’t— accept.” Mando and I call together, “It wasn’t a noble kill,” Mando answers, turning his head to look at me for mine. “I know my place here, I’ll accept the signet of the clan who accepts me.” I decide. “We were also helped by an enemy.” Mando informs, my eyes snap to him, the child was not an enemy. “Why would an enemy help you in battle?” She questions, “Because he did not know he was an enemy.” I step in bluntly. I bore my eyes into Mando not exactly pleased with him, the events leading up to this, or today in general.

“Since you forgo a signet. I shall use the excess to forge whistling birds and as for the girl...she shall receive a Mandalorian pendant. Proof she is of our kind and under our protection.” The woman decides. “Whistling birds will do fine, reserve some for the foundlings.” Mando nods, “I am honored to be a part of this culture.” I spoke softly. “As it always should be, foundlings are the future. I should hope you bear us strong warriors one day girl. This is the way.” The Armorer once again preaches, I feel heat flush my body at such a brazen comment, “This is the way.” I chime with the others.

I sheath my blades and sit beside Mando, I use both my hair and my hood to cover my heated face. As my face cools down the armorer sets to work on Mando’s armor, “Whistling birds are a powerful weapon against many enemies. Use them sparingly for they are rare.” The armorer warns Mando, “And your pendant girl, will be proof of your position for you do not wear the armor, you could easily be killed by others should you choose to be brazen with our name but lack proof of your standing.” She informs. As if I would be stupid enough to do that, the only reason I’m involved with all this is because I didn’t want to give up my swords.

The Armorer finishes my pendant first, tying it to a long cord and handing it to Mando. Mando turns and holds the cord open, I hesitantly pull down my hood, Mando’s hands are steady as he gently loops the cord over my head. The pendant rests low over my chest, the Mythosoir skull resting just between my breasts. “Looks good,” He spoke lowly, his modulator barely picking it up. I don’t say anything, a seething sensation still boiling in my chest. I pull my hood back up and turn away.

Mando and I sit in silence as the armorer finishes his new armor, so shiny and out of place in the dark Covert. With our newly acquired items we leave the Covert, eyes drawn to us the very moment we’re in sight. I follow Mando all the way to the Cantina, all eyes drawn to us. “MANDO!” Karga calls, I let out a huff when the man’s call draws more eyes on us. “They all hate you Mando, because you're a legend. You both are.” he chuckles, “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Mando cuts in. “All of them, ALL OF THEM,” he laughs, a sneer twists onto my lips, he was a child. He IS a child, my blood boils and my hands form into fists.

“But not one of them closed the deal, only you two, only you.” He points, “Along with the richest reward this parsec has ever seen, please my friends.” He gestures down to the seat across from him. I stare blankly but Mando’s hand gently pushes me into the seat. I don’t fight him, I don’t even know what I have better to do than that anyway. “I see the lady isn’t all too thrilled like I thought she’d be.” Karga mumbles, “There were some complications that she’s still bitter about.” Mando dismisses. “Women hold quite the grudge Mando, I don’t recommend thinking she’ll get over it unless you fix it.” Karga chuckles. Mando looks over at me, like he would ever try to fix a situation with me, let alone this one.

Mando unclasps his rifle before sitting down beside me, “They’re all weighing the Beskar on their minds but not me no.” He chuckles lowly. “I for one celebrate your success, for your success is my success.” He smiles, I turn my eyes to Karga, curious to what he could possibly mean by that. “Hell, even I’m rich.” He whispers flashing two bars of Beskar from his jacket, my eyes narrow in on him, my blood simmering hotter. That child’s life isn’t worth any amount of tainted Beskar steel. “Now how can I show my gratitude to my most valuable duo?” He questions loudly, as if to spur on the other guild members.

“We want our next job.” Mando answers, Karga pauses on the edge of his drink, expression twisted with confusion. “Next job?” He questions, “Take some time off, enjoy yourselves, I’ll take you to the Twi’lek healing baths.” Karga offers and advises. “We want. Our next. Job.” I grit out, my tone edging with my native dialect making my voice seem exotic and aggressive. “Sure, fine.” He sighs, “You hunters like to keep busy,” He nods, reaching over into his seat.

“These,” He pauses, dumping pucks out of a bag and onto a table, “Are all far away.” He gestures to the stack of pucks. “The farther the better,” Mando mumbles, “Well take your pick, you've earned it.” Karga answers. I brush my fingers over one of the pucks, I pick one up and open the projection. “Ah, that's the best of the lot. A nobleman's son skipped bail.” Karga informs, my heart pinches, a son of course it’s someone’s son. “Looks like you're heading to the ocean’s dunes of Carlac.” he hums, Mando closes the projection and stuffs the puck into armor.

Mando stands from the table and backs away before offering his hand out to me, I sent him a glare and push his hand away before standing on my own. “Karga?” I question, the man hums in return, almost surprised I’m willingly talking. “Any idea what they’re going to do to him?” I mumble, “Him?” Karga grunts stuffing the other pucks away into his bag. “The páiste, the child.” I whisper, “I didn’t ask, it’s against the guild code.” He informs sternly, “They work for the empire, what are they doing here?” Mando steps in. “The Empire is gone, Mando.” Karga chuckles, “All that are left is mercenaries and warlords. Look if it really bothers you go to the core and report them to the New Republic.” Karga advises. “That’s a joke, the universe has become a free for all since the empire fell and the New Republic is taking their time piecing it all back together.” I hiss out.

Karga lets out a sigh, “Enjoy your rewards, buy a little bit of spice and by the time you come out of hyperdrive you have forgotten all about it. Or rent a room at the baths, I’m sure you too can both work out whatever this is there.” He suggests waving his finger between the two of us. I let out a scoff before turning and walking out of the Cantina. I make my way through town quickly before reaching the Razor crest. I have to wait for Mando to get here so he can drop the ramp. Mando takes his time getting here like he’s dragging his feet, once he’s in range he lets open the hatch. I don’t wait for him as I walk in and climb into the cockpit. I toss myself into the passenger seat and cross my arms, staring blankly at the control panels while letting my eyes wander all the buttons and switches before they land on the thruster lever. My eyes widen just a bit when I notice the little ball on top is missing, I look around before finding it not too far from the lever.

I reach forward and take it into my hands, rolling it between my fingers as Mando enters the cockpit and sits down in the pilot's seat. I listen to him power on the crest as I continue to play with the tiny metal ball, “(y/n),” Mando calls. I look up from the ball to him as he holds his open hand out, I grip the metal ball a little tighter. A sneer forming in my throat, “Taking this away too huh Mando? It seems that’s what you're good at rather than hunting people.” I snarl roughly placing the ball into his hand. I curl into myself and turn away from Mando to look out the window. I watch the birds and the sky, the clouds moving ever so slowly, and it's when I notice that the clouds have moved from one broken tower to another that I realize we haven’t moved in a significant amount of time.

I glance over at Mando and he’s looking at me, wordlessly Mando aggressively starts to turn everything off. My eyes widen as he spins around in his chair and stands up, I hurry to follow after him when he leaves the cockpit. “Mando?” I question, stumbling after him when he opens up the hatch and lowers the ramp. “Mando what are you doing?” I question quietly, he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t even give me a small cue that I’ve learned to pick up on. Instead, he walks us through the winding streets until we reach a familiar building, I hold in a gasp, afraid if I breathe Troopers will come storming out of their hellhole.

Mando and I slowly circle the building, looking for any signs of the child, and it isn’t until we reach the back of the building and glance into a dumpster do we find one. This time, this time I let out a gasp, only it’s rough and pained like I’ve been stabbed in the gut. The baby’s cradle sat discarded in the dumpster, I reached forward and grip his brown blanket in my hand before pulling it out. “Mando,” I whisper weakly, when he doesn’t answer I look up at him, glaring through watery eyes.

“Was it worth it?” I whimper, “Damnú tú! Was he worth your cathéide you bastard?” I growl my native tongue spitting out on reflex as I throw the blanket at his new shiny armor. Mando catches the blanket before it can fall to the ground, “Nayc,” He answers softly in his own tongue. “Come on,” He grunts, pulling me along by my arm, “Where are we going? I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” I snarl trying to pull myself out of his grip. “Do you want to save the ad’ika or not?” He questions, I pause, look up at him with wide eyes. “We have to see if he’s in there or not so let's go.” He huffs, continuing to pull me along with him. I don’t fight him, I allow him to drag me to the top of an opposite building. I layed down beside him, watching as he looked through his rifle down at the building. Most likely using his helmet to see heat signatures and hear what little conversations he could.

“Well?” I question when he pulls away, “We have to act fast, he won’t be here for much longer.” Mando answers standing. Mando holds his hand out and I take it, effortlessly he lifts me up and onto my feet.

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lilliagradiewrites · 3 years

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go get her, kid. (peter parker)

Summary: Peter Parker is hopelessly in love with Tony Starks’ teenage daughter, and Stark encourages him to shoot his shot.

WC: 7.4k (holy shit)

Warnings: Bad language, , really nothing else. A lot of cute peter and a painful amount fluff. A tiny bit of angst too.

A/N: I found myself watching Tom Holland interview clips today and I just couldn’t help myself. Here we are: my first peter parker/ spiderman one shot! I have some Harry and Jj pieces in the works, so keep eyes out for that!

LET’S DO IT!!!

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Peter found himself in this position far too often. Staring at you shamelessly while you worked away at whatever was on your desk, usually a school assignment or some tech project. His crush had been going on for quite some time, but it was getting more and more difficult to hide.

You and Peter had been best friends ever since your dad first recruited him. Something clicked between the two of you, causing an instant friendship. As time went on, you grew closer and closer to the superhero, and he quickly became your best friend. You began surrounding yourself with his friends without even realizing it, becoming close with Ned and MJ almost instantly. They were great people, and you loved being around them, but something about Peter was just different. Your energies matched perfectly for some reason. He got your humour, liked the same things as you, plus he was a great conversationalist and an even better listener. Some of your favorite memories were made with Peter.

Despite knowing practically everything about the boy, you were completely oblivious about his huge crush on you. Ned was the only person who truly knew, though many other people had their suspicions. The Avengers had an idea about it, considering you were what he talked about 90 percent of the time. MJ could tell because of the way he looked at you. When he looked your way, his pupils enlarged, his cheeks went pink, and the look on his face was entirely lovey-dovey. It was so obvious just in the way he gazed at you when you spoke.

He was looking at you in that way now, though you weren’t aware. He was meant to be studying (it was the whole reason he came over to your house, or at least that’s the reason he told you), but he couldn’t bring himself to care about chemistry homework when you looked so damn beautiful. Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail keeping it away from your face as you worked. Your hands flew across the keyboard on your laptop, typing out something Peter probably wouldn’t understand. He was smart, sure, but you were intelligent in a different way. You were insightful and observant, you got things other people couldn’t begin to process. Your brain understood things in a different capacity than most. Peter assumes you got this trait from your father, who was the exact same way.

“What’re you typing? Something for school?”

You nodded, your attention not wavering from the laptop screen. “Yeah, an assignment for AP Lit.”

“Oh, that one project you told me about? With the essay and the powerpoint?”

You nodded again. “Mhm.”

Peter furrowed his brows, moving off your bed to come stand near you at your desk in an attempt to get a better look at what you were working so eagerly on. “I thought that project wasn’t due for another month.

“It’s not. I had an idea for the essay, and I figured if I get started early, I have more time to edit and perfect it.”

“You’re such a perfectionist.” Peter says with a light chuckle, looking at the state of your desk. It was both chaotic and organized at the same time. Pens, highlighters, pieces of paper, a book with annotations scribbled in the margins, notebooks with neat class notes printed inside of them in your pretty handwriting. They were all scattered about the surface, but Peter knew you well enough to know that there was always a method to your madness. As you observed longer, he realized that all of the items were in different sections on your desk, based on categories and subjects. He smiled lightly, realizing that this messy but technically neat surface was probably a very accurate representation of what goes on in your mind.

You finished the paragraph you were typing with a flourish, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. “There. I have a basic outline done for the essay portion. Obviously, I’ll have to go back and add a little more and elaborate on the points, but the basics are there.”

Peter glanced up at your laptop screen. His eyes were met with a never ending sea of typed out words. He smiled; this was so you. Your ‘outline’ is another student's essay doubled.

“You’re gonna write more than that?”

You looked back at him, and he saw your face for the first time during the encounter. His cheeks went slightly pink at the sight of you, and he prayed that you didn’t notice.

You didn’t, or perhaps you just didn’t say anything. You continued on with the conversation without skipping a beat, and relief washed over Peter because of this.

“Of course I am.” You stated with furrowed brows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is so boring and basic, and has no detail whatsoever. Anybody who reads the summary of the book online could write this. I want my teacher to know that I thoroughly read and understood the novel, you know? I don’t want to submit some surface-level shit, I want to really pick apart the undertones of and the meaning behind the story.”

Peter nods, pretending to understand what you meant. He’d barely been paying attention to the words you were saying, too encapsulated with your beautiful eyes to do so. You turned back around towards your work, causing your best friend to snap out of his trance-like state.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”

You had now picked up a pencil and a highlighter, working on the chemistry notes he was supposed to be taking. “Don’t you have work to do, Pete?”

“...No.”

You paused your writing to gaze at him skeptically.

“So you did your book report for english?”

“Yes.”

“Your worksheets for pre-calc?”

“Mhm.”

“You read the assigned chapters for Pschycology and finished the quiz you had to take on them?”

A nod was your only answer.

“What about chem? We have notes, essay questions, assigned reading, and a formulas worksheet due next tuesday. Have you done all of that?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, I have.” It was a clear lie. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“There’s no way you did all of that. Go finish your work, and then we can watch a movie.”

A groan escapes Peters lips as he turns, resting against your desk. “But that’ll take forever. Your dad kicks me out at 11:00. We’ll never have time to watch one.” He whines.

You smile slightly, unable to fight it. Not replying to your friend, you spin around in your chair, raising your voice slightly, “FRIDAY, connect to dad please.”, the command directed to nowhere in particular.

“Connecting to Mr. Stark.” The familiar robotic voice echoes throughout your room.

“What’s up, Y/N/N?”

“Hey, Dad? Can Peter stay a bit later tonight?”

“Why?” Your dad’s voice replies through a hidden speaker, his tone almost accusatory.

“Because he wants to watch a movie but I won’t let him until we’re done with homework. We won’t have enough time to finish the movie if he leaves at normal curfew? Pleeeaseee, Dad?”

You can hear your father sigh. “Fine, but only because it’s not a school night and I’m feeling generous. He’s gotta be gone by one though, no exceptions.”

Both of you smiled widely, and you erupted in cheers. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Kid, be ready for training at eight. A later curfew doesn’t mean an exception from your early morning saturday sessions.” The statement was directed at Peter, who nodded, despite your father not being able to see him.

“Got it, Mr. Stark.”

“FRIDAY, disconnect.” You heard Tony’s voice from the other side.

“Disconnected.” The sound of the AI confirming the command filled your room, and the space fell into a brief silence once again.

You spun in your chair, turning to face Peter with a smug smile on your face. “There, now we can get our work done, and watch a movie. Satisfied?”

Peter nodded, giving a roll of his eyes and heading back over to his workspace on your bed, plopping down and continuing his assignments.

An hour and half later, Peter gave a heavy sigh, finally closing his textbook with a smile. “All done!” he announced proudly.

“With everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

You closed your notebook you’d been working in, standing up. “Great. I’ve been done for half an hour, I’ve been working on future assignments while I waited for you to finish up. Ready to watch that movie?”

Peter nodded excitedly. He loved watching movies with you, because you always cuddled up close to him on your bed while you watched. Peter loved being in close proximity to you, even though it made him a little nervous.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, beginning to clear his things off your bed.

“I don’t know. We can discuss while we go make popcorn.”

Peter’s eyes lit up; he loved popcorn.

“Okay!” He tossed the rest of his things in his school bag, zipping it up quickly and dropping it in the corner of your room. “Lets go!”

You chuckled at his childlike behavior, following him out of your bedroom door towards your kitchen. The entire journey down the stairs, down the hall, and to the kitchen was filled with Peter going on and on about movies he wanted to see.

You grabbed the microwave popcorn from the pantry, unwrapping it and tossing it in, starting up the machine.

You continued to listen to Peter as soft popping sounds filled your kitchen.

“Oh, you guys have Disney plus, right? What if we watched that new star wars show thingy? The mandalorian?”

You smiled at this statement. Though you didn’t see the boy in any way but a friend (at least that’s what you told yourself), you found Peter’s Star Wars obsession very cute.

“I mean, I would watch that, but I don’t think I’d understand it.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never seen the movies.”

You watched in amusement as Peter’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve NEVER seen the Star Wars movies? Are you kidding me, Y/N?”

You laughed at his reaction, moving to fetch the fully popped popcorn from the microwave and transfer it into a bowl. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve been meaning to watch them forever, but I guess I never got around to it.”

“I can’t believe this!” Peter exclaims in disbelief. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, and you’ve never seen the Star Wars movies? This is insane! I talk about them so much… did you just never understand what I was talking about?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Nope, I never have. I kinda just let you talk about it, because I planned on watching the movies. I figured I’d understand what you meant when I watched them.”

“Holy shit… we’re watching the first one tonight, Y/N. No arguments, we’re doing it.”

You grabbed the now prepared bowl of popcorn, smiling at your friend. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You headed back up the stairs, the sound of your footsteps accompanied with the sound of Peter murmuring in disbelief as you made your way to your room.

Once the two of you arrived at your destination, you closed the door, placing the bowl of popcorn on your still cluttered desk.

Peter climbed into your bed, while you rummaged through your drawers in search of comfy clothes. “I’m gonna change into pj’s before we start, i want to be comfy.”

Peter nodded. “FRIDAY, put Star Wars: The Phantom Menace on Y/N’s TV.” He spoke out in a slightly raised voice. The movie appeared on your screen, waiting to be started as you changed.

A few moments later, you emerged from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt.

“Y/N, this is about to change your li-” Peter’s voice trailed off as he looked at you. The oversized shirt you were wearing… was his.

He choked on the piece of popcorn he’d been eating. “I-is that my shirt?”

You looked down on what you were wearing, realizing that it was, in fact, Peter's. “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry. You left it at the lab once, dad gave it to me to give to you, and I guess it just got mixed in with my clothes. I’ll wash it and give it back.

Peter shook his head, coughing again. “No, it’s okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” his cheeks went pink as he realized what had just left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say the last part.

Your cheeks went even pinker at the compliment, which you couldn’t deny made your stomach flutter a little bit. “Okay, thanks.” You smiled at your friend, climbing into the bed beside him. You cuddled in close to him, probably closer than need be, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“FRIDAY, start the movie.”

---

A few hours later, the credits were rolling, and Peter was red in the face. You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and had moved even closer to him in your slumber. You were now full-on cuddling the boy, and he had no idea what to do. Your leg was moved over his, your head lay on his chest. One arm thrown around his waist. He liked having you this close, but his stomach was in a constant state of butterflies, and he was worried that the sound of his heart beating loudly in his chest would wake you.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been close to one, because a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.

Without waiting for an answer, Tony entered the room. “Alright, kids, it’s almost curfew, time to wrap it up…”

His eyes landed on you and Peter, cuddled up in your bed.

“Kid, what the hell is going on here?”

“Mr. Stark! Um, Y/N fell asleep while we were watching the movie and she kinda… I don’t know.. Ended up like this? Nothing’s going on, I swear, it’s just… I didn’t want to wake her up…”

Peter’s face was the color of a tomato at this point. Stark still had his suspicions about the boy’s intentions, but had a feeling that Peter was telling the truth. “Alright, then. You’d better get your ass home and get some sleep. Like I said, you don’t get a free pass from training because you were cuddling with my daughter till one am.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, Mr. Stark, I- We weren’t… I Wasn’t…”

Stark chuckled at the boy’s flustered state. “I’m screwing with you, Kid. Now get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you at 8 AM sharp at the compound”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. 8 AM. Got it.”

Tony turned and left without another word, leaving Peter slightly panicked. Did Mr. Stark think that something was going on between him and Y/N? Would he be mad if there was? Peter didn’t know what to think, but he knew that he should probably leave before Tony decided to come back.

Peter climbed carefully out from underneath Y/N, setting her head gently on her pillow. He tried his very best not to wake her as he moved out of the bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you lots.” Peter whispered to his ‘best friend’, planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. With that, he slid your window open, climbing out of it and swinging his way home.

Peter was completely oblivious to the fact that Tony had been standing quietly outside your door when Peter said his goodbyes, and Tony saw the entire encounter. The ‘goodnight’, the ‘i love you’, the sweet forehead kiss.

Tony had his suspicions, but that night it was confirmed: his newest recruit had it bad for his daughter.

Strangely, Tony didn’t find himself terribly angry over it.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring frustratingly loud. You groaned at the noise, picking up your phone to turn it off. The time on your phone screen read 7:00 AM. Groaning again, you pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed. As much as you hated getting up out of bed, you knew you had to if you ever wanted to complete your training. Your father had promised you that you’d get a spot on his team if you trained hard enough, and you were extremely determined. It had been your dream for years to become an Avenger, so you had been training your ass off for months to earn your spot.

This is how all of your Saturdays had begun for many weeks. An alarm going off at seven in the morning, waking you up to get ready for training at eight. It was a normal routine for you at this point, but for some reason the early wake up never got easier.

You moved about your regular morning routine, heading straight for your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Once your basic hygiene was done, you brushed through your hair, changed into some clothes (your training uniform was at the compound), grabbed your phone, and headed downstairs.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, where your father was already making his morning coffee. When he noticed your presence, he gave you a tired smile.

“Morning, Y/N/N. Sleep well?”

Still half asleep, you gave an exhausted nod. “I shouldn’t have stayed up that late last night. I’ll yell at Peter when I see him. He always manages to convince me to let him stay late.”

For some reason, your father gave a light chuckle at your words. “I bet he does, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement. Something about his tone of voice didn’t sit right with you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making your way over to fix yourself a cup of coffee.

Your father smiled smugly at you, passing over the coffee pot and a mug. “Nothing, honey. Be ready in fifteen.”

Still suspicious, your eyes followed him as he placed his coffee mug in the sink and moved from the room. Why was he acting like this? Did Peter do something last night? You remembered falling asleep halfway through the movie, not being able to make it through the whole thing. Had something happened while you were sleeping?

Deciding not to let it bother you, you pushed the interaction from your mind, focusing solely on fixing your coffee. You were barely functional without it, and you knew you needed to be fully aware for training. You had to prove to your father that you could keep up with the Avengers, and that you’d be a useful asset to their team.

You downed the coffee quickly, knowing you had only a few minutes left to get ready. When your father gave you a time warning, he always meant it. And, you knew all too well, he would leave you behind if you were going to make him late.

He’d done it twice before.

Once you had finished chugging the remnants of your coffee, you placed the mug neatly in the sink, right beside where your father had left his. The drink had been an instant pick-me-up, and you automatically felt more awake. You found yourself getting more and more excited for the day ahead of you. Though waking up early on saturday mornings was a pain in the ass, you did enjoy training. You got to exercise, learn about cool technology, and screw around with your best friend. What wasn’t there to like?

Now that your best friend had crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone to text him. You sent him a message every morning, or he sent one to you. It was just a thing the two of you did. Over the past year the two of you had been close, it became some sort of routine.

Y/N/N: morning spidey. u awake?

Within moments, he was typing out a reply. He always answered your messages quickly.

Spidey: yes i am :) ready for training? I’m gonna kick ur ass in sprints today

You chuckled lightly at his response. You and Peter had always been insanely competitive towards each other, and it really jumped out during training. Unfortunately for you, Peter usually won the challenges. You always blamed it on the fact that he had more experience and super strength; he blamed it on the fact that ‘you suck’ and ‘he’s just that awesome’.

Y/N/N: u can try, but idk how that will work out. I’ve beaten u in all of the other sprints for weeks.

Spidey: doesn’t matter. I’m showing out today

Spidey: bring ur a-game, irongirl.

You smiled at the message.

Y/N/N: always do, spiderboy

He started typing back immediately, and you knew exactly why. He called you irongirl to screw with you, so you had begun calling him spiderboy to get on his nerves. It worked every time.

Spidey: Y/N!!! It’s spiderman!!!

Y/N/N: spiderboy!!! It’s nova!!!

Spidey: ugh. Ur impossible.

You grinned widely. Your playful banter with Peter has always been one of your favorite parts of the friendship.

Y/N/N: but u love me anyways :)))) see u soon

Spidey: u better be glad i do. see u soon

You reread the texts, unable to fight the smile on your face. Everytime you interact with Peter, you remember how much you truly love him. Being an avenger, and the daughter of one of the smartest and most famous men on the planet, wasn’t easy. Peter was the only one who had a taste of the madness that was your life. Having him around was having a sense of normalcy, and so were incredibly grateful for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your voice being called from the front door of your house.

“Y/N! Time to leave!” Without hesitation, you locked your phone, slipping it into the pocket of your sweatpants.

