cw: cnc (consensual non consent) roleplay, bondage, one slap, a little anal fingering
A rough pitch of the ship sideways has you sliding on the dirty floor and you knock into the bulkhead, cursing under your breath. You can hear metal creaking and you wonder if the cell door will break at this point, half-amazed this bag of bolts is still in one piece. You wait for the course to even out and for the engines to whine and jolt as you make the jump to hyperspace before crawling to your feet and walking the two steps to the door, giving it another try. It’s still hinged on tightly and you jerk it a few times with your bound hands, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself so your captor won’t notice.
There’s clanging above you and you grimace, shrinking back the few steps it takes to get to the solid wall behind you as you see the Mandalorian dropping neatly down a ladder and then turning to regard you. He’s fully clothed, as you’d expect, his armor glinting even in the ratty and blinking light of the interior of his ship, and he walks towards your cell with such a swagger to his gait that you can’t help but swallow hard. You instinctively try to reach for your blaster at your hip but you’ve been disarmed before being thrown in here, including the knife that you keep in your boot and the second sidearm you keep tucked into the back of your pants. You knew the Mandalorian would be thorough, of course, he wouldn’t make any mistakes, and you press yourself backwards a little bit the closer he draws, a little tendril of fear threading through your stomach.
“You ready to tell me what I want?” he says, his voice sounding annoyed, filtered through his helmet.
You shake your head and he looks at you, his gaze piercing even through the visor. He shifts minutely and you can see the power in the flex of his muscles, the absolute grace of it as he strokes along his sidearm and then keeps moving, into a hidden pocket in which he produces a key.
“I could let you go, easy,” he says, holding it up, his head tilted to the side and you frown, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy.
“No,” you say, and the way his helmet tilts down slightly as he stares at you makes you go even weaker in the knees.
“No?” he repeats, taking a step forward, and you set your jaw, prepared to fight. You have no idea what he looks like under that shiny armor, but you bet he’s smirking and you’d like to punch it right off of his smug face.
“No,” you repeat more loudly, and you push off of the bulkhead as he takes one more step and then puts the key in the lock of the cell.
“Good thing I don’t need your permission for this, then,” he says, turning the lock and swinging open the door, and you take your one moment of opportunity to swing towards him with your bound arms, hoping to knock his hands away and elbow him in a soft spot where the armor isn’t covering him.
He steps to the side, obviously anticipating your attack, and easily catches your hands, spinning so you’re pinned up against the bars and his beskar is pressing into your back and thighs uncomfortably from behind.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he says, the smoothness of his helmet right against your neck, and you shudder, overpowered and trapped.
“What’s the easy way?” you quip, wondering why when you’ve clearly lost the power struggle already.
“The easy way,” he says as he manhandles you away from the bars and then pushes you until you’re on your knees, his hand on your neck, his glove warm and his grip tight. “The easy way is you do exactly what I say. And you let me get exactlywhat I want from you.”
You struggle at his words and all you get for it is your head forced to the floor and his hand on your hip, holding you in place as if it was nothing. The steel of the floor is cold and hard, his armor just as unyielding at your back.
“Do you want to know what the hard way is?” he asks, and you shake your head into the floor immediately.
“Good girl,” he says, and he lets up the pressure but doesn’t let go of you, rolling your body so you’re on your back and blinking up at him.
He bends and grasps your wrists, stretching them up above you and then unhooking and rehooking the binders around a bar of the cell. You struggle against him but he’s just stronger than you, and you bang them against the bar, making a racket. Then he settles down on you, sitting on your hips hard and before you can even think about it he pulls his hand back, giving you a stinging slap right to the cheek. You immediately feel tears spring up, your face smarting as you bury it in the side of your arm.
“I guess it’s the hard way, then,” he says, pulling you by the chin so you’re looking up at him looming over you.
“No, wait,” you say, going limp beneath him, trying to keep your tears from slipping down. “Please. What if I tell you the information you want?”
“You gonna give it up so easily?” he says, dropping your chin so he can run a hand down your sides and hook into your waistband, which has you shuddering. He takes a gloved finger and runs it along your stomach, upward just a little bit so it slides under your linen shirt, and you twitch, trying to get away.
He laughs a little, his voice filtered and tinny, before sliding up the rest of the way, taking your shirt with it. Then he hooks his thumbs under the base of your bra, sliding it up too, and your face flames as he pushes it up, exposing you from navel to chin. When his hand moves you start to struggle again, the fight renewed as his leather-covered finger circles a nipple and then he pinches you there, making you bite your lip to keep a gasp from escaping.
He sits down on you harder to keep your hips from moving and bucking him off, and he’s so kriffing heavy on you that you can’t do anything but twist in his grip. It’s not helping at all though, just making him play with you more, like he’s a cat with a mouse he’s tormenting before making it a meal.
He slides down your body, sitting on your knees now and pinning you down as he makes quick work of the buttons on your pants, ripping them open as soon as he can and then yanking them downwards. You cry out a little as your ass hits the cold steel, almost unbelieving that this is happening. He has to get off of you to get your pants the rest of the way off and you kick a bit though it’s half-hearted; he has you bound and mostly naked and there’s no one who can hear your cries. It’s just the two of you and he can do anything he wants.
“Wait, please,” you start to say, thinking maybe some begging might appeal more now that brute strength and cunning is not an option. “Please don’t.”
But he’s taking your legs and spreading them, kneeling between them so they’re resting on his armored-thighs, and you bury your head in embarrassment as you’re spread so wide open to him.
“Please don’t what,” he says as his hands inch down your thighs. You squeeze them together but it’s like you’re doing nothing, his hands too strong, his thighs spread between yours so you can’t bring yours any closer together. You can’t help but get wetter the longer he stares at you and you’re dreading him touching you so he’ll feel it there, feel how much you want this.
“Don’t,” you whisper, your breath catching as his thumb skips on your skin and then it’s suddenly against your clit, pressing into you hard and then making a rough circle that has you crying out. He lets you go just for a second and you see him taking off one glove before coming back to you quickly, the contrast of his soft skin this time making you moan. You bury your face in your arm again so you don’t have to watch, but the sensations are enough, are too much, and then he’s holding your thigh up with his one gloved hand and searching downward, gathering the wetness at the opening of your pussy and spreading it messily before sliding inside with one finger.
You stiffen and moan, your legs wanting to spread but you clench instead, trying to make it tight, to force him out, even though you know that’s not possible.
“So wet,” he says, and it sounds so dirty in his filtered voice, like he’s some kind of emotionless robot. He crooks his finger and your body jerks and you suddenly hate him for it, for this wetness between your legs and for making you feel anything at all, the absolute bastard. You feel the fight renewed in you and you wriggle your hips, kicking at his shoulders again. He catches one leg easily, pinning it to his waist while he wriggles in a second finger into you, making you moan again and slap your hips to the floor.
“Remember, sweetheart,” he says, swirling his fingers and then pulling them out to flick against your clit and make you squeal. “There’s the easy way.” He plunges back inside, this time with three fingers, and you feel full, so full, and yet not full enough. “Or.” He slides out, the sound wet as the fingers withdraw, and then he’s sliding them down further, teasing against your asshole.
You absolutely stiffen up as the tip of one edges in just a bit, holding your breath and muttering, No, no, please no.
“Or the hard way,” he says, sinking in further, until his finger is swallowed up to the first knuckle. You buck against him but it only works the finger in further, his thumb finding your clit and making you go mad with the pleasure of it. You pull against your binders, your body stretched taut, completely at his mercy.
“No,please,” you say, your voice broken at this point, and when he pulls his finger out slowly and you feel something much larger brushing against you, your eyes fly open. He’s still clothed, still has his blasted helmet and armor on, his pants open just enough for you to see his cock pressed against your thigh. He pushes inward with a grunt, holding your legs open so you can’t squeeze him out, and the blunt head of it is big, too big. He works it into you slowly, his hands behind your knees, and you throw your head back and close your eyes as you feel him entering you.
You’ve had sex before but not ever like this, not tied up in some bounty hunter’s cell, bound and forced, and he’s so big it’s making your eyes tear up again. You can feel the pull on your shoulders as he works you down on it, your mouth hanging open and grunts punched out of you with each little thrust as he goes in deeper and deeper. You think it can’t get in any further but then he pulls you up onto his thighs and it slides in that little bit more. You groan, feeling so full for a moment, exasperated, like it’s so deep it’s up to your throat.
And then he starts to move. You realize before that he was being kind because now every stroke is rough and deep, his cock driving into you again and again as you cry out. You’re so slick, your body so hot, his armor heavy and cold against you still. He shifts so he can get on his hands and knees above you, tilting your hips for a better angle and then snapping back to it. You can only lay there and take it, trying to keep in your moans but completely unsuccessful when he reaches between you to rub roughly at your clit with his un-gloved hand.
You’re saying something, you don’t know what language it is, but you’re not sure if your pleases are for him to stop anymore or if it’s for him to make you come, and when he tilts your hips up and rubs his thumb against you, you feel your orgasm wrenched from you without conscious choice. Your body stiffens and you throw your head back, wincing as you hit the cold steel a bit too hard.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, and you’re annoyed that his voice is cutting through your orgasm, you didn’t do this for him, you can’t help it if he just has a particularly nice and skilled… Your thoughts cut off as he rubs harder at your clit, bringing you right back to the edge again, the razor sharpness of it almost hurting as you ride through a second wave, biting your teeth against it and pulling on your restraints.
He grunts above you, his voice tinged with pleasure through the filter, and then you can feel his hips stutter and wetness between you as he comes hard. He lets go of your clit to hold onto your hips, pressing himself as deep as possibly to you, his head tilted back. You suddenly wish you could see him naked, to see what he really looked like beneath all of that. Was he handsome? Was he hideous? With that cock and those fingers, did it really matter?
You both heave in air, the sweat and come pooling between you and leaking onto the floor, and he gathers himself after a moment to ease out of you and then lean up, undoing the clasps of your binders. You draw your hands down immediately, rubbing them, and smiling fuzzily when Din curls up next to you, taking them between his hands and inspecting them. They’re only a little red, you’ve seen much worse— in fact Din’s done much worse to you.
“I’m good,” you say to his unspoken question, and you can practically feel the smile from under his helmet.
He’s turned into goo on the floor, his orgasm wiping him out apparently, and the two of you fiddle with the binders before flipping them over to the side of the cell. He pulls you into his chest and his armor still feels cold against you, but his breathing is even, his embrace strong.
“Was that the easy way?” you tease, curling into him more.
“You want it the hard way next time?” he says, and you can hear the lazy smirk in his voice. You wish for the millionth time you could see it on his face, but you know that’s how it is with him. If you want him, this is the way you’ll get him, for now.
“Maybe,” you chuckle. You shift again, feeling dirty and used, in the best way.
“I’ll surprise you,” he says, and you full out grin, tugging his arms around you tighter. The beskar grinds against the floor and your skin and you know you’ll have to get up soon, but you have a minute now to indulge in this. You enjoy the feeling of Din rubbing the blood back into your wrists and you twist in his arms, bringing your forehead to rest against his helmet and holding it there for a moment, feeling lazy and warm.
A/N: Part 3 is here lovlies! I’m sorry it took a while but there has been a lot going on in my life as of currently but I still wanted to make time for you guys so I hope you enjoy!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
Warnings: violence and language
The sun was starting to set on the planet casting a glow across the landscape. And what usually would have been a warm sight for you to gaze upon like the brushstrokes of a painting, was now cold and even hostile. You found yourself in a large spacious room, darkened by the night sky that could be seen from the large glass windows. Looking around, you had recognized the room from the few details that you could make out. You had been here before. There were only a few sounds that could be heard within your ability, divided between your breathing and the beating of your heart, and the sound of blasters going off in the distance. But as you listened closely, you heard the soft whimpers of children hidden in the shadows of the room, their voices laced with fear.
“Hello?” You called out, your eyes scanning over the direction from where those voices came. “Is anyone there? It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” You held your hands out before you, desperate to reach for something in the hidden depths of the room in an attempt to find and help those frightful children, yet all you could feel was air between your fingers. The more your searched, the more you came to find nothing, just the stillness of the room and the contours hidden in it. You felt a sudden shift in the space behind you and in the air that hovered there, the appearance of a shadowed figure. You had sensed their presence the moment they stepped into the room, and it was someone that you were familiar with, someone you knew well. Turning around, you looked towards the little light that had slipped through the entrance of the area, noticing a cloaked figure standing at the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow upon the floor.
“Y-you?” You squinted your eyes, making out what you could of the details of their face that was hidden underneath their hood. “Thank goodness you’re here.” You stepped up to them with a relieved expression, the small smile that had been on your lips shifting into a frown once you received a closer look at them. Their face had lost that kindness that you had once knew, and their eyes, you couldn’t seem to forget the appearance of their eyes. The warmth that was once filled within those orbs was now filled with something much more, a fire that was devoid of any form of comfort. You called out their name with furrowed brows, your voice laced with concern, but they did not mutter a single word in response. You knew the signs, yet you couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it. And then came that sharp sound you were much too familiar with as the glow of an object other than the dim lights outside casted the room in this haunting glow.
“So this is it then?” You shook your head at the figure with tears threatening to spill in your eyes. “Is this what it has come too?” You looked into their eyes, searching their depths for any sign of hope, only to see there wasn’t a single ounce of empathy in them. There was a pain slowly building in your chest, the feeling of every fiber in your being being ripped apart from the heartbreak. “Don’t make me do this. Please.” But the figure only moved towards you menacingly, holding their weapon out before them in an attempt to strike you down. And as you slowly reached towards your hip, that’s when you felt it, that searing hot pain that filled your side as a choked gasp escaped your throat. With widened eyes and gradual loss of feeling in your limbs, you looked up to your attacker with betrayal and written across your features, desperate to see anything, anything that could be a reminder of who they used to be. But you were met with none of that, only to see that there was not a single ounce of remorse behind their eyes. With choked gasps as you struggled to breathe, your eyes darted across their face before noticing a lone tear escape from their eye, slowly trailing down their cheek. And as you reached a hand out to wipe away their tear, as you had done many times before, the world around you blackened as you collapsed to the floor.
You jolted awake from your dream, the crying of the children and the sound of the weapon that had struck you echoing in your ears. Your face was wet with tears underneath your helmet as you breathed out in small pants, finding yourself back in the Mandalorian’s ship instead of the place of your nightmare. The pain was still there, that burning sensation that you had felt that exact night, as if you had been impaled just now. You squeezed your eyes shut against the feeling, concentrating on anything but it and forcing it to die down. To this day, you had no idea why it still flared up whenever you had that particular dream.
You glanced towards the Mandalorian, glaring at the back of his shiny ass helmet. “So. You gonna tell me who you’re taking me to or am I gonna find out when I get there.” You sighed, throwing your head back at the silence from the lack of his response and complete ignorance to your existence. “Right, I forgot. You don’t know how to formulate sentences, or words for that matter. I wonder how many of your bounties had died on the journey of their transportation just by being stuck with your very….lively presence. Bored to death, quite literally.”
You craned your head back, looking back to find the child and seeing him cuddled up in a makeshift bed, fast asleep. Pursing your lips in thought, you turned your head back around. You still pondered why a Mandalorian bounty hunter such as him would be in possession of a child, especially a child that was sensitive to the one thing you had come to forget. It had been so long since you had felt anything like that and you thought you would never come across it ever again. And the more you thought about it, the more you came to speculate that the only reason the bounty hunter had him would be that the child held value, value that would be sought out by those that had an agenda. One thing was for certain, you needed to find out more. Turning your head back around, you stared at the sleeping form of the youngling, quietly calling out to him. “Psst. Psst.”
The small green child sleepily opened his eyes, staring back at you with big brown orbs, muttering out a small blabber while tilting his head at you.
“Hello there little one.” You whispered with a kind smile.
“Hey.” The Mandalorian spoke up upon hearing your voice. “I thought I told you-”
“I’m not talking to you.” You cut him off before focusing on the child. “What does this pile of junk want with you? Is he selling you?”
“I said-wait what?”
The child muttered out a few noises that you could make out.
“Friend?” You quirked a brow. “Is he-is he your protector?”
Another babble of noncoherent words.
So the Mandalorian was protecting him. It had to be against those who were attempting to rebuild the empire, right?
“Wait, so the child is under your care?” You turned back to the Mandalorian to see him stare at you through his helmet briefly before speaking up.
“What business is it to you?”
“What business it is to me is frankly none of your business.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have to see his eyes to feel his glare. “Listen, tin man, I’m not going to hurt him if that’s what you’re thinking. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me, pretty sure the kid knows the difference between the good guys from the bad guys.”
The bounty hunter stared a moment longer in your direction before turning back around, focusing his attention on the controls in front of him and attempting to land the ship. Wait, had you already reached your destination? You watched as the Mandalorian got up from his seat and walked over to where you sat, crouching down to unshackle your ankles from the chair. “Whatever they are offering you, I’ll pay double.”
Silence.
“What is it that you want? Name your price and I can offer it to you, I have some influential friends. I can get you a much better ship if that’s what you are looking for. Hell, you could use a better ship.” You scoffed before letting out a wince from the way the Mandalorian grabbed you roughly by your arm and pulled you up. “Ow. Watch your grip will ya. Please tell me you don’t handle the poor child like he’s some sort of stuffed animal. Cause if you do, I feel sorry for him.”
“Walk.” The Mandalorian pushed you forward with his blaster pointed at your back.
“Is that really necessary?”
“Move.”
“Alright. Geez.” You rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to disarm him right then and there and flee for your life, but something told you that now was not the right time, that by fighting him once more would only give him more reason to go after you. With your eyes lowered in thought and your hands cuffed in front of you, you walked out the exit of his ship to find yourself in a familiar place, recognizing the same metallic buildings surrounded you. It was a place that you had seen many times before but had not visited in a long time. “Seriously? Coruscant? I’m guessing you want me to walk into that building there?” You turned around to face the bounty hunter with a raised brow, not knowing why you even bothered to talk to him at this point, as if he had anything to say to you.
The Mandalorian stared at you, his expression most likely identical to the helmet he wore. Blank. And for a moment you found yourself wondering what he looked like under that shiny bucket of his. “Move.” He spoke more firmly, using his blaster to push you forward.
“You really need to develop some social skills.”
The streets of Coruscant were bustling with life, with movement in every direction you looked. Speeders zoomed far over your head with a large whistling sound as you glanced around at the area before landing your eyes on a particular spot in the distance, a place that once held a large building of a great importance to you and many others before being burned down. The ends of your lips dropped at the sight, a heavy feeling now settling in your chest as you found yourself yearning for the time you once knew along with the faces that once warmed your every day each time you strolled those halls. You tore your eyes away from the skeleton of the place, returning your eyes to the front as the two of you headed over to the entrance of the building where two guards who stood at front blocked you from entering.
“What business do you have here?” One of the guards asked you, squinting his eyes at you and the Mandalorian in a poor attempt to see through the visors of your helmet.
“Tell the mayor I have his bounty.” The Mandalorian gestured to you with his gun.
Mayor? You scrunched your nose at the thought. What would a mayor have to do with you? You began to think back on when you might have upset a local mayor on one of your many little missions, but none came to mind. Your reputation was well known here, especially in the years before, and the more you thought about it, the more you hoped that you would not be recognized.
The guard gave the Mandalorian a look of consideration before finally stepping aside to let the two of you enter. “Follow me.”
You watched quietly as the metal doors slid open to reveal a decent sized and fashionable lounge, and immediately you were met with the cool air of the conditioned room and the sound of the soft jazz-like music playing in the background to liven up the area. The place was filled with a few local officials including a couple of security standing nearby to scan the area for any nearby threats. Great, this would be a bit of a hassle to get out of, you thought to yourself as you surveyed the area including all the exits. And it didn’t help that the Mandalorian had confiscated your blasters and your knives.
You could feel the gaze of those around you, their pupils tracing your armor as they stared curiously as to who the two new armored strangers could be, though their gaze lingered on the glint of the Mandalorian’s armor. The guard led the two of you into a separate room where in the center lay a boxy cushioned chair where a Rodian sat on top it, chatting away with another individual to his right.
“Ahem.” The guard cleared his throat, positioning himself upright at the mayor’s presence. “Sir. The Mandalorian has your bounty as requested.”
