Hi!! Will you ever write more king Din? It’s my favorite thing EVER!!!!
I will absolutely write more King!Din!!!!! idc if it takes me 10 months or 10 years I will never abandon my king and his darling!!! i have a plan for them and i promise i will give them their happy ending even if we have to suffer a little bit to get there
i hope to have the next installment out sometime this month!!
“My crown is heavy. It feels lighter when you’re around.” with Din maybe?🤍
Serenity
A/N: Darling! Okay so I went full fluff on this one. Like my heart aches for fluff after writing this. I hope you enjoy! Not edited at all so apologies for mistakes.
Pairing: King!Din x Reader
Word Count: 745
Warnings: FLUFF
Time went by as you lay next to him, running a hand through his hair. Rarely did he get time to sleep; time to just rest the aching limbs that had taken on a mantle he wasn’t ready for. But this morning was different. There was peace through the castle, not an eerie silence that came with the night, but a different silence. One that filtered similar to the way sunlight did, through the area, giving a sense of serenity to those who basked in it’s wonders.
He stirred in his sleep, shifting to be closer to his source of warmth, and the touch of skin against skin. After wearing armor for so long, he relished in the fact that he could finally touch you, finally just place a bare palm against your cheek and look into your eyes. You smiled, scooting even closer and wrapping an arm around his waist.
“I know you’re awake,” you whispered.
Din smiled, shoving his head into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to be.”
“There’s no duties today as far as I know.” Another moment of silence overtook the space as you continued to twirl pieces of his brown hair around your fingers, his warm breath hitting your skin as he was lulled back to a place of not yet sleeping, but nearly there. “Don’t fall back to sleep on me now.”
Lips were pressed against the skin of your neck. “I’m awake.”
“I’m not too sure about that.” Teeth sunk into your shoulder and you lightly pushed him away, laughing at his actions. “I’m not a meal Djarin.”
He pulled back, sleep filled eyes looking into yours, and a smile on his lips. “I could prove you wrong on that.”
“Don’t you dare,” you said against his lips, knowing that once he began with that, there’d be no leaving the room for several more hours. The thought did sound appealing though.
Din sighed contently, trailing his fingers against the bare skin of your shoulder, losing himself in his thoughts again. Days like this were hard to come by. Being ruler meant he was weighed down with responsibility, weighed down by the life that he led. One he did not choose for himself. In reality he’d gladly spend his moments with you, curled in your little sanctuary you called a bedroom, sharing every little thing you could.
“What is it?” you asked.
His thumb rubbed against your cheek, across your bottom lip, and eventually coming to rest on your jaw. “My crown is heavy.”
You knew that to be true. He would come back to you at night looking as though he’d fought every manner of beasts, looking as though he was ready to collapse.
“It feels lighter when you’re around.”
Bringing him into for another kiss you smiled against him. “You hold a burden most people would not wish to have. I am proud of you for doing it.”
His nose brushed against yours. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.”
“I will continue to do so.” Now it was your turn to run the tips of your fingers over his face. Down his nose that you loved, across his lips, until he granted you with that smile you adored, his eyes crinkling. “I’m here to hold you up when the crown becomes too heavy Din. I hope you know that.”
“I do. It’s why I love you.”
You smiled. “Why Din Djarin I believe that’s the first time you said you loved me.”
“It is?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “What have I been doing that I haven’t said it before today?”
“Being a king.”
He groaned rolling on top of you and trapping you under his weight. “The damn title has made me forget to say I love you. Well, I’ll have to fix that.”
His teeth nipped at the skin of your neck causing you to laugh even harder. “Din what are you doing?” you exclaimed.
“Proving you wrong,” he muttered against your shoulder, before shifting downwards, his smile growing at the sounds of your laughter echoing around the area.
Peace was hard to come by as a king. The weight of the crown becoming something he sunk under, something he’s willingly toss to the side. But you were there, smiling at him, and giving him the feeling of peace, he’d been yearning for. You were the serenity he searched for at the end of the day.