You hurried towards the front door, not wanting to be left behind again. When you arrived, your father was already standing there, holding the door open. You gave him a smile and a quick thank you for holding the door, then made your way out. The driver was already waiting patiently in front of your house. This was one of your dad’s six drivers.

“Morning, Bernard.” You say kindly to the driver, climbing into the back seat of the range rover. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderful, Y/N. How are you?” The older man replied. You really liked Bernard, he was one of your favorite drivers. He was an older man, in his mid seventies, and you found him to be the sweetest person in the universe. Sometimes, he’d bring you your favorite candy when he used to pick you up from school, and he was always so considerate and kind.

“I’m good. Tired, but good.”

The man smiled at your reply. By this point, your dad had finished locking up the front door of the house, and he climbed in the backseat beside you.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Bernard said professionally to his new passenger, and your dad nodded as a reply.

“Morning, bernard.”

The conversation ended there between the two men. Your father wasn’t a very social person with people he didn’t know, and Bernard was aware of this fact. He mostly talked to you when you were in the car, and Tony went on his phone and did Lord knows what.

“How is Dorothy doing? Is she feeling better?” You asked the man as he began pulling out of your driveway. Dorothy was Bernard’s wife, and she’d gotten sick the week prior. Given her age, Bernard was very worried about her.

Bernard smiled at your question. “Much, much better. They released her from the hospital yesterday, she’s back home and doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course!” You grinned back. “Did you ever find out what she had?”

“Pneumonia, just a very bad case of it.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad she’s better! I was worried when you first told me.”

The conversation continued, talking about anything and everything as you drove to the compound. He told you about his wife, his four kids and what they’re doing. His granddaughter had a baby a few days before, and he was extremely excited about it.

After a 20 minute drive, you pulled up to the building you knew so well. Bernard went to the normal procedure of getting through the front gates, and then pulled up to the front of the compound.

“Well, here we are.” Bernard announced, parking the vehicle. You and your father began climbing out of the backseat.

“Thank you, bernard. Tell your granddaughter I said congratulations!”

He wished you a kind goodbye, and then you were gone, leaving the car and heading towards the compound.

When you walked into the main section of the building, you spotted your best friend in the kitchen. You had to admit, he looked incredible, standing near an open window in the early morning light. He was already dressed in his sleek, black training uniform. It was tight against his body, showing off his muscled body. Sometimes, you forget how beautiful Peter is.

“You’re staring…” A singsong voice came in your ear. You whipped your head towards the voice to see your father walking away from you, smirking. You stood there, feeling slightly confused. Had you really been staring at Peter?

At times, you forget that Peter is only your best friend. The two of you act like an old married sometimes. You spend all of your time together, and you know each other so well.

Strange feelings you couldn’t understand had crept up on you before, especially recently. You couldn’t deny Peter was attractive, and he was a great person, too. How could you not love him? The issue is, you found yourself loving him in a different way than before…

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You couldn’t be thinking about this right now, it’s not the place or time. Peter was standing right in front of you, and you needed to be focused for training.

You could process your feelings and emotions at a later time.

You began walking up to Peter, who was leaning up against the counter holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning, loser.” You said teasingly, greeting your friend. His head snapped in your direction, and he smiled when his eyes found you. (You thought you could see his cheeks go pink, too, but you forced yourself to ignore it.)

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” You replied, leaning against the counter beside him. “I didn’t even notice that you left last night, I was really out. Did my Dad come in and tell you to leave?”

The pink in Peter’s cheeks darkened at your statement. Of course, this was the perfect time for your father to reenter the room. “Yeah, I did. He seemed very comfortable, but I kicked him out at one.”

Peter and your father were making direct eye contact. Your dad had that stupid smirk on his face, and peter was bright red.

You looked between the two of them, not knowing what to think. Before, you were just suspicious, but now it was confirmed: something happened last night between the two of them, and you were determined to find out what.

Hours later, you’re completely exhausted from training. You worked your ass off, and had successfully beat Peter in sprints.

“That’s right! You lost! How amazing is spiderboy now?”

Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Whatever, Y/N. I let you win.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did not! I won because I’m better!”

Peter just smiled at you. You took a swig of the water bottle in your hands, turning around to look at your friend as you did.

The sight you were met with was very sweet. Peter stood there, smiling at you with a look you could only describe as adoration. You looked back at him, a small grin resting on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The brunette boy says cheekily.

“Why are YOU looking at ME like that, Parker?”

You took a step closer to him, his eyes widening slightly at your movement. He said nothing in response to your question (though it felt more like an accusation), and you smiled again.”Got nothing to say?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Parker!” You jumped what felt like 20 feet in the air at the sound of Natasha’s voice, breaking up the little moment between you and Peter.

You stepped back away from him, and you couldn’t help but notice the sadness flash across his face before he turned to the other woman in the room.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Tony needs your help in the lab. I believe his exact words were ‘he needs to be here in five or I’ll kill him.’ A few minutes have already passed, I’d start running if I were you.”

Peter’s eyes widened for the second time. “Oh, shit, okay. Thanks, Nat.” He turned his head quickly in your direction. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. Peter planted a quick kiss on your forehead before jetting off in the direction of the lounge.

Grinning to yourself, you turned towards the sink, your back facing Natasha. You begin cleaning out your now empty water bottle, thinking over the previous interaction with Peter. You loved when he kissed your forehead.

“So, how long have you liked him?” You were so deep in thought, Natasha’s voice made you jump once again. When you’d fully processed her words, your cheeks went pink.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I know you like him.”

“Like who?” Play dumb. That’ll throw her off your trail… right?

“Peter! Come on, you’re caught. Just admit it, Y/n, you’re making things harder on yourself.”

Finally, you sighed. Drying your hands on a towel, you turned reluctantly back towards Nathasha. “Is it really that obvious?”

The woman broke out into a grin at your words. “Of course it is! You two are hopelessly in love with each other. It’s almost hard to watch.”

Your cheeks went pink at her statement. “With each other? Oh, no. You mean I’m hopelessly in love with him. It’s not mutual. I’m just his best friend.”

Nat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on! ‘Just his best friend’ my ass. He loves you, Y/N. He’s even more obvious than you are.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I promise you’re wrong.”

She looked at you pointedly. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but…” Your voice trailed off. You couldn’t argue with that. Nat grinned smugly at your reaction.

“That’s what I thought. Please confess to him when he meets you in your room later. It’s painful to watch, I can’t do it any longer.” And with that, Natasha was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Was it really thought obvious? Could everyone tell how you felt about peter? You could hardly even tell how you felt about him; the line between best friend and crush had been blurred for so long. If everyone could tell that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, you would be incredibly embarrassed.

Even worse… what if Peter could tell that your in love with him?

You shook your head, as if clearing your thoughts. No. You couldn’t think like that. Of course he didn’t know; he would’ve said something.

Right?

Sighing, you walked off towards your room to take a shower, pretending you weren’t going to think of him while you were in there.

---

While Natasha was exposing your feelings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Tony was doing the same thing to Peter in the lab.

When the boy walked in, Peter fully expected that he was being called for one of three reasons.

One: Tony had a new mission for Peter.

Two: Tony needed help with an experiment.

Or, three (the scariest option): Tony wanted to scold him for (albeit unintentionally) cuddling with his daughter the night before.

Peter could only be described as apprehensive as he walked carefully into the lab, where Tony was hunched over a table, working on something that Peter couldn’t see.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter spoke nervously, a timid way of letting Tony know of his presence. “Nat said you needed me. Is that true, or was she just trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, I called for you.” Tony replied. He made a few last touches on whatever he was working on, then turned around towards peter. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Okay, option two is eliminated. Now, the question at hand is: will it be option one or three?

“Oh, okay. What about?” Peter said casually (or at least, that's how he hoped it came across.)

Tony gave a pointed look to the boy before speaking again. “My daughter.”

Peter’s eyes widened slightly.

Shit, shit, shit.

Option three it is.

“Is this about last night sir? I swear I can explain-” Peter was quickly speaking.

But, before he could finish, Tony was cutting him off.

“This isn’t about last night, kid. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.

Unknown option number four?

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I saw what happened before you left last night. The forehead kiss, the ‘I love you,’ all of it.”

Peter was bright red in seconds. “Oh…”

“Do you love my daughter, Peter?”

The boy’s cheeks somehow managed to go a darker shade of pink.

“I-I uh.. O-of course I do, she’s, uh, she’s my best friend.” Peter stammered out.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, Peter.” The man says, his tone borderline accusatory. “Do you love her, love her?”

Silence. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he opted for nothing at all.

“I already know the answer, Peter, so you might as well just come out and say it.”

Peter pondered his next move. If he played his cards wrong, this conversation could end in him losing his life. Tony Stark was not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to Y/N.

On the other hand, Tony Stark was not one to be lied to, either.

Peter sighed, accepting his fate. “How did you know?”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony gave a small smile. “I see the way you look at her, kid. I’ve looked at many girls like that in my day. That enamoured look. You're in love with my daughter, and I have some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yes, questions, kid. Keep up.”

Peter nodded. “Alright.”

“How long?” Tony asked.

“How long…?” Peter didn’t understand what Tony was aking.

“How long have you been in love with Y/N! How long have you known?”

Peter looked away, breaking eye contact momentarily out of nerves.

When did he begin loving you? Now that he’s truly thinking about it, he can’t really remember.

Maybe it was the first mission that the two of you did together, back when you still known as irongirl. It was a bank robbery, an easy task that Tony had given for your very first mission.

Maybe it was that one time when you dragged him out of bed at 6 AM so that you could show him your favorite coffee shop.

Perhaps it was when you took that faithful mission to Asgard, when you gained your powers accidentally, earning your new title as Nova.

Or, it could be the time that you and him stayed up late binge watching a show he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you that night. You looked so beautiful that night, getting excited as something cool happened in the show. Your hair was tied back, wearing an oversized shirt, your face makeup free. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, and didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.

Yeah, he thinks it was that night.

“Um… about ten months ago, I think? That’s when I realized, but I think I’ve loved her for longer. I just forced myself not to acknowledge it, I guess.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “I get that. What is it about her?”

Another question the boy had to think about.

“There’s a lot of things, I think. Like how excited she gets when she talks about things she’s passionate about. Oh, and the way she laughs when something’s funny in a movie or a show or something. And the way she sends me memes or videos that she thinks are funny. They’re usually not very funny, but of course I think it’s hilarious just because she sent it to me. And she always listens to me when I talk, even if I’m talking about something stupid and boring like science stuff I think is interesting. She talks back to me like she cares what I’m saying, and I know she probably doesn’t, but she acts like she does, and that’s enough. She always drags me out to go on adventures, or, at least, that’s what she calls them. Usually it’s just going to get coffee or try out some new restaurant she heard about but it’s still fun. She’s just so amazing, and I think she makes me the best version of myself.”

The rant ended, and for a moment, Peter forgot that Tony was even in the room.

“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, kid. To be honest, I expected some shallow answer like ‘she looks hot in her suit’ or something like that.”

“No, sir. Of course, she’s beautiful, but Y/N is just so much more than that.”

Tony gave another sweet smile to the boy in front of him.

“She likes you, too, you know.”

Peter’s head snapped toward Tony again.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?”

“Y/N. She likes you.”

“No way. She just sees me as her best friend. I’m probably like a brother to her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“But she does, kid. I know my daughter better than I know myself. She is head over heels for you, spidey. Which is why you should tell her how you feel.”

“Tell her how I feel? Why would I do that?”

“Because she likes you, too, and then you two will be stupid kids in love.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Peter paused for a moment. “I thought you’d kill me when you found out I liked your daughter, not convince me to go talk to her about it.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. I brought you in here with the intention of killing you, or just telling you to stay away from my daughter. But after you went on that little rant about why you loved her, I just couldn’t tell you to keep away from her. You really love her, kid, I can tell. So go talk to her.”

“You’re sure you won’t be mad if I ask her out?”

Tony shook his head and smiled.

“Go get her, kid.”

-------

Freshly clean and feeling a significant amount better, you sat on your bed scrolling on your phone. Thoughts of Peter had begun to fade (mainly because you forced them out of your mind) and that helped to keep you from stressing about what’s to come.

You had decided to confess how you feel to Peter.

True, this plan could ruin everything. Today could be the day you lost your best friend, and that thought made you want to cry.

But today could also be the day you finally get to kiss the boy you’ve loved forever, and that thought also made you want to cry.

You didn't have much time to think about it further, however, because Peter was knocking on your bedroom door.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

You paused immediately, your heart rating speeding up.

Oh, shit. This is it. This could be the beginning or the end of you and Peter Parker.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. It was now or never.

“Yeah, Petey, come on in.”

The door opened, and the boy you loved so much walked in. His cheeks were pink, you noticed. His cheeks only went pink when he’s nervous. Why was he nervous?

You could tell by his damp hair that he had also showered before coming to your room.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He rushes out.

Oh.

“Same.” is your reply. What else are you meant to say?

“Oh, really? Well, uh, you can go first. I’ll wait.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, you first. You said it first, so it’s only right that you go.”

Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Another nervous habit of his.

“Can I sit down?”

You nodded. Why was he even asking? Usually he’d just plop down whenever he pleased, no questions asked. This behavior was very out of character for the boy you knew so well.

The boy sat down on the edge of your bed, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have to. I don’t want you to hate me, and I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but…”

Peter paused for a moment, and looked into your eyes. They were brimming with concern, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke the eye contact you’d been maintaining, mustered up all the courage he could, and then blurted it out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for I don’t know how long. I wasn’t planning on telling you, because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but it was starting to get physically painful and I just- I can’t hide it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry.”

Peter clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at your face. He waited (very anxiously) for a reaction, but it never came. Eventually, he opened his eyes, gaining the burst of bravery it took to look at you.

Your jaw was dropped, the expression on your face unreadable.

Oh, no. No no no no no. He’d fucked up. He fucked everything up and now you were never going to speak to him again. He’d lost you. Damn you, Tony Stark.

“Y/N…” He began his apology solemnly. “I’m-”

But he never got to finish his sentence.

Because you were pouncing on him before he had the chance to.

You were on him within seconds, kissing him with so much intensity that he fell back on the bed. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly kissed you back.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, wrapped in one another, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

A kiss that made up for all the ones both of you had longed to have in the months before.

You pulled away gently, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“I have loved you for so fucking long, Peter. I was going to tell you that I loved you today.”

“Are you serious?”

You laughed lightly. “Of course I’m serious, you dumbass.”

“Hey!” Peter feigned offense.

You pecked his lips. “You’re a cute dumbass, though.” And then you were kissing him again, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

----

After a while, the two of you had finally tired each other out, and now you sat cuddled against each other on your bed. No movie or show was playing; it was just you and Peter, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of your heartbeats.

You looked up at the beautiful boy you were cuddling with, only to find he was already looking down at you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out, Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went red (for the millionth time that day.)

“Oh, yeah, I- I just thought- nevermind, uh- Y/N, will-”

“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Petey.” You cut him off, saving him a few extra minutes of nervous stammering.

He smiled sheepishly at you, then leaned down to bring you into a kiss.

You cuddled back down into his chest, smiling warmly.

You can confidently say that right now, in this moment, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

#peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu

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oonajaeadira · 3 years

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The Mandalorian Tarot: Major Arcana

If you’re following me, you know this is a Mandalorian obsessive account. I love the man, I love the show, I write a Mando-fando that is all about pining and touch. I tend to go all in when I have an interest.

Another one of my interests? Tarot. A friend challenged me to Mandalorify the major arcana. And because Jon and Dave know their stuff and are good with archetypes (which is all tarot really is), it was an easy fit.

YOU GOT MANDO IN MY TAROT. YOU GOT TAROT IN MY MANDO. TWO GREAT TASTES THAT TASTE GREAT TOGETHER.

But. I can’t draw, so I’ve dreamed them in words and included the Rider-Waite-Smith deck illustrations that I would riff on if I could.

READY? LET’S PLAY.

(All tarot illustrations by Pamela Colman Smith. All Mandalorian images property of Star Wars/Disney.)

UPDATE! @heathenashtattoos has taken up where I cannot and is making these cards a reality! I will post them individually and come back to link them to this post as we go.

0 THE FOOL = THE MANDALORIAN / IT IS MADE! --->

The story of the tarot is the Fool’s journey, the arc of becoming. So it makes sense to me that Din would be the fool. Fits even better, since he has tremendous Fool energy in his himbo tendencies, just rushing forward into situations without a lot of planning--he’ll deal with it when he’s in it--ready to rely on others to show him the way or guide/help him to the next step.

If I could draw: Din on the cliff, with his jetpack on, meaning he has no fear of falling. Instead of the bindle-stick the Fool carries, he’d have his pulse rifle slung over his shoulder. Instead of the dog nipping at his heels, Grogu. And, of course, the landscape would be Tatooine/Navaro-esque.

~~~

1 THE MAGICIAN = LUKE SKYWALKER , IT IS MADE! --->

The Magician is someone who is still learning to bend the laws of magic/the Universe, but very adept with their tools. Since Luke is only a few years into his Jedi training at this time, he makes a pretty good Magician.

If I could draw: Luke in his blacks, holding up his lightsaber. The Jedi symbol would replace the infinity sign.

***

2 THE HIGH PRIESTESS = AHSOKA TANO / IT IS MADE! -->

High Priestess is further along the path of her magic than Magician, and her knowledge is more intuitive, her skills more effortless. Where the Magician is still learning the balance of light and dark, the High Priestess knows the value and pitfalls of both. It was always going to be Ahsoka.

If I could draw: Ahsoka sitting cross-legged in meditation mode, but with eyes open and a knowing smile. Instead of two pillars, she holds her lightsabers up and parallel to each other.

***

3 THE EMPRESS = PELI MOTTO / IT IS MADE! -->

The Empress is the mother figure, the energy in the universe that provides all that is needed and embodies the energy of creation. I can see the argument for Omera being the Empress--mostly because she is a mom and she’s soft and a lot of people see the Empress as a soft female figure, I get it. (And if I were to do a minor arcana, girl would show up as one of the Queens for sure.) But in the end, I gave it to Peli because she’s a recurring character, more relevant in his story, and if Din is the Fool, Peli is more an Empress to him. She’s able to be the provider of his particular needs; services to his ship to get him up flying, contact and location information, and she’s always willing to care for Grogu whenever she gets the chance.

If I could draw: Peli sitting in the dock, against the R4 unit, holding aloft a spanner and surrounded by her pit droids.

***

4 THE EMPEROR = BOBA FETT / IT IS MADE! -->

The Emperor is all about authority. And all I gotta say about Boba is BIG DICK ENERGY.

If I could draw: Just put him on the Jabba throne and let him lounge like a badass.

~~~

5 THE HIEROPHANT = THE ARMORER / IT IS MADE! -->

The Hierophant is the keeper of traditions and a spiritual guide. As the leader of the covert and keeper of the Way, The Armorer fits.

If I could draw: The Armorer, framed by her forge, holding aloft her tools, with Mandalorian acolytes. Instead of the crossed keys at the bottom, let’s just have a mythosaur skull.

***

6 THE LOVERS = FROG LADY AND FROG HUSBAND

This should be obvious and I will fight anyone who says it isn’t the right thing to do. I will die for this.

If I could draw: I would actually depart from the Smith depiction and just draw them embracing or holding each other by the arms and staring into each others’ eyes. Some kind of glowing background? Maybe the egg tank?

***

7 THE CHARIOT = THE MUDHORN

Oh. You thought I was going to say the Razor Crest, didn’t you. Don’t worry, I have plans for our beloved craft, but it ain’t here. The Chariot can be a ride, yes, but it’s about victory. Sometimes it’s about the victory over your inner “beastly” natures. To travel to the next phase in the journey, the Fool must take on the beasts that drive the Chariot and claim dominance over them, and when he does, they will carry him to the next level. Since it’s the victory of the beastly mudhorn that brings Din to his bond with Grogu and becomes his signet, Mudhorn for the win.

If I could draw: Again, I’d probably play on Smith’s imagery, put the charging mudhorn in the middle, and replace the rams with Din on his knees brandishing the vibroblade and Grogu in his pram with his Force hand up.

***

8 STRENGTH = CARA DUNE

Don’t come at me about including Cara. I am glad Gina got shown the door and I lose no love on that bigot. But. Cara is not Gina and to cut her out is to cut out Jon and Dave’s creation and I won’t do it. I actually love her a lot--she’s got her flaws, but she’s sassy and strong and solid, and I would happily accept a piggyback ride from her any day. She’s also a major player in Din’s story and deserves a spot in it. Strength comes after the Chariot--once you’ve conquered the beast within, you have confident dominion over it and it becomes a companion or a tool for your use. Cara is one with her toughness, she’s used it to do some good and bad shit in her past, and she continues to wield it effortlessly and fearlessly. She is absolutely this card.

If I could draw: I would put her maybe sitting on top of the downed ATST. I’d replace the infinity symbol over her head with the one on her cheek (Rebel Alliance).

~~~

9 THE HERMIT = KUIIL

The Hermit is a loner, yes, but in his solitude he looks within, learns from all he’s been through, and becomes wise. He holds aloft a light of wisdom and truth. This was always going to be Kuiil.

If I could drawn: Just our buddy, looking out over the Arvala-7 landscape, holding aloft an in-universe working lamp. No need to get fancy. He would want it to stay simple.

***

10 THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE = IMPERIAL SYMBOL AND STORM TROOPERS

The Wheel is fate. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you’re on top, and sometimes the Wheel crushes you beneath it. You are helpless to its roll and where you’ll land. Storm Troopers are such a sad bunch. They are keepers of Imperial Law on the ground. On a good day, they capture a Rebel or hold off an attack. On a bad day, their Moff just blasts them to make an example.

If I could draw: The wheel would just be the Imperial symbol and there’d be Troopers on and under it. Maybe the one on top is just standing there, looking authoritative. The one underneath has been blasted. Some Wheels have two more figures--one on each side--and I’d add those too. The one on the down-going side would be falling, arms flailing, blaster shooting (if only sound were available, there’d be a Whilhelm scream), and the one on the up-going side would just be dangling by one arm, along for the ride.

***

11 JUSTICE = COBB VANTH

Well, it just feels right to make the Marshal into Justice. But it’s not just a literal translation of making sure the right thing gets done and the bad guys are punished. Justice is about wiping away emotion and making decisions with bare truth, looking at every side of the situation and understanding what is really there. And I think Cobb fits this well. He doesn’t want to give up his armor because of what it means for the protection of his people. But he’s willing to consider it, if there’s another way he can protect them. Emotionally, he doesn’t want to deal with the Tusken Raiders, but he does it because he can see it’s the best course of action. He flies into battle with the Krayt Dragon. He gives up his armor without a fight. He makes a fair trade and sees the balance in it because he walks away from the emotion and chooses the best course of action. Cobb Vanth for Justice, errybody.

If I could draw: Cobb in the Fett armor, but with the helmet at his feet. In one hand, a bottle of spotchka. In the other, the Tusken mushroom drinky thing; he’s holding them with equal balance.

***

12 THE HANGED MAN = MIGS MAYFELD

The Hanged Man is not just about a dude who’s hanging upside down. (If that was the case, I would have just gone with Gor Koresh and called it a day.) Hanged Man is about changing your perspective to see things in a new way so you can grow. Many times, this growth also requires sacrifice. Over the two episodes we see Mayfeld, we know he goes from Imperial sharp shooter, to traumatized deserter, to merc, prisoner, and exonerated friend. He’s seen some shit, given up a lot, and he’s willing to see how he can be a help to others and find redemption for himself.

If I could draw: Hear me out. Take the image of Mayfeld hanging upside down from the Crest hatch into the prison ship. Mirror that above with an image of him in his Imperial Ground Transport gear. Flip it all upside down so bad Mayfeld up top, good Mayfeld on bottom, images mirrored but inverted, hence “looking at things a new way and getting everything a little topsy-turvey.”

~~~

13 DEATH = MOFF GIDEON

Death is about transformation, so it’s not always the most sinister card. But Death does not discriminate. It comes for us all, constantly stalking, and it will strike you down to serve its needs. You need to face Death to get to your redemption. But really, Gideon is our big baddie here, so why the hell not.

If I could draw: I would forgo the Smith illustration and go for the Marseilles tradition on this one. Gideon and the Darksaber replaces Death and the scythe.

***

14 TEMPERANCE = IG-11

Temperance is the transformation that comes after Death. Once Death has chopped your physical being into pieces with his scythe, Temperance is there to take all your pieces and put them back together into something new and better. It’s also a card that asks you to re-evaluate your priorities and see if you can find better motivations than you previously had. IG’s death and reprogramming speak loudly to me on this.

If I could draw: IG pouring the tea.

***

15 THE DEVIL = THE CLIENT

Here’s another baddie card that’s all about your worst faults, about excess and giving into the stuff that will eventually kill your soul. The Client holds on hard to the Empire, doing whatever he’s ordered to do to be one of the top dogs. And in the end, it doesn’t matter. Gideon takes him down like he’s nothing.