The Rodian stopped at the words of the guard, turning his head to face you with an amused sneer as he straightened out his robes, placing his teal fingers on the armrests of his chair while he leaned back.
“I see you have captured my bounty Mandalorian. I thank you.” The Rodian nodded his head in thanks before turning to one of his advisors, “Give him his credits.”
You slyly twisted your hand together uncomfortably, feeling the cool metal sliding around the skin of your wrists as you tried to break out of your cuffs in a poor and useless attempt, as if you could in any way tear through the metal. You let out a huff of irritation, your eyes following the other Rodian who was most likely his advisor, pull out a pouch of credits from his pocket before handing it over to the Mandalorian.
“You can count it to make sure.” The mayor gestured to the credits. “I assure you it’s all there.”
“So are you just gonna have me stand here or…” You cleared your throat, staring straight into the puzzled expression of the mayor.
“You’re a-you’re a girl?”
“Surprise.” You let out in a mocking tone.
“Impossible. You, mandalorian, you’ve brought me the wrong person.”
“Oh no,” You shook your head, “you’ve got the right person alright. Crik Madon is it? Yeah, I think I remember you now. I ran into your little "organization” back on Tatooine.“
The Rodian who you know came to recognize as Crik Madon, a small mayor of a small sector of Tatooine, sneered at your attitude. His tendril like green fingers clutched the arm rests of his chair before nodding to one of his guards who in turn jabbed you in the back of your knees, the force causing you to fall down to your knees. "Guard, remove her helmet. I want to see the face of the person that behind all this trouble.”
Your eyes widened, your breath trapped in your throat as the guard approached you, his gnarly hands reaching for your helmet in an impending manner. You tried to squirm away, refusing to let your identity be revealed, but the other guards held you back with their claws digging into your arms. The loose strands of your hair fell down to the front of your face from the bun you had put up and the darkness of the inside of your helmet was replaced with the lights of the room as you now found yourself squinting against them.
The Mandalorian had tilted his head ever so slightly at your appearance, his helmet masking the look of surprise that now sat on his face. You definitely weren’t what he had pictured. You were much more prettier than he had imagined, and something about you had set off this suspicion that you were a woman born into a high class.
“Impossible. You.” Crik pointed his finger at you, his large black eyes lost in thought. “I’ve seen you before.”
“I highly doubt that.” You gave a forced smile, yanking your arms away from the harsh grip of the guards.
“No. I know that face. You’re………y/n, you’re from Naboo aren’t you. Yes, and I believe you’re someone of importance. You’ve made quite the enemies with your little diplomatic missions. I wonder how much they’re willing to pay for you.”
Shit. You thought. Him knowing who you were was not a good thing.
“You gonna sell me off like one of your many slaves?” You spat, smirking at the look that he gave you. “Oh I know everything about your little trade. You know, I wonder what’ll happen if I make word of it. Like you said, I’m someone of importance.”
Crik sprung towards you in a fury, striking you across the face with the back of his hand. “You’ve got quite the tongue, though I must say I’m not surprised. I’m sure you’ve done many speeches in the past, senator.”
Senator? The mandalorian looked up at you from under his helmet, a quizzical look on his brow as he was questioning whether he heard that correctly. You, a senator of Naboo? Impossible. What in the worlds was a senator doing out being a bounty hunter?
“You won’t get away with this.” You spat out the blood from your mouth, the crimson color staining your lips.
“Oh?” Crik turned to face you after pacing about the room. “Last I heard. Your duties as senator have long been neglected. And besides,” he stepped closer to you, placing his slimy fingers under your chin to force your face towards him. “Pretty face like yours, I’m sure I can make quite the fortune off you.”
You clenched your jaw at his words, your nostrils flaring as you glared right into his insect-like eyes. “If you value your life, I suggest killing me off right now.”
Crik stared at you in anger for a moment longer, his eye twitching before nodding at one his guards and walking back to his seat. The guard who had led you into the room lifted up his baton before jabbing you violently in the ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs as you collapsed. You laid on your side in a pained mess, your hair matted against your face while every intake of air felt like knives slicing through your chest as your struggled to breathe.
“If you’re done counting your credits Mandalorian, you’re good to go.” Crik sat back in his chair, pleased with himself at seeing you in pain.
The Mandalorian had lifted his gaze from where you writhed on the floor, his hands just barely tightening around the pouch of credits that sat in his palm. “What’s gonna happen to her?”
“You know, it’s unlike a bounty hunter to ask questions.” Crik turned towards him. “But don’t worry. She’s in good hands. You can leave now.”
The Mandoalorian glanced once more in your direction before walking himself out, the sliding doors shutting behind him in a sharp low whistle.
You let out a choked cough, finally regaining your breath as you struggled to push yourself up despite having your hands bound together. You had to find a way to escape. It was now or never.
“Follow the Mandalorian.” Crik leaned over to whisper to one of his guards, his voice reaching your ears as you brought yourself up to a seated position. “Kill him and make sure no one else is on that ship and then destroy it.”
Your eyes widened at his orders, your thoughts now focused on the child as you watched the appointed guard leave the room with a blaster in hand. It was now or never y/n. You could take them all out now with brute force, but it would not be easy. And who’s to say you would succeed in time. You knew what you had to do. Squeezing your eyes shut in concentration, you focused on the one thing that you once knew, the one thing that was your life and purpose of being, the only thing that you had been out of touch with after the events. With your jaw clenched against the strain you were putting yourself through, a ringing started to form in your ears, a ringing that gradually started to form into vibrations that you were able to sense around you. Then there came the sound of the unclicking of a clasp and suddenly your hands were met with a solid cold metal object. Snapping your eyes open from the sensation, your looked down at your hands with relief to see the blaster that you had focused all your attention on, sitting perfectly between your palms. Huh, so you still got it.
“What the-” Crik looked at you in bewilderment, staring at the blaster that was now in your hands before turning to his guards to stop you only to be silenced with your blaster shooting straight through his chest.
The guards stared at their dead mayor in shock before taking out their weapons and pointing them at you with their teeth bared in anger. You dodged the red lasers of their blasters, rolling over to duck behind a pillar as their blasters went off, hitting the wall in front of you. You winced, hissing between your clenched teeth as one of the lasers had managed to graze your shoulder, leaving a tear in the fabric of your sleeve and a burned wound in it’s place. You pressed your back against the pillar, the blaster clenched firmly in your hands as you held it up to you, breathing in a deep breath before turning around just enough to get a good angle. With a few precise and quick pulls of the trigger, you killed off the rest of the guards. Scanning the room to make sure there was no one else of threat, you got up from your position before hurrying out the door.
Panting, you searched around for the Mandalorian only to see him turn the corner with the guard following close behind. Carefully, you sprinted up to them, lifting the blaster in your hands and shooting the guard right in the back. The Mandalorian swiftly turned at the sound of firing, his hand on his blaster as he watched the former guard fall limply to the floor only to reveal you standing right on the other side.
“Relax.” You stopped the man right as you caught him trying to slip his blaster out from its holster. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
“Did you….”
“Did I just save your ass? Yes.” You stepped over the dead guard to walk up to him, blowing the loose strands of your hair out of your face.
“That’s not what I-”
“Yeah sure. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kid.” You rolled your eyes before holding up your cuffed wrists. “Now would you mind returning the favor and getting these pesky things off?”
The Mandalorian stared blankly at you, and though you could not see his face beneath that obnoxious helmet of his, you knew exactly what was going through his thoughts.
“Look. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead with your buddy there.”
You watched with a smirk on your blood coated lips as the Mandalorian pulled out the key from his pocket before unlocking the metal cuffs around your wrists.
You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, rubbing your wrists to relieve them after being restrained for so long. “Thanks.”
“How did you-” the helmeted man eyed the blaster in your hands that he was sure about not being on you since he had removed all your weapons before looking up towards where you had come from.
“Doesn’t matter.” You stretched out your arms before pressing the button on the wall to open the doors that led into the main room. “Now can we please go before someone notices the mess I left behind?”
You walked past the stunned Mandalorian with a scoff, throwing the blaster down near the dead guard before leaving the hallway. The Mandalorian stared at the corner that led into the room in which you were just held and down at the dead guard before following you out into the main room. To your luck, everyone was much too preoccupied at the moment with their drinks and the jazz band that had now played a newer and more upbeat tone, allowing the two of you to escape the premises without drawing much attention to yourselves. Once outside, you squinted your eyes against the sunlight after having spent your days under a helmet, bringing your hand up to block the sun’s rays from your face. You stopped for a second, turning around to stare back at the same place that had caught your attention not too long ago, that same heavy feeling creeping in your chest before you returned your thoughts to the events of the present as you followed the Mandalorian back to his ship, back to who knows what else would be in store for you.
A/N: Part 2 is here lovelies! I hope you all enjoy, and as always feedback and reblogs are much appreciated! Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Have a beautiful day!
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You had just left the cantina much quicker than you had wanted and your mind was racing with the thoughts of what had gone down just inside. Right when you had arrived on this planet in hopes of keeping low and staying away from the eyes of those who wanted your head, those thugs had managed to ruin your plans and exposed not only your presence but also what you were capable of, which caused your stay here to be at risk. You just hoped that your little fight didn’t reach anyone outside the cantina.
It was a hot day and the air was dry, and the aroma of spices, sweet fruits, and roasted nuts from the street vendors filled the air, perfect for the desert-like climate. You wished you could rip your helmet off, indulge in the exotic smells this market had to offer and enjoy some sunlight and breeze on your skin for once. But you had your regular getup on, or your bounty hunter uniform, as you like to call it. And though the pieces of armor provided you with secrecy and protection, adding some bulk to your frame to make yourself look more masculine to conceal your feminine features, it was also a bit of a cage, confining you from the natural perception of the world. The dusty wind blew against your frame when you had stepped out on the street, making you clutch your cloak closer to you and pray that the wind didn’t pick up on speed in fear of it snatching away the helmet and revealing your face for the whole town to see. You were making your way to the edge of the town where you had parked your ship on the outskirts, your boots kicking up the sand around you with each step you took while the hem of your cloak blew behind you. A few of the townsfolk had glanced in your direction, paying no mind before going back to their business. Their town always had outsiders crossing through to the point they had become accustomed to seeing a new face or a new helmet. And as long as you weren’t causing any trouble, they did not seem to pay much mind, if anything it was more curiosity towards the travelers.
You had been focused on the path in front of you, your back straight and your head held straight forward and avoiding any type of eye contact with anyone until this uneasy sense came that someone was following you. To avoid making it known, you stopped by the nearest vendor, glancing down at the fruit laid out on the table before ever so slightly turning your head to see a glint of metal shrouded just barely behind the mass of people that walked the streets. Your eyes widened behind your helmet. You could recognize that armor from anywhere. What was a Mandalorian doing all the way here? More importantly, why was he following you and who sent him?
You cursed under your breath at the sight, turning around and thinking of the different possible strategies. You couldn’t outrun him no, as much as you would like to avoid tangling with a Mandalorian you had heard so much about, you couldn’t just run away, he’d catch up with you somehow. No. You would have to fight him, at least keep him held back while you revised a new escape plan and disappeared into a new planet. You continued to mutter fowl words under your breath, your eyes darting around trying to search for an alleyway to disappear into. You finally caught sight of one just a couple feet away, gradually picking up your pace as you headed straight towards it, sensing the Mandalorian doing the same. Some muttering of the locals had erupted around you as you pushed past them before reaching the alley. With the sound of the sand crunching beneath the soles of your feet, you made a sharp turn right around the corner, pressing on the cloaking button on your belt that made your cloak camouflage with your surroundings. Your appearance shifted in a flurry of pixelated tones before matching the colors around you, allowing you to disappear into your background. You jumped up and grabbed the nearest ledge on the wall, using a window frame to hoist yourself up on it, pressing your back flat against the wall while your feet barely balanced on the beam.
The Mandalorian had turned the corner not long after before stopping abruptly at the emptiness of the area, the positioning of the buildings blocking some of the sun’s rays and casting a shadow over him. Your eyes caught the glint of his blaster held tightly in his hand as he edged closer with careful steps, staring out at the dead end of the alley. A small curse escaped under his breath through the helmet as he scanned over the area to figure where you might’ve gone. You followed the darkness of his visor right as it passed right over you, the action making your breath hitch in your throat. You knew your cloaking device made you invisible, but for a moment you swore you felt his helmet burning right through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest from what felt to be hours as he went further into the alley, looking out for any possible place you might be hiding. From how hard your heart was beating in your chest, you feared he would hear it as he passed by in front of you.
Oh come on. Now is no time to be a coward. Fry him. You thought with your eyes closed shut as you desperately struggled to grip the sandy wall behind you in order to keep yourself from falling over.
Carefully keeping your balance, you slipped your revolver blaster out of your holster, your palms sweating beneath the leather fabric that covered them as your fingers closed tightly around the grip, making sure to be as silent as possible as you pointed it at the back of his head. You could taste the salt on your lips from the few drops of sweat that fell down from your forehead as you lowered your aim to the small opening just below his helmet where the fabric of his cloak covered the back area of his neck. Just one shot. It would be simple. Just one shot and he would no longer be a problem for you to worry about.
No, this wasn’t right. You still had some dignity left in you and shooting a Mandalorian in the back would be a cowardly move. If anything, he deserved a fair fight. But despite that, deep down, a part of you was convinced to let him go free. He was a bounty hunter, doing his job just as you were. And from the stories you heard, sure he was merciless towards his enemies and an excellent fighter at that, but he never harmed those that were innocent.
With a clenched jaw, you slipped your blaster back in your holster. You didn’t have to heart to kill him. Damn your sentiment, it was the one thing that always kept you from achieving whatever it is you could want. Sure, you weren’t going to kill him, but you were willing to knock him out, maybe even tie him down somewhere and threaten him a little to get him to back off your trail. Taking in a deep and steady breath, you jumped off the ledge and tackled the Mandalorian from behind, knocking him down to the dirt before standing back up on your feet. Luckily, you managed to catch him off guard and from the way he reacted, you could tell he was trying to figure out what the hell had just happened as he scrambled back to his feet. You watched him hold his blaster straight out, twisting his body around and pointing it at every direction but you. If this situation wasn’t threatening on your safety, you would have found this to be quite amusing and your snicker would’ve gave you away and gotten you shot on the spot. You’d bet your credits he was confused as shit under that bucket.
You could just walk away and leave, get yourself a new disguise and he would never be able to find you. But a part of you deep down wanted to fight him, test his abilities even. A part of you even found this entertaining, an amusement that you had once been told would one day get you killed.
There was an uneasy silence amongst the bustle of the town, the breeze blowing through the crevices in the building in low whistles until you felt the heat of the sun’s rays against your back, lighting up the alleyway that was once in hidden in shadow.
Oh no.
Your skin went cold as you caught sight of the Mandalorian looking down at the sand, following his gaze to find your shadow on full display at your feet. Shit. You had forgotten that the cloak was only able to camouflage instead of wiping out your solid form and making you entirely invisible, thus making you susceptible to certain factors that gave you away, like light hitting against you or dust being thrown at you.
The Mandalorian stalled for a moment, processing what he was seeing before lifting his blaster and shooting straight at you. You had managed to jump out of the way just barely in time, but not soon enough as a sharp burning sensation cut through the side of your arm. You swung your fist at him, making sure to aim under his ribs and avoid his chestplate in order to hit soft tissue instead of solid Beskar. Your opponent let out a grunt in response much to your satisfaction, but it seemed as if luck was on his side as he grabbed your outstretched arm just in time before slamming you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you. You laid there on your back for a quick second, stunned and coughing from the twisting pain in your chest until a slight static sound caught your attention, looking down to see that your cloaking device was malfunctioning, leaving you entirely visible after a short series of pixelated glitches. Not only that, but the force in which he slammed you had managed to detach your chestplate, the piece of olive green painted metal now lying a few feet away from you, leaving you in just your tunic and the soft padded vest you had on top to separate the roughness of the metal from your clothes.
You muttered a small curse under your breath, pressing a firm hand to your torso as you tried to regain your breath, twisting your body around with a grunt in a struggle to get yourself up until a pair of brown leather boots placed themselves right beside your head. Turning your head towards the sky, you were met with his blaster pointed right at you, the dark hole of the barrel staring right into your soul
“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”
“How about neither.” You snarked, your voice coming out in a low tone through your helmet’s speaker before swiftly propping up on your elbows and twisting yourself against the dirt, kicking his legs out from underneath him and making him fall. You tried to get up but failed as you were once again met with the rough sand as he grabbed the fabric of your tunic and slammed you down on the ground again, pressing his forearm against your chest in order to get you to stay down. The latter action made you widen your eyes in horror. You didn’t have your chestplate on and now there was nothing to conceal the flesh there. You noticed that this had confused the Mandalorian as well from the way he sat back for a moment and tilted his head.
“What the-you’re a-” He breathed out before getting cut off by the bottom of your boot slamming into his head and knocking him back.
You took this chance as a means to escape, twisting yourself around and pushing yourself up with your hands until another pair of hands yanked at your ankles, causing you to fall face first into the dirt. “Ow! son of a-” A pained grunt escaped your lips and you almost could’ve sworn your nose had been broken from the sharp pain that spread through the center of your face. The Mandalorian pulled at your legs, dragging you across the dirt while you thrashed around, feeling his knee press down on your back. Another grunt escaped between your clenched teeth, your breaths coming out in aggravated huffs as you tried to break yourself from his hold once you felt his hands wrap around your wrists and pull your arms back behind you. There was the sound of a click and a small beep, and the skin left exposed on your wrists underneath your sleeves were met with the feeling of cold metal as a pair of handcuffs locked itself around them.
Great, just great.
You rolled your eyes from underneath your helmet as you felt him grab you by your bicep and pull you up to your feet.
“Let go of me!” You huffed as he pushed you, squirming around in his grip while he refused to let go of your arm after the resistance you put up. You noticed that your voice was no longer distorted into a lower tone, which meant that the fall had somehow damaged the distorter you had set up in there, now causing you to sound like your normal self. Could your day get any worse?
“Cut it out.” You heard him order from behind you.
A scowl appeared on your lips as his grip around your bicep tightened, your eyes drifting to the ground and spotting your chestplate laying on the side up ahead. “Can I at least get my chestplate?” You let out a huff as you were only met with silence. “Oh come on. It took me a while to make that you know. Besides, I’m kinda bare right now and I feel naked without it so I really need it. I don’t know if you noticed back there but-”
“Quiet.” He cut you off, causing your nostrils to flare until you noticed him pick your chest armor off the ground, the slight action making a small smirk appear on your lips despite being handcuffed and taken in for your bounty. Of course, you weren’t to going to accept defeat that quick. You had to devise an escape plan quick and wait for the right opportune moment. Though now wasn’t it.
The watchful eyes of the locals were now trained on the shiny armor of your captor, their eyes following the two of you curiously as you went, the Mandalorian and his freshly caught bounty. You were glad you wore a helmet, relieved they couldn’t see the look of embarrassment written across your features.
It wasn’t long before you arrived at a vessel that was parked on the outskirts of town, what seemed to be most likely his ship.
“Wow. What a piece of junk.” You made a snide comment, looking up at the big junk of metal as he as opened the entrance to his ship before shoving you inside, causing you to glare at him through the visor of your helmet. “Hey, don’t manhandle me alright.”
“Keep moving.” You felt him push you forward with his hand on your back.
You took in your new surroundings, glancing around at the dullness of the interior with a distasteful look on your face. “Yikes. You could use some major redecorating, liven the place up a bit. No wonder you’re so grim.”
Silence.
“My point exactly.” You muttered under your breath.
“Sit down.” You felt him place his hand on your shoulder to try to push you down on the chair in his cockpit but you refused to budge.
“Can I at least put my armor back on?”
The Mandalorian stood quiet for a moment and you could almost feel him glaring at you through the slit in his helmet before turning you around and shoving you against the wall with your back facing him.
“Easy there will ya.” You hissed as he fumbled with the lock on the handcuffs. “Geez, is this how you treat all the ladies you bring in here?” A short second later, you felt the handcuffs around your wrist loosen up with a click after the sound of the beep went off.