When you promised the Empire that you would destroy Mandalore, you did not expect that approximating your old friend would become yet another obstacle in your hoax. Suddenly, to know Din Djarin was to watch the death of your past plans and, at the same time, the creation of a faithless love.
warnings: slow burn, friends to enemies (in disguise) to lovers, mentions of war and blood, tons of angst.
notes: Mandalore works as an alternative universe, geographic and politically. inspired by Taylor's song, hoax. | cover art by @raresciences
english is not my first language, so if you guys find any mistakes, pls let me know! (versão em português disponível aqui)
summary: the new ruler of Mand’alor, Din Djarin, needs to marry in order to be fully accepted as the king and you happen to catch his eye (*fem!reader)
warnings: maybe a lil angsty, slight nudity
word count: 1.2k
CHAPTER ONE
His head lulled to the side, the helmet covering his face feeling heavier than usual ever since he had taken it off in front of others, something that no true Mandalorian should ever do unless in the presence of his clan. Eyes fluttering as the advisor discussed what the next steps were since Din Djarin was now the king of Mand’alor, after accidentally winning the Dark Saber in the fight against Moff Gideon.
The buzzing weapon heavy in his hand as he tried to give it to Bo-Katan, the rightful ruler of the throne in his eyes, Gideon’s cruel laugh ringing throughout the silent room and Din’s head as he told everyone that he was now the king.
He didn't want it. Not when he was about to risk his life, risk everything, for the little green child that was slumped over at the switch board for the doors, eyes drooping in tiredness after fighting against the bonds trapping his hands and his powers, but still bright as he looked up at him.
His predicament had been completely forgotten, pushed to the back of his head as the fists pounding on the door ceased and the Child sat up with new energy, ears perking as a small hand was placed on the screen showing the Jedi entering the ship, green lightsaber at his side, whizzing through the air as it cut through the Dark Troopers.
Din remembers the heaviness of his heart as the Jedi managed to get through Gideon’s defences, stood in front of him and beckoned for Grogu to come with him.
He doesn't remember taking off his helmet and the consequences that could arise after it but he does remember the lump in his throat as a green hand was placed on his face, comforting words leaving his lips. He remembers watching as the Child was picked up by the Jedi who smiled sadly at Din, leaving him behind, Grogu watching with those wide eyes and ears perked as the doors closed.
He always thought that when the time came to say goodbye, he would be able to. But watching his son leave had been the most difficult thing that he had ever experienced, holding himself back as he saw the Starfighter go past and trying to hold back the tears as he curled his hand tightly around Gideon’s arm, ignoring the cry of pain as he lead him to Fett’s ship.
The others had been silent as Din went to his room, Cara patting his shoulder as he nodded stiffly at her, his helmet and the Dark Saber in either hand. As soon as the door had slid shut behind him, he had fallen to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks as the visor of his helmet stared back.
It hadn't taken long for Bo-Katan to knock on his door, announcing that they were heading for Mand’alor, warning him of the things to expect. After all, he wasn't the ruler they were expecting or wanted.
The advisor coughs and Din’s head snaps up at the sound, nodding his head at the expectant look on her face. A sigh leaves her but she bows slightly, something that he still hasn't gotten used to, and leaves, stepping to the side as Paz Vizsla, his newly appointed al’verde of the army, steps in, his large frame taking up most of the doorway.
“King,” he says as he bows his head, visor turned to the floor, before he stands up straight. “The girls are here.”
Din’s sigh is clipped, irritation coursing through his veins as his hand curls into a tight fist on his thigh before nodding his head, motioning at the door for them to be brought in.
A large part of the Mand’alor religion revolved around the importance of aliits and raising foundlings and as king, Din was expected to find a queen, his riduur, to sit on the vacant throne next to his, a lot smaller than his but covered with more intricate patterns. It was seen as part of his duty to the people of Mand’alor to find a wife to rule by his side and their child to take over the throne after his death.