If I could draw: The client, wearing his Empire bling, with chains around Doctor Pershing and a rough-looking Storm Trooper.

***

16 THE TOWER = THE RAZOR CREST

I don’t know about you, but Chapter 14 killed me. And not because the Dark Troopers flew away with Grogu. We all knew Din would never stop at getting him back. But when the Crest was destroyed, it was like someone punched me in the soft parts, and I made a lot of severely anguished noises. The Tower is the most tragic card in the tarot. It’s when forces beyond your control make a very big (and usually negative) impact in your life and everything changes. You are left to pick up the pieces and survive any way you can with the skills and resources you’ve been blessed with.

If I could draw: Just that moment of the ray hitting our beautiful Crest, just as it begins to break apart, maybe with Din, Boba, and Fennec watching in horror in the foreground.

~~~

17 THE STAR = GROGU

The Star is hope. It comes after the biggest tragedy in the deck to tell you that not all is lost. There is always something there to live for. C’mon, kids. In this series, there was only one choice.

If I could draw: Just Grogu. Maybe drinking his soup. Or maybe he’s levitating his metal ball overhead, reaching up to it with a smile on his face. *coos*

***

18 THE MOON = BO KATAN KRYZE

We all like Bo Katan, sure. But remember my Clone Wars/Rebels fiends, she was Death Watch, and they were terrorists. She sided with Maul to take over Mandalore. Sure, she’s come a long way and her path is a bit more honorable now, but she’s got an agenda, which makes her hard to trust. Since the Moon is about more feminine energies and has themes of illusion and deception--things look great in the moonlight, but maybe not as they really are--Bo Katan’s our girl.

If I could draw: Head and shoulders profile, double-imaged so you see her face, but her Nite Owl helmet superimposed in profile over it. Nite Owl signet on the bottom. Possibly flanked by her two Nite Owl cronies.

***

19 THE SUN = GREEF KARGA

Everything's sunny when Greef’s around! He’s the feel-good gramps that’s going to make any situation A-Ok! If you’ve got a problem, Greef can sort it out...or he knows someone who can! The sun is always gonna shine on you and take you back.

If I could draw: Just Greef smiling and being cheesy with the halo of the sun around him.

***

20 JUDGEMENT = FENNEC SHAND

This card traditionally shows the resurrected rising from the grave, ready to be judged. Fennec’s got a lot to answer for in her life, but she is being given a second chance, and my number one girl crush is going to do new and wonderful badass things with it.

If I could draw: I’d either just show her opening her gut pocket to show her new works, all full of aura, with her looking down at it reverently. OR I might do a scene of her being rescued by Boba.

~~~

21 THE WORLD = THE HELMET

Din’s helmet is the world he lives in. But it’s also a symbol of The Way. The World represents completion, a wholeness of self and being, the end of the journey. And since Din is our Fool, his journey is an exploration of his morals and honor, what it means to walk the way of the Mandalore, and what the meaning of the helmet is for him. He may choose ultimately to keep it on and go all-in on Mandalorian-4-lyfe (Child of the Watch style), or he may understand that the helmet is just a symbol and the honor was in him all along; he can wear it or not wear it and it’s all the same.