“Any sudden moves and I shoot.” You heard him say beside your ear before stepping back
“Alright.” You lifted your hands up to your head, slowly turning around to see him standing a few feet away from you with his blaster pointed at you. “No need to be hasty, I’m just going to strap on my armor and that’s it.” You grabbed your chestplate that had been lying on the back of the chair before slinging the leather straps over your shoulder and fastening them, making sure that the metal covered the areas that needed protection. “Before you uh, handcuff me back up, would you mind letting me keep my arms in front of me. It’s kinda you know, uncomfortable having your hands tied behind you while you’re sitting in a chair.
There was another moment of silence, the lack of reply from the Mandalorian causing you to unconsciously shift on your feet before he finally stepped up to you and handcuffed your arms in front of you.
"Thank you for your consideration.” You smiled sarcastically even though he could not see a single inch of your expression.
“Sit down.” He directed in a monotone voice with his blaster still pointed at you, to which you plopped down on the seat in exaggeration.
You let out a scoff and a roll of your eyes as the Mandalorian lowered himself to the ground to tie your ankles to the bottom of the chair so you wouldn’t try to pull anything else. “You distrust me that much huh. Fair enough.” You leaned back in your set, twisting your body around and adjusting to make yourself comfortable as you watched him go over to his seat and start up the aircraft before taking off. You sniffled through the stuffiness in your nose, scrunching up your face from the smell of the blood that had dried up inside. Well it didn’t feel broken, and you have had broken noses before, though your body ached from your fight with the Mandalorian and the quarrel you had with the previous bounty you were after who just happened to be 8 feet tall and full of muscle. Let’s just say you didn’t like being tossed around like you were some stuffed animal. You were positive you had formed new bruises and reopened up the wounds you had just stitched earlier today from the way that some areas felt sore and tender.
“So uh….” You tried to make conversation while looking around for anything that just might help you break free and escape. You had to find a way out, one way or another, and it didn’t help that you were leaving the planet and your own ship behind. “Where we heading?” No answer. “You know, I’d like to know where I’m being sent and just who it is I am being sent off to.” Still no answer. Maybe, just maybe, if you annoyed him enough he might give up and set you free, that trick had worked once a long time ago. But sweet talking would definitely not work on him. “That’s some uh, pretty neat armor you got there. What is it, Beskar? So like how many hours do you spend polishing it?……………………….Okaayyyy then. I see you’re not much of a talker.” You nodded your head awkwardly before looking around again, edging a bit off your seat to get a better look at things.
“Quit moving around back there.”
“Oh. So you do talk, not much I presume. But you talk. I mean, you’ve gotta have said more than a few words in your lifetime, otherwise……….my goodness. Oh and by the way, you kinda messed up my gear, my voice distorter and my cloaking device are broken because of you and I believe I should receive some kind of compensation.” Ah yes more silence. You hated him already. I mean, you respected him, you’ll give him that. You just hated being with him, tied down to a chair with nothing but the sound of the aircraft and your own voice. A part of you even prayed that you would reach your destination quicker just so that you would not have to be stuck with him for who knows how long. And the fact that he wasn’t budging was pissing you off. There was one last thing you could do, one last trick. “Well then! If you don’t mind, I’d like to liven up this extremely dreadful atmosphere by singing some tunes. Maybe it’ll…..I don’t know……lift your spirits.” You cleared your throat before singing a tune you had once heard, making sure to be as exaggerated as possible.
“Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go Oh I want to take you down to Kokomo, we’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow That’s where we want to go, way down in Kokomo……………
Tell everybody, I’m on my way! New friends and new places to see! With blue skies ahead, yes I’m on my way! And there’s nowhere else that I’d rather be!!!” You belted out before stopping at the sudden feeling of something touching your leg. “AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!” You jumped in your seat, your scream even startling the Mandalorian himself. “Yo! What the-” You looked down at your feet with a pale face to see what had grabbed you and being met with a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, eyes belonging to a small green child with large pointy ears that reminded you of someone you once knew long before. “Oh. Hello there.”
“Grogu?” You heard the Mandalorian speak before turning his head around to face the small child that stood by your feet. “What are you doing there? Stay away from her. Go back to bed.”
The child tiled his head and let out a small blabber, his tiny fingers clutching around the fabric of your pants.
“He uh……he likes my singing.” You muttered out in sheer disbelief of there being a youngling aboard the ship, and not just any youngling. Something about him felt different, but you couldn’t quite figure it out.
“He what?” The Mandalorian now looked up to you. “You……understand him?”
“………Kind of?”
“Grogu. She’s dangerous. Go back to bed okay?”
The small child lowered his head in disappointment before waddling off as you watched him go with a softened and thoughtful look in your eyes. You tried to remember where you had seen him, if you had anyways. He reminded you so much of a mentor you once had, and you were saddened by the thought.
“What is he doing here?” You questioned before turning to stare at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet, your reflection only staring back at you. “What purpose do you have with a youngling?” You leaned back in your seat when he provided no answer, the frown on your lips only deepening as you stared out at the stars that blanketed all around from the view outside the window. You had to find out why he had the child with him, whether it was for a bounty or whether he was just under his care, you did not know. And when you do, once you found an escape, you’d take him with you.
A/N: I was working on this story a long time ago and thought I’d start on it again. Hope y’all enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.
Summary: You’re a dangerous wanted fugitive with a hefty price on your head who escaped your home planet from persecution and picked up the job of being a bounty hunter. To keep yourself away from the eyes of those after you, you were currently hiding out in a small planet mostly ran by outlaws and bandits, that is until another certain bounty hunter lands on your trail.
You were always the lone wolf, a ranger who wandered planets, a person without a destination. Your occupation was your own, you worked for yourself and no one else, and you preferred it that way. Due to your line of work, you lived plentiful off of bounties and even some quests that were offered to you. But most of it came from assassinations, which was one thing you never admitted to being proud of. You were an excellent marksman, if not one of the best, but your morals meant more than the money and caused you to be very selective over what hits you were willing to take, choosing to only go after the truly guilty ones. Because of this, you refused to be part of the Guild and turned down many requests in the past offering a great sum of money. You weren’t exactly very popular with the Guild since they considered you to be an undisciplined rogue who ignored the rules and had no right doing what you did, so you stayed on the low and made an effort to avoid running into any of their members.
Due to your distant past, you’ve felt that being invisible was better than being seen. Which is another reason why you did what you did and avoided as much interactions as possible. Knowing people and forming relationships was just a way to tie you down and keep you in a cage, an obligation and somewhat a burden. Acquaintances were fine but heavens forbid that formed into an actual relationship. People have expectations and you wanted none of it, not again at least. Not to mention you were severely betrayed by people you were supposed to trust. If there was another thing you were known for, it was for being a charmer, you knew just what words and tone to use to get yourself out of any situation. But you were also known for your ruthlessness. And if the time came where words did not work, your blasters did most of the talking. But ever since being on the run and escaping the planet you once called home, your life drastically changed and it had never been the same since.
You were sitting by yourself at a local cantina, at a table in the farthest and darkest corner of the tasteless place, away from the rest of its occupants. You had just finished tackling a bounty and it wasn’t an easy one, the bastard had left a few bruises and scrapes so you felt like winding down. Thankfully, you were lucky enough to come at a time where the place wasn’t so rowdy and filled with egotistical idiots making a mess and fighting each other for petty and immature reasons.
You had your head propped up lazily by your gloved hand as you stared down at your glass of liquor, swirling it around and watching the ice mix with the contents and clinking every time it hit the edge. You were starting to wonder why you even came here in the first place. You weren’t much of a drinker and you never liked the bitter taste but something about it made you always reach for a glass. In all honesty, you were just ready to go back to your ship and pass out on your bed. One thing was for certain and it was the fact that you were bored and exhausted beyond your mind. You tried to focus on the cantina music in the background, hoping it would help keep you awake while forcing to keep your eyes open. But the warmth of the cantina and your cloak that was draped around your shoulders, falling over your arms and torso to provide extra comfort, was not helping.
You rarely ever let your guard down like this and this was not a good thing. The place was already sketchy as it was with all the bandits and thugs that would come through.
A group of footsteps were heard approaching your table, each one in a different tempo than the rest, the sound making you snap yourself back into a conscious state. You straightened up against the leather seat once you caught sight of a thug walking up to you, followed by his pathetic little gang of 4.
Ugh, what now? You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes behind your helmet.
You watched carefully for a moment as one of his men made an unwanted advance towards one of the waitresses, grabbing her bottom and turning her around to try and force a kiss on her. The waitress shrieked at the act and squirmed in his grip, pushing away at his chest to escape. The thug laughed at her before loosening his grip, his reptile-like eyes following her as she freed herself from him with tears in her eyes, humiliated, before rushing off to the side in fear where the other workers were.
Why that little shit. You just got to this planet and you already had to deal with assholes.
The leader stopped at the edge of your table, glaring at you while his goons surrounded your booth, blocking off all forms of an exit. Slyly, you slipped your hand down underneath the table, gripping your blaster that sat at your hip with your finger hovering over the trigger, ready for any sign of attack.
“You’re in my seat.” The leader grunted at you with his burly arms crossed across his chest, a scowl on his face as he bared his yellowed, troll like teeth against his grimy scaley green skin.
During this exact moment, you thanked the maker you were wearing a mask so you wouldn’t have to smell the rancid stench coming off from him. The last thing you wanted was to puke in your own helmet. Who knows who long it had been since the asshole and his goons had bathed.
“Really?” You snarked, your voice distorted through your modulator to make you sound like a man, your voice low and gruff. You adjusted your cape so that it was not covering your arms anymore as you leaned back in the leather cushion, putting your free arm up on the back of the seat while kicking your feet up on the table. “I don’t see your name on it.”
The thug eyed your boots, his eye twitching as he watched the caked up dirt from your soles fall onto the table, the small action infuriating him even more. You were slightly amused at his reaction despite being irritated that he had disturbed your space. Who knew dirt on a table would so much as upset someone that probably hadn’t bathed in moons.
“Listen here you little brat.” The man slammed his clawed hands down on the table, causing everyone in the cantina to look over to see what was causing all the ruckus. “Move, or else I’ll break every little bone in your bounty hunter body before picking my teeth with it.”
His goons laughed at the statement, their laughs echoed against the stilled silence of the cantina as they enjoyed the opportunity to bully yet another person around, reveling in the moment and obviously getting off on this sort of attention. The ring leader stared you down with a smug smirk on his face, thinking he scared you shitless and that you might succumb to this sort of threat.
“………..no.” You let out, your voice matching the same stoicism in the details of your helmet.
The goons’ laughter died down from hearing your answer, each of them intently watching their boss’s face contort into anger and anticipating what his next move will be.
“That’s it!” The leader growled between gritted teeth before lunging out at you.
Swiftly, you grabbed his bulky arm with your left hand, twisting it to a certain angle and breaking his elbow, the move making him let out a pained scream. With your right hand you grabbed your blaster and shot him in the head in a quick blast of orange before tossing him to the floor. You glanced over to see that one of the goons had pulled out his blaster and blasted him before he could even pull the trigger at you. After watching their members fall down dead, the rest of the gang tried to charge you, their eyes flared and their teeth gritted in rage. You kicked the table over, making them back up while you jumped over it. One of the goons tried to grab you so you kneed him in the groin before grabbing his head and snapping it. You shot another one and while the last remaining one tried to run away you used your free hand to pull out your knife from your thigh strap and throw it at him, lodging it right in his knee and making him fall to the floor.
All eyes of the local civilians in the cantina were glued to you as you stepped over the bodies, casually walking over to the goon you threw your knife at. You stood there and tilted your head at him, recognizing him as the one who assaulted the woman while you watched him crawling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the floor from his wound as he went, unaware of your presence.
Pathetic.
A sigh escaped your lips as you crouched down next to him to grab his attention. The man took one look at you being so close and gasped in fear before struggling to move faster.
You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of your knife, twisting it in the flesh of his knee before yanking it out. The goon screamed at your action before his limbs finally gave away, laying there, trembling in pain.
No one dared to interfere you now. Not when you had taken out 4, soon to be 5 men twice your size.
“You shouldn’t have done that to the poor woman.” You spoke, now you were the one looking down at him.
The man turned to look at you, laughing while he did it and flashed his blood stained teeth. He glared up at you with a disgusting grin that made your stomach turn. “Aye, and I enjoyed every second of it.”
Your blood boiled at his remark, your knuckles turning white underneath your glove from gripping your blade.
How dare he.
He laughed again, knowing he got under your skin from the way you clenched your weapon and started breathing. The air around you at the moment was visibly tense as everyone lingered quietly in their seats, waiting to see what you would do next. You’ve had enough of him.
The man let out a hiss as you grabbed a fistful of his hair between your gloved fingers, lifting his head up so you could speak to him in his ear.
“And now you’ll die for it.” You whispered through clenched teeth before shoving your knife in his head.
Taking your knife back out of his skull, you wiped the blood off on his clothes before sticking it back in your strap while standing back up.
The occupants of the cantina looked away and returned to their food and conversations, not wanting to meet the visor of your helmet as if you could shoot lasers through it. They thought that the simple act of even looking in the direction of this strange outsider would be considered an offense after the way you took care of the local gang. Some of them even had disgust written on their faces from the way you handled the thugs while others had a faint hint of a smile that exhibited their relief.
You walked over to the owner of the cantina who stood behind the counter, his eyes glued to the glass he was wiping in his hands.
“You uh, you handled yourself pretty well over there.” The old man laughed uneasily, not seeming to meet your eyes as if he were afraid to offend you while he followed your movements, wondering what in the worlds you were about to do.
You didn’t respond to the statement as you fished into the pocket of your pants, pulling out some credits from the small suede pouch you had and placing them in front of him.
The owner looked at the credits laid out on the table for him, obviously confused from the way his brows knit together before looking up at you.
“But, but you already paid for your drink.”
“I know. It’s for the mess I made.” You gestured to the dead bodies that were still spread out on the ground.
The owner followed your gesture before looking back up you, relief painting his features once he realized you meant no harm. “Oh. But please sir, it’s not necessary. In fact, I should be the one thanking you. Ever since that gang showed up here in our small town, it’s been near chaos. Please, keep your credits. In fact…”
You watched him with a raised brow as he grabbed a pouch from his pocket and tried to hand you some credits. “Take this as well.”
You eyed the credits in his outstretched palm, pursing your lips before letting out a sigh. “I can’t take this. You didn’t hire me.”
“Please sir, take it. As a token of our gratitude. You saved our little town that I’m afraid no one cares about.”
“Yeah well you need it more than me.” You expressed. “I only accept credits for jobs I am hired to do.”
You kept your own pouch in your hand, nodding a farewell at the old man before making your way over to the waitress who was assaulted. You saw her hiding away in a corner, her small frame held in the arms of her friend as tears ran down her cheeks while her coworkers tried to comfort her.
The workers glanced up at you standing nearby before moving away, allowing you to approach closer. You stood there carefully, looking down at her fragile frame and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. The poor woman jerked in reaction before looking up you, her teary eyed filled with confusion.
“It’s okay.” You tried to say softly, hoping it would come out sounding compassionate but your helmet didn’t help much with how you conveyed your tone. Instead, your voice came out sounding less loud. “It’s alright.”
The young woman looked behind you, her eyes glancing at her attacker that was now dead before looking up at you with a weak smile. “Thank you.” She sniffled as she wiped her nose with a handkerchief. “Thank you for getting rid of them.”
“Here.” You held your hand out to her and placed some of your credits in her palm. “Take this. Buy yourself something, food or anything. Preferably something to protect yourself with…..and uh…..learn how to use it.”
The woman stood there in shock, staring down at the credits that now sat on the blue skin of her palm. She cracked a small smile, holding back more tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Keep your chin up.” You muttered, pressing your fingers delicately under her chin before she caught you by surprise by wrapping her arms around your torso. Your body tensed up at her reaction as you stood there, not really knowing how to react before giving her an awkward pat on the back. She pulled away from the hug and smiled timidly at you, her cheeks tinted as she placed a tender kiss to the side of your helmet. The action made you widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up inside your helmet to the point where you swore they would melt through the metal.
You shook off the feeling and the nerves, nodding at her and saying a polite goodbye before walking out of the cantina, ready to go back to your ship and wash the sweat off your face and escape the presence of everyone. Due to your quick haste to get out, you failed to notice a shadow, a silhouette of a person hidden behind a suit of armor that sat at the back of the cantina tucked away in the other corner. Nor did you catch the glint of the metal helmet that sat on his head, of the Mandalorian that had been watching your every move ever since you stepped foot into the building.
Warnings:SMUT, somnophilia helloOooo everyone I am BAAACK, oral sex, face sitting, cockwarming, domestic kink idk if that’s even a thing but it’s in here, mentions of death, canon typical violence, descriptions of hunting an animal, ends on a cliffhanger, this might actually be the longest most descriptive explicit smut I’ve ever written I was left alone for too long send help
A/N: hiya yoditos missed yall like hell, thanks for sticking with me in my 100+ day long era of broodiness I swear to god I’m gonna fuckin finish this story if it’s the last thing I do
***
Even after all that excitement and adventure, if there was ever one single moment with Din you’d want branded into your memory forever, it’s this one.
Warnings:SMUT, somnophilia helloOooo everyone I am BAAACK, oral sex, face sitting, cockwarming, domestic kink idk if that’s even a thing but it’s in here, mentions of death, canon typical violence, descriptions of hunting an animal, ends on a cliffhanger, this might actually be the longest most descriptive explicit smut I’ve ever written I was left alone for too long send help
A/N: hiya yoditos missed yall like hell, thanks for sticking with me in my 100+ day long era of broodiness I swear to god I’m gonna fuckin finish this story if it’s the last thing I do
***
Even after all that excitement and adventure, if there was ever one single moment with Din you’d want branded into your memory forever, it’s this one.
He’s asleep. And no—not because he passed out quicker than you can snap your fingers and then awoke less than two or three hours later at most, not like he always does. This time, he falls asleep, and then he staysasleep.
The baby is tucked away in his crib, shields closed and hidden inside the quietest part of the Crest, and you’ve been awake for at least an hour. You, awake, and Din, asleep. You could count the times this has happened on one hand, and in other circumstances, you might worry that he’s sick or something. There were a lot of people in Nariss and he could’ve caught a bug, but then again, he wears a filter over his mouth pretty much all the time, so you wonder how often that actually happens. No, his body temperature is normal when you lift the back of your hand and fold it along the bend of his neck as he breathes slowly—a few degrees warmer than you, but normal for him.
Is he just that tired? You blink your eyelashes against the skin of his collarbone, staring at the red and green buttons illuminating through the darkness across from your fluffy, comfortable bed on the floor. You’ve seen him come back bleeding and still not rest like this. You thought you slept for a long time; it was one of those nights where you wake up multiple times, smile when you remember where you are and whose body is pressed tight to yours, before passing back out and thanking the Maker that you can continue to sleep. After days of bells ringing every hour, a city with enormous crowds roaring, parades clanging, and fireworks booming, you’ve returned to the most blissful silence you could’ve ever dreamed. Hyperspace, Din’s skin pressed against yours, and against all reason, waiting in the darkness for him to wake up.
Your cheek is squished against his chest and instead of holding you like normal, his limbs are completely splayed out on the floor spread eagle and… maybe you didn’t sleep a long time? What’s more likely? Your body being okay with operating on less than average naturallyor Din finally letting himself relax for far longer than he usually does? You don’t have a clock handy, but you feel well-rested. Alert. Maybe it’s a little of both?
Part of you is antsy to not be the only one awake—it’s so weird—but part of you also wants him to sleep as long as physically possible since he never fucking does it. You wonder if this has always been in him. If he was always able to mute his body’s natural need to be active, present and ready, or if this is somehow an unintentional change inspired by your cultivated love of the most basic things in life that most people take for granted. Sleep in the cool, pitch blackness. Water, freely used and consumed and enjoyed, not hoarded and traded like precious jewels. Real food, not… dehydrated chalk bought in the barren markets under a blazing hot sun. It had enough nutrients and fed you well enough, but caf was once a luxury to you, and fruit was, too. For him, you think they still are to an extent—necessities are luxuries, but what about luxuriousnecessities? Long hot showers, mouthwateringly delicious food, sleeping in… those are completely foreign to him unless you give him a real shove, and this time, you think he made the leap all by himself.