He had only been king for around a week when the news had been broken to him and he still hasn't been able to fully accept it, his mind too focused on trying to be a good ruler to his people. His advisors has been gathering and preparing some of the best women in the tribes for him to meet and ultimately pick one (his advisor had whispered to him that it would be viewed as perfectly acceptable if he wanted another riduur, the idea making Din scowl at him under his helmet).
He watches as Paz nods stiffly, calling for the girls to be brought in and his eyes track them as they file in, lining up next to each other, the flimsy robes barely covering them. A few of them are brave enough to look up at him in his throne, a few glance nervously at each other and a few barely take their eyes off of the ground.
“Please remove the robes.”
This part always has Din’s cheeks heating underneath his helmet and his heart plummeting as the girls drop the robes from their shoulders, goosebumps spreading across their skin in the chilly room and at the embarrassment they must feel. He never lets it carry out for long, pretending to look over them all before nodding his head and averting his gaze as they cover themselves again, bow, and exit the throne room.
“I need to clear my head.” He announces and Paz bows, watching as he stands from the throne. “I heard that they have put the market up again this week.”
~~~
Din allows a smile to spread across his lips as he walks through the market place even though Paz follows closely behind and helmets turn in his direction, each bowing as he passes. The buzz continues, however, and in that moment he feels elated that they continue even in the presence of their king.
The laughter of foundlings has his head turning to the side and he watches as a red ball rolls toward him, coming to a stop under his foot. A small boy runs up to him, wide eyes recognising him as he stare upwards before glancing down to the ball. He smiles as Din crouches and picks it up, holding it out to the boy who shyly thanks him before taking it and running back to his friends, laughing the way back.
He stands up and is about to say something to Paz but the words die on his lips as he looks to the group of foundlings huddled closely together as they surround you on the grass. Helmet-less, smile wide and hair shining in the sun as they place flowers into it, the stems obviously stabbing your scalp but you continue to encourage them, bending your head down for the shortest child to put a yellow flower in your hair.
His heart leaps at the interaction before him and he glances at Paz who coughs, head motioning to the other citizens who watch him looking at you. A frown settles on his lips as a hand on his arm drags him away gently, glancing back at you to see you looking at him.
In the safety of the palace, he turns to Paz who looks at him pointedly even behind the helmet, and tells him that he wants the guards to bring you to him in the morning.
He wants you to be his riduur.
~~~
Mando’a words: riduur (spouse/wife or husband/partner), aliits (clan)
A/N: Hey all!! This is a brand new AU that I’ve decided to dive headfirst into!! An anon sent @absurdthirst a message, asking if anyone had written King Din before, and I saw it on my feed, and that inspired this series!! (on the off chance that that anon follows me, if you wanna send me a message or something, I’d be glad to credit you as the inspiration behind this story!) This is an AU story where Mandalore never fell to the Empire, and Din is the King by right of conquest (winning the Darksaber). More of the AU will be explored in the story, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me some asks! I’ll gladly answer what I can, as long as it doesn’t spoil anything!! I wholly blame @mxndoscyarika for being the reason this chapter is out so soon. She is an enabler. (@ollypopp also got to hear a lot of rambles about this au... i’m not sorry). I hope you guys like it!!!!! Please let me know what you guys think!!!
Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment!! I love hearing what you guys think!!
When you’d gone to bed last night, you certainly weren’t expecting anything monumentous to happen today. Today was supposed to be just another day spent running your little apothecary with your sister, before going to sleep and doing it all over again tomorrow.
But as you stared down at the small little green alien child hiding behind your counter, you knew that today wasn’t going to go the way you planned.
“Hey, little one,” you murmured, crouching down, but staying far enough back that he wouldn’t feel trapped by you. “How’d you get in here, huh? Where are your parents?”
He looked up at you with his huge round eyes, his little lip quivering, and your heart broke.
“Hey, it’s alright sweetheart,” you whispered, holding your hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay–” You were a little thrown off when he waddled straight into your arms, and you instinctively clutched him to your chest. He buried his little face into your tunic and began to cry, little heart-wrenching sobs as his tiny body shook in your arms.