If I could draw: The World usually depicts a circle or sphere of some kind, the symbol of perfect completion. The helmet is close enough, so it takes up the center. Traditionally, there are four symbols in the corners that give more meaning to The World, and I would replace them with The Razor Crest, Grogu, the Mudhorn Signet, and the pulse rifle or blaster. These represent his home, his foundling, his clan, and his religion, all of which make up more of the whole; what it means to him to be Mandalorian.

~~~~~~~~~~

Challenge accepted and faced.

Adira dops her witchy mic….

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #tarot #mandalorian tarot #star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #ahsoka tano #grogu #bo katan hate gang

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Beskar and Lace

Pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT! swearing, masturbation, voyeurism (just a touch), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (be safe in the real world, people)

Summary: Mando takes issue with what you wear to bed, so you decide to show him some other options and spiciness ensues.

Word Count: ~8700

Author’s Note: This was an idea I had when I wrote Dress Code but I couldn’t find a way to make it fit into that story so I wrote it as a stand-alone. If you’ve read my other stuff, you should know this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date, but while it’s not the softer Din I’ve written in the past, he still manages to be romantic in his own way. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

“Do you always dress like that for bed?” Mando’s voice catches you by surprise. He sounds a bit incredulous and you’re caught off guard because usually you’re already in bed fast asleep before he’s down here. You look down at your simple knee-length cotton nightgown, why should he care what you wear to bed?

“Yes? It’s a nightgown,” you reply, unsure of his reason for asking.

“It’s rather skimpy.” His voice sounds gruff, and disapproving?

You just blink back at the visor in his helmet for a moment and then glance down at yourself again in confusion.

“Skimpy?” He must be joking. “This is just like a longer shirt? I know it has short sleeves but, really, skimpy?” Now your voice sounds incredulous. This nightgown doesn’t even have much shape to it anymore having been washed and worn so often. Mando is standing there rigidly though, seemingly serious. You watch him as he tips his helmet down and up as if he is looking you over thoroughly and you feel your skin heat up under his gaze.

“It’s skimpy. I can practically see through it.” He says definitively. “You should cover up more. Space is cold.” His voice is still gruff and his commanding tone is starting to irritate you a bit, although you do have to tamp down your excitement at the see-through comment. Who does he think he is? You’re not some bounty he can push around. And why are you interested in him seeing through your nightgown??

“I’ve been wearing this every night since I took this job, and I’m perfectly comfortable” you tell him “besides, I don’t see what business it is of yours.” You reply a little haughty in an attempt to keep this conversation somewhat professional, Mando is your boss after all. You’ve been caring for his foundling for about six months now.

“It’s my business if you get sick.” Mando retorts.

“I’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion. He’s being ridiculous. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Mando lets out one of his long-suffering sighs as if you are the burden of his existence before telling you, “We’ll be in Canto Bight tomorrow. There are plenty of shops there and I expect you to buy yourself some new to wear to bed.”

“Alright, fine.” His tone implies that you shouldn’t argue with him about this. He turns abruptly and heads to his bunk, closing the door without another word.

What the hell was that? You stare after him, utterly perplexed by that conversation. Again, you look down at the nightgown, and while you have to admit it is looking rather old and maybe a little ratty, you would never see it as something skimpy or even something that Mando would see necessary to comment on. You wonder for a minute if something else could be bothering him, perhaps he was just taking a bad mood out on you? You rack your brain but things have been rather routine lately and you chalk it up to Mando being under a lot of stress as per usual. You head to your sleeping area, a little space you’ve carved out for yourself in a corner of the hull, and try to will your mind to sleep. Yet, you can’t stop replaying the whole conversation in your head. You also can’t stop the evil part of your mind that wants to jump for joy that Mando was looking over your body so intently. Ok, so maybe you have had one or two (or three or four) improper thoughts about your boss. I mean you’re not made of stone. He’s so tall and big and built it would make any woman a little curious. Then when you add in that constant bedroom voice that he has, it’s completely understandable. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Plus, he’s also a great father, so kind and caring towards his adopted son – your evil mind has no mercy on you. You roll over with a groan, mentally kicking yourself for your full-blown crush on the Mandalorian. I am an idiot.

I am a total idiot. What the fuck must she think of me? Din can’t sleep either; he is also plagued with thoughts of you. Not that this is anything new for him. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months and months now. Din knows that he needs your help to care for the little one and he has tried so hard to be professional around you and not scare you off. From the moment he hired you he thought you were way too pretty, but he was so desperate for the help that he told himself he wouldn’t become distracted. Clearly, that was a lie. Whenever he’s around you, he can’t stop himself from being distracted, watching you tenderly care for the child, listening for your laughter and happy words, and living for the moments when you turn towards him with a smile or a kind gesture. Oh and if he thought you were pretty when you first met, now Din realizes that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. Everything about you seems to turn him on, the curve of your lips when you say his nickname, the scent of your hair when it’s still damp from the shower, the sway of your hips when you rock the baby to sleep, the few times you’ve touched his bicep between his armor, all of it.

Ugh, but tonight, tonight was the closest he’s come to losing control around you. Usually Din tries to give you as much space as possible, waiting until he knows you’re in bed before going to bed himself. Except tonight, he came downstairs earlier than usual, and saw you wearing that thin little excuse for a nightgown. His heart skipped several beats when he realized he could see the outline of your figure right through it. It had him hard and wanting in seconds and so, he had picked a bit of a fight with you to preserve some semblance of normalcy. He sighed to himself again, he had sounded like a prudish jerk. But it was the right choice, and besides, you should get new nightclothes, something that would cover you up and keep his eyes off you. Who the fuck are you kidding? You’re still going to look at her. He groans at himself.

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

With the baby in tow in his little satchel, you explore the wealth of shopping in Canto Bight. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said there were plenty of stores here. It seems like the only things to do here are gamble, shop, and party. Mando is meeting with a client and for once, he’s given you some freedom to explore. You’re in one of the nicer casinos here and there are plenty of other tourists around, so you know that it must be safe or Mando would insist on accompanying you. Fortunately, you haven’t had to make many purchases in the time that you’ve been with Mando. He never lets you chip in for food or fuel, so you’ve mostly been saving your credits all this time. As you pass through the shops today, you marvel at the beautiful clothes, shoes, the fancy housewares, and so much more. You can’t resist buying the child a couple adorable plushy toys, including a frog that he immediately tries to eat before you gently explain to him that it is a toy. You decide to focus after that on your mission to buy a new nightgown and maybe some pajamas. You’ve made a few purchases, finding a couple soft pairs of pajamas that will be very relaxing and a very boring nightgown that comes down to your ankles, Mando’s style exactly, shows almost no skin. There’s no way he can find fault with these. As you continue through the shopping center, the baby suddenly reaches out as you pass a shop to grab something blue and silky. When you pry his little claws off the material, thankful that he hasn’t damaged it in any way, you realize it is a beautiful negligee. You look up at the rest of the store to see a lovely collection of mouth-watering lingerie. Evil You is back in a heartbeat. Maybe you should show Mando the true meaning of skimpy?

“Come in, come in!” The friendly sales woman sees you lingering at the entrance, “Everything is on sale today and we have so many fabulous items for you!” Her spirit and energy are captivating and you can’t help yourself. You follow her into the shop, letting your wicked thoughts get the best of you. You find yourself telling her that you need some sexy items for bedtime and the next thing you know you’re in the dressing room trying on increasingly delectable pieces of silk and lace. The baby has made himself at home in the waiting area sitting on a satin pillow and being fed fancy macarons by another sales woman, acting like the little prince that he is.

You admire yourself in the mirror, and although you have to admit that you look great, you can’t stop the debate going on in your head.

I am being ridiculous, buying lingerie to impress a man I’m not even involved with.

Yet! You’re not involved with him yet.

Shut up, I shouldn’t be thinking of Mando like this.

Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, stop overthinking it.

I do look pretty hot in this.

Yes, you do! And you can buy it for yourself too. You deserve to look hot!

It’s ok if it’s for me. I can buy this for me. I’m a strong, confident, sexy woman who buys herself lingerie.

Of course you are!!!

And who is Mando to tell me what I can and can’t wear? If I want to wear something skimpy, I will.

That’s right, girl! You’ll show him!

You’ve completely talked yourself into buying several of the negligees, one of which is so sexy you’re not sure if you really have the confidence to wear it, but you’re feeling daring. You justify it in your mind by reminding yourself that everything is on sale, and who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to shop like this. You even end up getting a bottle of scented lotion that the saleswoman recommends as guaranteed to drive your man wild. Not that you care about that, you lie to yourself, it’s for you, the strong, confident, sexy woman.

“That was completely necessary,” you tell the baby as you brush the cookie crumbs from his robe and resettle him in his satchel while the sales women box up all of your purchases. They even include a bag of macarons for the child for later; he’s thoroughly charmed the women working here, and gives everyone a happy coo and waves goodbye like you taught him. You head back to the Razor Crest, thinking that you should probably quit before you get yourself into too much trouble.

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

It takes a while to get the baby to bed that evening as he’s still wound up on all the sugar and is likely reacting to the buzzing energy you have going on. Evil You has decided to be sure that Mando sees you in one of your new negligees tonight. He saw all of your boxes and bags earlier and gave you a brisk nod in seeing that you followed his instructions. You even went so far as to pull out the modest nightgown to demonstrate how well you listened to him, all the while, Evil You was cackling about what you really have in store for him. While he’s still up in the cockpit, you take your time getting ready for bed. You moisturize your skin all over with your new lotion, it does smell divine, and then you put on a beautiful black silk chiffon chemise with pale pink lace trim. It’s sexy without giving too much away, but still the hemline reaches only to mid-thigh and the neckline provides a generous view of your décolletage. And unlike the shapelessness of the old gown, this shows off your figure flawlessly. Your timing is perfect as you are just coming out of the fresher when Mando’s boots hit the floor of the hull. When he turns and sees you he stops dead and is so still you’d think he’d been frozen in carbonite like one of his bounties except you can still hear him breathing, rather heavily, you think. You decide to feign innocence, blinking up at him to say, “Oh, good night, Mando! Just on my way to bed.”

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, not moving at all, until he grits out, “What. Is. That.”

“Oh! It’s one of my new nightgowns,” you keep up the wide-eyed act, “The sales woman said it was one of the most popular styles.” You even give a little half twirl to show it off, oh Maker, I am too much. You desperately want to ask him what he thinks but something tells you that you shouldn’t push him anymore yet.

“That is not the nightgown you showed me before,” his voice sounds accusatory.

You give a dainty shrug and say, “I was feeling too warm for that one.”

Mando doesn’t respond, but you watch as his hands curl into fists making the leather of his gloves squeak with the tightness. He watches you for a few more seconds before he abruptly turns away from you and stomps back up the ladder to the cockpit. Uh-oh that wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him. Should I go apologize? Did I offend him by flouting some type of Mandalorian modesty rule?

In the cockpit, Din is absolutely shuddering with the strength of his need for you. His beskar feels claustrophobic and he has to rip the helmet off his head just so he can draw a full breath. He throws himself into the pilot’s seat and is already undoing his trousers to free his rock-hard cock before he even knows what he’s doing. He pulls off his right glove and quickly licks his palm, before gripping himself roughly, so he can fuck his own fist at a punishing pace. Seeing you in that lingerie, Maker, it was better than anything his imagination had invented. Plus, the way you smelled, like some type of delicious fruit mixed with an earthy spice. He thought he was going to pass out from how fast all the blood in his body had rushed to his groin. As he pumps himself, Din moans your name and thinks about you wearing that negligee while riding his cock right here in his chair. He fantasizes about how he could tug down those delicate little straps and free your breasts with almost no effort, and how good that silk would feel swishing against his skin as he thrust up into you. It was enough to send him over the edge, cumming with another loud moan of your name. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

Well, you had some idea now. Your entire body was tingling and hot after hearing Mando’s sounds of self-pleasure coming from the cockpit. After his abrupt departure, you had stayed dithering for a few moments in the hull, until you had started to climb the ladder with a plan to check on him and possibly apologize. However, as soon as you realized what he was doing up there you froze and remained out of view. You knew you should have crept back down and given him some privacy, but when you heard him call out your name, it was like nothing could move you from that spot. He wanted you. It made you giddy with desire and you felt a surge of feminine power that you could bring out such a feeling in him. Hearing Mando like that had turned you on like nothing before and you were eager to touch yourself too, but the shuffling sounds of his boots suddenly brought you back to reality and you dashed to your bed as stealthily as you could. You resorted to squeezing your thighs together under the covers and pretending to sleep as you heard him return to the hull. It wasn’t until you were certain he was shut away in his own sleeping quarters, that you finally allowed yourself to dip your fingers into your soaking folds. Holding your other hand over your mouth to stifle any moans, you drew rapid circles around your clit and remembered how Mando had groaned your name. You were so excited that all it took was one finger into your wet heat and you were seeing stars as you reached your climax. You fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming about what you were going to wear tomorrow night.

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

The next day you woke up cheerful, still high from your discovery the night before. You remembered that Mando had said his next bounty was far away and that you’d be in hyperspace for almost four days, which meant you would have plenty of time to spend with him. You practically bounded out of bed, eager to start your day.

Din noticed your happy mood right away as it was such a contrast to his own frustrated and grouchy disposition that morning. His dreams had been full of you, and he had woken up hard and needy but was too angry at his lack of self-control to let himself indulge in jerking off again. He had been banging around the hull like an angry bear for most of the morning, but when you softly approached him with a plate of food and hot cup of tea, and that beaming smile on your face, he felt himself give in a little to your positivity. Then, the friendly way you had patted his pauldron and wished him a good morning, had stifled any desire to grumble at you. It’s not her fault you’re like this.

The rest of the day had passed surprisingly well and Din found his mood lifting substantially. His usual plan to shut himself away somewhere hadn’t panned out as you seemed to seek him out all day long. First, you had him playing games with you and the baby, then, you had decided it was lesson time and you asked Din to help you with that (you were trying to teach the child colors), and then later when the child was napping, you had come to sit near him, drawing him into conversation. In addition to being around him, it also seemed like you couldn’t stop touching him. All day you had found ways to make contact, a small squeeze of his bicep to get his attention, a brush of your hand on his back as you passed him, a little pat on his knee when he praised the child for knowing what blue was, and a couple others that didn’t appear to have any particular meaning. Not that he was complaining; Din lived for those small touches. The day had turned out to be pleasant and he was looking forward to getting some better sleep tonight.

Din had just finished putting away his dinner dishes when he heard you coming out of the fresher and heading towards your sleeping area. He knew you would need to pass by him and he had steeled himself for seeing you. He felt confident that he could keep everything in check tonight, telling himself it had only been the shock of seeing you in such a revealing outfit that had provoked him so much last night. Now that he knew what you’d be wearing, he could handle it, he was prepared. Except you weren’t wearing the same thing, oh no, tonight you had some silky red number on that clung tightly to every curve and only barely covered your ass. To make matters worse, he could see your hard nipples right through the material.

“Dank farrik!”

“Excuse me?” You startled at the sudden curse being uttered.

Shit, he’d said that aloud, “I uh, I stubbed my toe” he lies to you, like an idiot. He tries to turn away from you in hopes of putting you off.

“Oh no, are you ok?” You head toward him with concern in your eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re getting closer to him and reaching out a hand like you intend to touch him again. If you touch him right now there won’t be any way he can control himself, he’ll have you up against that wall in a heartbeat, or maybe tossed over those crates, shit, get it the fuck together. He practically jumps away from you, mutters something about the fresher, and makes a mad dash to the shower. He turns the water to the coldest setting and rips off his armor and clothes as hastily as he can. The jolt to his system from the icy stream is enough to help his mind calm down a little but it’s doing nothing for his raging erection. He groans and reaches to stroke himself. Before he knows it, he’s painting his stomach with his release, coming so hard he pounds his other fist against the wall as he cries out your name. He’s thankful that at least the water should drown out any sounds.

Out in the hull, you’re lounging on your bed, trying to stay awake so you can see Mando one more time before he bolts away from you again. You know he has to have gotten a fairly decent look at you in tonight’s lingerie, but banging his toe seemed to have distracted him completely. Which was odd because you’d known Mando to sustain much worse injuries with little to no reaction in the past. Unless he was only using the toe as an excuse? Maybe he’s not really that into you? Had he dashed away to spare you any embarrassment? Perhaps last night had been a one off. But then today you could have sworn he was responding to your flirting. You’re going back and forth in your mind when you suddenly hear a loud bang coming from the fresher followed by a loud groan of your name that you can hear even over the running water. Oh, he’s into me. Evil You surges to the surface and has you readjusting your position on the bed to look as seductive as possible. When Mando finally comes out of the fresher, he is wearing nothing but his helmet and his trousers, giving you a fantastic view of his gorgeous chest and torso, bare and still wet from his shower. It’s the most of his skin you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. You can’t keep your mouth from dropping open as you stare at him.

“You’re still awake,” Mando stops dead when he realizes you’re watching him.

“Uh, yeah, just uh, wanted to make sure, uh, you were ok?” You try to keep your eyes trained on his visor, but you keep failing, getting distracted by the muscles in his chest. Maker, looking up at him from this angle he is so tall and broad.

“I’m f- fine.” He pauses for a long moment remaining statue like, before saying, “Go to sleep. I mean, uh, you should, uh, go to sleep.” It doesn’t seem like he is going to move while you watch him.

“Ok, well, good night then.” You feel disappointed, but roll over and wrap yourself in your blankets. His sigh of relief is small but noticeable in the quiet of the hull. Mando switches off the lights and then you hear his soft shuffle as he heads to his own bed. He pauses though when he gets closer to you. It seems like he’s just standing there looking down at you in the dark, and then you hear his deep voice, “Good night.”

“I hope you sleep well,” you reply softly. He makes a slight sound that almost sounds like “yeah, right” but you can’t be completely sure before he shuts himself away in his bunk. Oh well, you’ll try again one more time tomorrow, you can wear the really sexy one, at least Evil You is still optimistic.

Meanwhile, Din is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He can’t stop picturing the expression on your face when he was standing there shirtless. Had you been looking at him with shock or desire? It didn’t help matters that you had been sprawled out on your bed looking like the Goddess of Temptation making him painfully hard yet again. He isn’t thinking clearly, it had to be shock, you had never seen him like that, he was always covered, even if it was only in the clothing he wore under the beskar. But what if it was desire? He groans to himself. Even if it had been desire, he’d made a complete ass of himself, and what was he supposed to do now, go back out there and try to get into bed with you?

Yes, do that, you idiot.

Why so she can punch me?

She might not.

Shut up, dumbass!

Din rolls over, sighing to himself, resigning himself to another long night.

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

It’s your turn to groan under the water in the shower, but sadly not from pleasure. It had been a trying day. To say that Mando had been in a mood was an understatement. He had been downright grouchy bordering on sullen. To make matters worse, the child fed off his adoptive father’s terrible disposition and had been extremely fussy all day. You had poured enthusiasm into trying to rouse their spirits, but the more you tried, the more your two boys dug in their heels and refused to be cheered. Eventually, you had given up and just settled for quiet, but the baby had taken that as a personal affront and had a very loud tantrum that had included magically flinging things around the ship. Thank the Maker you still had the bag of macarons from Canto Bight, which you promptly bribed him with to get him to stop. You’d let him eat the entire bag and yeah, that was a parenting don’t, but you were at your wits end and would have given him anything to just make the screaming end. Of course, afterwards, you had the exhausting job of chasing after him all over the ship as he celebrated his sugar high, but at least he was happy. Mando, on the other hand, had taken to working on fix-it projects on the ship, which seemed to really be an excuse for him to swear and bang at something all afternoon. You’d hoped it might help him work out some frustration, but he seemed just as grouchy as ever, barely saying two words to you since you brought him his dinner. So yeah, you aren’t feeling stellar this evening.

The plans for your spicy surprise for Mando have all but disappeared. Before coming into the fresher, you had taken a long look at both the incredibly sexy lace lingerie and the ultra-modest, covers-everything, I-give-up nightgown. You had grabbed both before coming in here, but you still weren’t sure which one you ought to put on. As you turn off the water, you see them both sitting there, hot versus ho-hum. You know if you put on the boring nightgown, ho-hum is exactly how you are going to feel. Fuck that, I want to feel hot, even if Mando doesn’t care. Mind made up, you grab the new bottle of lotion with a smirk, rubbing the delicious scent all over your skin. Finally turning to the lingerie, you put on the gorgeous set. You weren’t kidding when you said this one was sexy. This negligee is black lace with a metallic silver thread sparkling throughout. The bodice consists of two lace panels that just barely cover your breasts and end in a deep vee right above your navel. The lace of the very short skirt is so sheer that if it weren’t for the matching panties you’re wearing, everything would have been visible. The whole look leaves very little to the imagination, but you don’t care, if this doesn’t get a reaction out of the Mandalorian, your only other option is to walk around naked in front of him. Hey, now there’s an idea! Evil You is ready to be unleased.

Din has been finishing up fixing some wiring in the hull and he is finally letting himself relax a smidgen. He’d see the bunch of fabric you’d taken with you to the fresher and he realized it had to be the modest nightgown. Finally, it seems like you’ve come to your senses. Nonetheless, he’d had to tamp down the part of him that was disappointed. This is for the best. He hears the fresher door open and before he can lift his head, he can smell that intoxicating fragrance again. It will be ok, he can get past that, he’ll just say good night and go to bed, that’s all, but then he turns and sees you. The tools in his hands clatter to the ground.

“Fuuuck” Mando swears like he’s in slow motion, drawing out the word in his surprise.

“Hi, Mando,” you say simply, but flirtatiously.

“Hi?!?” He sounds incredulous, “Is that all you- you just stand there, like that and just hi?”

“What do you want me to say?” You tip your head, coquettishly blinking up at him.

Mando makes a choking sound and then grits out, “I don’t know, maybe an explanation for how you’ve lost your mind, or at least your clothes.”

“You told me to buy something new for bed. This is definitely meant to be in a bed.” You gesture towards your lace-covered figure. “Plus, I do remember you using the word skimpy quite a bit during that conversation.”

“I meant for you to buy something that wasn’t-- hell, this isn’t even skimpy; it’s practically non-existent.” He sounds like he is in pain. “Maker, woman, how much self-control do you think I have?!?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” you retort with a little smirk. Apparently, you’ve reached the end of it with that statement, because suddenly he is advancing toward you pinning you up against the bulkhead with his hips pressed hard into you and his hands on either side of your head. You can feel the hot, hard length of him against your hip and you let out a little groan.

“Have you been taunting me all this time?” His voice has a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“I wouldn’t say taunting, more like enticing you.” You drag one of your legs up the length of his until you can hook it around his hip and pull him in closer to you.

Din can’t believe you’ve been doing this deliberately the whole time. He also can’t believe he ever bought your whole innocent act. It’s clear you planned this out to get back at him for being an asshole about your nightgown in the first place. To be honest though the thought of you shopping for lingerie for him, has him so turned on he doesn’t really care. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have to pay you back a little for torturing him these last few days.

“Enticing me?” Mando repeats with a small snort, “You sure you want to do that?” His body doesn’t really wait for your answer though as his hand comes down to grip your raised thigh tightly and urge it higher while he grinds his hips into you.

“Yes,” you pant out, “yes, I want to do that.” His movements are making you hotter than ever as you can feel his cock rubbing against your core. Mando brings his hand back up so he can grope your breast, kneading it roughly before rolling the sensitive peak of your nipple between his fingers and then moves to give its twin the same attention. He leans in closer to you so he can speak right into your ear.

“Do you like this? Letting me rut up against you, touching you, squeezing your tits. Getting you all worked up.” He rolls his hips up to rub his cock right across your clit. You let your head fall back against the wall and you gasp out in pleasure. “Or were you already turned on from teasing me?”

“I like it,” you breathe out.

“And the teasing?” He pinches your nipple hard making you cry out. He’s turning you into a mess, but his voice sounds controlled.

“Wasn’t-- wasn’t trying to tease,” you try to sound convincing but it’s hard when he’s distracting you so well.

“I don’t know, I think you were,” Mando sounds smug now, “I think you were enjoying it. Maybe I’ll enjoy teasing you.” And then suddenly he pulls away from you completely, dropping your leg with a small thump.

“What? No, no don’t stop.” You can’t help the whine in your voice.

“Why? Too hot and bothered? Not so fun, is it?” He tips his helmet at you and it feels like he must be smirking under there. You’re a second away from just begging him shamelessly, but that head tilt does something to you; a spark of competitiveness flares within you. Evil You started this game and she’s not ready to back down now.

You roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath, and look at him, “Are you saying you’re not worked up?” You let your eyes flick down to the absolute tent in his trousers and then back up to his visor.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Hell, what do you think I’ve been doing up until now?” Mando runs a hand across his crotch, palming himself, as if to prove his point and maybe hoping to shock you.

“Oh, I’ve heard.” He flinches at that, seems like you caught him off guard. You push ahead, “But what an excellent idea.” You flounce past him and climb onto your bed. You lie back into your pillows and then bring your hands up to caress yourself, your fingers trailing down over your throat and chest in a seductive fashion. Your hands cup your lace-covered breasts, slowly running your palms over them and pushing them together before letting your fingertips brush over your nipples. You look straight into Mando’s visor the entire time.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” It’s as if he’s on a two-minute delay and Din’s mouth has only now caught up to the scene unfolding in front of him. This isn’t what he wanted; he wants to be the one to pleasure you.

“Well, since you don’t seem interested, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself, like you suggested.” You let your hand drift down your body and into your panties and you let out a suggestive moan. You exaggerate your movements, performing for him.

“I am, I’m interested,” Mando insists.

“Tell me what you want.” You’re not letting him off the hook yet.

“I want to touch you like that, I want to be the one making you moan, making you wet.” Oh, he’s good.

“Ooh, Mando, you’ve got me so wet already.” You let your fingers glide through your folds.

“Let me see.” His voice sounds gruff.

You pause, considering him for a moment, “Why don’t you come feel for yourself?”

With that, Din is pulling his gloves off and striding to bed. He settles himself between your thighs, and reaches for your panties, yanking the little scrap of lace down your legs. He pushes your hand away and then just stares at you, open and glistening for him. Finally.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you, “every part of you. And I’m going to touch it all.”

His hands come to rest on your knees and he tugs your legs open wider before gently squeezing his way up your thighs.

“And how do you always smell so good?” Mando asks.

“I bought scented lotion too.”

“No, it’s more than that,” he says suggestively. You can’t respond though because Mando’s hands have finally reached their destination and the leisurely way he is just dragging his fingers against you has robbed you of all your breath. He’s gentle at first, exploring softly and driving you absolutely crazy.

“Mmm, you are wet, sweetheart,” Mando drawls out, pleased. He adds more pressure and starts to draw lazy circles around your clit making you moan his nickname. “And so responsive to me too.”

“Mando, please,” You can’t help the plea falling from your lips when he’s being so maddeningly slow.

“I like the sound of that.” The smugness is back in his voice. “Please, what?”

“More, please, touch me more” you manage to breathe out, and thank the Maker he complies. He rotates his hand so that his thumb is now on your clit and he increases the pace of those fantastic circles while letting his thick middle finger push inside your pussy. Meanwhile his other hand has been making its way up your body, caressing you through the lace, until he reaches your tits again. This time, however, he’s pushing the lace aside so he can tweak and tease your nipples directly.

“Man- Mando, feels so fucking good, wanted you to touch me like this for so long,” you say between moans.

“Could’ve just asked me, ‘stead of parading around in these flimsy little things,” he chuckles.

“You like these flimsy things though, I could tell,” you respond.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits, “Let me show you how much.” He increases his thrusts into you adding a second finger and then bending both upwards to sweep across pure bliss inside you. You feel like you’ve been on the brink of an orgasm for hours even though he’s only been touching you like this for a few minutes. You feel the waves of pleasure building up and your moans turn into cries of his name until finally the waves crest and feel yourself cumming all over his hand.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart,” Mando encourages you, “look so beautiful when you cum. Wanna see it again.” He doesn’t stop his momentum even slightly.

Din is enjoying watching you fall apart completely on his fingers; you’re so hot and soft around him. He knows you will feel unbelievably good on his cock, but he wants to draw out your pleasure as much as he can right now. He feels high on the control of being the one to make you feel like this.

“Mando,” you breathe out, “I- I don’t know-- if I- I can a-again.”

“You can, you can give me another one. You’re gonna give me another one, you little tease.” His voice is firm, but it’s so sexy when he’s demanding that you cum for him. “Besides, this cunt is so tight, need to stretch you out, get you ready to take my cock.”

Hearing him say such utter filth to you is such an incredible turn on that he’s right, you can give him another orgasm and you do. The second one hits you even harder making you clench tight around his fingers, gushing wetness all over as you collapse boneless on the bed.