His skin is soft under your cheek though, no matter how harsh of a life he’s lived. You’re suddenly struck with the realization that he’s experienced this multiple times with you, this is what it’s like. Tangled in sheets, hearing him breathe slowly while you hold onto him and stare into the darkness, wide awake. His body is so warm; you fit perfectly next to him and you’d stay here forever if you could.
Except… you’re a bit bored. Not bored enough to move, obviously, but enough to wish he was awake and interacting. You must be terrible company if this is how he typically spends his downtime in the mornings, just waiting for you to wake up, and every gentle breath he takes is another moment you consider a way to entertain yourself.
Well. What does he typically do to entertain himself when you’re asleep?
But then your brain instantly short circuits like it shocked itself with your own train of thought.
Maker. Your chin lifts slightly and your fingers twitch against his chest out of surprise alone, immediately tense just remembering all the gloriously naughty details. It’s been around a year and a half since you first met Din, and you think the best mornings you’ve ever had all started out the same exact way. There’s nothing like blinking your eyes open out of a deep slumber and suddenly realizing that you’re a breath away from an orgasm. It’s like your mind barely has a second to register the warm tongue slowly moving between your legs before you’re locking down and—
Whew. No, no you don’t have the audacity to do that, that takes serious fucking backbone, and it’s unsurprising to you that Din established it early on as something he loves doing. He’s brazen and likes what he likes, no shame. Courageous enough that part of you thinks he doesn’t even know what the word actually means. It’s nothing at all to him, and proves to be the greatest challenge in the universe for you.
Oh, but then the longer you think about it, the more appealing the idea becomes. His body laying out completely naked and relaxed under you, lost in his dreams while you pleasure him. Could you make it as good as he does? Could you make it so soft and hot and generous that he doesn’t wake up until the very last second, and by then it’s too late to stop? It sends a small shiver down your spine. The first time you gave him a blowjob, Din barely allowed it and complained about wanting to fuck you the entire time. The next time you were able to do it, it was in public and again, he only just allowed it. He was still as a statue and tolerated the pleasure you gave him, endured the smooth glide and heat of your mouth, only grabbed you once to make sure you didn’t pull off of him right when he was about to cum so you didn’t make a mess.
This time, if you can manage to make it as sinfully good as he always does, then you’ll finally be able to get him to experience the luxurious things he deserves. Without complaining about the actions he wants to take instead, without holding tense and on edge the entire time. Heat ripples through you, deciding that he’s going to enjoy this. Maybe he’ll start sleeping in more, who knows?
Just testing your luck, you carefully lift your head from Din’s chest, making sure his breathing doesn’t change, and press a whisper-soft kiss to his shoulder.
No response from him. Is he a light sleeper? You don’t even know, that’s how often you’re in this scenario. Will he make a sudden movement when he finally rouses, will his breathing change? It suddenly occurs to you he could actually be fully awake right now and you wouldn’t have any idea unless he decides to make some indication, but you suppose that thrill could be part of the appeal for him when he does this to you.
Your mouth slowly opens and you let the warmth of your tongue barely brush against his skin. Still, nothing at all from him. Completely comatose, the gentle rise and fall of his chest is your only indicator he’s not actually dead right now.
Carefully, you extract yourself from his side in the soft nest of blankets so that your skin isn’t touching his anymore. It’s a process, but you stay patient and slow. You don’t use your hands, their only purpose is to prop yourself up, allow you to hover over him without making any physical contact. All you want him to feel in his dreams is your mouth, soft lips and warm tongue worshipping him, and you’re exceedingly cautious with your movements in order to make that happen.
With every kiss you press to his skin, you think about how much you adore him. Every slow lick along the curve of his muscles is a thought, a hope for him, a brand of your love on his body. In response, Din’s breathing almost seems to go even slower under you, melting into the soft blankets. He isn’t excited by your gentle caresses, not any more than someone would be excited to be home. Instead, it speaks to peace. Bone-deep tranquility in the quiet, never more relaxed than he is when the Crest is moving safely through hyperspace, he’s wearing no armor, his son is sleeping peacefully, and you’re resting in the silent darkness next to him.
You make your way downwards, taking all the time in the world with it. The sheets cover his naked waist and you’re careful about lifting them, even more careful in slipping your body underneath. Your tongue trails gently down the ridge of Din’s hip, your lips brush the very top of his thigh. Even in the pitch black, you can tell his cock is already beginning to find more of a shape in response to your mouth. Your lips are barely a feather against him, never lingering in one place too long, making sure to keep your touches teasing and perfectly elusive. He’ll never be able to predict you in his dreams, you’re gone before his slumbering thoughts can manage to figure it out.
The whole time, you move closer and closer to the object of your desire. When you can’t hold off any longer, you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock, opening your mouth to flutter your tongue under the curved flesh.
Din’s thigh barely twitches in his sleep, and you feel him continue to grow thicker. He’s so soft here, his skin is like silk, and for a long moment, you just use your breath to warm him. You slowly drag your parted lips down the length of him, a mere ghost of a touch, and it seems counterintuitive how quickly he’s getting hard for almost nothing at all. When you reach the base, your tongue peeks out to trail a thin little line all the way back up, and you do that at least twice more. Barely there, barely anything, but he continues to swell nonetheless under your whispering touches and it’s filling your body with all sorts of debased desires.
Whenever you thought about Din doing this to you before, it was always blush-inducing, something that warmed your cheeks and made you smile bashfully. A kink your future husband has, nothing more and certainly not anything less. Now, while you’re experiencing it from the other side, the intimacy is making you incredibly hot and achy between your legs. Imagining him being as careful with you as you’re being with him, picturing him under the blankets just like this but carefully dipping his tongue into your slit instead, pressing slow kisses to your clit and listening for your breathing to shift. He’s almost always up front and full speed ahead when you’re there to react to him, and it somehow only strikes you right now that he can be extraordinarily patient and attentive when he wants to be.
After a few more open-mouthed kisses along his deliciously hard length, you pull back to press another soft kiss to the tip—but this time his cock jumps against your lips so hard that you feel it graze your front teeth for a second, and you freeze.
No teeth. Noteeth. You don’t even want something as firm and tactile as your hands to touch him, and teeth are even more likely to rouse him. Even though Din has given you plenty of indication to say that he likes a little discomfort with his comfort—he likes jerking off dry, he likes biting, leaving marks and fucking you so good that you can’t stand afterwards—you want it to be allcomfort. You want to give him the luxuries he doesn’t think he deserves and you’ll wait an eternity to get that to happen.
He doesn’t move or react in response to your slip up, and his breathing doesn’t change. Regardless, you know it’s only becoming more likely as time goes on, so you find the spot you know he likes the most, on the underside just under the head of his cock. Your mouth stays there, your tongue bathing it gently while your lips find a home along the silky hot curve of his tip. And then you just keep doing that without ever moving, stopping, speeding up or slowing down. You do it until he’s swollen and dribbling precum, throbbing and aching for release. You do it until you feel his muscles start fidgeting, his balls pulling up tight to prepare for it. Still, you never rush. You’re as patient as a saint while you pleasure him, but it doesn’t really take that long at all.
When you’re sure he’s inches away from it, you lift up just enough to slide your tongue underneath the head of his cock and ease it into your mouth.
That’s where he leaks now. Your tongue fits along the curve of him, slowly massaging him with every soft corner of your mouth, and then Din’s breathing finally changes—finally, you hear the rhythmic, lulling inhales and exhales stutter awake.
“Sw—?” Comes his groggy voice, but then he chokes open-mouthed and shocked as he immediately starts cumming, hard and unexpected and first thing in the morning on your tongue.
Your moan feels good when you finally let it out, a soft noise of relief after holding it in for so long, but Din… Stars, it’s like he’s still figuring out where he is, and it’s likely the reason he just shakes instead of thrashes somehow, his fingers just clench instead of doing something brash like usual—grabbing you fiercely or slamming his hand against the floor with it. This time he just shudders and his hips flex up into your mouth, so shocked that it all just comes out through his throat while yours is being filled. The gasp he takes is pure heat ripping through you—raw, harsh, desperate. Caught against such soft sheets, helpless and confused with the lingering darkness of sleep.
“Fuuuuuck,” Din groans, long and loud and dragging across broken glass just to get to your ears. His hands fumble as they blindly reach for you but you’re hidden under the blankets, so all he can do is just twitch and pant brokenly and croak your name while he finishes unloading in your hot mouth.
When he finally stops and you hear his moan turn into a quiet whimper, you settle your head down on his stomach, content to hold him there on your tongue for a little while while he catches his breath. Din sounds like he just ran a marathon not even thirty seconds after waking up, and you flutter your eyes closed and hum in contentment, settling down to get comfortable. Even though his muscles are still spasming in the comedown and not providing a stable surface to truly rest on, it’s so much more relaxing than when you did this in the shooting range on Tatooine and you plan on doing it until he tells you that’s enough.
Din stops allowing it so much sooner than you hoped, though. Maybe it’s because you just couldn’t help yourself and started gently sucking on him the second he stopped trembling. Whatever the reason, the blanket is suddenly ripped off and your elbow is caught in the darkness. You don’t want to, but you finally let his soft cock fall out of the heat of your mouth and he doesn’t even allow you to kiss it one last time before you’re being hauled upwards.
Without a word, he flips you on your back and then just flattens himself down on top of you, burying his face into your neck and sighing.
You reach to gently scrape your nails across his back, smiling unseeingly up at the pitch black ceiling when he shudders and lets out a muffled mmf against your skin in appreciation. Din’s shoulders dwarf you and you take your time dragging your fingernails across the vast spread of them, the subtle dip that leads to his nape. Nails slowly raking through his curls now, flexing your hand wide to ride the curve of his scalp, pressing your fingers in and working at that tension you know lives there. This is where the padding of his helmet digs in the most and weighs heaviest; you know, if only because you’ve worn it yourself, it’s right behind his ears and down just a bit—
—there, Din melts fully into you, breathing deep and slow while you touch him, letting your other hand drag up and down his back. He’s so big and muscular and heavy but you love being squished by him, especially knowing his intense lack of energy and inability to move is specifically because of you.
“Morning,” he finally mumbles into your neck, and you just giggle happily, albeit shallowly and with little support. It’d be easier to breathe if he just moved off your chest a bit and you’re trying to conserve air at the moment, but you think Din is still so drunk off that orgasm that he takes a few more seconds before realizing.
When he finally eases himself downwards to free your ribcage from his weight, oxygen seeps back into your lungs and it’s good enough. He’s still all bulk piled on you, sandwiching everything below your stomach between him and the ground, but you can breathe now and he’s at the perfect height to drop his head down to your chest.
Din’s mouth lazily drags down to one of your nipples, and his lips close around it with a low noise. Oddly enough, it’s so nice that it feels more domestic than overtly sexual. You relax back down into the blankets and play with his hair while he plays with you, arching your chest to his mouth and humming softly.
“You slept for a really long time,” you whisper down at him, and there’s warmth in your voice that’s never been there for anything else before. You don’t know what you’d call it, but it carries the endless sunshine you grew up in, the nourishment of the precious water you used to farm for. “Are you feeling okay?”
Din’s bassy moan rumbles out in deep satisfaction, and he moves to lick one long, slow line between your breasts. “Mmm,” he breathes against your skin. “Never better.”
The rough timbre and vehemence in his tone sends a small shiver down your spine, and you shift your shoulders a bit to offer him your other nipple. He quickly takes it into his mouth, and his soft curls spring while you comb your fingers through them, his fingers dig into your hips when your nails gently scratch his scalp. It’s blissful. You’re filled with a deep, aching love for him once more, and your soul is plagued with a generosity for him so bright and brilliant that it’s almost a compulsion inside you.
You want to lock him in the fresher for a good half an hour and force him to take a long, steaming hot shower, and then you want to make him breakfast.
You can’t even fucking cook. You likely could if you learned, but there’s no kitchen in this ship, and Din would probably break down the door in the shower if you had the audacity to try and barricade him in there. No, you think you’re just feeling that mushy and doting right now. He’s such a capable man in every single circumstance, and the fact that he’s allowing you to take care of him is as addicting as it is intoxicating. You long to give him nice things, feed him and touch him and fill his life with the softest, sweetest pleasures.
You’re completely lost in domestic fantasies, but when Din’s teeth gently close around your nipple and his tongue flicks it at the same time as if to get your attention—thenit becomes sexual.
“Settle down,” you breathe out, dragging your palms along his shoulders and beginning to knead the tight muscles there. Does his back hurt after laying on it like that all night? You can give him a massage, your hands are so much stronger than they used to be—
“I want to fuck you,” he immediately lifts his mouth to fall back into an all too familiar exchange with you, but the way he’s panting against your skin lessens the threat and it’s more heartwarming than anything else. “But you already made me cum.”
But Din’s mouth and your arousal is another familiar exchange, and when he goes back to using his tongue and teeth in different ways while laying between your legs, your breathing starts to come a little heavier. You start to wiggle a bit, fidget and move under him but it’s like his body has welded you to the floor.
“I want to make you food.” The urge is so strong that you at least need to manifest it out loud before you get too distracted to remember. “Are you hungry? What sounds good?”
“Mmm,” Din rumbles once more, and that’s all the warning or answer you get before his arms suddenly tighten to steel and he flips you over on top of him. There’s a tiny squeak from you while you flail and try to catch yourself in the pitch blackness at the abrupt change in position, and then you’re caught by his arms hooking under your thighs and shoving you upwards.
“Din—?” You scramble to hold on, not wanting to plant face-first into the metal ground but not really registering where exactly it is in the darkness, either.
“What sounds good?” He repeats under you, continuing to lead you up along the length of his body. At one point you feel his shoulders shuffle downwards between your spread knees, and you think that’s the moment it finally registers for you.
Air rushes from your lungs in understanding, suddenly feeling his chin brush against your hip and warm breath fan against your pussy. You can barely speak right. “Wait, you w-want me to…?”
“Sit on my face,” he finishes low in his throat for you, finding your wrists in the darkness and tugging them down until you feel his soft locks brushing along your palms. His large hands close around your fingers and push your knuckles into fists, encouraging you to grab a handful of his hair. “Use it. Make yourself cum.” Din’s head turns to give your thigh a soft kiss, and the massive shudder down your spine makes your whole body erupt in goosebumps. “It’s yours.”
Fuck, he barely said a handful of words and you’re already soaking wet for him. Warm hands soothe along the backs of your spread thighs and you don’t realize how tight you’re holding yourself until his fingers dig in and start working at those flexed muscles. His breath is a hot whisper against your skin, as gentle and elusive as your mouth was on him earlier. Din’s powerful hands keep massaging your legs and hips and ass, pressing kisses to your twitchy muscles and getting closer to where you want him most.
You think your body doesn’t know whether to tense or relax the second you feel his tongue dip between your folds. His chin either lifts up or your hips sit down a little more, you can’t really tell because it’s pitch black and all you can concentrate on is him brushing your clit in soft, gentle strokes of his tongue. A low moan rumbling between your legs gives you even more shivers, and you start combing your fingers through his hair while Din trails his up and down your legs.
“Fuck,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning into his mouth with how much you want it. The position you’re in feels too dominant to match how needy your voice sounds, but you don’t want to move because then he might stop and you can’t let that happen. His tongue feels perfect, tracing smooth and practiced arches over top of your clit just the way you like. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel the beginning of an orgasm start to simmer deep inside you.
But then, as soon as you register the familiar chaotic swirl building down low and your breath catches, it’s like he just… tapers off.
Gradually, Din’s tongue stops being so dexterous. At first you think you’re just imagining it, imagining that release creep further away the closer you get to it, but no—you let out a pitiful little whine when you realize that he’s moving incredibly slow on purpose. Still drawing circles around your clit, but then at one point he starts avoiding it. Instead, he drags his tongue down until it presses along the slope leading to your entrance, and you’re left trembling and confused by the lack of stimulation.
What is he doing? Is he trying to edge you? His mouth isn’t tired yet, you know from experience how long it takes until that happens, but he’s slacking. Lazing under you, barely moving his tongue at all at this point. You bite your lip, trying not to get frustrated with him.
“Din, please,” you pant instead, begging for that last something that’ll bring you over the edge. Your body is rigid over him and your fingers flex repeatedly against his scalp without pulling any hair, gentle but tight with tension and so close to it that you whine. “Please, I want to cum—”
His hand leaves your skin for a second, and then he brings it back to give you ass a loud smack. You gasp and jerk forward, snapped out of your frantic climb and accidentally tugging his hair when he turns his head against your thigh.
“Useit,” Din growls, and then teeth sink into your soft flesh.
You wince at the unexpected pain and your fingers pull on his hair, but his teeth stay clamped around the sensitive skin and you have to yankto get him to stop. Fuck, you know that’s gonna bruise, and for just a split second, you feel a spark of anger at him for treating you so carelessly after how gentle and sweet you were with him. Any marks of his you wear are usually left in the throes of ecstasy, but this just feels provoking and harsh and intentional. Wanting to stir you up and find the fighter inside you by being just this side of mean, like he did when you first learned how to throw a punch on Naboo. Refusing to accept your timidness or inaction any longer—if he knows it’s in you, then he’ll force you to be brave.
Your fingers yank on his hair again to pull him into position and Din’s encouraging groan is cut off by your hips dropping down on his mouth. When he deliberately doesn’t give you his tongue, flames begin to lick at your skin in the absence of his touch. Not only is he forcing you to do it yourself, he’s also going to make you say it out loud yourself, and a thrill skitters throughout your entire body.
“Open your mouth,” you breathe, heart pounding at the sudden power rush, and everything inside you turns molten hot when Din’s jaw slowly opens and his tongue obediently slides deep into your slit in response.
You lift your hips up and move back until just the tip of it rests against your clit, and then you slowly ease forward and drag your pussy all the way up the length of his tongue.
Din groans again while you lift up and move back once more, doing the exact same thing over again, and then again. The movement becomes more fluid the more you do it, the pleasure starting to blur into a pure fiery sensation every time you rock your clit along his tongue. Callused fingers dig into your ass and help you, your hands release his hair so you can plant them above his head and start fucking down into his mouth. Your body is a rolling tide gradually beginning to rise, breathing speeding up and pleasure mounting until everything finally boils over and you cum just like that, on your knees and the heat of your cunt rocking against his face.
Eventually, the aftershocks die down just enough to feel his arms slide up to hook around your thighs, keeping you steady and held in a firm grip that you’re immediately thankful for. Your energy is drained and your spine slouches while you recover, panting and buzzing in a post orgasm bliss.
But then of course, Din decides to use thatof all moments to start moving his tongue.
Your chin snaps upwards in the darkness and everything in you seizes, but you’re clutched in a devastating grip that keeps you anchored right there to the floor. His arms are steel iron shackles wrapped around your hips and a tongue that has gotten waytoo good at learning what you like for you to even keep up. That firm, perfect rhythm right over your clit, giving you everything you begged for earlier but at the most overwhelming of moments. No matter how you try to scramble away from the shocks of oversensitivity, he’s able to yank your hips back to sit down exactly where he wants you.
You choke out his name and Din keeps you held there so tightly that your weight is actually shifted backwards at one point, forcing you to reach both hands back and plant them against the floor behind you so you don’t bend wrong. Your head drops back and your mouth opens silently at the ceiling, expression clenched and lungs gasping while you endure. He doesn’t let up and you think you must acclimate at some point, because there’s just a split second of warning you get where lightning sparks in your floor muscles and then comes the crash.
Your body contracts so wildly with your second orgasm that you fling forwards and barely catch yourself at the last moment, shaking and moaning through the onslaught. You nearly rip the blankets under your fists, that’s how hard he makes you cum. It was good when you were in charge of taking your own pleasure but he’s just shamedyou, it’s fucking blinding when he’s in control. Your shoulder just barely muffles your sob of ecstasy and it takes so much out of you that you’re dead weight on top of him afterwards, not able to move a single muscle.
Somehow, you find yourself tucked against his side once more with your head laying against his chest, just like when you first woke up this morning, and you’re as comfortable as you are confused. How did you get here? You don’t really remember Din easing your body down next to him and then scooping one arm around you into this position, but when you squeeze your legs together, your pussy is still throbbing and you’re wet with his mouth. He holds you silently, and you both bask in the endorphins for a few moments while you catch your breath.
You’re still slightly dazed, but your body feels so fucking good and pleased that you blurt it out without thinking. “When can I look at you, Din?”