“That’s it, good, that’s my girl.”

He finally slows his hand and pulls himself away from your dripping center. You watch as his fingers disappear under his helmet and knowing that he’s tasting you on them makes your already spent cunt clench again. He moves off the bed so that he can remove his armor and finally take off his clothes. You watch him, fascinated as more and more of him is revealed to you, until finally he’s standing in front of you naked except for the helmet.

“Oh, Mando, you are incredible; an absolutely gorgeous tank of a man,” you tell him, letting your eyes rake over his broad, muscular form. You see his cock twitch at your words and he seems to widen his stance as you watch him, making himself look even broader. You admire him further, “I love how strong you are, and how big.” As you say the last word, you let your eyes drop to his erection.

“Yeah?” Din asks. He loves that you are so turned on by his body, and your praise is making him blush so much he wonders if you can see it in his neck and chest. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s aching for you.

“Mmm, yes.” You say appreciatively as you slide off the bed and take his hand, pulling him back to you with a wide smile. You maneuver him to the bed pushing lightly at his shoulders until he takes the hint and lies back. You slip the negligee over your head tossing it to the floor so that you’re naked too. He reaches out one of his large hands and tugs you down with him until you land on top of his body in a tangle of limbs. You push up gently so that you can straddle his narrow hips with your knees bringing yourself up over him to give your hands access to his beautiful golden skin. You let your palms run over his torso and chest, up across his shoulders, lowering yourself down on him as you go so that you can place kisses on his neck, collarbone, and chest. He tries to pull your hips down but you resist so you can take your time exploring him first.

As you make your way down his body, your kisses become more passionate, opening up to let your hot tongue run over his skin. He moans out at the sensation, encouraging you to do it more so you can hear him again. You kiss his nipples, letting your tongue flick each one into a hard nub and making him arch up against you. You continue trailing your lips down his torso, and when you dip your tongue into his navel, he cries out your name and you smile into his skin. Finally, you settle yourself between his legs, looking up at him as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper, making you feel a rush of power at being the reason for that sound. You swirl your tongue around the head adding a deliberate flick to the sensitive spot just underneath. You pull off him with a teasing suck before dropping your head back down to allow you to lick up and down his shaft getting him as wet as possible. Mando is practically writhing beneath you trying to get you to take him back into your mouth. You run your hands along the inside of his thighs, shushing him gently, before wrapping your hands underneath him to cup his buttocks. You bring your mouth back up to the head of his cock and then glide down taking him in as deep as possible. You keep your tongue flat and wide to aid you as you go, and give a little hum to help open your throat. You bob your head back up before doing it again and again, each time getting him a little deeper, until you are able to take all of him.

Din has never felt anything so incredible in his life. He’s enjoyed blowjobs before but they were never anything like this. How are you able to swallow him like that? Where did you learn to do this? The way you’re sucking him feels like pure heaven. And the way your tongue is just gliding along the underside of him on your downward stroke, ugh, he feels like he’s fighting off his orgasm the entire time.

“Fuck! So good! How? Shit!” Mando sounds like a complete wreck above you letting out a string of curses and garbled sounds as you continue your oral worship of him. You look up to see his helmet thrashing about in the pillows and his fists practically ripping the blanket underneath him as he’s pulling at it so tightly. It’s too much for him and he begs you to stop, almost shoving you off him.

“St- stop, please, stop, n- not yet.” You release him and he takes in a shaky breath, calming himself. You climb out from between his legs to lay next to him for a moment as he comes back down from the precipice of his peak.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Mando says between breaths.

“I’d like to be full of something else,” you quip back at him.

“Oh I bet you would.” And lightning fast Mando is somehow towering over you on his knees, prying your legs apart so he can wedge himself between them. As soon as you realize what he’s up to you’re more than happy to help, bringing your legs up to hook around his hips. He rocks against you letting his cock rub up through your wetness. You’re still sensitive from your earlier orgasms and you’re even more turned on after going down on him.

“Do you want this?” Mando asks, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

“Yes, Mando, please.” You lift your hips up in a vain attempt to get him where you need him most.

“Tell me again.” It’s a command but his tone is soft, sultry.

“Yes, I want you, Mando. I need you.” You look up at him, hoping that your expression can covey all that you feel for him, everything you’re not quite able to tell him yet.

“I need you too, sweetheart.” He says as he gradually starts to push into you, the blunt head of his cock spearing you open. He is only in about halfway when he pauses, letting you adjust to his size before he pulls out almost completely. He repeats with slow, shallow thrusts only giving you a fraction more of him each time.

“Your cunt is so amazingly tight,” Mando moans out, “feels so perfect.”

“I need more, Mando, please.” You try to keep from whining but he’s making you desperate for him. His movements are so languid and unhurried. It’s both fantastic and frustrating at the same time.

“Patience, my little tease, I know what you need.” Mando stretches down over you as he thrusts forward, gripping your hands to place them on either side of your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. He’s still moving slowly, but this time he keeps going until he is fully sheathed with your tight passage. There is a slight burn as he stretches you open more than any of your previous lovers could, but the feeling of utter fullness is so wonderful any pain is quickly gone. Mando holds himself there for an instant before bringing his helmet down to meet your forehead in the only kind of kiss he can give you now. It’s a lovely moment, but after a bit you can’t stop yourself from grinding against him in a silent plea to make him move.

Mando chuckles at your attempt to move him, and then asks, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

You barely get out a cry of “Yes!” before he pulls back and then drives himself up into you with such force it punches all the air out of your lungs. Gone are the leisurely teases from before. Instead, now he is moving at an inconceivable pace, fucking into you with abandon. Maker, he’s fast, and the way that he moves his hips is causing him to hit that magic place inside you each time. It’s all you can do to roll your hips up to meet his in counterpoint to his plunging thrusts. A constant string of moans is forced from your lungs along with occasional cries of his name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.” You love hearing Mando’s filthy praise, his rich baritone voice encouraging you and making you gush around him with every word. And apparently he can feel that extra wetness, as he tells you, “You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

“Maker, yes, Mando,” you respond breathlessly, hoping he’ll keep it up.

“D’you know how much I imagined fucking you? Taken you all over the ship in my mind. Gonna make it real. Gonna show you how badly I’ve wanted you.” The promise of acting out Mando’s fantasies pushes you even closer to the point of no return. The pleasure that has been mounting in you begins to burn white hot inside you. You wrap your legs around Mando’s waist lifting your hips up more, changing the angle just enough to let him penetrate you even deeper than before. You feel your thighs begin to quake, your internal muscles clenching down on him as your climax overtakes you in sparks of blinding ecstasy.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum on my cock, yes.” Mando keeps fucking you right through your orgasm, ramping up his speed even faster than before helping you prolong your high. It’s so good that you can feel another one building right behind it, crashing into you before you even realize that it’s happening. The pleasure is so strong your entire body is spasming with the force of your release and Mando sounds completely wrecked above you. His thrusts are getting erratic and you know he’s getting close.

You are clamped around him like a searing velvet vice, and Din is sure he has never felt anything better in his entire life. Each time you cum for him, you get wetter and the sounds of him pistoning in and out of you echo obscenely in the hull. He wishes this could last longer, but it feels too wonderful, and he can feel his balls tightening. He just wants to stay inside you as long as he possibly can. He begs you, “Please let me cum in you, please. Gonna cum, p- please wanna b- be in you.”

“It’s safe, Mando, you can cum in me,” you tell him, ��I want you to cum in me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

That is exactly what Din needs to hear and he lets out a loud groan. He brings one of his strong arms around your lower back to hold you closer to him as he drives into you even harder. His entire body tenses and he cries out your name like it’s being ripped from his throat as his cock begins to pulse inside you and ropes of his cum explode out of him, covering your walls.

Mando tries to lower himself back down to you gently, but ends up collapsing a little on top of you as his strength finally gives out after the force of his orgasm. You don’t mind at all though and you wrap your arms around his back holding him close, enjoying the feel of him still inside you. He is content to stay like that for a few moments too, until he’s murmuring something about crushing you and is rolling onto his back, pulling you with him until you are curled up against his side. You cuddle with him for a bit before he gets up to get you a wet cloth from the fresher to help you clean up before you fall asleep.

When Mando gets back to you, he asks, “So, how many of those skimpy things did you buy?”

You smile up at him, “Oh there are several more,” you assure him, “Couldn’t think of anything better to spend my credits on.”

“Yeah? Good. That means I can get rid of this.” He holds up the modest nightgown you had left behind in the fresher.

You let out a laugh before asking him, “I thought you were worried about me being cold?”

“If you keep wearing those skimpy little things around me, you don’t have to worry about being cold. I’ll be in your bed every night keeping you warm.” His voice is rich with promise.

“Good. You can start now.”

---------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

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#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

His children

(How did Davarax end up with his troubled children?)

“Davarax. A word.”

Slightly surprised, Davarax glances over as Mardsk walks towards him. The guy is one of the Teachers, one who rarely spoke to the Fighting Corps. Sure, Davarax had been a Teacher once too but that was years ago and most just consider him a Fighter now.

“What can I help you with, ner vod?” Davarax asks, curious.

Mardsk comes to a halt in front of him, seems to struggle for words and gives a big sigh before he just jumps into it. “Paz Vizla.”

Davarax frowns. The heir to the Vizla clan, he's seen the young boy around and knows he will one day be a valuable member of the Fighting Corps, judging by his size and love for battle. “What about him?”

“He's a problem.” Mardsk blurts out. “The boy is a bully. He keeps picking on my Spring Class, beats them up and terrifies them.”

Davarax' frown deepens and he crosses his arms thoughtfully. “Wait. Your Spring Class? Aren't they, what, three or four years older than him?”

“Yeah, so?” Mardsk replies with a slight edge to his voice. “The boy is a bully nonetheless. He's disruptive and constantly challenging my authority, thinking he's above the rules because he's a Vizla.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Davarax does not like where this is going.

“You train him.” Mardsk plows on. “You have experience with difficult kids and you know she would approve of us keeping the Vizla clan quiet.”

Not liking Mardsk using his connection to her one bit, Davarax still doesn't reject the request right away. He's always had a weakness for the outcasts. “Let me talk to him...”

And true to his word, later that day, Davarax hunts down the kid. He finds him sitting in one of the study rooms, reading on one of the datapads there.

Paz Vizla is big, Davarax has no trouble seeing how he can take on and defeat children years older than himself, but there is nothing menacing about the young boy right now. He is devouring the information on the datapad, which a quick peek reveals to be Mandalorian history. Interesting.

“Hey.” Davarax gets his attention. “You know who I am?”

Paz looks up at him, slightly curious but completely self-assured. “Yeah. You're Davarax. You're-”

Davarax nods. “That's me. Pleased to meet you, Paz Vizla.”

Now Paz frowns and he sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?” There is a challenge in his words as well as in the insolent stare. He is his father's son, alright.

“I wanted to meet you.” Davarax sits on the desk next to him. “Because they want me to train you.”

“Figures.” Paz scoffs with obvious contempt. “Mardsk is a coward.”

Amused, Davarax tilts his head and scans the kid's body language. It's a wonderful mess of arrogance and insecurity. He's angry, but also clearly hurt by Mardsk's action. Not completely corrupted by his father, then. Good. “He just knows when he's out of his league. That's not a bad thing, ad'ika. It can save your life outside the Covert.” Davarax sees the youngster wobbling between the lingering hurt and the inferred compliment. “So, would you be okay with that? Me training you?”

Paz looks at him, scans him in return and leans back in his chair. “Why would you want to do that? You're on the Fighting Corps. You don't do teacher stuff anymore.”

Davarax shrugs. “I might make an exception for you.”

��For me? Why? Because I'm a Vizla?” Paz drawls, suspicious.

“No.” Davarax says. “Because I think you have a lot of potential and you will do great things for the Covert. I also think that maybe you need someone who understands you a little better to help that happen.”

Paz shifts uneasily on his chair, his gaze flickers and ruins his pretend arrogance. He swallows and makes himself meet Davarax' gaze. “And that's you?”

“That's me.”

“And who is to say you won't just hand me off to some other teacher?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I won't do that.” His words are calm and secure, no doubt whatsoever.

Paz considers it, then turns back to the datapad and shrugs. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”

And just like that, Davarax had the first of what would be known as the Fearsome Four.

It takes a long time for him to gain Paz' trust and respect, but with a calm and steady approach, not responding to Paz' tantrums but rather making him use his words; the boy's energy is eventually channeled where it is meant to go.

It doesn't mean Paz stops getting into fights, not by a long shot, but now he at least goes after the ones capable of defending themselves and guilty of some kind of offense, and not just some random victim that crosses Paz' path.

Then comes the morning when Davarax hears a knock on the door to his quarters, opens it and finds another teacher standing there with a tight grip on a tiny, skinny boy's neck.

The boy stares sullenly at the floor, curly hair poking up at all angles, the neckline of his shirt pulled a little to the side and showing a prominent collarbone due to his skinniness. His tiny hands are clenched into tight fists. That is how Davarax meets Barthor.

Unlike Paz, Barthor doesn't show much emotion at being 'handed off' to a new teacher, but those eyes speak volumes. He is furious and filled with spite. Being small and skinny in a society that values strength and fighting abilities can't be easy, but he's been getting back at them in inventive and sometimes fire hazardous ways. Davarax could smell the stench of singed hair through his air filter when the teacher had appeared on his doorstep with the little culprit.

Barthor had pulled one stunt after another,a proper troublemaker, but what Davarax admires is the fact that they were never able to prove it was him. Not once. That speaks of intelligence. So he agrees to train him as well.

Where Paz uses anger and brute strength to intimidate, Barthor immediately tries to sneak his way into Davarax' brain and heart, mapping Davarax' mind to manipulate him while trying to act small and helpless to appeal to his protective instinct. Sneaky little thing. He's going to go far in life.

It turns out that once Barthor realizes that Davarax doesn't fall for his tricks, but treats him with respect and actually talks to him and not over him, the little one thaws and becomes his shadow.

It's kind of cute, really.

Paz isn't pleased at first, but decides the runt isn't a threat or a challenge so he ends up mostly ignoring Barthor, who keeps a wary distance in return. They focus on Davarax, not each other.

“Please...” A third teacher pleads some time later. He holds out his arm and pulls up the fabric and shows the painful mark there. “She bit me! I pulled her off a kid she was pummeling and she bit me. She held on for so long I considered prying her jaws open with a stick!” The man lowers his arm and shakes his head. “You gotta help me, Dav. Please!”

Now this one Davarax asks for some time to consider. He has heard a lot about Raga Saxon, have seen her in action, and she might be the one child he's not entirely sure he can help. He has no idea how to deal with that kind of volatile temper. There is fearless and then there is reckless.

Somehow Paz finds out that Raga's teacher has asked to move her to Davarax and the boy instantly starts to hassle him to say yes.

“She's awesome. She really is! You gotta see her fight.” Paz pleads, walking next to Davarax.

“I have seen that very thing. That is what worries me.” Davarax mutters. “There is no discipline to her. She's basically feral, Paz.”

“I know!” Paz' grin is the brightest Davarax has even seen on the boy. “As I said, she's awesome. You got to let her join us. I'll look after her, I promise. You won't even notice she's there. Please?”

Paz rarely asks for anything so Davarax promises him he'll think about it. And the next day, he stays hidden and watches Raga. He sees the energy crackling under her skin, the wild hair and her complete lack of fear. It's the kind of personality that can ruin a mission and get other Mandalorians killed, but then he sees her with Paz and observes, to his surprise, the other side to her. She 'is' capable of team work, she can be still and patient, and for some weird reason it seems like Paz is the one who brings that out in her.

Fine. She deserves a chance as well. She's a tough little fighter, like a Mandalorian should be. They just need to work on her mean streak.

Bringing Raga in changes the dynamics as she instantly goes after Barthor, like a predator sensing prey. Davarax hopes that Paz will put an end to it, but no such luck. The bigger boy just chews on his snacks and watches with lazy amusement. Davarax is on the verge of interfering when Barthor strikes back.

Raga's shrieks of fury echoes through the hallways, Barthor runs for his life, while Paz chews his snacks with lazy amusement, and Davarax struggles not to laugh. Yeah, Barthor is going to be fine. He doesn't need help.

It is almost a year later when he opens a hatch and finds a frightened boy staring up at him. His name is Din.

Davarax reaches out a hand, Din takes it.

When the request comes if Davarax can train Din too, there is a lack of teachers and Din is severely affected by the trauma he's been through, Davarax doesn't hesitate. He found the boy, he feels responsible for him.

And against all odds, Din is the glue that makes them all stick together.

Paz' protective instinct is triggered hard, Raga senses Paz' approval and actually behaves for long enough to realize she likes Din, and Barthor is so happy to no longer be the lone one against the other two that he reaches out a hand in friendship as well. And Din finds safety from his nightmares in their presence.

It shouldn't work. Not at all. But it does.

He even finds them, more than once, sleeping in a pile together.

And as they learn, as they grow, they keep amazing him and there's not a single day that goes by where he doesn't feel proud of them. They are difficult, yes, complicated, definitely, but they are good students and will do good things for the Covert, he knows this.

The others start referring to them as the Fearsome Four, but Davarax calls them his children and he knows in his heart that he will love them until the day he dies.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #the one-shots start coming and they don't stop coming #here have some fluff and some sad #Davarax

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sithsecrets · 3 years

Text

release | din djarin x reader

A difficult hunt has Mando in a huff, and his crewmember knows just what he needs.

---

2.9k words

mentions: mando’s frustrated but not mean in the slightest, blowjobs, general musings on sex

---

Some hunts are easier than others— that’s one of the first things the Mandalorian told when you joined his crew. You’d thought that was a fair answer to the question you’d ask, and it made a lot of sense at the time because of course bounties have levels like practically anything else. Some people are stupid, others are smart… A simple bail jumper’s probably not going to be much of a challenge, but a spice smuggler or a member of an organized crime ring? That could be difficult.

Before this assignment, you’d thought you knew what a difficult hunt looked like. There was the pimp on Jakku that led Mando on a chase for three days in the dessert, the pair of bail-jumping brothers that ended up being very well-connected to some very scary spicemakers, and a few other quarries that stick out in your mind. But Mando’s most recent mission…

This whole thing was a clusterfuck from the start. Karga had called it a “special quest” when he offered up the puck, and you’d been right there at Mando’s side when he asked for the price. The number that came out of Karga’s mouth was absolutely insane, almost too good to be true.

There was a catch, of course. The quarry is a member of an alien species known for their sameness— each being looks identical, no sex, no gender, no differentiating characteristics. To make a hard job even harder, the quarry’s…. a bad person. They’re dangerous, armed to the teeth, and known to leave a lot of collateral damage in their wake. And they’re rich. Unbelievably rich. The kind of rich that makes a person bulletproof, the kind of rich that lets a person disappear at will like they never existed in the first place.

Yet despite all of this, despite how difficult the task seemed, Mando accepted the puck anyway, and now you’re here in the Crest wondering what the fuck you’re going to do with him.

Four dead-end leads and three planets later, you think Mando’s going to crack. He came back to the ship earlier in a huff, announcing that you, he, and the baby would be going to yet another location to track this person down. Quiet rage has been radiating off of him ever since, the anger Mando feels slipping out here and there in all the wrong ways. He was less patient with the Child earlier when he was putting him down to sleep, and Mando’s tone was clipped when he declined your offer to make him something to eat. You try not to take any of his behavior personally, knowing good and well that Mando’s running on empty. The stress of this hunt has been immense, and you’re not sure if he’s been sleeping or eating like he should during his days away. Knowing how Mando takes care of himself in the best of times, though…

The man needs to relax, you think. He needs a good meal, something warm and filling, and a good night’s sleep. Mando also needs to blow off steam, needs to fight or scream or fuck—

You force yourself to clear that thought from your mind, even as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. It’s gamble, to say the very least— this could cost you your job, your place next to the Mandalorian. You don’t think you could stomach it, being sent away by this man that you care for, but something has to be done— about Mando’s agitation and your feelings for him.

Drawing in a deep breath, you stand before the ladder the leads up the cockpit, gathering every bit of courage you have. “Mando,” you call, hoping he won’t react too poorly to be disturbed right now. He went off hours ago, shutting himself away up there to “look over some intel,” whatever the fuck that means.

“What?”

The word comes out short, but not angry, and you figure it’s fine to go on.

“Can I come up?”

Mando doesn’t give you much in the way of an answer, but the noise he makes is affirmative enough. You climb up the ladder, the rungs cold on your bare feet, and then you’re there in the cockpit. Mando’s just as tense as he was when he went up here in the first place, shoulders drawn taut, eyes trained on a hologram in front of him. It looks like some sort of map, though the lines and colors mean little to you.

“How’s it going?”

He doesn’t even turn his head. “Fine.”

You watch Mando for a moment, nervous as you consider how to play this.

“Don’t you think you should rest, Mando?” you ask, coming to stand beside the pilot’s chair. He’s still hasn’t looked at you, hasn’t so much as glanced in your direction. “You need to eat, and I think sleeping would—”

“I’m not tired,” Mando cuts, and it takes everything in you to bite back your frustration.

“Yes, you are. You’re exhausted, and probably hungry, and even the baby can sense it.”

You don’t get a word of acknowledgement from the Mandalorian, not so much as a fucking syllable, and you finally slip just the slightest bit.

“Mando,” you declare, tone firm and demanding, and finally, finally, you have his full attention.

“Yes?”

Exasperation is clear in the Mandalorian’s voice, but he’s looking at you know, turning the pilot’s chair in your direction. One or two steps closer, and you’d be standing right between his legs, close enough to reach out—

Focus.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you huff, hands on your hips. “You know I’m right. I know this quarry’s been hard to catch, but you’re starting to slip.”

Once again, Mando leaves you sitting in silence, though it would seem that some of the fight’s left his body. Carefully, you inch forward, and just the slightest thrill runs up your back when Mando opens his legs to make room for you.

“I’m worried about you,” you confess, voice softening. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Mando’s sigh is long and tired, but he’s out of energy to argue any further. “You’re right,” he concedes. “I— Maybe I am going a little too hard.”

“Of course I’m right.”

You take no real pleasure in this, but you are glad to hear Mando admit that he needs to slow down. With that done, though, it’s time for you to be brave, perhaps braver than you’ve ever been in your life.

“You need to relax, Mando,” you say softly, reaching out to rub at his arm. The visor follows your every move, but Mando trains his eyes right on you when you murmur, “Let me help you.”

“How— What do you mean?”

You’ve got the Mandalorian stuttering, and something about that boosts your confidence to a dangerous level. It almost feels like it’s not you that sinks down onto the floor, dropping onto one knee and then the other between Mando’s legs. Your fingers are on his belt for no more than a second before he’s reaching out, before he’s pushing your hands away and jolting in shock.

“Whoa, mesh’la, that’s not—”

“Necessary?” you cut, cocking your head. “I think that it is, Mando. You need to relax.”

“Yeah, but I don’t— You’re not obligated to—”

“Of course I’m not obligated. I want to do this, Mando. I want to take care of you.”

You settle on your knees and twist your hands out of Mando’s gentle grasp, the leather of his gloves cool on your palms. His fists clench and unclench under your touch, anxious and fidgety, and you feel the need to pause for just a moment.

“Mando,” you say softly, squeezing his hands, “I know what you need, and I’m happy to give it to you. But if you don’t want this, tell me now. I’ll go back down to the hull, you can go back to your map, and we never have to talk about it again.”

Mando hesitates, and you find yourself wondering if you this was a good idea.

“You actually want to do this? You— To me?”

You nod. “I really do.”

Finally, after a few more seconds of tense silence, Mando lets himself relax. You feel it, the way the muscles in his thighs go slack under your arms, the rest of his body sagging back in the pilot’s chair. Eyes track your every movement as you unbuckle Mando’s belt, though you see nothing but the blackness of the visor when you glance up. He’s good help, shifting from side to side as you try to tug his pants down just the slightest bit, and then there’s nothing left for you to do but start.

The moment you lean down to kiss the head of Mando’s cock, you’re blindsided by just how much you missed this. It’s been so long since you had sex with another person, so long since you felt the weight of a man on your tongue in this way. And the smell, Maker, the smell… You get lost in what you’re doing, focused on nothing but the feel of Mando’s cock in your mouth and the throbbing between your thighs. So lost, in fact, that it takes you about ten seconds too long to realize that you’re being touched.

Sometime between you undoing his belt and this very moment, Mando took off his gloves and threaded his fingers in your hair. He doesn’t pull or push or so much as try to control what you’re doing, but there’s a pressure there, a warmth. It would be inconsequential if Mando were someone else, the fact that his hand is bare against your scalp, but he isn’t. Such a simple gesture, and yet…

You sit back on your heels and catch your breath, one hand stroking Mando’s cock at a steady, even pace. A noise indicative of something not unlike despair slips out of the modulator that same instance, so quick and so quiet that it’s almost lost in the static, and not for the first time do you find yourself cursing the fucking helmet. You ache to see Mando’s face, you ache to see his whole fucking body…

“Are you feeling better?” you purr, mouth slick with drool as you talk. You’re not sure Mando likes you all sloppy and ruined like this, but you think it’s safe to go out on a limb just this once.

“Yes,” Mando grits, body shuddering when you lean down to kiss his cock. You take private pleasure in that, thrilled by the notion that a person like you could affect a person like him in such a way.

“Would you feel even better if you came down my throat? Or do you want to see it on my face instead?”

Mando keens, and you feel all-powerful.

“In your mouth,” Mando answers, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He sounds shaky, and you let up on his cock just the slightest bit. “I don’t— You don’t deserve to have someone make a mess of you.”

“I don’t mind a mess,” you say, because you don’t, not if Mando’s the one fucking you up. “Maybe next time I suck you off I’ll let you cum on my tits. I—”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” he groans, squirming in his chair like he can’t help it.

“I’m not,” you purr, “I promise you I’m not. You can do anything you want to me, Mando, I mean that. I’ll lie there and take it—”

“Maker, your fucking mouth,” Mando cuts, breath ragged. “If you keep fucking talking, I’ll—”

He never gets to finish the sentence, words crumbling into nothing as you abandon your little game. You suck him off in earnest, using your tongue, paying special attention the places that make him jerk in his seat when you so much as breathe on them. It doesn’t take him long to fall apart, and you try your best to take it all, swallowing obediently like the taste is nothing to you. And how could you care about something as inconsequential as of the flavor of Mando’s cum when his cock is pulsing in your mouth, when he’s groaning and fisting his hand in your hair…

Listening to Mando cum, feeling him cum makes you drunk off arousal, but you force yourself to tamp down the feeling. He’d fuck you if you asked, rub your clit and let you clench on his fingers until you came at the very least, but this just… isn’t about you. No, this was something for Mando, a way for you to help him calm down, and you don’t want to ruin whatever peace he’s found by making demands. You’ll get yours soon, if you’re patient, and that’s more than okay right now.

Mando seems tired when you finally pull off of him for good, body sagging under his armor like simply holding himself upright would be a chore. You feel shy under his gaze, all your confidence and bravery slipping further and further away by the second. This was something you’d neglected to think about when you formed this plan in your mind, the after. Sucking Mando off and making him feel better is all well and good, but you still have to look at him, still have to go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning knowing this happened. Knowing that he knows this happened…

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mando musters up a bit of strength, pulling up his pants and doing up the fly as you watch from your place on the floor. You’re half expecting to be dismissed when he’s done, and that’s why it’s such a shock when Mando leans forward to hold your face in his hands.

“Come here,” he says softly, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your legs burn when you stand up, and your knees ache from kneeling like you did. None of that matters though, not when Mando sits you on his thighs and wraps his arms around your body. You’re facing him, legs dangling just above the floor on either side of his. The beskar is cold and hard against your skin, but Mando’s hands are warm, the expanse his palm soothing down the plane of your back. Up and down, up and down, up and down the heat travels, breathing life into something delicate and raw inside your chest. You thread your arms around Mando’s neck after a few minutes, glad that he’s still not talking. Something about his affection has you choking up, and you’d rather die than give yourself away. It’s the silence, you think, the way he says so much without speaking a word.

“Thank you.”

The words come out in a staticky whisper, the sound of them crackling in your ear. And though it pains you to do so, you sit up and look at Mando properly, missing the warmth of his neck the minute it’s gone.

“It was… You don’t have to thank me,” you say softly, fiddling with the collar of Mando’s shirt. You wonder where his cape is and why he took it off in the first place, though you’re not exactly sad to see it go. “Are you hungry? I made you a plate earlier even though you said you didn’t want to eat. It’s still good if you want it.”

“I do have to thank you,” Mando insists, holding your chin in his fingers. “You take good care of me, cyar’ika.”

Cheeks hot, you refuse to meet his eyes. “Well, it’s not like you don’t deserve it.”

You want to ask him what those names mean, the one he called you just now and the one he blurted out earlier when he tried to stop you. But you think it might ruin the mood, and so you swallow the question like you swallowed the lump in your throat a few minutes ago.

“If you go lie down in my bed,” Mando says slowly, one hand trailing down, down, down your shivering back, “I’ll take good care of you too.”

And though the very idea of what that could mean has you ready to run down the ladder as fast as you can, you shake your head.

“I just want to go to sleep, Mando,” you tell him, “I’m tired. And I know you are too.”

Mando’s going to protest, he’s going to insist he pay you back, this much is made clear by the way his hands tighten around your hips. But you cut him off before his tongue can so much as form the words, pressing your chest against his, rolling your hips…

“But when you catch the quarry, we’ll do whatever you want. I said you could do anything to me, remember?”