You think he’s just as surprised as you are by the unexpected… helplessness in the way you say it. Phrasing it like that in a strangely powerless tone, as if he’s the one standing in your way and preventing it.
“Why does it sound like you’re whining?” He turns his head to ask you flat out, and even though there’s no malice behind his words, they’re so blunt and forthright that you immediately bury your face in his neck to snort an embarrassed laugh in agreement. It did sound like that and you’re really not proud.
“You’re right,” you admit, feeling his palm beginning to drift up and down your back. It immediately relaxes you and soothes every worry or anxiety. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I already told you before.” His voice suddenly sounds deeper. Not the pitch necessarily, but the actual depthof it. Almost contemplative, in a sense. Saying it to you as if he’s now just a little further away than he physically feels while holding you. “Look whenever you want.”
You know this. What you don’t know is if your lingering inability to decide on a moment is a testament to your natural aversion to taking charge in important situations or if it’s just because of his tone whenever he talks to you about it. There’s a sudden quietness that his voice tends to take on, a reserved silence that sits deeper than his normal preference for not speaking that makes you wonder if you still don’t know some very crucial detail he isn’t sharing. He said Mandalorians look at each other when they agree to spend the rest of their lives together, but is that it? If so, you can’t imagine life would change all that much beyond being able to look him in the eyes whenever you’re alone with him. You’d still be here on the ship to raise the kid while he hunts for quarries, you’d still spend blissful nights wrapped in his arms, the only thing that would be different is that you could have the lights on. You could take his helmet off every single time he comes back from a hunt and give him a long, soft kiss in the privacy of the hull, fluorescents bright and blaring along the bone structure you only know by touch.
You’re quiet for a while, but Din’s voice comes through the darkness when it’s clear you don’t know what to say.
“Do you need to…” You don’t have any fucking clue what he’s trying to ask, but the quiet unsure way he says it is endearing all on its own. “Do you have anybody you… need to tell first?”
It immediately strikes you as odd—when he found you on Arvala-7, you didn’t need to say any goodbyes before hightailing it off that barren wasteland and you don’t ever remember him once mentioning the complete lack of people you told. Why would he ask that, you wonder? But then, you suddenly realize he’s likely only saying that because he’s just as clueless as you are about what you seem to be waiting for.
“Are you asking me if I have a family, Din?” You tilt your chin up to kiss him slowly, even though your lips want to pull into a smile at the sentiment. “A mother you need to impress? A father you need to ask for permission?”
His head drops against the blanketed floor with an already overwhelmed thump and groan. “If they exist, they’re going to despise me.”
And you allow yourself to consider it for just a single second, not trying to hide your blinding grin in the darkness. What a disasterthat would be—a story all its own, watching him introduce himself to your parents with a gruff silence and awkward stance. He’s only charming to you, it’s a fact you’re well aware of every single time you’ve seen him interact with anyone else. Karga, Peli—he’s… abrasive and stoic with them, short and the furthest thing from sweet. You can’t even imagine what it would look like if he actually cared about anyone else’s approval, much less tried to gain it.
Still, you can’t help but tease him. “Despise you? What makes you say that?”
“Because I took their little girl away from them,” Din purrs in response, riding his hand down the curve of your hip without moving his head off the floor. “And I do terrible things to her in the dark.”
Shit, if he keeps talking like that, terrible things will be the only things you do in the dark, and you know neither one of you is physically prepared to go again. Instead, you smile and admit the truth.
“They don’t exist,” you tell him, dragging a finger along his chest as it moves. “Not anymore. I’m all yours to steal away, no one will challenge your honor.”
Din shifts slightly, just enough to imply he’s lifting an arm back to prop his head up and look at you.
“Kuiil was all you had?” He whispers after a moment, reaching a careful hand forward to play with your hair.
“Pretty much,” you whisper back, resting your chin on his chest. This isn’t something you necessarily enjoy talking about, but when he’s the one asking, you suppose it’s easy to share. “Some neighbors here or there that I took turns staying with, but Kuiil… taught me everything I know. Helped raise me, and then let me hang around and bother him after I was old enough to be on my own. It took a village, but he was always my favorite.”
“Is that why you’re so good with electronics?” Din asks thoughtfully, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I never knew that much about him, except that he was a great mechanic, and a… selfless man. A good person. I really liked him.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, more wistful at his memory than sad. Din doesn’t like a vast majority of people, but if anyone deserves the mantle, it should be Kuiil. “Big scary Mandalorian in the middle of the desert with fifty guns strapped to him, Kuiil still probably would’ve given you the shirt off his back if you said you could use it. He helped me keep the farm going after my parents died. I think… he was my best friend.”
It’s a few moments before Din speaks, but when he does, his voice is barely there. Hidden in the darkness almost as much as his face is, but informing you of everything you need to know just by his tone. “My parents died, too.”
Your heart automatically goes out to him, even though it’s currently pressed tight against his without any fabric obstructing it. Din doesn’t sound particularly sad, but maybe… resigned, and you can relate to the feeling. It must’ve happened so long ago that it’s just a fact at this point, nothing particularly painful or groundbreaking, not anymore.
Your voice is soft with understanding. “And then you were raised by the Mandalorians?”
He nods an affirmative in the pitch black, but you can only tell through the way his muscles subtly move under you.
“Did you ever have a family with them?” You ask, not wanting to press too hard on painful memories but also not wanting him to think you’re disinterested in hearing about his past. He almost never shares it, you need to tread lightly whenever he decides to. “A clan you joined before creating your own?”
“No,” he answers calmly, but there’s something gentle and somber in his tone that you’ve never heard before. Lost in his memories. “I was too old for that when they found me, I was sent to the militia for training the first week I was there.”
Well that… doesn’t sound good. They sent an orphan to train with an army a week after his family died? Even if he was a teenager or young adult at the time, far older than your measly eight years when you lost your parents, that’s just… unfathomably cruel.
And then all of a sudden, things start clicking into place even without having any further details. Just knowing that simple, two sentence fact about him explains so fucking much, it’s insane. The preference for solitude, the militaristic attitude and gruff exterior, the sandpaper grit he approaches his entire life with, it makes so much sense now. If you had no generous neighbors or community to rely on when things fell apart, you’d probably be hardened to stone, too.
Instead, you’re… tenderhearted. Where he’s fearless and quiet and rough around the edges, you’re curious and dreamy and emotionally empathetic. How easily could the roles have been reversed given the circumstances, you wonder? Could you have ever survived an existence like his before you met him? Something tells you that you’d probably die first, left behind somewhere or taken by your loneliness. You hated your childhood—you still can’t think about that horrid, lonely desert without shuddering, but… you suppose there are far worse things to endure in life than how you were forced to survive, and the man holding very still underneath you waiting for your response is testament enough to that.
“A clan of foundlings, then,” you muse softly, settling the conversation there. He’s shared more than enough, more than you’d ever have the tenacity to ask.
“This is The Way,” Din murmurs quietly at the ceiling in response, and it might be another half hour or so just like that before you both finally drag yourselves out of bed. You should be arriving at your destination soon to retrieve the fifth quarry, and neither of you have forgotten about the deal you both made before you spent a week outrunning him.
***
For as much keeping secrets has always been somewhat of a precedent for Din, you’re starting to realize he’s really not all that great at it.
Or maybe you’re just getting lightyears better at reading him, feeling the subtle shifts in his energy and figuring out exactly what he’s thinking just by listening to his footsteps pace around behind you. Your clothing is being balled up and thrown into a spare bag, he’s accumulating all measley credits he can find stashed around the hull and throwing them in there too, and you’re standing still in the middle of the hull while he can’t stop moving. Crossing in front of you, behind you, finding things to add to the bag that he’d never take for just himself. Extra rations, extra supplies—he even walks over and yanks open the emergency kit, rummaging around and grabbing an E-bacta shot. Though, he wavers slightly on it, looking down at the syringe balanced in his glove for a bit longer than necessary before adding it to the stash.
You know exactly what’s going through his head, it’s almost entertaining. Almost, being the key word. If you weren’t feeling so empathetic, you might find the constant restlessness a bit disconcerting, but as it is… your heart is very warm and heavy in a strange way. Part of the reason you haven’t said anything is because you’re wondering if he’s actually going to follow through here, or if he’s going to say something to you. Is he going to speak up?
From the tightness in his shoulders and the low angle of his helmet as he walks, you’re guessing not.
“Hey,” you finally murmur, giving him a soft smile while you cuddle the kid a little closer to your chest. “I know. It’s alright.”
“Know what?” He asks distractedly, walking over to the armory and opening it. He begins strapping extra ammunition to his body—knives, vibroblades, bullets, fitting guns in places you never even considered before, and it’s endearing enough to make you smile softly.
“I know you’re trying to figure out if you should tell me the truth or not,” you respond, shrugging a shoulder and looking down at your feet when he slows to a stop.
“The truth about what?” Din asks, cautious and slow.
“That you found me way before midnight that last day on Sanctuary II,” you say as you study the floor, your voice coming out melodic and sweet and maybe just the smallest bit sad. “Days before then, probably, but you let me have an adventure when you didn’t have to. You really don’t want us coming with you to grab this quarry, but you also don’t want to tell me I lost. It’s alright. I know.”
Though… you’d still love to go with him. You’ve been studying the quarry’s identity whenever you can, memorizing his face and name and the vague background the Guild has on him. Oshua Ryler, twenty year old human male, missing for two months, no criminal record, last seen on Anoth. The puck was commissioned by his twin sister Thia, ten thousand credit reward if found alive, zero if brought back dead.
It’s a complete shot in the dark for a very small return, but you were so excited about being useful that you had absorbed every bit of information you could about him. Din never said a damn thing to you about it, his voice sounded light and unbothered whenever he addressed you and at first, you thought he wasn’t unhappy to have the company.
But then you caught sight of his hunched shoulders and his worried pacing. The rigid movements and the way his hands never stopped fidgeting. Always moving, sleeping and eating less the closer you got to Anoth, not speaking the amount you normally inspire in him.
If that didn’t make you go all gooey and soft with understanding, then the way he was clearly trying to hide it from you sure did. He’d only stand there and look visibly conflicted when you weren’t paying attention, he’d only allow his composure to slip whenever he thought you weren’t looking.
Even now, when you finally glance up at him, Din is holding very still like he’s just a big metal canteen filled with uncertainty. It melts you instantly, makes you fold without even looking to see if you have a winning hand. He knows how much it means to you that you’re not stuck in one spot for days on end again. And… you also know much it means to him that you and his son stay here, far away from the danger that seems to follow him around like the cape clipped to his shoulders.
“Be safe,” you finally lift your chin to tell him, showing him your most heartfelt smile. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
And then he’s instantly rushing forward and crowding you, pressing his body up against yours and squeezing you tight. You nearly stumble backwards at the unexpected ambush and have just enough sense to save the baby at the very last second from being squished.
“Thank you,” he whispers next to your ear and stars, you have never been crushed like this. Not emotionally—literally, physically, you think your back actually pops under the strain of his arms and you can’t decide if you need to get away to prevent your spine breaking or if it’s the greatest feeling in the universe.
When you’re finally released from the death grip, it takes you a moment to recover and you do so with gentle gloves cupping your jaw, a beskar helmet lingering so close to your face that you’re sure he’s behind the visor looking at you like you painted the sky. Hell, you probably would’ve conceded a long time ago if you knew this was the kind of relief that would flood through his soul—it’s palpable, you can feel it roll through him under the armor. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed for choosing to stay behind like normal, but without you and the kid tagging along, he’ll probably be much quicker and more efficient with grabbing this throwaway puck.
Still. You point to the e-comm strapped to his wrist, and the matching one on yours. “Midnight check-in?”
His thumbs brush the line of your cheekbones as if you’re made of glass, transparent and fragile and cherished after being completely compacted and crumpled with gratitude. “If I can.”
That’s the best you’re going to get, and right now, you think you’re so dumb in love with this man that it’s more than enough for your dreamy little heart.
***
“Well, little goblin!” It’s done. It’s finally done, after months of work, and you’re proud enough to fucking beam. “How do I look?”
It’s been barely a few hours since Din left, and you spin around and lift your arms like a ship, glancing down at your figure with glee. Din’s old armor lays against you like it was created for you specifically, but that’s just a manifestation of your attention to detail. You slaved over this in all your free time not spent sparring or practicing your shots—dissolving all the paint and rust, reshaping the metal with Peli’s forge, rewiring the magnetics box to make sure it would stick to the underplates without falling off—and now it’s fucking perfect. It’s missing gloves and boots and one of the pauldrons for your shoulders, and of course, a helmet obviously, but a chest piece and two thigh braces and one pauldron actually looks kinda fucking cool. Less invasive, less heavy, arguably more feminine. Even though you’ve got nothing besides your dark, drab clothing underneath it, you still think you look… badass.
Badass.
Two gigantic black eyes blink thoughtfully at you, causing you to frown at the lack of immediate happiness from him. Come on, is nobody thrilled to see your character growth? Din was silently torn up by your childlike drive to adventure and the kid is now apparently unimpressed by the productivity you’ve engaged with during the waiting periods, so what gives? Are you missing something? Are you the problem?
No, of course not. It’s like this metal strapped to your body refuses to let you think that way any longer. You’re not the problem, but you canbe, it whispers to you.
Though, while you’re peacocking around in front of the ship in the new digs and hyping yourself up, the baby just spins around and walks away from you.
“Hey, where are you going?” You call out to his tiny little back, popping your hands on your hips. When you don’t get a gurgled response, you sigh and follow him back up the ramp, clanking. Clanking,you’re making that sound. You like to imagine that this is almost how pretty ladies in big cities feel when they wear high heels for the first time and get to listen to the clack. Ooh, it’s powerful, a reminder of your upgraded wardrobe every step you take, and you fucking loveit.
You get why Din never wanted to take his off. When the armor is comfortable and fits your body, it feels… right. Correct. Meant to be. An extension of yourself that you could almost forget about if it wasn’t weighing you down. It’s safe and concealing, protecting your body in a way that makes you want to keep it on if only for peace of mind, regardless of external threats.
Eventually, you find the kid next to the bed, hauling your backpack out from the corner of the hull. It’s three times his size and four times his weight, but he continues heave-hoing across the floor until it’s far enough away from the wall to open the contents.
“What’s up, bug?” You ask, plopping down next to him with a rattling clink clank clonk. You can get used to this, holy shit. “You hungry? No fresh meat in there, sorry to disappoint. We can go look for something outside?”
You make a gesture of putting your hand to your open mouth a few times and then touch your tummy, something you’ve started doing to signify the word food to him. The kid ignores you completely, but he also seems stumped at the concept of a zipper, so you open it for him and watch him dig around in an attempt to satisfy both of your curiosities. Soon, two little green three-fingered hands tug out a light piece of fabric. He drags it over to you and pushes the clothing into your lap, and you study it with raised eyebrows. Your robe from the festival in Nariss? This is what he wants?
“Do you want me to wear this?” You ask out loud, considering. It’s got two pieces, the hooded tunic and the pants, and it might go well with the armor. The robe was literally made from scratch for you but you never really considered putting it on again, thinking of it more as a costume full of good memories than an everyday wear kinda thing, but it might be a good idea just to see.
A few minutes later, and, well. This kid is a fucking genius. For donning a drab brown sack around his body at all times, he makes one hell of a stylist.
You look… like you finally belong at Din’s side, almost. His equal—wait, no, pfft, definitely not equal, but a counterpart of sorts. A sidekick? Are you giving off sidekick vibes, is that what this is? The opalescent fabric shielding your body has no bloodstains or wear and tear the way his clothing does, the armor laying on top of it has no char marks or dents from enemy blasters, but you look like you’re at least in the right place now. An untried soldier, perhaps, or one that’s been sheltered and never had to pay any real dues.
Since you’re already in this deep, you figure you might as well complete the package. There’s an extra holster you find in the Crest’s armory and an ammo belt that slings across your chest. It’s a bit big on you and the fancy gas canisters for your blaster weigh it down more than the regular ones Din uses, but it works. From what you can see in the reflection of the Crest’s fuselage, you’re thrilled with the final result and this time the kid is beaming, too.
He climbs up your thigh and you scoop him up, chuckling at the way he plops against the armor and snuggles up against it. Usually he sits on one of your hips, but this time you cradle him in a forearm just because the metal is too clunky to navigate.
“Guess who I am, goose.” You give one of his cheeks a tiny little poke, and the boy giggles. “Who am I?”
He looks perfectly at home cuddling up to solid steel, just as comfortable as he is when he’s falling asleep in Din’s lap. It makes you acutely aware of just how small he is, how fragile and helpless. While you’re looking down and admiring him, you see the kid bring one tiny little hand up to his mouth a few times, and then reach down to touch his tummy while he blinks up at you.
Ah, so he ishungry. You suspected as much, one meal keeps his tiny tummy full for awhile but it’s been a few days since he gobbled down some poor live animal. He’s entirely capable of catching and consuming it himself, which is a relief on your behalf, but it was pretty horrendous to witness the first couple go arounds.
“Alright, squirt,” you huff, clanging down the ramp and not bothering to close it behind you since you don’t plan on being too long. Maker, the sound is so sexy, it sits deep in your bones and makes you stand up a bit straighter, lift your chin a little higher. “Let’s see if we can find you something.”
Apparently not much happens on Anoth. The terrain is rocky and the population is abysmally low, which isn’t all that ideal. A local town or marketplace may give you something to do, but you suppose there’s an upside to boredom. The Crest continues to be pristine and you’ve now cultivated a new set of armor out of crumpled scrap that used to be gathering dust in a forgotten storage compartment. Even though there isn’t any real information about the level of crime on this planet—which typically means it’s not notable enough to be a concern—you feel safer like this as you begin trekking around slate grey boulders in search of a small animal. Your blaster slung around your hip, the light fabric rippling in the breeze, and silver metal clinging to your body.
Wait. You reach up to lift your hood over your head and pull the mask up over your nose, and now. Yes, this is the feeling. Your breath puffs against the fabric and your boots scrape across pebbles and rough cliffs, and the baby seems so content in your arm that he’s actually quiet the entire time. You search for a good twenty minutes in easy silence, but this planet seems… barren. No crawling critters outside for the baby to chase down and catch, no rivers running nearby to grab a fish from, and no markets or people to be seen.
There is, however, a large flock of birds flying overhead and a perfectly good blaster on your hip. Better than good actually, magnificent and crafted for your hand specifically. There’s also a hungry baby looking longingly up at the sky, and you give him approximately thirty seconds to use his sorcery to pluck one of them out of thin air and levitate it down towards his greedy green hands.
When it doesn’t happen, you lift your blaster with one hand and cradle the kid with the other, squinting one eye shut while you take aim.
Breathe in, breathe out. Fire.
Without any ceremony at all, the plasma beam hits and one of the birds plummets to the ground, dead long before it even reaches impact.
You… truthfully, there isn’t a single part of you that actually thought you’d make contact the very first shot, which might be why you suddenly feel shocked and a bit nauseated by your actions. You didn’t even think—you saw a living thing and then you killed it because the baby in your arms was hungry, no consideration beyond it. It makes logical sense to any rational person, yes, but it doesn’t make sense for you,and it’s fucking you up because it didn’t fuck you up the way it should’ve. You allowed the instant power rush to make you careless and brash, and the sound of it hitting the ground slices through the armor clinging to your body.
You remove your hood and pull down your mask while approaching the dead animal with a frown, trying your best to not feel like a terrible person for shooting it. It’s like as soon as your face is revealed and you’re staring down at it, the guilt starts digging claws into your stomach, shame rolling off you in waves. This little bird did nothing to you, it didn’t deserve to die, but then the baby climbs out of your grip and drops to the ground with a happy little coo. He waddles up and grabs the corpse without blinking, and then downs the entire thing in one bite, feathers and all.
“Oh.” Your face twists up with disgust, but you’re also strangely relieved at the fact that you didn’t have to be the one to touch it and that it’s completely gone now. Out of sight, out of mind. You don’t like dead things and regardless of the armor you’re wearing, you really don’t like being the reason they’re dead. Or handling them when they’re dead. Or looking at them when they’re dead. But if it’s to feed the baby, then you suppose the creature has served a greater purpose than it ever would have alive, and there’s an entire flock of them continuing to fly and sing unbothered above your head. At least the end was swift and painless for this animal, and you much prefer that over witnessing it being swallowed alive by the deceptively tiny chomper at your feet.