The Mandalorian’s breath hitches, and you know then that you have him.

“This was a release,” you explain, ducking your head to press you lips to whatever skin you can. The helmet does a good job of concealing his jaw, but not every bit of his neck is hidden away. “That will be a celebration.”

Mando huffs through the modulator, though you think his discontent is all for show.

“Fine,” he concedes, “but you better be waiting for me in that fucking bed when I get back.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you

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cal-kestis · 3 years

Text

You’ve Been Lonely Too Long | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part I of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: After parting with Grogu, losing his ship, and battling with the tenets of his Creed — Din is plagued by memories he fears will only ever exist in his past. But when he meets you, he’s surprised to see a bit of himself reflected in your eyes... and the family he still longs for. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 6572 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (non graphic), Action/Violence, Mentions of Blood, Hurt Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, Din is wistful while talking about Grogu :’), he misses him A/N: Here it is! I've done a lot of research when it comes to lore, planets, etc. But I've taken a few creative liberties. Replies/comments are very welcome!

[Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Memories keep him awake more than he cares to admit.

They conjure themselves unbidden, slithering through the iron bars of his mind. And just before they burrow, just before they brand his brain, just before they emerge from the shadows and he can recognize them — images of bright eyes and petal ears, sound bites of gentle coos, memories he wants to keep locked like a treasure — they vanish like vapor.

Sometimes he tries to chase them, like a valuable quarry. But even illustrious bounty hunters like Din Djarin know what it’s like to lose. Especially at night, when memories morph into vicious nightmares... and he becomes the prey.

If he ever does sleep, he sure as hell never rests.

And no one would catch wise. That’s the beauty of beskar. Because — despite the deep purple rings circling his wrinkled eyes, the constant dry and chapped state of his lips, and the uncharacteristically unkempt stubble on his jaw — when he walks into a room, everyone only sees the harsh glint of metal armor, the precise swagger in his gait, the loaded blaster at his belt. A Mandalorian: legend coming to life. And everyone quakes in their boots.

Everyone except you.

After he had left Gideon’s light cruiser, helmet replaced on his head — an imposter’s crown — he’d expected to say his goodbyes and carry on the way he always did before everything changed, before the kid. Alone.

He hadn’t known his next move. But picking up another stray? Not part of the non-existent plan.

Yet here he is, coasting in hyperspace aboard his cold, newly bargained light freighter, watching his crewmate modify the jammers.

“Hand me that driver, will you?” You huff, wiping sweat off your brow.

He had found you on Tatooine almost three months ago, fighting off some spice-high lowlife in a dark adobe alley. He remembers seeing you throw a heavy punch to the man’s jaw, extending your other trembling hand toward his throat before softly shutting your eyes, brows pinched in gentle focus.

Something about you had felt familiar, something he couldn’t shake. Your outstretched arm had sparked a memory of tiny green claws. And it had all happened so quickly. You had your eyes closed, the man had reached for his blaster, but Din had always been the faster shot.

Smoke had wafted from the man’s chest, your eyes had opened in shock, and Din had disappeared before you could thank him.

Instead, you had managed to stow away on his ship that same night and hire yourself as his new crewmate.

“I have nowhere to go. No home, no family,” you had explained, eyes glistening. When he’d scrutinized you, he only found a small bag slung over your shoulder and a short, chewed-on pencil tucked behind your ear. “I’m a good worker. I can cook and I’m a decent pilot, a better mechanic. And I’m… crafty?”

“I work alone.” He’d said it so surely, but a cloud of sadness had hovered over the words as he’d forced saliva down his dry throat.

“You don’t have to. I can be a valuable asset to you. Take some weight off your shoulders. Be someone to talk to.”

You had glanced at his stoic frame, his silence filling the room like a smoke grenade.

“Well, you don’t have to talk. But I can be helpful.”

There had been something in your eyes, or maybe even beyond them… something in you, something so achingly familiar. He’d felt it floating around the ship, radiating off your skin, seeping through his beskar armor. And he’d sighed because he couldn’t have stopped his next words from tumbling off his tongue if he wanted to.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

He remembers how you’d gasped, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso without a second thought. And he’d just stiffened like solid carbonite, not allowing himself to dwell on how warm and soft you felt, and he’d gently pushed you off, disappearing into the cockpit.

You’re still chatting away as you continue tinkering with the jammers. You’re definitely a talker. But to him, everyone seems that way when silence is his chosen weapon of survival.

Below that primary qualification of ‘someone to talk to,’ he’d realized almost right after you joined his crew of two that your resume checked out. You’d been invaluable on this new, unfamiliar ship — helping him modify it until it had some of the Razor Crest’s best qualities. Some.

When small memories like that start flooding in and try to take him under headfirst, he thinks it’s better to be alone. At least then, he can decide whether to sink or swim. So, he excuses himself to the cockpit and you hum in acknowledgment, continuing your chatter despite being your own audience.

He spends a lot of time here in solitary silence, staring at the stars as they reflect off the tiny metal ball that hangs from a string on an unused lever. It’s the only token he has from that life — the days of flying the Crest system to system with a giggling child in the backseat.

More often than not, you find him here exactly like this: helmet hung low, a silver sphere pinched between two gloved fingers, millions of confined thoughts racing through his mind faster than hyperspace and clawing at his skull.

When you find him like this, you try not to speak. Just sit in the co-pilot’s seat and watch the stars with him.

And as he studies the little gear knob from his past life, the one question that passes through his mind the most is:

What can you do when the reason you’re hurting is likely the only thing that can heal you?

—

ii.

After many months on the freighter, you’re sure of two things when it comes to your new crewmate:

First, the Mandalorian doesn’t talk much. Or ever, really.

But you quickly get used to your questions — and there are many — being answered with a curt “yes” or “no,” sometimes a grunt or sigh thrown in when the question is just right. You don’t mind too much, it’s enough to get you familiar with the way the ship works and you always know what to expect from him.

When he’s not outside hunting a quarry on some Maker-forsaken outer rim dustball, leaving you inside to tamper with the ship’s outdated systems, he’s usually on one side of the freighter and you’re on the other. If he seems busy, you leave his food outside his quarters, and later, you find his dish empty and washed in the storage cupboard. And when you’re fighting for sleep in your bed, you hear his footsteps echoing all night long. But there are times when you both find yourselves in the small, shared space of the cockpit, when your desire to see the corners of space beyond Tatooine becomes too great to stay away. In those moments under the domed viewport — faced with a myriad of vibrant hues and tremendous textures and infinite stars — he doesn’t speak and you can’t find the words, giving way to a tranquil, transfixing silence neither of you wants to escape.

The second thing you’re sure of is: the Mandalorian gets hurt, a lot.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve watched him drag himself and an unconscious body onto his ship or holed himself up in the fresher, hissing in pain as he tended to his own wounds.

But this time, he comes back and collapses outside of the ship, unable to even pull himself up the ramp, much less the dead weight of the quarry. There’s hardly a thought in your mind as your feet scurry to his side, sprawled across the ground beside his target. You don’t wait for permission before you’re reaching for the gloved hand pressed firmly to the side of his stomach.

“No,” he grits out between his teeth, groaning when the tiny word seems to tear him apart where he’s already been gashed. “The quarry.”

You frown, almost rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Always the job first.

Still, no arguments pass your lips when you turn to pull the heavy, unconscious Trandoshan by his bound wrists. It takes all of your strength to drag him up the steep incline of the freighter’s ramp, through the main corridor, and into the supply closet, Mando’s makeshift prison. You’d asked him about it before, one of your many questions, wondering if he should consider more secure holding quarters. And he’d responded with a surprisingly long (for him) statement, “Not as good as a mobile carbonite freezing system, but it does the job.”

After chaining up the quarry’s hands and ankles and locking the closet, you nearly trip over yourself while sprinting back to the groaning Mandalorian. You kneel beside him, pulling the hand pressed against his stomach over your shoulder to lift him on his feet. A harsh, metallic scent suddenly fills your lungs, drawing your gaze to the blood-stained palm of his glove dangling over your shoulder. You do your best to ignore it, refocusing your energy on lugging him into the ship. As soon as you reach the top of the ramp, your strength gives out, sending both your bodies collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. It’s a challenge disentangling yourself from his heavy limbs but once you manage, you quickly turn to examine him before his hand stops you again.

“Gang on our tail,” he rasps, coughing then groaning in pain. “Get us out of here.”

Your lips press into a straight line, a war waging behind your furrowed brow as you decide whether or not it’s smart to leave him alone, bleeding on the floor of the main hold. But his hand shakes as he squeezes your wrist in what you think is meant to feel comforting. You release a deep sigh before getting up to close the ramp and set coordinates in the cockpit.

When you return minutes later with a medpac, you find him stretched out on his back, his neck arching with a groan, and his glove clutching his stomach once more. You kneel beside him to assess the damage, reaching your hand to his waist before he grabs you again.

“You don’t have to,” he grunts. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” you say, gently removing the glove trapping your wrist. “But so can I. And I can actually move my limbs at a normal, painless speed, get the job done quicker. So, please, let me.”

He sighs, giving a quick nod of his helmet before allowing you to partially remove his armor.

You start with the breastplate, remove the thick padding over his stomach, then grab the ever-present pencil behind your ear and use the dull end to lift the edge of his brown undershirt, just enough to reveal the knife wound in his side.

“What happened?” You gasp, quickly gathering antiseptic, a laser cauterizer, and bacta patches from the medpac.

“Ambushed,” he grunts, wincing as you clean the cut, your breath sliding across his skin as you lean in close.

“I’ve sustained some pretty bad knicks myself. Nothing as bad as this,” you joke lightly, switching the antiseptic for the cauterizer. When the laser touches his skin, he gasps and curls in on himself as you burn the wound closed. Instinctively, you grab his hand, the one not stained with blood, and interlace your fingers with his on the ship’s floor, letting him squeeze your palm as a distraction. “Nothing I couldn’t fix up. When you’re surviving on your own, you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” he says quietly. I work alone, he’d said when you met.

Even through the shadowy visor of his helmet, you feel his eyes on yours and stare back openly. But as always, you only see your own warped reflection in the silver gleam of his beskar.

“It helps to have the proper supplies,” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from his helmet to finish closing up his wound. “This bacta patch should fix you up real good.”

After smoothing the gel bandage against his skin, your fingertips linger only a second too long on the exposed warmth of his tanned stomach. You pull down the hem of his shirt, starting to reach for the pieces of iron covering his arm but feel him stop you by squeezing your joined hands.

“They only got one jab in,” he says, his voice sounding more relaxed, almost cocky. But when he sees the worry on your face, his thumb sweeps lightly across your hand and he squeezes once more. “I promise. I’m fine.”

“You’d better be,” you warn, shaking your joined hands in front of your face like a cranky geezer. “Because I’m not carrying two unconscious bodies off this ship when we land.”

He huffs out a short breath, only wincing slightly at the movement. Without another word, you pull his arm around your shoulder once more, limping him toward his sleeping quarters to rest. But you stop just outside the door, not wanting to encroach on his privacy.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his hand against the doorway.

“Your gloves,” you say, his helmet tilting in confusion when you stare at his hand pointedly. “Let me clean them for you.”

He tries to argue but you won’t have any of it, simply extending your palm out toward him until he reluctantly pulls at the yellow leather tips on his fingers and hands them over.

“You can leave your shirt outside your quarters, too. I don’t want you stinking up the ship with your bloody clothes. Wash up. Get some rest. And be more careful next time,” you say, smiling and walking backward as you talk.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you swear you hear a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Before you can question him on it, he presses the button to his quarters and slips inside.

—

iii.

Time seems to pass quicker on the Mandalorian’s ship since the Trandoshan incident. And this man of few words quickly becomes a man of… just slightly more than a few words. Nevertheless, as his crewmate, you’ve learned quite a lot more about him.

One, he never stays in one place for long. He’s a bounty hunter, of course, and he takes multiple jobs at once. That means, together, you visit at least four different planets in the span of a few weeks, expertly flying around New Republic and Imperial scanners without a hitch. Two, he likes your cooking, a lot. You can tell because, by the end of the night, after a soft “thank you” buzzed from his helmet, his dish would always be licked clean — two dishes when you’d made his favorite. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you and try to recreate your recipes, generously leaving bowls of delicious food at your door. But he never eats where you can watch, enjoying the meals in secret and quietly washing up for you when you’re on the other side of the ship and can’t argue with him about it. Three, he doesn’t remove his helmet when you’re around, maybe even when he’s alone. “This is the way,” he’d mumble on occasion, a Creed that sounds like a foreign language even falling from his lips. Four, although he says he works alone, you see the way his helmet leans toward you when you speak and notice how his knees point in your direction when you sit side by side in the cockpit, gravitating toward you yet deeply cautious of drawing too close. And five, he’s lonely. You know because you’ve carried the same sadness in your chest almost all your life.

Several months on his ship have opened him up to giving more detailed answers to your numerous questions, and you take each opportunity where you can, desperate to unveil new pieces of his mind.

Tonight, Mando is particularly relaxed after capturing the last of four bounties, coordinates already set to turn them in. An empty bowl of bone broth sits beside his first helping. He leans back comfortably in his pilot seat as the stars shine off his chest plate and you ask about his past adventures.

“Has it always been just you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, not wanting to disturb this content stillness, but thinking of all the times you’ve found him sitting alone in the cockpit clutching onto a silver ball.

He’s silent for a moment, thinking over his words. He doesn’t turn to face you when he answers, “No. There was... a child. Not long ago.”

You think back to when you had first met him, how he’d said, “I work alone,” how those words had seemed devastatingly true — in the way only a person who’s lost everything could say them so honestly.

“Yours?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he answers, a small crackling sound coming from his helmet. “Yes, a foundling. But he was as my own.”

“What happened?”

The cockpit stays silent save for the dull tones of the control board’s beeps and ticks. Mando reaches for that silver sphere, leans forward in his seat, and he holds it to the crown of his helmet.

“I... had to let him go.”

His voice breaks over the vowels, just slightly but you hear it: the familiar shattered sound of loss. It radiates off of him in waves, penetrating your skin and crawling through your bloodstream until your own heart aches for the ghost this child left behind.

“What was he like?”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But suddenly, Mando swivels his chair to face you, the silver ball clutched tight against his chest, and he chuckles. It’s fleeting but it’s a sound you’ve never heard in all your months aboard his ship. A lovely sound you’ll never forget.

“This was his favorite toy,” the Mandalorian says, lifting the ball in the air for you to see. “He was a stubborn kid. Always getting into trouble.”

You smile, begging him to continue.

“He could do things I couldn’t even imagine. He saved me, in more ways than one. We were a clan of two.”

“A family,” you agree.

He stills for a moment, ponders your words, and hangs his head. “Yeah, a family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grogu.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “His name is Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you whisper, testing the name on your tongue. “Can you describe him for me?”

You pull out a small, worn booklet of parchment from your pouch and the short pencil from behind your ear. His helmet tilts toward you curiously and you can almost imagine his eyes squinting behind the visor.

“Remember when I said I was crafty? Not a load of bantha crap,” you chuckle, waving the pencil at him. “I made a trade with some stingy Jawas to get these relics.”

He nods, quietly examining the antiquated drawing pad.

“Tell me,” you plead.

His helmet’s gaze drops back to the silver ball and he sighs a wistful sound.

“Grogu was — is special. A green, wrinkly, big-eared... very special little kid.”

“A green, wrinkly child?” You ask, looking up from the paper.

Mando laughs again and you can’t help but smile too. He describes Grogu like he’s a father mooning over his son’s first steps. You’ve never heard him talk so much, so joyfully yet sorrowfully all at once. There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a rasp that tells you he’s not used to putting it into words, at least not out loud, but he still wants to honor Grogu with every word he has. As he speaks, you can feel — almost see the image of Grogu in your mind. It’s crystal clear like your brain is reaching out and can somehow access every archive in Mando’s memories. It’s like a trance and you have to physically shake your head to release yourself.

“He means a lot to you,” you say, a matter of fact, tearing off the weathered page and giving him your quick sketch, your hand resting on one of his pauldrons. “I’m sure you mean a lot to him.”

Mando silently turns back to the controls, his fingers still clutching the little ball as he grips the page in the other hand.

He’s especially glad to have his helmet at this moment because he feels water pooling behind his eyelids as he stares at the uncanny drawing.

“That’s him,” he whispers, looking upon his boy. It’s almost an exact likeness, although in grayscale (he’ll have to find you other colors somehow). But it means everything to see Grogu again, even on a page, after months of only seeing him in fleeting dreams and distorted nightmares.

“Thank you,” he says, his hand with the drawing joining your hand on his pauldron.

You smile as he neatly, delicately folds the paper and tucks it into the small pouch on his shoulder harness, keeping the drawing close to his heart. You sit together in comfortable silence as the ship drops out of hyperspace.

“I guess you weren’t lying when we met,” he finally says.

“What do you mean?”

“You are… crafty,” he chuckles, his fingers tenderly stroking the leather pouch on his shoulder. “And you’re a good person to talk to.”

—

iv.

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask you to stay on the freighter while he works anymore.

He doesn’t want you with him while he hunts, can’t afford the distraction. But he doesn’t want you to feel trapped either. So, he tells you to explore villages and draw landscapes of forested planets with the set of pigmented chalks he’d sweetly gifted you after finishing a job one day. (“I saw them at some backwater trading post. Thought you might like them,” he’d shrugged.)

He doesn’t say it out loud but you know he trusts you even more now, trusts you won’t get into trouble, trusts you can take care of yourself if it finds you anyway. And he knows you appreciate it after being stranded on Tatooine your entire life. Each time he lands on a new planet, he sees entire galaxies reflected in your awestruck eyes and he gains a new page of artwork to add to his growing collection.

His latest quarry leads the pair of you to Felucia, on the hunt for some scum who — according to the Mandalorian — is probably hoping to harvest the planet’s Nysillin, a valuable healing herb, to trade for hefty credits.

Felucia is a beautiful world you could never have even conjured in your dreams. A dense jungle of flora extends toward the upper atmosphere, kissing the yellow-tinted clouds and glowing orange and teal when night falls. Vibrant purple fungi tower high above the ferns, providing shade that did little to combat the damp heat.

You felt a strange energy running through your veins the moment you stepped off the ship, blaming it on the humidity instantly sticking to your skin like honey, a welcome discomfort compared to the sands of Tatooine.

On Tat, the sand made a habit of blowing and whipping around your ankles, scraping slashes and slivers into your skin. You’d hardly ever felt it, soft skin having evolved into a numb armor over many years on the desolate planet. Even as crystal particles would fly into your eyes, fill your lungs, nestle into your hair — you’d hardly felt it.

Sand is nothing compared to the sinister shudder that would run down your spine as you’d make haste through dark alleyways. The hairs on the back of your neck would rise and stiffen. You’d feel it more than you’d see it: the mass of darkness constantly looming over your shoulder, disfigured shadows merging with yours on the sand. And a voice would ask you each time: are you willing to do what you must to survive?

You almost had that night you met the Mandalorian. You remember your attacker’s voice like you just woke up from a nightmare, coarse and rough, burying itself under your skin like the Tatooine sands. His hands had felt slimy and sticky like the Felucian air as he’d gripped your waist. That same question of will had rung in your ears and your soul had urged you with a whisper: “Survive.” Your hand had quaked as you’d lifted it and focused your thoughts on your attacker’s throat.

Then, before you could save yourself, you’d heard blaster fire and exhaled a staggered breath, gazing upon the Mandalorian as your hand had dropped limp at your side. You never turned back.

Now, you explore more systems than you knew existed, a Mandalorian warrior at your side, filling your weathered drawing pad with sketches of worlds beyond imagination.

Felucia would be a quick job, he’d assured you when he’d left. Easy and clean. Besides, no matter how beautiful the planet seemed — you couldn’t afford to stay longer than one rotation.

The Mandalorian had warned you of carnivorous plants and mysterious beasts. He hadn’t asked you to stay on the ship, but you knew he’d feel better if you kept close by. In the low shrubs and behind sky-scraping stalks, a deep grumble echoed through the jungle — something hungry and menacing. You stayed far from the sounds, choosing to explore the other colorful flowers that lived nearer to the ruddy soil, not straying too far into the mystifying wilds. You scribble away in your booklet, airways filled with a fresh petrichor that reminds you of a watery star system the Mandalorian brought you to a couple of months back. Your chalks fly across the tiny page as you capture this planet’s inimitable beauty as best you can.

Hardly four hours pass before you hear the Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps returning. Behind him trudges a stout man, wrists in binders behind him as he follows the bounty hunter in defeat.

“You’re getting slow, Mando,” you say, grinning when he comes to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips, a slight tilt to his helmet.

“What are you drawing?” He asks, ignoring your previous comment. He kneels beside you, silently studying the chalk-smudged red flower on the page as you stroke the final flourishes of your sketch. You hand him your booklet, noticing how the quarry leans over Mando’s shoulder to sneak a peek as well.

“Beautiful,” Mando says, tone even, as if speaking a fact instead of opinion.

“Well, it’s easy to see beauty when it’s all around,” you answer, cheeks heated as you gesture to the plant life surrounding you.

“It is,” he agrees, tenderness seeping into his modulated voice. When you look up at him, his visor is already trained on your face, unwavering as you crouch eye to eye with each other.

“Hate to break it to ya,” the quarry says, coughing dramatically behind you. “But all this ‘beauty’ wants to eat us alive, so I suggest we get off this hellhole before we all become dinner.”

The Mandalorian sighs, tearing his gaze to probably glare daggers at the quarry.

“Makes you wonder what you were doing on this ‘hellhole’ in the first place,” he says, sarcastic to a fault.

“It wasn’t my choice,” the quarry argues, lifting his hands in defense. “I’m here to do a job, just like y—”

A shrill, deafening screech cuts through the jungle like a blade and the group of you shrink at the violent sound.

“Let’s go,” Mando says immediately, helping you on your feet and pushing the quarry into the freighter.

You watch from the ground behind him as Mando runs in to lock the quarry inside the storage closet, turning only when the screeching sound suddenly stops. Your eyes squint as you try to find a sign of movement in the dense jungle.

“Watch out!”

Before you can register the anxiety in the Mandalorian’s voice, you’re knocked on your back into the red soil by a hulking creature.

It towers over you, casting you completely in its shadow as it slowly stalks forward. Your vision blurs as the horrifying monster draws closer — wrinkled white skin stretching the expanse of its belly and blue spine-covered leather painting its face and shell-armored back.

“I’m guessing this is the rancor you were telling me about?” You grit through your teeth, inching away like a pathetic crab along the shoreline. Drool leaks from the rancor’s jagged teeth in dangling strands as it reaches long, webbed claws toward you.

Before they can reach your body, you see the Mandalorian’s whipcord wrap around its arm. On the other end of the cord, Mando yanks the rancor away from you, rapid blaster fire whizzing through the air, hitting the beast with deadly precision. But the blasts bounce off its thick, impenetrable skin as it continues prowling toward you with renewed anger.

“Good guess,” Mando grunts, flying above the rancor with his jetpack, shooting at it in quick succession.

The rancor turns its attention away from you to the shiny flying pest blasting at its leathery skin. It’s at least six times the Mandalorian’s height but seems worlds larger from your view on the ground.

“Stars, I thought you said these things were peaceful!” You shout.

“The Felucians don’t mind them. You must have scared it with your aggressive craftiness,” he quips, and you imagine what his smirk might look like under his helmet, even as the rancor approaches closer.

Mando launches miniature whistling explosives at the beast, but they do little to deter it. He throws grenades but the rancor swats them away like insects. It stomps toward the Mandalorian, its maw gaping wide as it releases a petrifying roar.

“Mando!” You scream when the rancor’s claws grab him by his jetpack, plowing his body into the ground with brute force.

The Mandalorian groans as he tries to stand back up, falling on his back when his bones prove too weary to support his weight.

“Get to the ship,” he rasps, voice crackling through the helmet with static. He raises his arm, flamethrower igniting at the rancor’s face, making it fumble backward with another roar. Only seconds later, the fire sputters and dies out. “Dank farrik!” He curses, reaching for his hopeless blaster once more before the monster’s claws slap it from his hand. “Get to the ship!” He yells.

Rooted to the ground like the surrounding plants, you’re helpless bantha fodder as you watch the rancor slowly creep forward, stretching to its full height above the Mandalorian. It feels like you’re sinking in quicksand — your feet and your mind hopelessly going under.

Then, you hear a soft voice ask a familiar yet distorted question:

Are you willing to do what you must so he survives?

You don’t hesitate. Anything, your soul resolves.

Steadily braced on two feet, you throw out your hand like a whip, focusing all your energy and emotions toward the blue beast. It sends the rancor flying backward like a ragdoll, wailing as it crashes through the thick jungle, loud cracks echoing from the mist as its body breaks every plant in its path. It lands far away with a heavy thud, but you feel it in your veins when it immediately gets on its feet, vengefully sprinting back toward you.

“Can’t say it isn’t persistent,” you mutter.

“How? You—” Mando grunts, a thousand questions on his tongue that will have to wait.

“I’ll explain later,” you huff, yanking his arm over your shoulder and pulling him to the ship. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” The quarry yells from inside the locked compartment when he hears footsteps boarding the ship. You drop the Mandalorian onto the floor of the main hold rather unceremoniously, a metallic clanging sound ringing through the freighter. You punch in his code to retract the ship’s ramp before running to the cockpit. Outside the freighter, the rancor’s screeching grows louder and your fingers flit across the control panel to get the ship in the air. The engines whir to life and you swear it’s the second most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

With one final glance at the glowing jungle outside the viewport, thunderous roars softening into a low rumble, the ship finally launches out of Felucia’s atmosphere. Sinking back in the pilot’s seat, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for what feels like years. A labored dragging sound echoes behind you and you snap your head back, instinctively on defense.

But your shoulders relax when you see the Mandalorian gripping the walls of the ship as he attempts to limp closer. You run to his side, carrying his weight as you lead him to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You need to rest,” you whisper, standing in front of him to quickly scan his body for signs of a major injury. “Looks like you got away with just a few shallow cuts and bruises. Nothing a bit of bacta can’t soothe.”

Your words come out like the rapid firing of his blaster before a gloved hand on your wrist stops you from speeding off.

“What happened back there? How did you...” He asks, his visor lifted at an uncomfortable angle to meet your eyes.

Your lips press into a straight line, brows pinched in worry as you turn away from him to rummage through the medpac.

“I don’t...” you start, letting out a long exhale as you gather your words. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do things I can’t explain — move things without touching them.”

You turn back to him, bacta in hand as you study expressionless beskar.

“Sometimes, it frightens me. I have no idea where it comes from or why it happens or how to control it. I never do it around other people. I didn’t want them to know,” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his vambrace, wordlessly asking if he still trusts you to remove it. He nods, visor watching you with masked curiosity as you roll back his sleeves and expose bruised, tan skin. “I’m afraid of what could happen if people knew.”

You don’t tell him how you don’t sleep well most nights, your thoughts eating away at your mind as you wonder if your abilities are the reason why you’ve always been alone… if they drove your family away before you could understand and just explain.

It stays silent while you tend to his wounds, applying bacta wherever your hands coax sharp hissing sounds from his helmet. His armor lies on the floor of the cockpit, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to reveal a shallow cut and smattering of bruises on his abdomen. It’s not the worst you’ve seen and the bacta seems to already be easing most of the discomfort, allowing him to sit up straighter.

You leave him for a moment to allow him to tend to the bruises on his legs himself, walking to the supply closet to make sure the quarry is secure in his makeshift prison. When you return, you sit in the pilot’s seat, facing the zooming stars as if they hold the answers to every terrifying question you’ve held inside for so long.

You almost don’t hear the soft way the Mandalorian calls your name. It takes all your strength to pivot your seat in his direction.

“Do you remember when I told you about the mudhorn?” He asks.

You nod. The story of the mudhorn, of course you remember. After he’d first told you about his child, he seemed eager to tell you even more tales of their adventures across the galaxy. The mudhorn felt like their origin story, the birthplace of his connection to Grogu.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he says quietly, piquing your attention. “Grogu saved me. Not the other way around.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “But how? He’s just a baby.”

Mando stands from the co-pilot’s seat, testing his leg’s stability before walking to the control board, leaning back on it, his knees brushing against yours.

“Grogu had powers too. He could heal people. And he could move things without touching them,” he mirrors your words, making your jaw drop as you take them in. “Just like you. I was quested to bring him to others of his kind.”

“You mean?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the flash of hope in your eyes.

“Yes. There are others like him — like you.”

You listen with rapt attention as he unravels the legend of the Jedi — a fierce warrior he’d met named Ahsoka Tano and the hooded figure who had single-handedly defeated a platoon of Dark Troopers and became Grogu’s new mentor. He tells you the few fragments of what he knows about laser swords — lightsabers — the bright colors he’s seen them radiate. But he leaves out the heavy weight of the darksaber locked away in his weapons cabinet. Besides that, he tells you everything he knows, which he regrets isn’t much.

“The Force?” You ask in confusion.

“The Force is what gives you your powers,” he says, reciting the words like folklore passed down through generations. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Ahsoka’s words have been imprinted on his brain since she first spoke them.

“I can take you to a place where you can communicate with them,” he whispers. Truly, he doesn’t want to do as he says, doesn’t want to repeat the heartache he’s still not fully recovered from. He wishes he could snatch the righteous words out of the air before you hear them. But he knows what it would mean to you to find others, a family when you’ve had none your whole life. “The… Jedi, I mean. On a planet called Tython. If you want to be trained.”