You think you’re still working to process what you just did when the speaker in your ear flicks on.
“Sweet girl—” Din’s voice suddenly crackles through the comm, sounding out of breath and… scared. “—to get out, they’re coming for the kid, you have to get—”
“Mando?” You reach a hand up to the earpiece, trying to hear him. He’s breaking in and out, but for the first time since you’ve known him, it sounds like there’s true terror in his voice. He’s speaking so fast, fitting so many words into such a small space when he normally doesn’t talk much at all. “Slow down, I can’t understand you—”
“Run!” He roars through the earpiece. “You can’t let them take him! Get to Nevarro—Karga will—”
Screeches of blasters quickly fill the comm and drown his voice out before he can say anything else, and you try calling out to him again but get no response. You stare down at your wrist in shock and when the communicator cuts out completely, you’re left standing with the baby at your feet in dead silence.
There’s about five full seconds of nothing before you grab the kid off the ground, turn around and sprint like hell back to the Crest.
Your mind blares panic as you run, Din’s voice repeating in your thoughts over and over again. They’re coming for the kid, you can’t let them take him, you have to get out. What does that mean? Who is coming for the kid? Whoever they are, it’s enough to make him scream at you to retreat to Nevarro, sending a life or death rush of adrenaline through your veins, pumping your legs forward as fast as you can.
Fuck, you traveled so far away from the Crest, you were so lost in your head while wearing this armor that you put your family in danger. The metal makes too much noise while you run, like it’s just not meant for it. Not meant to be worn by someone sprinting so fast for safety, it’s meant to protect someone standing still and confronting the threat that’s chasing them. The large rocks scattered around the landscape require you to serpentine your way through them, never slowing and never stopping. Get to the Crest, get to Nevarro, don’t let them take the kid.
It takes an eternity but as soon as you see the ship parked in the distance, you spot a small group of stormtroopers walking up the open ramp.
Stormtroopers?
You halt in your tracks so fast that you skid forward on the rocky ground and nearly fall, not quite believing your eyes. What the fuck are they doing here? At first you think you’re just imagining your worst nightmare coming to life—the Empire never made its way out to Arvala-7 but you’ve heard more than enough stories from Kuiil to know what you can handle and what you need to run from. You’ve never seen a stormtrooper in real life before, but you know what the armor looks like. You recognize the white plastic they strap to themselves, the cheap regulation blasters they carry and how they’re notorious for not being able to use it, but they represent a much larger threat than any single one of them individually and you’re woefully unprepared to face it.
You spin around and duck behind an enormous boulder before they can spot you, shoulders pressed tight to the rock and baby clutched to your chest as you sink down to the ground. Your heartbeat slams in synchrony to the footsteps of the troopers moving up the Crest, and your arms are wrapped so tightly around the kid that he has to use his arms to shove at your rigid hold in order to be released.
“What do I do?” You whisper to him when he finally looks up at you, staring into his large black eyes as if he’ll choose now of all moments to speak coherent words in full sentences. “What do I do?”
The wrinkles are purely for aesthetic purposes, there’s no sage advice to be found from them. You feel like you’re having an anxiety attack and might actually die before ever making it out of here. Your breaths are all wrong—you try to close your eyes and do everything you can to breathe the way Din told you, inhaling quietly through your nose and letting it out through your mouth, but you can’t. You can’t get enough oxygen, you’re so scared that your lungs are trembling and they’re making it impossible to stay silent. Tears flood your eyes and you hunker down, body freezing and crumpling under the terror. You know you need to run, but you can’t seem to move a single muscle and your only means of escape is being boarded and captured right now.
You’re doomed. You’re being confronted by certain death from dozens of meters away and it’s so much scarier when it doesn’t sneak up on you. One of the last things Din said was that they’re looking for the kid, and while you have no clue what the Empire could possibly want with this child, there isn’t a single doubt in your mind of what will happen to you if they get to him. You’re going to die if you don’t find some way to escape with the baby. You know it, and Din knows it. You could hear the pain ripping through his vocal chords when he screamed at you to run. He could be dead right this second but you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t think—
Three fingers slowly land on your cheek.
You blink at the baby in front of you, the unexpected touch of him enough to hit a reset on your fumbling and leave you stunned with zero thoughts. Feeling his tiny hand brush against the tears wetting your skin for a moment.
Except, then all he does is use your face to prop himself up and start climbing. You automatically grimace and scrunch an eye shut to protect yourself from his claws, but then he reaches one arm behind your head with a small gurgle.
Slowly, the fabric of your hood is tugged upwards, with a few pieces of your hair caught in his grip and being yanked on at the same
Warnings:SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!
A/N: Hey yall!!! So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read! School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc
Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!! As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!
Day 5–11:13am:
You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot. Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider. You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns. The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.
Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime. Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip. You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago. On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes. Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.
It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.
“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it. “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”
Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it. Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy. Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you. Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.
“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth. “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”
Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours. “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids. “They start at eight.”
Thefireworks, you almost forgot. You know what? Today is a good day. You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one. The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back. Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.
Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates. The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago. The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask. Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes. It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by. Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony. Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color. Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.
Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.
It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city. As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming. The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete. You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you. Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers. Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops. Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them. You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.
About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch. There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself. Good intentions, terrible idea. Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours. It’s so goodand it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at. Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.
Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language. Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different. It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy. Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it. Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on. There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.
At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin. You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.
A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession. First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always. Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs. Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions. The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…
Through it all, you think of Din. No matter the faces, the sights you see. There’s someone juggling. There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts. There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed. Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din. Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you. You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year. You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go. For you, he’d go.
Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second. Why… Why was that scene so vivid? So wistful? You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din. But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation. Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him. Why? You want to travel the galaxy, right? You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?
For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.
***
Day 5—5:04pm:
It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.
More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over. You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.
“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress. So many fucking people here, you know her pain. “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were justhere—”
She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.
“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you. “Before anyone knows they’re missing. Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while? You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”
Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task. Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be. Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days. The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you’ve ever met.
“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees. It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”
You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word. You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.
***
Day 5–5:17pm:
“Really?” You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.
Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you. The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet. The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.
“How did you find us so fast?” One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.
“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn. Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off. All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult. “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”
“Are you gonna rat us out?” The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.
“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away. “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”
You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.
The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second. Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective. Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—
He’s here… isn’t he?
Only, there’s nothing. Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will. You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.
It’s so… unexpected, this feeling. It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter. You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens. Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not. Playing with you from so far away.
This…thisis a taunt.
The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary. Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was. This is scarily sophisticated. Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you. You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid. You know him with your eyes closed. You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace. Not because you can see it, not really, not directly. But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.
“You okay, Nerida?”
The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you. The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.
“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room. He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least. But you’re not stupid, you know what this means. You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way. He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down. You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.
“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools. “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left. Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”
***
Day 5–5:32pm:
Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows. You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering. Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.
Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place. When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily. A purple fruit. She must’ve saved it for you.
Maker, fuck yes. It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors. As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards. It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him. You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.
Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it? It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float. It’s just a thing. Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives. Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles. You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time. You don’t know what else you’d call it. Love is the only word. To love, to know. To hold in the heart.
Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group. You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.
“Where is everyone going?” You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem. It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together. They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately. Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next. A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.
“The eastern part of the city!” Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings. “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”
“Is…” You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn. Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway. “Is it part of an ocean?”
Naydee shakes her head. “A really big lake!”
Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it. You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view. And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.
Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage. You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze. So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you. Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes. They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown. You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.
And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on. All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out. They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything. You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city. It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time. You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.
And that’s when you see him.
But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he’s just allowing it to happen. You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for. Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away… This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes. If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you’re about to be on the wrong side of.
You have a decision to make, very quickly. Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear. Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time. Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.
You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping. Baby. He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion. You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to. You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.
Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly. What do you do, what do you do?
No matter what, you know it’s over. Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result. What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you? The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.
Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear. When you do see me… try to outrun.
You should run—run,it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.
Unless…
Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor. You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right. This maybe has a… two percent chance of working? Maybe? Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have? Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.
You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead. He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing. Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left. Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—
A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.
Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear. Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrifiedand it shows, you can see it in your eyes.
You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.
“Miss Nerida?” A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actuallyfight him. Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.
Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner. They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units. Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you. Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.
Just a few more hours, kid. A few more hours.
Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.
“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking. Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong. “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”
They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you. You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it. She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.
“What did you do?” He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice. He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed? The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.
You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory. It worked. It worked. You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip. Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.
“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze. “Don’t get caught.”
There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds. “You look beautiful.”
You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you. The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.
***
Day 5–5:24pm:
Din is fucking furious.
Hehadyou. You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere. In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you. Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.
But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you. They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following. It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.
He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour. It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.
Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes. There was… a moment. Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet—
No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be. It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.
But he can’t get rid of it. Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered. The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear. It was silvery, he’s almost certain. Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.
Color. Everywhere. Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.
***
Day 5–6:59pm:
This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.
It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it. Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream. The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.
That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would. You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.
You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now. You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud. You’ve decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though. Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be. Fully, without worry or fear.
Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—
It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen. So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it. You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.
As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response. There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.
Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.
Din.
You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above. You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself. “Do you always see in black and white?”
It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does. “Only when I’m tracking someone.”
The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you. You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is. He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.
“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?” You ask after a moment. This whole time, everything has been grey for him?
“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all. “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”
For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying. Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly. He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him. “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”
He takes a second, before clarifying for you. “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”
So that was the ultimatum. He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again. Does he not understand? Does he not know what you know? Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him. It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest. And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive. Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t. Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.
“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky. It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point. “You’d find me without the helmet. And I’d find you.”
The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick. You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course. That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred. Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight. This is a celebration of life and family. Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching. A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.
“Think so?” He asks softly. He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant. You’re able to hear it in his words. You don’t know why, though. Doesn’t he believe you? Perhaps… perhaps this isn’tThe Way. Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all. Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love. This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that? How would the Mandalorians reconcile that? You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face. It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.
“I know so.” For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does. Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you. “Will you look at the sky?”
“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t. Not the way you want him to. And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you? The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest. You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them. All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time. You want him to know the significance of that.
“With color?” You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.
“I…” Din wants to argue, or at least say it again. He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off. It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.
“How do I fix it then?” You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold. How do you fix this problem? How do you convince him to look with you? You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left. “Do you want me to come look for you? It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away. Look at the sky.”
It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay. You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response. You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you. He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.
But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again. This must be the end, they saved the best for last. Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.
“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you. Maker, it is, isn’t it? Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying. Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.
It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways. It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.
Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.
“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on. “Come and find me.”
***
Day 5–7:37pm:
After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you. Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.
Stars, that’s a lot of children. They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.
“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her. “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”
“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up. At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you. Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day. You’re going to have to say goodbye now.
“What happened to your family?” She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention. “Have you been in touch with them? If not, I’m sure you can come back with us. It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”
You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.
But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?
There’s more people here. More danger, but better places to hide. It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense. But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women. He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.
It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule. Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses? Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time? No, you’re overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.
“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that. Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end. Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond. Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical. Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it. You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.
“I…” Quick, come up with something. You clear your throat. “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them. I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”
Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”
Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t. You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is. You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them. But with Din, you don’t have any walls. They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since. It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.
Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is. Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back. The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out. You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.
You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is. You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time. He could be anywhere now. Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.
***
Day 5–11:32pm:
You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view. One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so. Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.
The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach. Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy. If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it. These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous. Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.
It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong. This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so. It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier. Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet. Why? Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right. What’s he waiting for? You can’t have won. It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he shouldbe there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.
When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.
“Sorry!” Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face. “Didn’t mean to scare you! I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there. “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep. Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”
You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus. She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din. Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you. You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far. Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards. You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls. What is he doing?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it. “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”
She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently. The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.
Fuck, you just need to breathe. As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax. You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance. Breathe. Focus. There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.
Can you eat? You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy. You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now. The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard. It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there. The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.
A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there. Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator. Five minutes. You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you. Can you feel him? Is he closing in?
You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath. Focus on that feeling from earlier. The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards. Can you feel him?
Something catches your eye.
Or no… it doesn’t, does it? Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss. The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual. Nothing else.
But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall. It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat. He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?
Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back. You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately needto keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—
—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.
Run. Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t. Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass. He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can. The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away. Where’s the kid? How did he get those robes? Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?
Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.
You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them. It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward. Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster. Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.
As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you. Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.
Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you. Walk right by… Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing. He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place. The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight. Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away. The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster. It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.
You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet. Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door. Where is he? There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them? Wasn’t he right behind you?
The helmet hissed just before it was lifted off - brown eyes staring back once more but somehow it was softer than before. The fear that was imbued in them back at the imperial base was gone. Now it seemed that all he could see was you.
You looked away on instinct, not daring to hold eye contact any longer. You shook your head at his feet. “No - back at the base, you did what was necessary to find the kid. This is…”
“It’s what I want.” Hearing him step forward, you made a small effort to step away but he was fast, hands catching your arms and holding you in place as he moved closer. “I want you to see me, Y/n.”
One of his hands found your chin and he gently guided your eyes up the beskar until they were staring into his own - his warm brown, human eyes that always watched from behind the helmet visor. It didn’t take long before you surrendered to your emotions and leaned forward, pressing your mouth against his as if he could provide you with oxygen.
Summary:When asking for zoomies is just too much for you.
You didn’t like the new ship. Not one bit.
It made you sit back, not on your man’s lap.
You travelled while sitting at the back, not while he held you. You held Grogu close to you, but you needed his arms around you, you needed to feel the cool Beskar and his heat radiating off of him, making you fall asleep as he flew. Now, all you had was your kid. Who constantly kept on banging the window, asking Din to go faster. Honestly it was adorable, but you started to feel sick after the tenth time. So, when Grogu wanted Din to go again, you grabbed his little arms.
“Please, no more, I feel sick.” the Kid understood you, of course he stopped, not wanting to see his mommy sick he decided to cuddle against your chest.
Then you heard Din’s voice through the comunication system.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just no more jumps please, my head hurts.”
“Should we stop? There is a planet fairly close.”
And he already stirred the ship to go that way, the last thing he wanted is for you to be sick and some fresh air will really help you.
After landing, you quickly got out of the ship, with the Kid still in your hands, you started walking around the foresty planet.
“I feel better…but, I’m a bit dizzy.” you said as you leaned against a tree. Din rushed over to your side, helping you to a nearby rock to sit on.
“Meshla? What can I do?”
You handed him Grogu and held your head, “I don’t know. Do you have any meds?”
“I do,” he rushed to his ship, finding the emergency bag and taking out a painkiller, he handed it to you with some water.
“Thank you.” you took the pill.
“I will only use that when we are chased or something, if you get a headache every time.”
“I don’t think it’s that, it's the amount. You did it like 12 times because he asked you. But we learned from it.” Grogu made a noise and reached out to you, Din held him closer to you as he grabbed your hand. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to heal me, I’m good.” you said as you started to feel the force he used. As you said that, he stopped. “I just need an hour or so, then we an go.” you said to Din as you took Grogu from him once more. He nodded and decided to go relax with you under the huge tree.
You leaned against him, he moved his arms around you, finally, finally he was holding you, just as you wanted.
Now, not even the annoying headache could ruin your mood.
Ya’ll, I can’t believe I made a pledge to post two stories today when I haven’t even started one of them! At least the second one is a drabble. Also this ‘reader’s first time’ one is getting long, ahaha. Whoops.
(imagine being a writer and actually meeting a deadline)
I am low-key jelly of people who can knock out a 3k fic in one sitting and be like ‘i didn’t have time to edit’ and for it to still be such high quality. Like, god, i wish that were me.
Kind of like domestic headcanons I guess? But really just focusing on the fact that even though this man acts like a big, scary bounty hunter, his natural instinct is to take care of those around him :’)
warnings: mentions of hunger, mentions of violence
-Din Djarin-
One of Mando’s main ways of showing affection is simply taking care of you. He makes sure you’re healthy, happy, and safe at all times and it’s something constantly on his mind. He views those close to him as being under his protection — it’s his jobto take care of them, and he’d feel guilty if he didn’t. So when you’re his s/o specifically, he takes that to an even higher level
You and the child always eat first. Always. Without. Question.
It’s not just because of his creed, but because the idea of you and Grogu having rumbling stomachs as you sleep is enough to keep him up at night – he’s seen what hunger does to people, and he’ll stick to just eating crumbs if it keeps you and Grogu fed
Once you made him eat first, since you felt bad he always got leftovers, and it took him ages to just take the dish to a room over
Only to come back from the other room after taking five bites and sliding the dish towards you and Grogu. “Here. Now eat.”
“But you hardly touched it,” you said, brow furrowing.
“I’ll be hungry once you and the child aren’t.”
Yeah. Very unhealthy caretaker mentality and he has no idea how to respond when that care is returned
Doesn’t like leaving you and Grogu by yourselves unless he knows/trusts a place well because the paranoia and anxiety eats him alive. What are you two doing? You’re staying in the ship like he asked? The Child is behaving? Neither of you appeared sick before he left, right?
So there’s a little checklist he goes through before he leaves
“You remember where the guns are?”
“Yes, Mando.”
“And the hiding spot if people get on the ship?”
“Mhmm.”
“Double-lock the ship once I’m off, alright?”
“Okie dokie.”
“And it doesn’t open again for anyone but me.”
“Mando.”
“If you’re ever uncertain, a shot to the leg is the best option.”
“Din.”
You and Grogu often sit in the seat behind him when he’s piloting the ship, and despite his reminders to go to bed, you end up falling asleep in the chair often. So, moving with painstaking care and cringing every time you or Grogu stir in your sleep, he’ll move you to your bed — which is basically a collection of every soft thing Mando could find on the ship
If you ever get nightmares he’ll let you curl up against him
When you’re out traveling, you try to suggest sleeping in shifts, but Mando always sets it up so that you only lose an hour or two of sleep while he takes on the brunt of keeping watch
You sometimes get frustrated with him for constantly throwing his own needs to the side and practically putting your needs up on an altar, so you stubbornly insist on taking care of him
And he’s like??? Someone??? Wants to take care of me?? What??
Listen, listen, I know I’ve never so much as mentioned Star Wars here, let alone the Mandalorian buuuut…. I could not resist. This blog is multi-fandom after all, so what’s more fandom to add to the variety?
-Din Djarin-
Whenever you’re in new areas, he always goes first to do a quick look around of the area – make sure it’s safe for you and Grogu and, if not, where the closest exit is. Then, he’ll usher you two in
He’s always hovering a step away until he’s 100% certain this new place is safe, intimidating strangers and making it very clear you’re under his protection
He just likes having you close, being able to have you in his arms and shelter you from everything else
He doesn’t touch you too often in public, simply because a Mandalorian being a bit too touchy could draw unwanted attention. It’s the little touches that convey just how much he cares for you: little nudges on your back when you need to walk past suspicious people faster, brushing against your shoulder just so you know he’s there
Scared of losing you in crowded areas, so he’ll gently grab your shoulder or the back of your shirt to avoid losing you
As protective as he is though, he isn’t suffocatingor anything. He lets you be independent and have fun, and keeps his paranoia to a minimum for your sake
Whenever trouble is rising, his body subconsciously shifts to stand between you and the danger
Hewilluse himself as a shield for you
Sometimes he has nightmares of bad things happening to you or Grogu. The best way for him to get through them is to just check up on you in the night, which usually results in him standing guard outside your bed/room for awhile
He teaches you the basics of combat after a particularly bad nightmare, so he could have some peace of mind
When violence arises, he always directs you and Grogu away from the gore – neither of you need to see that
Any sign of fear in you literally breaks his heart. He’s a protecter, and sees it as his job to keep you safe
If anyone so much as jokes about your safety, Mando will see red
The same brutal hands that pull triggers and end lives will be so delicatefor you, tucking back your hair and rubbing your hand
Mando has given you very specific instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him – safe houses, friends who owe him favors, where to find weapons/money, etc, so that you could basically survive without him in case… you know
Rating:Explicit (18+ ONLY, minors this is not the fic for you)
Warnings: unprotected sex (this is fictional wrap it up irl), cum eating, Mando’s manspread is its own warning tbh, attempted assault (grabbing your arm until Mando intervenes), f! masturbation until interrupted how dare, the helmet doesn’t come off until it does, cursing, I think that’s it but as always let me know.
Summary: You realize Mando has a feature in his helmet that lets him see how hot you are at a really inconvenient time. That’s it. That’s the plot.
A/N: Some of you may recognize this as a sneak peek I posted months ago and never posted. So yes, it’s finally here.
Warnings: 18+. Sex pollen. Dub-con due to the sex pollen. Drugging (reader’s drink gets spiked). Protective and pissed off Din. Slight gore. Dead bodies. Fingering. Unprotected PIV. Outdoor sex.
A/N: I fucked up slightly, this was intended for the Sin series but when I re-checked the ask I realised I’d gone in a totally different direction than the request. I didn’t really want to re-write this so now everyone gets an extra Din fic.
Summary: After learning something new you want to toy with him even more…
Rating:Explicit (18+ only!)
Warnings: f!reader, dom reader dynamics, dom din dynamics, established relationship, p0rn with very little plot , male masturbation, oral sex, unprotected piv, cum play , dirty talk, praise kink ❤️ , c0ck worship , din’s breeding kink pops out.
AN:@beskarprincessjenny and i are back hehe did you miss us? Loosely based after season 2 of mando.
Warning: smut, porn with a little plot, okay it’s a lot; overstimulation, multiple orgasm, edging, fingering, penetration, breeding kink, squirting but only if you squint, Mando has big cock syndrome
Based on the “Mommy Milkers Mando” post, I put way too much effort into this and it’s pure filth, read at your own risk, if you guys like it let me know and maybe I’ll turn it into a series lol
***
You’d been traveling with Mando for over three months.
During that time, all of which you spent scrubbing the floor of the Razor Crest and fixing the antique back to working conditions, you’d grown accustomed to the presence of both the bounty hunter and the small green creature under his care. When you asked about it all Mando gave you for an explanation was that the “child” was a foundling and that it was under his care. As if that was good enough to answer your question. Before he was walking off to go on another hunt.
Most of the times he took the child with him, and on a few rare occasions, like today, he’d leave it behind with you. Mando said he’d be back in a few hours. But even the little green alien grew restless inside the confines of the cockpit the longer that time went by. Mando was never this late. In fact even when he came close to being late it was usually within minutes of his estimated arrival. But it had been six extra, long and dragged out hours, since he told you he’d be back. You knew it wasn’t your place to question him, after all you where only the hired help, and Mando rarely told you much anyway.
Your job was to take care of the child and not interfere with the Mandalorian’s job, it was as simple as that. “Maybe I should go look for him,” Yet here you where worrying about him as if he needed you to. “Well?” You looked down at the child for some sign of an agreement, casting its massive eyes up at you expectantly. He opened his tiny mouth, yawning in exhaustion, seemingly worn out from keeping up with your constant chatter. You laughed quietly as he blinked tiredly at you, “Come on, little one. Let’s get you to bed.”
-
You where stressing out now. It’s not like Mando hadn’t gone on long hunts before, this wasn’t something new after all, sometimes you’d even gone days without seeing him. But what distinguished this from the other times, was the fact that he’d usually tell you how long I’d take him to come back. You stood up, dusting off your pants to come up with a backup plan if Mando didn’t return in the next twenty minutes. But almost as soon as you decided against the idea, figuring Mando could handle himself, the hatch of the ship opened and Mando strode in with the bounty blabbering about a bargain not far behind. “Please I can pay-”
The poor idiot didn’t stand a chance, couldn’t even finish his sentence before Mando was shoving him in carbonite. He didn’t anticipate how long this would take him either, didn’t expect the bounty to put up a surprisingly good fight. And despite him being done with the job, bounty frozen in carbonite, his shoulders where tense with something near frustration as you walked towards him. He seemed more wound up than he’d ever been in the short time you knew him, and something about that made you uneasy. “What happened?”
This close, the lights where giving you perfect visibility of his disheveled state. For starters his chest armor along with the shoulder pads where discarded on the floor, as he sat hunched over on one of the crates littered in the ships hull. The arm guards where still connected to his forearms, and the yellow gloves remained attached to each individual finger. But despite this being the most exposed you’d seen Mando, aside from the day you caught a glimpse of one of his wrist, this wasn’t what struck out the most.
It was the state of the clothing beneath, which was nearly falling off his chest, like something had somehow melted off the fabric. There was practically more holes than there was fabric, patches of flesh peaking out through the wide openings which left him completely exposed. “Xenoboric acid, the beskar kept it off my skin for the most part.” He answered you without you having to ask him first, and then you realized maybe you where ogling him too much, too intently that he took notice and snapped you out of your trance.
“Are you hurt?” He was quiet, like he had to think about it. As if he suddenly remembered that maybe he was hurt. “Not that bad," he reached behind him, where his cape usually covered the broad expanse of his shoulders. "It’s all mostly on my back, and I can’t reach back there.” You should have crushed the thought before it grew in your head, spreading like a wildfire that burned on the tip of your tongue until the words came rushing out trying to escape. “Maybe I can help you, if you’d like.”
He gave you a nod, sitting upright into what you assumed was a comfortable positing for him. You grabbed the nearby medpac and went around to see how bad the damage was, not sure if he even had a shirt covering him in the first place with how much the acid ate away. “Would you mind if I cut this off? It’s only going to get in the way.” He handed you his vibroblade in response, and with careful gentle tugs you managed to cut off the remaining fabric.
“Is it bad?” It really wasn’t bad. The few minor burns looked mildly irritated, the skin barely flushed in reaction. But your sudden reaction of shock upon seeing how many scars he had could have been mistaken for a “shit this is bad” sign. You cleared your throat, grabbing the bacta spray and slowly covering the blotchy spots on his skin. “Not at all.”
Maker his skin was nice. Despite the many scars, and the lingering bruises from previous hunts, you couldn’t help but admire him. The strong muscles of his shoulders, the prominent back dimples, and the constellations of moles and freckles littered on his skin. You wanted to kiss every single one. Map out exactly where they where and trace them every single day so you wouldn’t forget them. Your finger squeezed the spray a little too hard, and this seemed to catch Mando off guard because you could practically see the shiver as it ran down his spine.
“Sorry it’s just,” he paused, unsure if he should admit it to himself that he was enjoying this as much as you where. “It’s been so long since I’ve had human contact.” Somehow those where the wrong words to us, or maybe in a way it was the right one. Because it made you run your index finger across one of his scars, slowly trailing it down his spine , and then pausing before moving up to the dip between his shoulder blades. He sighed when your hand came to a stop on his shoulder, bringing his own gloved hand to rest on top of your fingers. “I was so worried you wouldn’t come back this time.”
He didn’t push your hand away, or pull you closer, almost like he was reaching some unknown limit you didn’t know about. For you this this wasn’t new, by any means, because it was nothing explicitly out of the ordinary. But for Mando? This was too intimate, to close to what the creed said was wrong, and for the first time he wondered why exactly it was so wrong in the first place. Why he should push you away instead of considering that for a moment he shouldn’t. “I know.”
He wasn’t blind, or oblivious to the shy glances you’d given him in the three months you’d spent together. How he’d notice the glint in your eyes when you saw him come back from a hunt. He wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought of you either. Hadn’t suppressed his feeling that had somehow rooted themselves since the moment he met you, Hadn’t wished that the fingers currently trailing his skin where replaced with something else.
The grip on your hand tightened, and he didn’t bother to notice how his arm was tugging you forward until you’d come around to face him. Slowly, like some sort of forbidden game, he pulled you into his lap, hands feeling for your warmth as they gripped your legs and touched anywhere they could. He wanted this, he wanted you. And it seemed you where both tired of pretending like you didn’t.
You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, bitting lightly at the exposed patch of sensitive skin. While he worked on removing your pants, you let the back of one of your hands tease the front of his own and felt thrilled to find him hard and prominent against his zipper. A frustrated sound came from your throat when he began unbuttoning the front of your shirt. “Don’t worry about undressing me. Stop wasting time and just fuck me already, I’ve waited long enough.”
“Someone sounds eager,” Mando replied, bending his knees to grind himself against the slit between your legs. “Were you really waiting for me this long? You could’ve just told me what you wanted sooner.” You gasped at his actions. “I thought I dropped enough hints,” you said voice shaking as you let out a sigh, stretching further across his lap when one of Mando’s hands snuck inside you shirt to rub and pinch one of your nipples.
You'd barely just begun, but you where already terribly aroused, face flushed with excitement, the skin at the back of your neck shimmering with a fine layer of sweat. You already told him what he wanted to hear, but this was something different and new to you both, crackling with tension, ripe with desire. You didn’t just want him. You needed him, hungered for him in a way that only Mando could satisfy.
There wasn’t really a need for him to give shape to the words that you where thinking, but he leaned in close to your ear anyway, whispering his answer through modulated beskar on your skin. “You mean the look you always gave me, like you might die if I didn’t give you my cock. Is that it?” He ran his gloved fingers up the front of your panties just to watch the way your face twisted as you fought to withhold a most immodest expression.
“…I couldn’t ask you, every time I wanted to bring it up I just couldn’t, which just made me want to hold you down in one place, for you to hold me down, to fuck– I don’t know.” You bit down on your bottom lip and leaned back, presenting yourself to the bounty hunter, tits spilling out of your shirt slick with sweat and flushed pink. “I didn’t have anything else to do so it was all I could think about.”
“I desperately wanted you and yet I never brought myself to make a move.” You flexed your thighs anxiously, unconsciously even, as you waited for Mando to touch you, to do something. Under your hand, he felt so hard that you knew it must have been getting uncomfortable to stay trapped in his clothes. It took Mando a lot of fortitude to keep himself from carelessly tearing the rest of his clothes off himself, the things you said bringing life to something dangerously primal in him.
“Please” you didn’t care about sounding needy, rolling your head against your own shoulder, head thrown back, looking up at Mando with lust clouded eyes. “I’m so wet right now, I feel like I might come if you so much as put your hands on me again. You’ll take responsibility for this, won’t you? It’s your fault, after all for making me wait this long.”
Mando swallowed, watching your arousal drip down your thighs. To test you, he ran his thumb up your thigh and nearly groaned when you shivered, your body jerking in response. The way you stiffened, it looked like you really where trying to keep yourself from coming. And Mando didn’t want you to come before he even gave you what you really wanted, so he immediately went to work on his own pants and pushed them down just enough to free his cock. “Mando I don’t care if it hurts, just please, hurry.”
“I do, though,” Mando said. He wasn’t the type who liked to toot his own horn, but fitting his cock in you would be a physical impossibility without lubrication and the proper preparation. You wouldn’t be the only one he would be hurting if he tried to slam the unlubricated girth of it in you all at once. Thankfully, you took him seriously, relaxing on his lap momentarily.
He put his hands on the backs of your knees to get you to stay where you where. With your legs pushed apart, Mando found it easy to slide in his first finger. You made a sound in the back of your throat and your thighs clamped together so suddenly that you might’ve fallen off his lap had Mando not grabbed you with his other hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stroking your hip.
“I was serious when I said I might come. Don’t do more than you have to.”
Gently, he nudged your legs apart again and added a second finger, pushing them in slowly to open you up. After he withdrew them, he added a third for good measure. Two may have been enough, but a third never hurt when he knew that his cock would pose a much greater strain on your body.
As he moved his wrist and curled his fingers as much as he could inside your incredible tightness, you reached down and squeezed your fingers around the base of his cock. The buckles on his loosened belt jingled as his shoulders tensed in arousal at the sudden contact. “Please,” you muttered, dipping your head low enough to press you forehead against his collarbone.
When Mando removed his fingers, the sigh that you gave sounded like one of relief. Mando moved back for a few seconds to appreciate the sight before him. The position you where in wouldn’t require much adjustment. He could just lift you up a little, and it would perfectly line his cock up to your entrance. So he did just that. Grabbing you by your waist, he lifted you up slightly and pulled you back down, lifting your hips upward to provide Mando with a sufficient angle. You sighed in response and wiggled your hips, glancing up at his visor with an irresistibly needy look.
He stopped to remove his gloves, while you continued to watch as Mando took himself in his hand and applied some of the slick arousal between your legs on his fingers like lubricant to his cock. He stroked it, covering himself thoroughly, then pulled his hand away to hold your waist, and readied himself at your entrance. Nudging his cock against your slick entrance, he applied some light pressure and continued to move his hips forward slowly until your body relaxed enough to allow the head to slip inside.
A hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as he slowly sunk deeper inside and you kept watching. You didn’t quite get a good look at it but you where almost certain Mando wasn’t even halfway in, somehow, everything was proportionally bigger all of a sudden. He pulled back, feeling the tight pull of your body around every inch of his cock. Then he pushed back in again, going all the way to the base, when he heard you give a surprised yelp and-
“Did you come already?” Your entire back stiffened, but Mando could feel it, the intense pulsations around his cock, felt the backs of your thighs quivering against his own. You buried your head down, refusing to answer, but when Mando reached down and put his fingers around you clit, there was no mistaking it. “And you’re still this wet.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide his embarrassment. “I told you,” you said, sounding muffled. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold on.” That made him wonder, though. Your arousal didn’t seem to be waning in the least, so he wondered if he could assume that you wanted more. “Is it alright if I keep going? You feel even tighter than before, but I’m definitely willing to give you more if that’s what you want.”
“I won’t do anything to stop you,” you said, loud enough to catch Mando’s attention. “Keep going ‘til you’re satisfied.” Now that he had your expressed permission, he wasn’t going to hold back. But as Mando told you, your felt even tighter after you came, your muscles all clenching down around him to hold him inside. It took him a few awkward thrusts before you started to loosen up again, to relax around him, but then it was just right.
It felt incredible inside of you. He already got some of your cum on his hand, so he reached down and lightly massaged his slick fingers back and forth around your clit in slow circular motions. You couldn’t help the moan that left you and when you pushed back to meet one of his thrusts, Mando felt his cock twitch inside you.
“You’re really raring to go,” he said, appreciating the bundle of nerves shiver your entrance with firm, smooth strokes of his fingers. You moved in response meeting another one of his thrusts, taking him so deep that your thighs met snugly with Mando’s own. Every thrust drew a pleased sigh from you and his breath seemed to hitch whenever he angled his thrusts upward. With how tight you where, it was a bit difficult to angle himself without moving you around too much, but his width seemed to make up for it. It was like every push drove his cock over your sweet spot in the position he held you in his lap.
You had assumed most of the control. Even though Mando was the one holding your waist, you where the one doing most of the work, pressing yourself down against his cock to drive his shallow thrusts deeper. Your pace was slow, pleasurable, but once Mando realized the effect he was having on you, he wanted to see how much you would be able to take.
Mando put both hands on you waist and pressed in hard, eliciting a bright gasp from your parted lips. “There?” he asked, repeating the motion, receiving the same reaction. You panted hard and stretched your arms out to grasp the sides of his thighs. Mando pulled your hips up a little higher, lifting your feet right off the floor so that he could take full control.
“M-more,” you gasped, voice breaking. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Please… Mando. Harder. Give me more.”
Mando could tell that he was nearing his own limits already, yet it looked far from over for you. After another few well-timed jabs of his cock, he felt your walls squeezing around him again, threatening to draw his orgasm from him as you endured your second. When the pressure surrounding him became almost too much to take, he pulled out. He made sure to keep his hands on your waist to keep you from falling as he shivered through his climax and gently helped you move to the floor so that you could lay more comfortably on your back without any support. As he turned your over, he caught a glimpse of the mess he made on your thighs, his own cum dribbling down obscenely to your entrance and felt his breath catch and his cock respond with interest as well.
When the shaking in your thighs subsided, you took a deep breath and lifted a hand to push the sweat from your forehead. You looked down your body at Mando, cheeks flushed a passionate red, and your eyes slowly traveled down his body; from his helmet, over his heaving chest, down to his cock that still jutted attentively.
You eyed it thoughtfully, then started to impatiently tug at your shirt. Mando chuckled softly, amused by your fruitless struggling, and decided to help you. The shirt was quickly pulled off and discarded into the hull of the crest, along with the rest of your clothes. When that all was removed, you laid back languidly and parted your legs wider for him, lifting your knees up with your hands. Your arousal had finally begun to subside but you stroked your fingers over your own entrance gently, sighing when you touched the too-sensitive spot where Mando had stretched you open. “Go on,” you said with a slight tilt of your head.
“You really want more?” Mando asked. His cock begged him to shut up and not question your decision. You curled one of your fingers, beckoning him closer seductively. He couldn’t argue with that, his cock hard again in an instant while he dropped down to his knees. Mando returned to his place between your legs and positioned himself, then slowly pushed inside as he sunk down into your embrace.
Mando did a good job of pretending to be relaxed, but he could feel the desperation in your embrace. You clung to him with your arms thrown loosely around his neck, as Mando wrapped his own around your waist, his arm guards digging into your skin. Your legs slid easily around his waist with the way you where laying on your back, and even though it probably wasn’t the most comfortable of places for you to lay, it was extremely easy for Mando to thrust into you from there.
The additional lubricant from both of your cum mixed together was exactly what he needed. Perhaps it was the lube, perhaps it was just your body becoming more accommodating – whatever it was, he found it a lot easier to piston his hips, encountering no resistance from within. You wrapped your legs around his waist more tightly, holding him against you in a way that kept his thrusts short. Despite the fact you already came twice, it wasn’t too long before you where close again, your breathing having gone ragged long before then. Mando glanced down and had to still himself for a moment, worried that he would come on the spot when he saw the look on your face.
You weren’t even trying to hide how good it felt anymore. Your pleasure was on open display; face red all over, eyelids half-closed, your lower lip held between your teeth as you moaned softly whenever Mando grazed that spot inside your with the head of his cock. You must’ve realized what an irreparable mess you where because you didn’t even look away when you noticed Mando looking at you. Any slight touch to his skin made you shiver, so it seemed that he may have already gone beyond his limit, but Mando was curious just how long you intended to keep going.
One thing was for sure, though. Mando wasn’t going to be able to last – not when he had you underneath him, looking like you needed his cock more than anything else in the galaxy. “I’m close,” he warned, planting his hands on you shoulder, pushing lightly to try and separate you. “Shit, if you don’t let go of me, I’m going to come inside of you.”
You didn’t seem concerned. “Coming inside feels good though, doesn’t it?” You took a breath through your nose and your nostrils flared as a devilish grin stretched across your lips. “I know you want to.”
With your legs locked around his waist, he didn’t have much choice. Mando was definitely strong enough to pry you off if he really tried – if he really wanted to – but his body had other plans. You dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him down to press your heaving chest against his own, and any noises he made were muffled inside the helmet. You gave a few very nice rolls of your hips that caught Mando off guard and managed to pull his climax from him. He felt your heels pressing into the small of his back to keep him in as far as he could go, felt you quivering under him as he released deep, deep inside of you.
“M-Mando,” you whimpered, your body trembling as Mando tried to extract himself from your strong grip. After he was able to push your knees back so he could straighten up, he looked down and noticed an amount of clear fluid pooling in between your legs, a bit of it still dripping down the side of your thighs. “Did you…?” he asked.
You pushed a hand through your hair and looked aside. “N-no… I didn’t come, if that’s what you’re asking. I mean – I don’t think this counts, does it?” You asked, running fingers on the damp skin on your legs. “It felt like you were pushing it out of me every time you stuck your dick in me. Look at this.” He managed to removed the armor on his forearms, bringing his hands up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “If I’m not mistaken, it looks to me like your body’s asking for more.”
You looked up at him from under your lowered lids with interest, but still seemed skeptical. “You aren’t even hard anymore, how much longer can you keep this up,” You knew Mando was somewhat on the older side, and yet somehow you didn’t expect this amount of stamina to come from someone like him. “Not a problem. I already got you nice and wet, didn’t I?” He could tell that you had something else to say, but your words stopped in your throat when Mando plunged two of his fingers back into your slick hole. “Hm? Were you going to say something?”
One of your hands shot down to squeeze Mando’s wrist in an attempt to desperately ward off your orgasm. Your mouth moved as if to form words, only to make soundless little protest, seemingly more concerned about avoiding your climax more than anything else.
“Does it feel that good?” Mando asked, angling his wrist, rubbing his fingers firmly inside of you. You let your head fall back against the floor and whined, but still refused to answer. It was obvious what the answer was anyway. It felt so good that you never wanted it to end. As Mando watched his own cum come dripping from your abused entrance he wondered how much more you could take.