He imagines a familiar hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I… I’d like to hear what they have to say. Get some answers,” you say. “If you’ll take me.”

“Of course.”

You stand up, allowing him to take his place in the pilot’s chair.

“After we drop off the quarry, I’ll bring you to Tython.”

His breath stops when he sees your hand reach out to cradle the side of his helmet. His eyes screw shut, imagining the plush warmth of your palm caressing the skin on his cheek instead.

“Thank you, Mando,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Din,” he offers, grinning beneath his helmet when your chin tilts in silent questioning. “My name is Din Djarin,” he clarifies. “But you can still call me Mando if you want.”

You smile, so wide and so bright it could blind him.

“Thank you, Din,” you say, unexplored galaxies sparkling in your irises. For the first time, he lets himself daydream what it’d be like to discover each one of them with you, for as many years as you’ll give him. Even as he fears his time with you is ending. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

As you walk to your sleeping quarters, the soft sound of controls beeping and ticking in the ship, you don’t hear when he whispers:

“Anything.” [READ PART II HERE]

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #taole #mine*

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mandochlorian · 3 years

Text

JUST A JOB (Din Djarin x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You have a history with the Mandalorian now clad in Beskar; an unavoidable, unforgettable, messy history. So it’s no surprise that when he seeks you out, the first thing you do is run for your life. But Mando is good at the chase.

A/N: ooo look my first din djarin post, I might continue this into more parts in the future hehe

star wars masterlist

Your heart is beating so incredibly fast. As if the running wasn’t enough, you can sense his presence gaining on you more and more every second you spend pushing your legs as far as they'll take you. He can’t chase you forever, even blood-sucking, life-draining, helmet-wearing Mandalorians have to take breaks. Though this one is not like any other bounty hunter you’ve ever encountered.

You just hope you make it - your legs are burning and if you squint you can see the ramp to your ship has just finish opening. Pressing the button on your bracelet, it begins to close again and you take a deep breath. You have to make it. You have to make it. You don’t look back. You can’t. If you look back, he’ll get you.

Stars, you feel like his breath is right on the back of your neck and it sends shivers down your body. He’s there. He’s right there. Behind you. Your chest is throbbing, your hair whipping across your face as your ship comes into greater view. Holding your breath, you use the last bit of energy you have to stick your heels into the dirt. Skidding in a puff of dust, you grab the edge of the ramp and pull yourself up and above the ledge of it. You’re going to make it. You’re gonna make it. Thank the f-

Something strong pulls you back by your ankles, bringing your momentum to a stop. You can barely comprehend what happens as your back slams into the ground. The ramp then comes to a shut. You almost made it.

The sound that comes from your throat is guttural, you struggle to gasp for breath but it’s all in vain. Your shaking hand comes to your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut at the dust collecting in the air.

The Mandalorian leans down, his shining helmet blocking the sun above you. You swear you feel your blood turn to ice as you stare at him. “You’re still quite the runner,” he notes, voice just as deep as you remember it, “but your tactics are old.”

“They m-may be old but-” you let out a shaky laugh, though you’re terrified of the man before you, “they’ve worked up until now.”

He pauses, visor directly above you though he leans down a little to emphasis his words, “The fact that we haven’t crossed paths has nothing to do with you. If I had wanted to take you in, you would’ve been in some Imperial cell by now.”

“What, you want me to thank you?” You narrow your eyes at him, slowly sitting up. He pulls away, standing up straight. You notice he has neither on of his hands on his weapons. He knows you won’t bother running, it’d be futile when you have no clear path of escape.

He thinks about it for a moment, “Yes.”

“Go to hell, Mando.”

“Stand up.” He orders, watching your pull yourself from the ground.

The slight ache in your back is evident. You get a good look at him, the sun no longer in your eyes and your chest no longer aching for air. All his once old, brown pieces of armour are now replaced by shining, silver beskar to match his helmet, “Someone’s kept busy.” Mando stands still as he watches your eyes rake over his new weapons and armour before your eyes land back up to his. "No restraints this time?” You muse, cringing as you stretch your shoulders out, “You must really underestimate me.”

He lets a pause hang in the air as he stares at you, bringing an awkward feeling to this encounter. “No, I need your help.”

Your first thought is: why me? What help could you possibly offer to The Mandalorian? But what you respond with is: “Bold of you to think that I’d ever help you. Last time we saw each other, you were turning me in to Greef Karga.”

“No. The last time I saw you was when I watched you hijack his ship and leave him stranded on Nevarro,” Mando states. You wonder if there’s a hint of pride in his voice that you just can’t quite make out. He let you go. Maybe you really do only have your freedom because every other bounty hunter isn’t good enough and Mando decided not to track you down once you escaped.

“Am I supposed to feel indebted to you?” You wonder, crossing your arms over your chest and his hand flexes by the weapon on his hip. Your eyes trail down to the blaster, seeing his hand hover beside it. “Easy, Mando, trying to kill you would be like trying to kill a spider-roach.”

He doesn’t seem to relax. “There’s still a bounty on your head, I’m sure you’re aware. I’ll make it go away.”

You frown at him, staring into the dark depths of his helmet, “You don’t hold that kind of power.” Regardless, you think, this must be a pretty important job if he’s willing to make the high price on your head disappear.

“Yes. I do.” He answers, gesturing to you, “I need a merc.”

“What for?”

“A job.”

“What job?”

“Just a job.”

“That’s vague and unconvincing,” you answer him, letting your arms fall by your sides, “the entire galaxy knows about you. Trouble follows you wherever you land. If I’m gonna risk being around that, then I deserve to know what the hell I’m getting into. What job?” You repeat yourself, more forcefully this time.

“I’d watch your tone with me,” Mando takes a step towards you, almost close enough to trap you against the hull of your ship, “you’re not the only hired gun in the parsec, just the most discreet.” He notices how you straighten slightly at the proximity he provides. The unsteady drumming of your heart appears again and you push it down, waiting for him to continue. “I need help freeing an asset that was purchased on Nevarro.”

“Nevarro,” you respond, your voice filled with skepticism and your hand is by your holster, “seems awfully convenient. You chasing me down, making me walk willingly into a trap.”

“The asset we’re freeing is... gifted,” he continues, ignoring what you’re insinuating, “I fear he’s being experimented on by the Empire.”

He sees how your eyes widen, your chest falling. The Empire? You were sure they were wiped out after the destruction of the second Death Star. As for the kid being gifted, you don’t want anything to do with the Force. Not anymore.

“I can’t help you, Mando.”

“What?” His voice is stern but filled with confusion.

“If what you believe is true, I can’t fight against the Empire.” You shake your head at him, pushing past him to lower the ramp of your small ship. It’s half the size of his Razor Crest, you estimated.

“I need your help.” Mando repeats himself, unsure of what else to say to really sway you. He knows you’d be able to help, what with your track record.

“Find another Merc in the parsec,” you tell him, using his words to your advantage.

When he grabs onto your hand, you freeze and tense up. He loosens his rough grip when he sees the fear in your eyes. “No,” his voice is low now, “I need your help. He’s... he’s just a child.”

The way Mandos voice is soft and sad makes you huff out a breath. You can’t see his face but you can tell this means a lot to him. He lets go of your arm, suddenly seeing that he’s overstepped the boundary in a moment of desperation. Of course the Empire would take a child from his family to experiment on them. The remnants of them seem to be just as ruthless and cruel as when they were in their prime.

You press your lips together tightly, thinking for a moment. “Any trace of the price on my head better be wiped from the entirety of this galaxy. Do you hear me, Mando?”

“I hear you.” He steps back.

“Good,” you shoot back, giving him an unamused expression, “and you’re flying.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin oneshot #din djarin fanfic #the Mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x you

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blkgirl-writing · 4 years

Text

Revealed To You

The Mandalorian X Fem!Reader

Summary: long time partners in Bounties, the Mandalorian accidentally walks in on you changing, and finds out you're a woman.

A/N: the first of my requests! Please note that I am taking requests currently. So if you like my stuff, consider sending me your ideas.

(Also, it's confirmed. Reader totally called Mandalorian Lori)

{PART II HERE!}

"Get some rest. Take a shower." Mando nodded, leaning against the chipped wall. "You need it. Took a few good hits."

You had barely enough energy to mutter a yes, let alone argue. His words struck too true. You couldn't remember the last time you were able to stand under the hot water.

It seemed like the millionth time the two of you ended up like this. But it all started by you saving his ass on one of his first bounties. He would never, ever admit that he would have been toast if it weren't for you. But smugly, you held it against him at every point possible.

There was a great respect between you. Though, certainly not enough to stay by each others side for much more than needed. Neither of you worked that way. But, you were reassured by having each others contacts, knowing that if you were stuck, the other would be there in minutes flat.

And that's exactly what happened. He called you, more frantically than normal. Something about a baby, and someone chasing after them. It ended in bloodshed and bruises. But also a warm bath and a house to stay in from the locals.

Through the hot water, memories arose of the good times you had, and how much he changed since the last time you saw him. Even I'd it was just a mewe month or two ago. He was now a father of some sorts. More responsible and caring as ever. It fit him very well.

○○○○

The shower ran out of hot water far too fast. Staying in forever was no longer an option. So, begrudgingly, you stepped out. Gathering your newly washed wears and heading to the open room. One sided windows gazing out onto the beautiful town below.

○○○○

He heard the loud pangs of the water on the metal floor stop.

If he knew where to go, he wouldn't have to come in an ask you. But since not only the idea of the location they were at currently were blurred, but where to drop you off, he slipped into the room.

A woman, just adjusting her upper undergarments over her chest...it took longer than mentally accepting to connect the dots. That woman was you.

"Oh" mandos voice was so low, you barely heard it. And for once, he stood still...why, you didn't quite know yet. Reading him was almost as hard as reading blind.

"Fuck, okay" you let out a surprised laugh, turning around to see the armored man standing in the doorway, gloved hand still pushed against the door.

"You're..." his helmet tilted ever so slightly, the only way to read his reaction to this particularly strange encounter. Unbeknownst to you, he was truly mesmerized, shocked, and coming up with quite a lot of questions.

"More scared up then thought. Yeah. I'll be fine." You grabbed onto your long sleeved shirt, gliding the fabric over your body. A bit more decentcy than just thin muslin undergarments. "I'll stop by a med unit if they don't get better in a few weeks."

That certainly wasn't the first thing he thought. But now you mentioned it, he felt bad that he was more focused on the curves of your hips than the scars on your back.

He couldn't shake the question. He could have sworn...with all the armor, the muddled voice behind the mask. He thought you has to be...well. he did not expect a female. Especially you. With long strides and direct nature.

He stayed silent for far too long. And you stood in confusion just as long. The way his head would move ever so slightly. He could almost feel his eyes dig into your skin. Why?

"You okay Lori?" Stepoing forward, you tested the waters a bit. His shining armor glistening in the natural light. Strange, how you found such comfort in such cold metal. Scratched and scraped up from the fight.

"You're a woman?" You couldn't help but laugh. It sounded so silky when he said it. So shocking and ground breaking. In reality, you never thought about it.

His mind was going a mile a minute, taking in the beauty of his bounty partner. The true bare version of her. Hair wet and just brushed, skin tinted from the heat of the shower, water droplets still trailing down your glowing skin. You were godly. Standing right before him with a smile on your lips.

The way you looked at him with such curiosity, eyes big and tired, Slightly lidded.

"That's what you're all about?" You put your bare hand on his bare wrist, trying your best to look through the glass of his helmet. "I thought you knew."

It kept all of his might now to melt right there from the touch of your body skin. It felt so intimate and careful.

"Never had a clue," He said, cool and slick. Moving his hand from yours. "Never thought of you as more of a good friend."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You teased, a cocky grin spreading through your face. "You get one look at me half naked and suddenly fall in love? Sounds very much against the code, Mando."

It took him longer to admit to come up with a even slightly comprehensive and witty reply. You stood so vulnerable, so close to him. And suddenly, he thought of all the times you saved him, how mah times he offered to take you out for a drink as a thank you, and the equal amount of times you refused, because of the mask, or how truly he owed you nothing, or even, on some occasions, how you'd much rather stay and talk in his ship.

"Are you gonna watch me get dressed? Or do you plan on leaving?" You asked, walking back to your pile of armor. Possibly adding a bit more sway to your hips as you walked then before. At least, he noticed it now.

"I'd rather stay right here" And you could basically hear the smug smirk on his lips.

"As you wish."

#mamdalorian #pedro pascal x reader #madalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal #star wars #star wars x reader #poe dameron x reader #smut #fluff #baby yoda

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 reactions: HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AWESOME BUT ALSO I’M CRYING edition

- the good good din characterization is back after all the weirdness last episode!!!! that soft way he says ‘no, no, I’m not mad at you’? THAT’S din djarin, he would not be fucking impatient with his son having just been informed and seen for himself that he is terrified, go away mr filoni I know you’ve got all of canon memorized but you don’t get this lol. this feels much more right in how din being conflicted and still thinking he should give the baby away for his own good plays out too

honestly every line of dialogue for him in this one was perfect I was just whispering ‘I love this awkward clueless wonderful man just doing his best’ to myself any time he said anything. “...does this look Jedi to you?” sir I adore you more than words can describe

- we got din chuckling. asjdklfhsdkafghsdafsadhjkfsdahjkfh. fskahfksjad. side note: I can’t believe my joke post about din desperately trying to Force home school the kid with the one (1) jedi trick he knows about and the baby being delighted by it over and over anyway -- listen to his expectant excited laugh when din takes the ball and sets up the game!!!! -- was canon all along. and then the baby & mando music kicking in when he gently put the silver ball into the baby’s hands again and tells him he’s special (because he IS special. to din)? hmng. hmmmmnnnnn

they opened on the height of softness so we would all crumple under the weight of the rest of the episode and that was very mean of them in a way I sincerely appreciate

- nothing to see here... just a dad trying to walk through the literal manifestation of the unassailable underlying forces of the universe to get to his baby again and again........ the desperation in that, the love, the foolhardy devotion................... shit

- okay so I might be a dumbass, but I’d never noticed this before -- the silver ball has a blue spot on the top, like so:

and in addition we get the room where the baby goes full darth grogu (I have to laugh so I don’t cry okay) on those storm troopers, and there’s a red light in there dominating the room (and it did even more in the concept art):

in star wars blue means light side and red means dark side (it’s very sophisticated that way), meaning the visual storytelling here is that there’s a battle for the baby’s soul and gideon and all his nonsense (and the trauma bb’s been through in the wider sense) is pulling towards the dark, while grogu and din’s connection leads him towards the light. just... the image of the baby looking at his own reflection in the symbolic representation of his relationship to din? the way children find their sense of self through being safely reflected and held by their caretakers? god help meeeeeee I will go in there and fistfight gideon myself for disrupting that in any way

the smaller light seems to be blue too, like there’s still the presence of light even if it’s dimmed and small in that shitty horrible room, which is a change from the concept art!

- FENNEC SHAND SURVIVED BITCHES!!! I even called that she’d be back with new shiny robot parts back in season 1, could not happen to a cooler lady, I hope we get more backstory and interaction from her the next episodes -- sounds like she’s basically sworn herself to boba’s service in gratitude for saving her life, I wonder if that’s a cultural thing of whereever she comes from? does she live aboard slave 1 now too?? because that would be hilarious and amazing, it must be like two strange cats trying to get used to sharing the same space

- everything I could ever hope for about boba fett in this series came true, they went down the much more interesting and nuanced route with jango and boba’s identities as mandalorians, he looked cool as fuck and made din as a character shine rather than overshadowing him... amazing beautiful yesss

(I did 100% not anticipate just how ‘cool uncle boba here to help you fuck shit up’ he was going to be but I am delighted to get it anyway. uncle points deducted for getting someone to point a gun at the baby, but the main point still stands lol)

the power and brutality of his hand to hand fighting too... a w e s o m e , I enjoyed the action scenes a lot in this one

- they even recanonized him actually wearing jango’s armour. what more could I ask for. I’ve had confused parent & child feels about these two since I was like eleven and here we fucking go again. and jango fighting in the mando civil wars too!

- so I’m grieving the razor crest (and I always will be, rip you magnificent jalopy, always in my heart) but also there’s the grim satisfaction that my reading on it was sort of true -- it is (...was. oh god it’s going to take a while to sink in huh) a symbol of din’s self and life, and at this point when they take the baby it tears everything else to pieces. the only thing that’s left in the ashes is the beskar and the thing that connects him to the baby. and there’s... a strange solace in seeing that that’s all he needs to keep going? he’s fucking obliterated from orbit but he still has his love for the baby and the beskar and that can keep him going until he finds something new, everything else can be replaced?????? weirdly healing, though he is probably going to have a solid breakdown at some point after they get the kid back (shut up they are getting the kid back) and the cold distant fog lifts

also this scene/shot feels like it carries some Meaning, doesn’t it? I’m on record several times saying I never want din to be mand’alor and that’s still true, but there’s something about the framing of this and the way boba looks at him that’s like... hm. I’m not sure I have the words for it. there’s something heightened about it, anyway, for a moment he looks like something mythic there in the wreckage

(something I would be much cooler with is our clan of two growing a little bit and those new people rallying behind him, actually, that might be neat. imagine if a force user does show up for the baby and gets adopted into the clan somehow??? so many possibilities.)

- from the way he picks up the silver ball... din djarin is on his way to straight up murder some people huh

I think part of what reassures me about this scene is the music -- this mando flute is not distant, is not beaten, is not despondent, it’s clear and determined and strong.

I love this. I love when we get explicit baby POVs, it makes it feel so real and intimate and... like home. (I especially loved baby’s point of view inside the razor crest, which just made me tear up again. baby lost the closest thing he’s had to a home in a long long time on top of it all. everything is suffering)

Emotionally Significant Thumb Grabbing tm; the show

- din djarin looking for the ‘on’ switch on a magic rock fhsdakjfhsadlfhsdjah I can’t breathe

“Well, this is the seeing stone. Are you. Seeing anything?” fsafkdsajhfsa sdhfksjalhfkjsdahfkjsdhf

- the energy around the baby as he’s, in ahsoka’s words, ‘choosing his path’ is blue, and the force sort of works across time and space, right?? so there’s definitely still hope for our lil green bean to not have to come up with a really dumb unsubtle sith name for himself, as is regrettably yet delightfully tradition. darth babbu should never come to pass (I do like how they’re interrogating the normal dark/light side dichotomy in this series, seeing as this is a literal baby who can’t really be responsible for that stuff himself yet and has such capacity for both.)

- listen. listen, the way din says ‘can you please hurry up’ with no sarcasm or real impatience whatsoever, more like a harried worry, to his force-meditating son as he jogs off to make sure no one’s trying to kill them. is hilarious and also YES this is what the character is!!! weirdly and incongruously polite under stress sometimes and with a slightly odd reaction pattern to things!!! he’s not just quiet and badass, he’s a little strange sometimes and it’s so good!

- a friendly opening volley warning shot from boba there

also din uncertainly asking BOBA FETT if he’s a jedi... now this is the dramatic irony I’ve been looking for haha

I guess neither shand nor boba actually know din’s name after this either. baby you gotta start introducing yourself at some point it gets real confusing when there are two mandos on screen

oh the long weary sigh going through din’s frame when boba says he wants ‘the armour’ and he thinks it’s just someone trying to peel the beskar off his corpse again. sorry the galaxy’s so shitty dad

- “But fate sometimes steps in to rescue the wretched” is a killer line well done mr favreau. I like that boba actually offers din a good deal as well and seems to intend to deliver on it from how things are going.

- din using his beskar-covered bod to cover someone he’s fighting alongside!!! literal moving cover haha. also I love fennec’s costume design

- I don’t know where din got more whistling birds from and I don’t care, it was really cool haha

wow haha um so anyway --

(cue all the ‘who wore it better’ with cobb vanth’s ‘spiderman’s first home made costume’ look on one side and ABSOLUTE UNIT DADDY boba fett on the other side posts lol)

- aaaghh the music almost like a stunned desperate fluttering heart beat as din watches the razor crest be destroyed

- for someone who has willingly worked for them in the past boba sure sounds less than thrilled about having the empire back in any capacity

- oof the deadness in din’s voice when he says “The child is gone”. ooooh no that got me h e l p

- guessing next episode is at least partly a ‘gathering old allies and preparing the assault’ step before the grand finale, then! they cannot go for the season ender cliffhanger with this, I will fucking riot. anything can be up in the air except baby and dad being separated, I will not allow it

it would be very funny if the force user baby called out to comes stumbling into the middle of all this like the troy entering the room with pizzas meme too

- the music in the darth grogu scene is partially a dark mirror of the baby & mando music :’( is nothing in this world sacred

also from how he reaches out for it baby might have used a light saber before in the past with the jedi? ngl the idea of baby wielding the dark saber not when he’s all grown up but in like two episodes -- with all the chaos a toddler holding a laser sword would involve -- is all that is keeping me sane here

‘liable to put an eye out with one of these’ well gideon you sure have doomed someone to lose an eye with that one, here’s to hoping it’s you, for full dramatic payoff

he is a deliciously smug awful force with great musical cues tho, you have to give it to him

- okay so this

is obviously awful and horrible and it makes me so sad... but it is undeniably also very very very funny in how it’s framed. you know what? after all this bullshit baby grogu can have a little dark side tantrum, as a treat, we’ve all been there right

(forget finding a jedi, we need to go out there and find a child psychologist who can help him deal with this without adding the fear that he’s on the path to become a two foot tall evil space sorcerer to the mix Y_________Y)

- rip the razor crest except for the second time :’’’( gone but never forgotten

- the last thing din tells the baby is “I’m gonna protect you; I’ll be back soon”. and I hope that stays with the kid somehow and that it actually comes true, that din will be back for him as soon as humanly possible and all this pain and fear can be repaired. ggggghhhhh my emotions are too big for my dumb human body

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #okay I'm gonna have to. go take a calming walk or something after this haha

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clonemando · 3 years

Text

Meeting the Tribe

Din convinces Boba to join him in meeting back up with his Tribe. Boba really doesn't want to but he can't resist his little brother's puppy eyes. AO3 Link

Boba sighed as he and Din entered a rather populated city together. The stares didn't bother him much, no one would be stupid enough to try to take on a pair of Mandalorians together without a full team and even then, he and Din could handle it. Plus if they recognized him and his armor, which by the terror he could feel as they walked slowly towards the market they did, then that was even more incentive to leave them alone. No, he wasn't so much bothered by the place than by the reason they were there.

Din needed to see his people. See who remained of what was once his tribe. Boba understood that. But what he didn't like was that Din insisted he come too.

"Din, I respect your beliefs but I'm not one of them. They won't want me there. I shouldn't know where the covert is located." He had tried to argue but Din had turned big brown puppy dog eyes on him and damn they were even worse when he could actually see them without the helmet in the way.

"You are one of us through me and they will not challenge that. If they do, I'll deal with it. I need to speak with the armorer. There was a lot of Beskar on the cruiser and it should be returned and used for foundlings. Not to mention you could use some repairs. And as part of my clan, you need the signet somewhere on your armor- if that's okay? I know it was your father's. Maybe we can get a new piece made instead…" Din had dissolved into muttering and Boba knew he wouldn't be winning the battle.

So now here they were slowly making their way around twisting and winding roads. Din finally dragged him under an arch and down some stairs and then they were there. Children were running around, all covered with a buy'ce on their heads but none seeming to even notice as they played. Parents watched nearby, eyeing the newcomers warily with the fierce protective streak all Mandalorians shared for children, especially their own. Boba felt like he was intruding and really wanted to leave but Din strode through like he belonged and getting separated seemed like an even worse idea so he kept up.

Even in the dark, in this place Din had never been, it was like he had a map in his mind and they were shortly standing in front of a forge. Din kneeled and Boba hesitated unsurely before following his example while a woman in a gold plated buy'ce made her way around to look at them. Boba knew this must have been the leader of Din's tribe, the armorer he spoke so highly of.

"You have returned. Was your task successful?" She asked Din, completely ignoring Boba's presence and he wanted to feel upset about it but mostly he was grateful.

"It was. The child has been delivered to a Jedi who can train him. He is safe now." He said and Boba wondered if the Armorer could hear the pain in Din's voice as he spoke the way he could.

"Jate. Good. Now tell me why you have brought this dar'manda amongst us?" She said and Boba winced because she said it so calmly. She wasn't even judging him, it was a statement of fact to her. That he existed with no soul. Maybe she was right.

"He is not dar'manda. He was… echoy'la… lost, searching. A foundling of our own kind found by others. Now he has been returned to us. He has been reborn and should be offered cin vhetin." Din said voice sharp as a knife and Boba could admit he didn't recognize all words. His Mando'a was rusty. But he knew Din was defending him.

"I told you I don't belong here, Din. It's fine. Let them call me what they wish. I'm not a child who needs to be coddled." He hissed at him, not sure how to handle being defended. It felt wrong.

The Armor's gaze shifted. "You brought Beskar." She said ignoring their staring contest to look at the container Din had brought with them.

"Yes. The imperials that we fought to get the child to his people had a large amount. It belongs back with our people." Din said setting the container in front of himself and opening it.

The Armorer examined a bar before looking over Din. "Your beskar'gam is still in repair. What do you wish me to make for you? Or shall it all be used for the foundlings?" She asked and Din met her gaze and held it even through their helmets.

"He is part of my clan and requires a signet. His armor is in disrepair and to let my Aliit suffer injury when I have means to protect him would be to break the creed." He said and Boba wanted to growl that he wasn't part of the damn creed or stomp out and leave Din there despite, or maybe because of, how generous he was being.

The Armorer looked between them again and sighed. "You have always had the most stubborn of hearts Djarin. Very well. What will you have me do for your vod?" She asked and Din looked at Boba who was trying to find a way out of this mess that wouldn't offend Din or shit all over how hard he was fighting for him.

"This armor was my father's I don't-" He started his voice coming out less firm that he wanted it to and more pleading. The Armorer seemed to accept that and she backed away, taking the Beskar and starting to work. Boba didn't know what she was doing but he flinched at the loud sound of the hammer feeling confined and on edge. He didn't belong here. He should have told Din no and stayed on the ship.

"Din, go out now. Paz was hoping to speak to you. When you return I will be finished." She ordered and he saw Din hesitate before nodding and leaving. The Armorer finally directed her gaze to Boba and he resisted the urge to squirm like a child. She wasn't Jango about to give him a scolding for sneaking out to play with the other clones. But she definitely had a similar energy to her.

"Boba Fett. Son of Jango Fett. Son of Jaster Mareel who was once Mand'alor. Din Djarin has claimed you as part of his clan and house. Do you know what that means?" She asked and Boba sighed shoulder's slumping despite himself. So he was getting a scolding. Mandalorians had to drag your whole family line into it too.

"We're just brothers. It's not like we're getting married." He grumbled.

"Family is family, no matter position. Love is love no matter the type. Your houses shall be one and the same. Your past will be his past and his your own. That is our way. Cin vhetin… He wishes for you to be given a clear start. Free of what you were before you were Mandalorian. He is offering a soulless being like you a piece of his own so you might join the Manda when you die. That is what it means. If you tarnish and ruin him, I will find you, and nothing you have ever done will compare to the wrath I will let fall upon you. Do you understand?" She said voice still level and calm, but that only made it worse.

"Yes. You are his mother." He said meaning to ask but it came out like a statement. The Armorer looked towards the door.

"They are all my children but the Mandalorian who found Din and raised him here died when Din was still young. To lose his birth family, and then the one who found him, he needed someone who would not fail him again. I claimed him. And now that means I must accept you. Do not let that make you think I like you, however." She said and returned to her work and Boba's head bowed as silence filled the space now, besides the hammering and sounds of her tools.

Boba wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate her for judging him on a life she knew nothing about. He wanted to tell her to stuff it and that this was all a mistake. But mostly he was tired. He found himself wondering instead how his father would like Din. Jango would probably remind Boba that trusting led to betrayal but he wouldn't dislike Din. He might even eventually come around when he saw how good Din was. His lips twitched slightly at the thought of his father arguing with this woman for the right to take Din as his son the way he had heard him argue with the Kaminoans. It would have certainly been a fierce fight.

"Stand." She interrupted his musing and Boba stood looking at what she held out for him trying to identify what the strip of metal would be used for but she didn't wait for him to ask.

"A neck guard." She murmured and fitted it between his helmet and armor and he felt his mouth go dry.

"Oh" Was all he could say and she met his eyes through their helmets.

"Stay still while I place your signet," She asked instead, and Boba was glad she didn't expect him to say anything. When Din returned followed by a hulk of a Mandalorian in blue painted armor, she had finished adding the mudhorn signet to the pauldron that didn't have his mythosaur.

"Boba, Paz will be coming with us when we return to Tatooine. He has some business there." Din said and Boba turned to pierce his gaze right to where he knew Din's eyes were.

"Are you suddenly the one who decides who can come onto my ship to my planet?" He asked in a low growl. Din didn't even flinch though at least Boba knew he wasn't losing his touch because the big guy that must have been Paz tensed. Din could just read him too well.

"I forgot. Oh great and powerful Boba Fett, who rules over Tatooine with a fist of Beskar, I beg of you to humbly allow my pathetic brother Paz to accompany us back to your home." Din said dryly and Boba grinned at the offended. "Hey!" From Paz.

"Hmmm… I suppose, when you ask so nicely, we can arrange to have him loaded in with the rest of the supplies." He said and he could feel the heat of Paz's glare which made him grin. This was more comfortable.

"I always wanted to stuff Paz in a box. Let's go then." Din said leading the way out with Boba and Paz following him. Maybe Boba didn't belong with the tribe, but he definitely knew he belonged with Din. So he'd accept this too.

#The Mandalorian #Boba Fett #Din Djarin #Fanfic #the mandalorian spoilers #The armorer #Paz Vizsla #The Armorer is Din's mom #Din is her favorite #Boba and Din brotherly relationship

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

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Trust Me - Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

shazam-levi

I don't know if you've already gotten this request, but I'll tell you anyway. Could you set it during episode 8 when they are battling moff gideon and when mando almost dies the reader force heals him. He tells her he loves her since he thinks he'll die but she stays and saves him. They already have feelings for each other, but both finally confess after the battle. Lots of fluff and angst. Please let me know if this works!

AN: Made a slight change in the request but I hope that’s okay. I don’t like the idea that Din just says “I love you”. I think Din shows his love rather than verbally addressing it. I hope you get the romantic subtext!

“We’re not leaving without you,” Cara snapped, her stern features pointed at the Mandalorian, at Din, who lay against a slab of stone rumble.

“You need to protect the Child,” he choked out.

You cringed at the sound of his hoarse voice. The modulator in the mask did little to make him sound the slightest bit hopeful. You leaned towards him, resting a careful hand on his helmet. Even without closing your eyes or actively communing with the Force, you could feel the severity of his wound. Din’s visor turned to face you.

“Y/N, please,” the desperation in his voice made your chest ache. “Leave me here...get him out of here.”

You shook your head at his order. You could never follow through on such a demand had been through too much with Din to just leave him to die alone. There was something you could do, you had to do, even if it meant exposing yourself. If Din was willing to trust you with the trust, you could trust him with your truth. “I can-”

“Whatever we’re going to do we need to do it fast,” Greef said, panic lacing his tone. It was hard to hear the ex-magistrate over IG-11 as the droid cut the sewer grate out of the cantina wall. “They’ll be coming in any-”

The roar of sudden flames cut Greef’s warning short. Heat washed over you like a dry wave of doom. You turned towards the door where a red detail, armored trooper lurked, a fire-turret in hand. The sight alone was enough to throw you back to the past.

In your memory, you heard the blaster-fire of Republic issued rifles as Clones fired on you and your Master, Stass Allie. The heat, so horribly similar to the deserts on Saleucami. Your forced your eyes shut and took a calming breath. Slowly, your heart rate steadied and you pulled yourself back to the present. There was no time to hesitate or get caught on past phantoms; there were people with you now who needed your help.

“Protect the Child.” Din’s voice was weak, a barely-there sound. Whatever he was clinging to was wearing thin. You opened your eyes and pulled your hand away from Din’s helmet. “I can fend them off...let you escape.”

“No,” Cara protested just as the pyro-trooper returned in the burning doorway. You looked over and felt a shock of adrenaline run through your body. Waddling confidently up towards the scorched remains of the cantina entrance was the Child. Before you could lunge towards the creature, the trooper released a fresh flame from the turret.

With wide eyes you watched the Child raise its tiny hands up towards the racing fire. You felt a gust of pure power in the Force, the kind that you once felt as a youngling with Master Yoda. Sensing the Child’s strength and intentions, you threw yourself over Din’s chest in an attempt to protect him from the incoming heat. You felt one of Din’s arms around your waist as if he wanted to press you as close as possible. When flames didn’t envelop you all, you lifted your head from Din’s chest and smiled.

The Child, conducting the Force through his fingertips, was keeping the fire at bay. Strength of that degree was incredible, let alone the fact it was a young creature wielding it. You watched, wide-eyed and proud as the Child pushed the fire back toward the pyro-trooper. With a blood-curdling scream, the trooper burst into flames and crumpled to the ground. Threat gone, the Child fell back to the ground completely exhausted.

You crawled over to the creatures’ slumped form and scooped him up in your arms. Careful not to trip or wake the Child, you walked back over to Din. Upon sitting at his side, Din reached up and brushed his fingers along the creatures’ ear. Before you could speak up, Din’s moving hand clutched your arm. He gave it a squeeze, the touch enough to pull your eyes to his helmet’s visor.

“Let me die a warriors death,” he choked out. You felt a burning in your eyes, the threat of unshed tears. Without hesitation, you shook your head.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you replied. As you spoke, the clanging kicks of the IG unit filled your ears. With one final metal crash, the way to escape was open.

“It’s open! We have to go!” Greef shouted and you looked up. He was already filing into the cramped tunnel passage while the rest of you lingered. Even the IG unit waited, red optical receptors trained on the Child. In a flash, you stood and held the Child out to the droid.

“No,” Din coughed, but you ignored him.

“Take him and go, we’ll be right behind you.” Without questioning your order, the droid took the child and followed after Greef. Content with your choice, you turned and face Cara. “Can you go with them?”

“What about him?” Cara tipped her head toward Din.

“I’ll take care of him.” The shock trooper’s dark brows furrowed together but she stood anyway. Cara gave Din one last, worried glance before walking past you. As she moved, she grabbed your shoulder.

“Don’t let him…”

“I won’t.”

Cara nodded gratefully and you turned to watch her as she followed the droid into the sewer. When the four of them were out of sight, you rushed back over to Din. You crouched down at his side and took his hand in yours. His helmet turned to you and you could feel his life, ever-present in the Force around you, begin to wane.

“Why are you doing this?”

You ignored the truth that threatened to spill out of your mouth and answered him with another question. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” There was no delay in his reply; no pause or doubt. The trust between you and Din was deep, akin to the trust between you and your late Master only stronger. You gave Din a half-smile and hoped that, beneath his helmet, he made it whole.

Just as you were about to continue, the cantina entrance became to crumble. The stone ceiling fell in, blocking the doorway to the village outside. If you did manage to patch Din up, the sewer would be the only way out of the ruined building. You turned your attention back to Din and found his free hand reaching out to you. For a moment, you considered pulling away, letting him go out in the Mandalorian way. But your Jedi way would not allow you to leave him behind; that, and your heart, your feelings for him.

“I need you to take off your helmet.”

“It’s forbidden,” Din said, without missing a beat, “no one has seen me since…”

“I won’t see, not really,” you explained, “I’ll have my eyes closed.”

You could feel Din’s nervousness through the Force but the trust he had in you eventually won out. Slowly, you watched Din’s gloved hands reached up towards his helmet. A quick, thankful smile danced along your features before you closed your eyes. The hiss of the helmet’s release echoed in your ears and you found yourself fighting temptation. You wanted to see him, really see him, but you had made a promise.

Instead, you reached out, let your hands brush against his matted hair. He was sweaty and you could feel him pull away from your touch, only for a moment before relaxing. The weight of his head fell against your hands. It was then you felt the blood, all thick and warm. You took a deep, shuddering breath before channeling all that you could into the wound.

With the best of your abilities, you tried to replicate what you had seen the Child do with Greef’s wound only a day before. You had only read about Force regeneration in texts hidden deep in the Coruscant Temple’s archive.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name in his voice, now unaltered by the helmet, was nearly enough to get you to open your eyes. How soft his voice sounded, how small. It was as if the mask he wore carried with it everything you thought he was. Now, Din was laying bare before you but you couldn’t see him. It was torturous, not being able to look at him.

Viscerally, it felt like you were being drained. Although that could have been the life Force you were melding into his wounded flesh. Draining a piece of yourself and giving to Din was simple in principle; no more confusing than wedding vows. Physically the act was something else and you understood why the Jedi often guarded against using the Force to heal.

“Y/N,” you shook your head and tried to refocus, “Y/N, please.”

The instant you were finally getting through, when the wound was just beginning to mend, you felt the rough texture of Din’s glove against your chin, then your cheek. You fought to stay focused. You fought to keep your eyes screwed shut. “Y/N.” Suddenly, you were losing the battle.

“Y/N, let me see your eyes.”

Whether it was the desperation or the pleading nature of Din’s voice, you gave in. Slowly, your eyes opened and you took in the sight before you as if it were your first time seeing anything. You studied Din’s face intensely: the mixture of fear and adoration in his dark eyes; the patchy scruff along his jaw; the curves of his lips; everything. Somewhere, you found more strength, whether it was in Din’s eyes or in your own heart. That strength was enough to channel the Force that whirled around you both and heal Din’s head wound.

The cuts and bruises in his face sealed up and the flesh returned to its natural color. Never once did your eyes leave Din’s. Not even when he took a full, gasping breath. Not even when you felt your energy being drained. You channeled every teaching Stass Allie had taught you. One such teaching from your late Jedi Master came to your mind.

“You can never trust someone without looking into their eyes. Eyes never lie, my padawan, neither a friends’ or a foes’.”

Looking into Din’s eyes, in that moment, you knew you could trust him with anything.

The Force seemed to slip from your fingertips as Din’s wounds healed. You let yourself fall back on the dirt, careful not to get too close to the flames. Heat had grown and spread around you; a frightful reminder that you needed to get out of there.

“We need to go.” You reached for Din’s helmet and handed it to him.

“What did you-”

“We can talk about it later. We need to get to the Child.” At the mention of the little creature, Din grew stoic. His brows furrowed slightly and his lips pursed. You had to swallow the smile that threatened to spread along your lips. To mask it further, you stood up and extended a hand to the downed Mandalorian.

Without hesitation, he took your hand and got to his feet.

“Why didn’t you have one of those before?” You asked Din as you landed. Even with your feet on the ground, you still clung to Din’s arms. Flight via jetpack was new to you. Although the Child, wedged between you and Din, was still squealing with excitement.

“Not enough beskar,” Din said coolly. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. The Child, fastened in your jacket, began to paw at your chest as if begging to fly again.

“Alright, alright,” you let go of Din’s arms and plucked the Child from your coat.

Its wide, dark eyes were alight with joy despite all the trouble you had just fought through. You smiled at him and set him on the ground. When he started to waddle over towards the Razor Crest, Din punched in his code to lower the boarding ramp. The Child chirped giddly as he wandered into the ship.

“We better watch him,” you scratched the back of your head nervously. “He might try to fly without us.”

You turned to walk towards the ship but felt Din’s hand grasp at your arm. His touch was light, yet desperate, and when you turned to face him, you could feel his questions. Din’s scorched helmet did nothing for you now. You had seen the face and the eyes beneath and there was no turning back. The two of you had trusted the other with your respective secrets; trust went both ways.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The same reason you don’t take off your helmet,” you explained, “it is the way. The new, Jedi way.” Din took a step back from you.

“Jedi?”

“During the Clone Wars, when we all thought the Trade Federation was the worse thing to come to the galaxy, I was a padawan learner…” you swallowed hard at the memory. “I was being taught in the ways of the Force by Jedi Master Stass Allie.”

“You...the Child, you both have the Force.” You nodded and frowned when Din’s hand let go of your arm. “Your powers….”

“The Empire wasn’t a fan of the Jedi,” you sighed, rubbing at your wrist to distract yourself. “Wasn’t really a fan of anyone but themselves. They hunted my people...they...killed my Master and so many others.”

Din didn’t reply and you were too lost in your memories to notice when he took a step towards you.

“I didn’t tell you cos’...I didn’t want to be alone again.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke. “Everyone I told tried to turn me in for credits and I...you are...were a bounty hunter. I joined the Guild to protect myself and then this Child…”

When Din grabbed your arm against it neither forceful nor mean. It was soft, tender, the kind of touch you seen other receive but never have yourself. You opened your eyes and met the visor of Din’s mask; but you could see his eyes. You could feel them on you and the trust they held in you. Something else had been shared alongside your secrets.

“You’ll never be alone,” he said softly, “not again. I’m with you.”

You gave Din a grateful smile and rested an open palm on the cool surface of his mask. At your touch, you heard his breath hitch. Fear, you could feel it in the Force around him; fear that you would try to remove his helmet out in the open. Did he regret letting you see his face?

No, he didn’t. You knew him well enough to know that and the Force thrummed in agreement. Din rested the weight of his helmet in your hand. The small action carried with it a bond forged in the fires of the Nevarro cantina. Something immovable; something permanent.

“We better get the kid,” Din said as the sound of the ramp folding up reached your ears. You turned around and lifted a hand to stop it, unafraid of your power. With the Force, you gently pulled the ramp back down and you both started towards the ship in a sprint.

As your ran, you could feel the hilt of your lightsaber knock against your thigh. There would be time to show that to Din too. Right now, the trust, the bond between was enough. And there were bigger, more powerful things at hand.

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tonksie-writes · 3 years

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A Mark and a Soul||Chapter 2

Summery: Din has always wanted to meet his soulmate. The moment that he met Cara he knew it was her. Now he’s all but alone in the universe he has to decide his next steps and she distracts him.

Rating: M (This chapter)

A/N: Ok! So I continue to have NO IDEA where this fic is going to take us so join me for this ride of unknown! I’m also shocked because I’ve actually been doing really well with keeping up on this! I’m not normally very good at that especially with no plan! If anyone has prompts or things they’d love to see I would love to hear them cause RN I’m flying blind! This chapter has smut! It’s very obvious when it’s about to start trust me you’ll know! And it goes to the end of the chapter so if you aren’t a fan of reading that you can easily skip you won’t miss anything I promise! Also it’s been a HOT minute since I wrote smut and while yes I have my history with it I’m looking at you 20 pages of one BDSM scene I haven’t written anything like this is a FEW years so please forgive me if I’m rusty. So please enjoy

Prologue, Ch 1 , AO3

Din has spent a lot of his life dreaming about his soulmate. He had always wondered what that person would look like, what they would be like. His parents had been soulmates and while mandalorians took an oath to give up their soulmates, just as they gave up their ability to show their face, Din had grown up on a planet where Soulmates were a constant. There were thousands of stories and fairy tales told to children of all ages. He had been told from the time of birth about all kinds of different soul matches. There were Prince's being saved by the daring princesses and knights in shining armor. There were even love stories of star-crossed lovers from different planets in different galaxies coming together to solve wars out of the bond. As a child Din had been enraptured by those stories and the thought of having a connection to someone that went beyond what he could see and hear.

The bond was supposed to be this magic that knit two people. The very energy of the universe that knit two souls and allowed them to pick up on things in each other more easily. It was that thing that let you know exactly when your lover walked into a room. It was the prickle on your neck and tingling in your gut when your lover was watching you when you weren’t looking. It was something that went down to the core of you knitting you together beyond anything else in the universe.

It had actually been the hardest thing for him to give up when the Mandalorian’s saved him. He didn’t think twice about giving up his face or anything else, even his name was easy to lose to the sands of time. He lost his family, his home planet, and everything he’d held dear and the mandalorians had saved him. They had given him a place to live and a reason to keep going. He was happy to give up anything to have a place to belong. But giving up the hope of finding a soulmate had been the hardest thing that he could imagine. It was the one thing he had wanted to keep even as he promised himself to the Mandalorians. Eventually though, he let that go just like he had everything else. It was the way.

Din had second-guessed his choice many times. Every so often he would wonder what he would do if he ever came across his soulmate. He figured it was probably some lovely woman on a Backwater planet who had a beautiful smile. Perhaps it would be a dashing gentleman with his own farm who would take him by the hand and make him want to settle down. Din had always imagined that his soulmate would lead him to another life, make him want something else, something different. That's why it was so surprising when the Rebel Shock Trooper that he ran into a rundown bar had the exact image on her jaw that he had on his.

While on Sargon, Din had just ignored it. He assumed that it probably just was a trick of the eyes and he hadn't actually seen it. It wasn’t possible and even if it was he wasn’t supposed to let it happen. He was on the run, he had a foundling to care for. He had duties to fulfill and he was a Mandalorian. It wasn't just a trick of the light though. After he had taken off, saying goodbye to Cara, he had finally found a place where he was alone. He had taken off his helmet and looked into a reflective surface seeing rthe mark that was burned into his mind staring back at him. It was the one he had seen flashes of over and over as he fought with and beside Cara Dune.

Perhaps that was why he had instantly thought of her the minute he needed help. Of course she was a fearless fighter and unerringly loyal but she wasn’t the only one he knew like that, at least he didn’t think she was. He couldn’t think of a name or face for it though. He tried not to think it was that connection, that hope of the young boy on a planet far away and so long ago, that had pushed him to find her when he needed her. Over and over there have been times where he looked into her eyes and just wanted to tell her everything but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Then he watched his child leave after just getting him back.

Watching Grogu walk away with the Jedi had been one of the hardest things he could ever imagine. He had grown so fond of his small traveling companion and now he could hardly imagine life without him. Din knew the kid had to go, that has always been the plan. Din would find Grogu’s people and then he would let him go, that had always been the plan. It didn't make it any easier though.

Then Cara came into his room of isolated sulking holding a bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage. She was like some Goddess from his deepest imaginations. A few words from her and suddenly the world felt a little more stable. It was a talent she’d had and he wasn't entirely sure when it had started. Somehow between fighting and nearly dying and coming back just fine he had fallen deeply in love with his soulmate and nothing was going to stop that. He was so close to telling her right then and there. Instead he said he was going to go off and look for her; try to find her the woman sitting right next to him. He had hoped that with his helmet off she would come clean she would see what he knew. She had to have noticed. But she didn't say anything.

For a moment he started to wonder if he hadn't been mistaken somehow. Maybe she just forgot what her own soul mark looked like. He wasn't entirely sure how that could happen but he supposed with all he knew about her background it wouldn't be a surprise. Maybe she was just so wrapped up in everything, maybe she just didn't realize it was him. Maybe he needed to show her again. Or maybe she just didn’t want him like that. Just as he was about to think about that too much, noises of a fight sounded up the stairs of the small ship and they were off.

Din wasn't entirely sure if he was relieved or frustrated that the shouting wasn't actually a firefight with another ship or the Empire coming after them to hunt them down again. Instead was Boba Fett fighting once again with Bo Katan and Koska Reeves. By the time he and Cara made it up to the top of the ladder Bo had Boba by the neck and Koska and Fennec were locked in a stalemate.

“What the pfaask is going on up here?” Cara hissed as the two made their way into the room.

“Just a little disagreement. Nothing to worry about Mando.” Boba said with his charming and congenial tone that let both Cara and Din know that he was lying.

“This waste of genetic material is flying us into a trap.” Bo informed them.

Din looked between the four of them and his eyes narrowed at Boba. He didn’t have the capacity for this right now. He wanted to take Cara back down stairs or just drink away his soulmate and his son’s memories. Neither was an option in this ruckus.

“Show a little respect. We helped you on your mission.” Fennec grit out between clenched teeth.

“Enough!” Din said, finally getting everyone’s attention. “I’m grateful for everyone’s help. The child is safe because of all of you. I pulled you all from your lives and I understand you need to return to those. I am the one in your debt.” He said to everyone before turning to Boba Fett and Fennec specifically. “If you are willing we will drop Bo Katan and Koska off on Trask and Marshall Dune on Nevarro and then I will help you with whatever you need.”

“Not a chance.” Cara said, drawing the eyes of everyone in the group. “I’m staying with you.” She said with finality speaking only to Din. She had worked well with the girls as they took the ship, it was actually rather impressive and beautiful to watch as the four of them took out everything like machines.

Bo hesitated and stepped forward “You have the dark saber. Like it or not you are the Mand’alor now. If we are to retake our planet you have to be at the head.” She pushed and he could nearly feel Cara’s glare at the redhead over his shoulder.

“To even look for more Mandalorians we need a ship that can’t be tracked, that needs credits unless you want to be in even deeper debt to Boba Fett the mission to reclaim Mandalore and find more Mandalorians will have to wait.”

“And what do you plan to do to get that ship?” Bo Asked forcefully. “Run around playing bounty hunter for Boba Fett?”

“Marshall Dune has offered me work on Novarro. After I repay my debt I’ll work with her and come to Trask when I have what we need.” He said firmly his mind flicking back to the Ugnaught Kuiil he lost in the battle with Gideon I have spoken. “Or you could take the saber and do it yourself.”

Din watched the emotions flying across Bo Katan’s face and he had to wonder why the hell she didn’t just take it when he offered it. It seemed he still had a lot to learn about other Mandalorians. He had been raised by the Children of the Watch, apparently a cult, but still so much culture seemed lost on him. For a moment he thought Bo would strike out to fight him and he felt more than heard Cara shift behind him and all but growl out “Try it.” over his shoulder.

Koska seemed to tense ready to defend Bo in an instant but Bo stepped back with a smirk and nodded. “Fine. We will return to Trask and gather what we can. The Saber is in the hands of a Mandalorian and that is what matters.” She said with finality. “If you would be so kind as to return us to Trask…” He could hear the insult on the tip of Bo Katan’s tongue but she finished with “We would be grateful, Fett.” and he felt his body relax some as he finished.

Bo and Koska walked toward the storage compartment that they had claimed as their room and the other four stood looking at each other. “I appreciate the offer Mando but you do not need to stay. Fennec and I can take care of a small slaving operation like Fortuna. We’re even now. Our debt to you is paid.” He said offering a hand.

“Bib Fortuna?” Cara asked this time with interest in her voice. Din looked to her and as if she could see the expression of confusion she continued. “The head of the Hutt crime syndicate and known slaver?”

Fennec nodded “That’s the one.”

“He’s a high level target for the Republic. Dead or alive coming in with a Moff and Fortuna... “ Cara didn’t have to finish for Din to know the end of the sentence. It’d be enough credits to buy a ship and the repairs and then some. Besides that she’d be a hero enough to have as much leeway as she wanted.

“Are you saying you want to help them?” Din asked her.

“I’m saying I wouldn’t mind playing a part in the downfall of one of the universe’s most infamous crime bosses. I owe him for a princess of mine.” She said and Din wanted the explanation of that later.

“Then you’re coming with us?” Fennec ask.

Din simply nodded his head and Boba clapped and rubbed his hands. “Excellent. I won’t turn down the help! Especially when it comes in such a lovely package as Marshall Dune.” Boba flirted. Din tried to ignore the spike of annoyance that drilled into him, it wasn’t as though Fett meant anything by it. Cara was beautiful, it was just an observation. It still drove Din to want to growl posessively.

“Charming but I’m just here for him and to get paid.” Cara responded easily. The air of her words was almost playful. There was no bite or insult and Fett seemed to take it well.

“Understood. Well, looks like I have coordinates to put in. You two should rest we’ll plan in the morning.” He offered.

“No more fighting?” Din asked. The question and tone once again made him feel like a father and he got another shooting pang of missing the kid. As if she could feel his sadness Cara was there, stepping up to his side a strong and silent comfort.

“I assure you as long as the princess stays in her quarters, I will remain at peace.” Boba charmed. It was enough for now and Din and Cara returned to the area below deck.

“You’re sure you want to come?” Din asked once they were carefully locked in the guest bunk the ship had for reasons Din was not about to think over.

“You can’t have all the fun.” She joked but he could see something else there. There was something she wasn’t saying, something tugging at her mind and heart. “Besides with the kid-- with everything someone’s gotta look after you.” He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful she cut herself off or if it hurt more. The pain of losing the child was overwhelming but it wasn’t a loss. Grogu was going to be learning, growing. He was where he needed to be. Now it was Din’s turn to look for his own place.

He sat just looking at her for a moment. The silence was heavy and it almost felt like she could see him under the helmet. As if to break some sort of trance she reached over to the bottle they’d been drinking before the tussle up stairs and took a big swig. “Look, I don’t do well with feelings but even I know this has been a long day so I’m going to give you an offer and you’re not going to overthink it or freak out about it you’re just going to nod yes or no.” she instructed “Understand?” She asked.

He felt like he had just been asked to calculate advanced hyperdrive mechanics without a datapad. He had no idea where this was going or what she was thinking but he also couldn’t fight her when she was standing there in front of him resolute and in control when he felt so out of control. So he nodded his head.

“Good.” she said walking over to the door and locking it before pulling off the armored shirt she wore leaving a dangerously tight tank top as her only covering.

“What are you--” He started but she held up a finger.

“No talking. You take that bottle over to the corner. Have one cup, just one, and then I take you over to this rack and distract you. One night, no strings just you getting out what you need. You can even keep the helmet on.” She offered. “Or you say no and we never talk about this again.” She added.

Din didn’t know what to choose in this. How could he? Part of him wanted to ask her about the bond. What she was planning to do when it was solidified by skin to skin contact. They’d never touched skin before but he knew from the stories what happened when they did. Did she know? How could she not? When two soulmates touched they grew a bond that couldn’t be severed except by death. Even without the bond Cara could see more of him than anyone he’d ever met. She always seemed to know what he was thinking or when he needed her to duck left as he went right. It seemed like they’d been able to read each other from the moment they met. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if it got even stronger. He wasn’t even sure how it could.

He was silent too long, he could feel the time stretch and for a moment his confident Shock Trooper looked like her resolve was about to buckle. The momentary flash in her eyes was enough for him to make his choice. Bond or not he was going to spend tonight with his soulmate. The universe owed him that much. He stood up with the bottle and moved over to the corner. “I’d rather just turn the lights off.” He said as he walked over to a screen taking off his helmet.

“That’s so much less fun.” She joked but he could hear the rustling of her taking off her clothing and he took off his own after downing the shot. Suddenly the room was completely dark.

“Cara?” He asked into the darkness. He didn’t need to, he could feel her in the dark by the light controls. He could feel her blind eyes searching the shadows of the sealed room magnetically summoning him to her.

“I’m here.” She said taking a step then another. He walked from behind the screen towards her easily feeling where she was even without eyes. He could blame it on the soldier’s senses and all his training. He could blame it on years of being on the lookout for threats. He could lie to himself. Here in the dark with nothing between them but air as they took step by step he couldn’t bring himself to. He knew this was different. He knew he could find her in any situation without needing to look. Whether he could say it out loud or not there was no question to him that this woman was his soulmate and somehow that made this so much more important.

His hand reached out on its own and hesitated just over her jaw before it lowered right onto the mark they shared. In a flash the coil snapped and they sprank at each other lips crashing tongues tangling and hands roaming.

In the dark with nothing but the sensation of her calloused fingertips he wondered just how many hands she had. One was in his hair the other on his neck then down his chest and on his biceps feeling every inch of him. He was sure he was no better as his own hand slipped from her jaw to her shoulder, his other smoothing up and down her side avoiding anywhere too forward.

Her hands suddenly grabbed his and for a second he thought she was changing her mind. “It works a lot better if you do this.” She said, pulling his hands to her breasts and encouraging them to squeeze. She let out a lewd moan and that broke the dam.

He pushed her back against the wall seeking leverage to pull her closer. His hand went to her hip squeezing her ass and trying to pull up her leg over his hip but was surprised when she took that opportunity to leverage their weight and flip them so she was pressing into him. He shouldn’t be surprised this would be a fight. Everything else with them was. He could feel her smile and glee as they warred for dominance, her hands raking over his chest and nails lightly scratching making him hiss in pleasure.

She pulled back from the kiss biting his lower lip and just when he was about to move his mouth to her neck her lips met his jaw just over their mark and a rush pulsed through his body. He was sure she felt it too from the way her hips ground to his and he pulled her closer, his grip on her hips bruising. “Kriffing pfaask.” He hissed trying to flip them again but she had his shoulders pinned to the wall as she kissed down his jaw with little nips.

“That’s quite the mouth you have there.” She teased playfully against his skin and an idea hit him. His hand snuck up to pinch her nipple playfully rolling it between his fingers and her head fell back as he kissed her neck and used the hand still on her hip to pull her forward and force their weights to shift so he had her pinned against the wall. “That’s playing dirty.” She hissed to him.

“Keep up.” He growled playfully and her mouth was on his again pulling him in by the hips her hand going back to his hair and he was starting to wonder if she just liked the feel of his curls between her fingers as much as he was enjoying feeling it. Suddenly one of her hands reached up and she found a pipe above them that he’d noticed earlier hung lower than the others. She pulled down slightly to ensure it was strong enough to hold her weight and suddenly her legs were pulled up and wrapped around her waist. As he felt the soaking folds of her vuelva come into contact with his own hard cock and that was nearly the end of him.

His forehead fell forward finding purchase between her breasts and his hot mouth bit and sucked the skin on her sternum. “Please Cara.” he breathed into the dark.

“Now.” she breathed back a demand. It spoke to her strength that she was holding herself up on the tiny pipe as he shoved himself inside of her bucking in with a surprising ease. “Fark.” She hissed rocking her hips against him.

“Let go.” He breathed to her as he set a slow gentle pace. He could feel her surprise tickle his mind and it warmed him through to feel the connection that had slid into place as they touched. “I’ve got you, let go.” He assured and she did. She dropped her hands as he took her full weight and easily navigated them to the bunk. As soon as her back hit the mattress she rolled on top of him and this time he didn’t fight her, he was certain this wouldn’t be their last time. It probably wouldn't even be their last time tonight so he’d have plenty of opportunities to take his turn.

He lost himself in the feel of her hips and her depths. His hand went to her center and gently pressed to her clit rubbing as she angled her hips to a position that made her moan with every thrust. He could feel her hands on his thighs and his mind flashed images of what she looked like over him: Back arched and breasts bouncing as her muscles clenched and unclenched through her stomach and up her shoulders and arms. He cursed himself for asking for the lights off because he was certain it would be his favorite image in history.

With particularly deep thrust and a skillful press of her clit he felt her come around him and if that wasn’t enough to throw him into his own orgasm he heard her whisper his name “Din.” To the room and the squeeze of his heart threw him into the abyss as quickly as his body did. Rasping her name back to her like a prayer.

If the world shifted and their lives changed, if they felt the tug of the bond they had both refused to acknowledge solidify, they both ignored it for now. Tonight was theirs to ignore the rest of the world. Tonight was about them. No strings.

#Caradin #Cara Dune #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #minor ships if you squint

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