“How about a third?” he asked, slipping his fingers from you for a second to join them with another a second later. Immediately, you constricted around him tightly and cried out, finally using your voice to beg Mando to slow down. He could have, really he should have, but the slick combination of his cum and mixed with your juices made it too easy to slide his fingers in and out of you. “Two fingers aren’t enough to satisfy you anymore, are they?” He turned his wrist and when he attempted to spread his three fingers apart, your knees shook, like you might try to run away from the unavoidable pleasure.
Mando put his free hand on your waist to hold you down and pushed his fingers inside roughly, as deeply as he could send them. You tried, really you did try to keep yourself from coming, but it was too much for you to control. This time, your third was a lot less powerful than the others and much less potent with only a small amount of arousal coating Mandos fingers at your entrance.
He slipped his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss, looking… almost disappointed that he would stop now. Yet when Mando reached up and massaged those same fingers around your clit, you jumped like you’d been stung. “Too sensitive now?” he asked, rubbing his thumb around your folds. You clawed at the surface of the floor and turned your head to the side, gasping weakly as he continued to torment him with his firm touch. “Do you want me to stop? Three times seems like enough.”
When he removed his hand, your hands shot out to catch his wrist. You looked like you where going through some kind of difficult internal struggle, unsure whether it felt good or if it hurt. If you wanted more, to take anything and everything Mando could give you, or if it was time for you to stop. “Tell me what you want sweetheart.” Mando asked again, sliding his palms lightly over your inner thighs, watching you try and remember how to even speak basic.
He placed his fingertips over your entrance and waited. Watching as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and moved to look down at what Mando was doing. You took deep breaths through your nose and your eyes were wide, intent, as if you were in a trance, crazed with the desire for more regardless of whatever the common sense part of your brain told you. Slowly, Mando stroked his fingers over your entrance again while he watched you, equally mesmerized by the way you where reacted to him.
Once he pushed his fingers back inside, your shoulders immediately sank back on the floor, back arched, with a loud cry of pleasure tearing from within you. Mando was impressed that you could make any sound at all. For a while there, he thought you might’ve even lost your voice.
You squirmed around on his fingers, their thick and long length stretching you differently than his cock did, sometimes taking them deeper, making Mando wonder if you where trying to get more or trying to get away. Eventually, Mando stopped trying to figure out which it was, concluding that it must’ve been a bit of both. Either way, he was confident that there wouldn’t be anything left in you. It was surprising that you already managed to come three times, but now that you had reached this point, he had to keep going. He was too curious to find out what might happen if you came again.
Sometime during the time it took him to pleasure you with his fingers he’d grown hard again. The tip of his cock oozing precum that rolled down in thick beads to the base of his balls. He was completely stiff above you, unmoving while you remained trapped beneath him in your fucked out state. And just as you opened your mouth to say something, he was pushing in, and oh kriff, you hadn’t gotten a good look at his cock this whole time. With this new angle it felt huge as he pushed his way in, splitting you again you deep inside you it drove you dizzy.
It burned, it burned as he slid all the way in again, and maker you could feel it when he pressed down on your hips, and it felt so good, felt so full. That you heaved a gasp once Mando was rooted deep in you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “Good-” He gasped, voice strained even through the modulator, “So fucking good, sweetheart.”
Maker, it nearly hurts with how fucking good it feels. The noise you make is indescribable in its obscenity—desperate and long and seeking. Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven, laying with your legs open and letting him have you this way. He knows as much about you as you do about him—which is to say, absolutely nothing—but now you both know the taste of each other’s pleasure, the intimate knowledge of its gorgeous heat and how right it feels.
“M-Mand… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through your panting, warped by the heavy sound of your breaths and gasps. “Can—Can we do this, again,” His fingers curl against your thighs, and your hips almost feel like they’re doing too much, muscles tightening and refusing to loosen and relax. “Maybe not right now but, soon?”
But then you nearly combust when instead of verbally responding, the Mandalorian just sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt, joining the cock still buried deep inside you. “Oh—f-fuck—”
You can’t tell if the short, rough little growl he makes inside the helmet is from the way you instantly tighten around his cock again, but it still rocks down to your core nonetheless. It doesn’t matter, because he pulls them out and then pushes them back in again, starts doing that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up in presentation and doing everything you could to entice him to hurry the fuck up.
And somehow it works, because suddenly he starts moving faster, a litany of praises spilling from his lips, gasping at the increase in pressure inside you, eyes carefully on your face to any sign that you wanted out. But fuck, your head was drowning in pleasure, as you chased your fourth orgasm. And you began to roll your hips back, forward, meeting his deep thrusts wherever you could feel them.
Something wicked begins to burn in your core, spread threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis. It rises up through your abdomen and sinks down to your knees, wrapping so tightly around them around them you fear the muscles could snap. Your breathing gets shallower, the base of your lungs too cramped by the oncoming storm to fill properly.
“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside you quickly pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his shoulders turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—” His fingers curl, pressing up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, and it’s all you can do to stifle a sober
It didn’t matter just how overwhelming it all was- the overstimulation of your previous orgasms, you needed it. Mando was pounding into you now, and all you could hear was the obscene sounds of where skin met skin, of your moans, of his soft whispered “sweetheart’s” and other reverent praise. You were quickly rolling towards your orgasm, peaking high and you keened, back arching as you finally came the way you wanted, pussy dripping cum as you clenched around Mando, dragging him over the edge with you as you milked his cock.
Things slowly return to you one by one; the angle of his fingers still pressing up tight inside you. The coldness of beskar on the back of your thighs, the solid weight of it crushing down on your body. Your fingers are clamped so tight in his skin, you think they leave deep red marks when you finally loosen them. He slowly pulls out of your swollen heat and holds your thigh open with wet fingers.
You feel flattened. Exhaustion is an incredible inhibitor, so much that you don’t realize your eyes are screwed shut when he’s pulling away from you. The brightness of the cockpit returns, the air almost feeling fresh in your lungs. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, knuckles dragging against them in a way you can only describe as a makeshift kiss. “You need to rest, then maybe we can work up to five.”
Summary: Reader is a smuggler/thief who steals from the Mandalorian and quickly realizes how big of a mistake that turned out to be.
***
So you’d fucked up.
It seemed so easy, the ship left abandoned and unguarded in the docking bay without any surveillance or droids surrounding the area. At first you nearly walked past the antique, it’s model and condition not worth more than a few thousand credits. But it seemed so easy you couldn’t help yourself from sneaking into the ship unnoticed to steal nearly every valuable thing in sight.
You took all the weapons, most of the credits, at least the ones that worked in the outer rim, some access codes to different restricted sectors, and practically anything that wasn’t physically attached to the old gunship. Although you did steal the shiny beskar ball attached to one of the ships lever, figuring you could get at least a few hundred credits because of its high value.
You carried most of it on a carbonite slab from one of the many wanted criminals you found inside the freezing chamber of the ship, leaving the others behind since they wouldn’t be worth the trouble to transport, and only then did it register. I’m probably stealing from a bounty hunter. Even as you made your way into Mos Eisley to sell and trade the parts the overbearing dread that you stole from someone who probably had a bounty on your head, made you more cautious of your surroundings than usual.
Even now as you sat inside the crowded cantina drinking ardees, with your blaster sitting heavily in your hand in some secluded corner, you started to regret your idea even more. You’d handled many bounty hunters in the past, growing up in Corellia you practically spoke their language, always managing to talk yourself out of a situation when things got rough. You’d be fine.
The blood in your body practically drained at the sight of a mandalorian, in full beskar armor, walking inside the cantina in long strides as he made his way over to you. The mandalorian sat down in front of you, shoulders tense and arms resting at his sides while his visor tilted to the side to inspect you. “Where are they?” You reached for your drink, faster than usual to wet the drought that settled on your throat from the moment he sat down. “Where’s what?”
“My things, the ones your stole from my ship.” You smiled, the corners of your lips barely reaching your eyes as you shook your head in disbelief. That’s right play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If silence could kill he’d be strangling you about now. I mean how dangerous could he be? It’s not like he didn’t find you within three hours. His chest expanded at the deep inhale he took, the modulated exhale that left him coming out in an irritated groan. “I know you broke into my ship, and stole my things you little thief.”
“I’ve stolen things from many ships today, did yours happen to be the ugly hunk of duralloy, with the ugly orange R on one of its sides?” One of his gloved hands came up to settle on top the table, fist clenching while his voice dropped an octave lower. “Where are my things?” The static humming of the modulator gave his tone a dangerous edge, your tongue darting out to run over your bottom lip as you remembered how to speak basic. “It’s all gone, I sold it.”
“To who?” You let out a frustrated groan as you leaned back on your seat, the heels of your boot meeting against his own under the table. “The Jawas, the Hutts, a few smugglers from Coruscant, it’s all gone I don’t have it.” You could almost hear his teeth grinding against each other at your words, but it also might have been the sound of his blaster under the table. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
“I can pay you back.” He brought the blaster up on the table, holding it in his hands like it was the most casual thing in the planet to have out in a bar, then again it was Tatooine. “I can’t trust you won’t go back on your word.” He’s right. You knew under any other circumstance you’d probably try to kill him, betray him, or cheat and lie your way out of whatever temporary bargain you could strike. But if he found you once, he’d do it again.
“Let me work for you then.” His grip on the blaster loosened momentarily, eyes widening under the visor in surprise at the suggestion. “I’ll pay off what I stole, and if I try to run well,” you looked at the blaster in his hand, then the one strapped to his back, and the many other weapons attached to his armored body. “You can get rid of me and be done with it.”
“Why should I?” The tone was accusing, almost like he couldn’t believe you’d ask him for his mercy when you stole, and then lied about stealing from him. “Because I’m good with ships, from building to flying them, I can be of use,” you leaned over the table until the mandalorian had to back away an inch. “Come on Mando I’m betting my life on this, and believe it or not it’s worth more than dying in a bar in Tatooine of all places, let me work off what I owe you.”
Summary: After years of hiding, Din finds his girlfriend on a planet with a child.
Warning: Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 1.8k
a/n:. Requests are open.
Three suns ruled over the land and the clouds in the hues of murky waters had travelled away. Tall trees protected the inconspicuous cottage of light stone. Smoke rose from the chimney, letting the inhabitants of the village know that someone lived in the nondescript building on the outskirts in the far south by the lake of hundreds of waterlilies.
Flowers of various colours grew out of the dark soil, bordered by a holey fence in light tones. The woman, dressed in the long dress in light shades, looked through the tinted window flanked by long curtains and witnessed her daughter sitting under the lonely tree playing with her dolls of straw next to the sandpit. The cake Y/N had baked was on a plate on the round table with two identically looking chairs of wood.
Smiling, the young mother strolled through the kitchen towards the open door leading into the house and leaned against the frame, unable to take her eyes off of her daughter playing in the shade of the tree. Her heart ached, realising her little sunflower had grown fast. She didn’t have to count, had placed six candles on the cake of fresh strawberries and slices of apples. Y/N pushed herself off the wood and stepped into the light of the fading suns.
“Hey my little sunflower.” Y/N breathed.
Laughing, she halted in front of her daughter, playing with the three dolls. The dark brown eyes immediately settled on Y/N and again a dagger pierced through her aching heart, felt how it broke each year a little more. Guilt dripped from her parted lips, but Y/N knew she had done the right thing. No child should be raised in a spaceship, and Y/N knew they would have taken her daughter away the moment she was born. A veil of sadness rested over her features. Tears tried to block her view of her child, but Y/N was proud she had escaped before anyone could find out she was carrying the creation of deep love.
The memories of the early morning when she had disappeared returned and Y/N remembered the moment as if it had happened yesterday. In great haste she had fled, was heading for a planet far away from war, from ships, destruction and hunters trying to kill them all. Sometimes when darkness ruled with iron fist over the fields, Y/N wondered if she had made the right decision, but whenever Y/N looked out the window and saw her daughter playing in the garden with an unmistakable smile on her face, Y/N knew she had done the right thing.
“Mama, don’t cry,” Eloise breathed, thought she understood the sadness in her mother’s gaze.
Gently, the young girl placed her hands on her mother’s cheeks and brushed the hot tears away.
“I don’t mind that you gave me a doll as a present and the cake you baked and the dress you made is wonderful, I’ll show it to my friends’, they’ll surely want you to make them one too.” laughed the girl, wanting to cheer her mother up, thinking she knew the reason for the falling tears.
“I’m not crying because of you, my sunflower. I’m fine. The suns are blinding.” Y/N tried to talk herself out of it, but she couldn’t, couldn’t fool her daughter.
“Come here mum, I don’t mind and I want to eat the cake tonight and later I will read the book and I heard the stars will be out today so we can stay out here in the garden.”, “That’s a beautiful idea and I’m already looking forward to it.” replied Y/N.
The girl with the long dark brown hair rose from the meadow and let go of the dolls reflecting a small perfect family, Y/N couldn’t give her. Spreading her arms, Y/N immediately understood what her daughter desired and embraced the dark-eyed girl, hugging her tightly and pressing her firmly to her chest.
“Mummy?” the girl breathed into her mother’s ear.
Fear was evident in her troubled voice.
“Is everything alright?”, “I’m scared, mum, there’s a strange-looking man. He is looking at me and you.” Eloise stammered.
Suddenly Y/N´s eyes widened. Swiftly she turned and then gulped. The suns were no longer blinding, clouded by a dense layer of wandering clouds yet she shielded her eyes with her right hand, thought her eyes were fooling her. Y/N would recognise him clad in heavy armour among billions. Her heart stopped beating. The cloak was long, swayed back and forth in the rising breeze. Y/N’s fingers clawed into the flowing material of the dress of her daughter, forcing her to stay behind her, trying to protect her with her body, would protect her with her life.
“Don’t be afraid my sunflower, stay behind me.” Y/N demanded in a stern tone.
Y/N knew there was no point in leaving, to run away.
“Who is that man?” “You don’t have to fear; I will protect you and if he gets too close, then hide in the house. Run away and don’t come out.” Y/N instructed calmly.
“And what about you?”, “Didn’t you hear me?” she said sternly, and Eloise nodded.
His breathing was heavy, recognised the woman he still loved from the depths of his heart. How many years he had spent with searching for Y/N, Din no longer remembered but knew it had to be many, more than five. Anger spread through his chest. Under his mask, he grimaced, had noticed the girl, knew the woman, his wife had found a lover, a new man.
“How can I help you?” Y/N asked unsure what to say.
Y/N tried to be emotionless, didn’t want to show fear and agony, knew she had to be strong but her lower lip betrayed her.
“Why did you leave me?” it escaped him.
Warmth spread through her heart. The last time she had heard his was a long time ago, so long, seeming for forever. The words were harsh and dripping with venom yet there was love lurking in the shadows. Din didn’t want to waste a second with asking useless questions, needed answers as fast as possible.
“I’m sorry.”, “You’re sorry?” he cried.
Y/N flinched, feeling her daughter’s fingers digging harder into the flowing dress.
“I had to Din, I couldn’t stay. I had to leave everything behind.” Y/N tried to reassure him.
“Because of who? How could you do this to me? I love you.”, “You betrayed me!” he screamed from the deepest recesses of his soul.
Sadness was evident in his breaking voice. Threateningly he approached her but Y/N did not flinch, making herself taller, knowing Din had noticed the girl. His senses were clouded and eyes dilated. Darkness rooted in them, dark and dooming. Words dripping with hate, an enchanted potion escaped, but Y/N felt no hate nor fear, had fallen in love with the dark eye’s moons ago, knew he would never hurt her.
“I have wasted years of my life looking for you! I’ve destroyed ships and planets just for you, to find out that you live on a lonely planet and you’ve found a new man. I thought you died.” hatred oozed from his voice.
“I didn’t cheat on you Din. I would never do something like that. Please believe me, I love you, I have always loved you.” Y/N said.
She felt fingers digging into the long dress but suddenly the touch disappeared. Eyes met on a battlefield, he made it impossible to look away. Tears tried to cloud her vision.
“Get away from my mama!” echoed a shaking yet firm voice.
Fists collided with the steel of the armour in dark hues. Small hands tried to push him away, and the man allowed it, looked down and suddenly he saw clearly. The story became clearer.
“Eloise.” she breathed her daughter’s name.
A mask covered his face, but Y/N thought she could see the confusion in the eyes settling on the girl who stood protectively before her mother, arms wide, forbidding him to come closer. Tears adorned her face and her cheeks were painted in a light red tone. Firmly Y/N pressed her daughter tightly against her, hugging and breathing loving words into her ear.
“Everything is all right. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He’s actually a nice man.” Y/N whispered in her ear, reaping the words over and over again.
Dirt covered his dark trousers. His hands slid to the helmet and dropped it to the ground. He couldn’t believe his eyes, thought his helmet made him see other things, but he saw the colour of his eyes, saw the tone of his hair and his tan skin. Closely Din studied the crying girl in the arms of the woman he loved. The next breeze carried away the veil of hate and anger. Din recognised the eyes and noticed Eloise had his nose and hair. A soft smile spread on his lips, found the answer why Y/N had disappeared and realised he was a fool for believing she had left him for another man. His thoughts humoured him. Hesitantly, Din took one step and gathered courage. Pride filled his chest. With long steps, he slowly went towards them, not wanting to frighten the little girl, and dropped to his knees three steps away from them.
“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, lifting her gaze.
She knew there was no point in hiding the truth behind a layer of twisted tales.
“No, I’m sorry,” Din spoke out.
Love was the only emotion Y/N could see in his eyes. He took off the gloves covering his fingers and let them fall to the ground next to him. The sand was rising with the dust. Slowly Din crawled and halted again as the gazes met and smelled the faint smell of spring lingering in the air. Carefully, his right hand approached her face, wanting to remove the tears he had summoned.
“No, Eloise, you don’t have to be afraid of him. He won’t hurt me.” Y/N said in a loving yet stern.
The little girl listened and nodded, wanted to rise and protect her mother from the touch of the stranger.
“I had to go. I had to leave. Please forgive me.”, “I understand, but I would never have left you alone. The two of you. You should have told me. I would have fled with you if you had told me or I would have made sure they wouldn’t take our child away.” the Mandalorian breathed.
The question didn’t need to escape, had found the answer in her eyes. Smiling, Din faced the young girl, reached out and his heart quickened as his daughter placed her small hand, miniature compared to his, in his palm and Din knew he had found his home.
Warnings:Gambling, strip Sabacc, nudity, wagers on sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex
Comments: A Mandalorian sits down at your Sabacc table on Canto Bight, wanting to play for the ship you have offered up as collateral. Except you decide that you won’t play for money, you’ll play for clothes.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
ClickKeep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
It wasn’t often that you spent much time in one of the gambling dens on Canto Bight. Often the atmosphere was too much, or the table too rich, but this was interesting. When the Mandalorian had sat down at the table, several were concerned that the obvious bounty hunter had pucks on them. It was clear by the way they quickly gathered their credits and scattered to the four winds. You had been annoyed at that, seeing the potential profit you had been betting on slip through your fingers. Instead, he hadn’t got up to go after one of them or pull out a puck for anyone still seated. He pulled out a pouch of credits and tossed them down, obviously wanting to play. You raise a brow and toss down your latest hand, forfeit since so many left the table. “You’re gonna play, Mando?” You ask in disbelief.
Din tilts his helmet, glad for the visor which makes it easier for him to bluff. “I heard from others that you are betting a ship. I need one. Let’s play.” He orders, gesturing for the dealer to cut the deck. You hum, picking up your drink to take a sip, the others warily looking at each other, unsure of whether they wish to play a Mandalorian. If he loses, he could decide to kill them then and there. Once Din has his cards, he is careful to make sure they are not reflected in his visor as he eyes his hand.
Hey guys so uh I’ve been depressed and while I’m almost ready to update No Way I probably won’t get to it until this weekend. Anyways if you want to inspire me to write something particularly ✨spicy✨ I’m in a mood and would love any asks. Love y’all.
Quick life/writing update: things are a mess over at the obsessivelysearching household. School is kicking my ass, I’m burnt out, and I haven’t written in weeks.
That said, I don’t know when I’ll be able to update “no way” next but I might write something else in the meantime (like a oneshot) if people have any requests. I am really really really into Pedro pascal but especially din, Javier, Maxwell, and whiskey. So give me a good prompt and let’s break this writers block!!