Standing, you quickly moved to the back room, seeing your sister in the middle of bottling some healing bacta salve.
“A’denla, can you cover the shop for me?”
She turned, about to ask why when she saw the sobbing child in your arms. You mouthed that you’d explain later, and she just nodded, turning and heading for the counter, leaving you alone in the back with the little one.
You rocked the little baby back and forth, humming softly as you tried to get him to calm down. You didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children, but you knew enough from helping watch the children of other villagers while they ran their shops when you were younger.
His tearful cries eventually slowed to little whimpers and hiccups, and you were able to encourage him to detach from your shirt. He rubbed at his eye with his little arm, and you were startled to see a dark green, almost black bruise on his tiny wrist.
“Who hurt you, little one?” You gently took his hand, inspecting the bruise. He whimpered when you brushed your fingers over his skin. “I bet that hurts something fierce, huh?”
You take him over to where your sister had the bacta salve out, setting him down gently on the countertop. “Can I use some of this, sweetheart? It’ll help you heal faster.” You’re not sure if he can understand you, but then he takes a long moment to look at the little bottle of blue gel you’re holding before looking up at you, solemnly nodding, his big ears flapping a little with the motion.
You step away to wash your hands, grabbing a small strip of gauze as well. Dipping your fingers into the salve, you gently brush it over his bruise, your heart twisting every time his little features scrunch up in pain. Once his arm is sufficiently covered, you carefully wrap the gauze around the bruise, securing it with a small clip.
He looks at his arm before looking back at you, cooing, a wide smile on his face, showing off his baby teeth. His arms raise in the universal sign for “up please!” and you’re unable to deny him, scooping him up in your arms, and cradling him once more to your chest.
Pressing his face against your skin with a contented sigh, he nuzzles against you for a moment before you feel his breathing begin to even out. “It must be exhausting being so little, huh?”
You carry him over to the small bassinet you have set up for when you’re watching your brother’s baby girl when he’s busy. The little child fits easily in the small padded space, and you carefully cover him up before stepping back. You have no idea how he got to your shop, and he’s not exactly a race you recognize. Hopefully his parents are somewhere nearby, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time finding them. Although, you’d noticed that his bruises seemed to be in the shape of a hand, and you really didn’t want to place him back into the arms of abusers.
The tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, signalling the arrival of a customer. You quickly shut the door on the small room with the bassinet, walking towards the counter where your sister is. A’denla isn’t exactly the best with people, and you know she prefers to work in the back, so as soon as you get to the counter, you nudge her away so that she can go back to packaging up products.
She gives you a grateful smile, ducking into the back as you turn to face two of perhaps the strangest customers you’ve ever met. One is a Rodian, which isn’t necessarily odd in of itself, but usually they tend to stay away from Mandalore. Most Mandalorian’s aren’t exactly known for their tolerance towards other races. The other appears to be human, but you’ve learned to not judge people by their outward appearances.
“We’re looking for our bounty,” the Rodian grunts in Huttese, and your eyes widen a bit. Bounty hunters. You should’ve known. You’re also surprised that Huttese is the language he chose, especially considering the two main languages on Mandalore were Mando’a and Basic. Luckily for him, you’ve always been a fan of learning different languages, and you understand basic Huttese. “It got away from us. It’s very dangerous. Have you seen it?”
You raise an eyebrow. “What does your bounty look like?”
The other hunter chimes in, this time in Basic. “It’s fifty years old but looks like a child. Some weird green frog-like thing with big ears. It’s incredibly dangerous, and you need to tell us right now if you’ve seen it.”
You manage to school your features, but internally, you’re shocked. Their bounty is the little green child you just patched up and is now sleeping in your back room? And he’s fifty?
Something about the way the two hunters are acting strikes you as odd, and you make a split second decision. You lie.
“I’ve not seen any creatures like that,” your voice is smooth and calm, betraying nothing. “But I’ve been in my shop all day. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
For a moment, you think they don’t believe you, but the human quickly nods, grasping his fellow hunter’s arm and tugging him out of your shop. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, sagging a little as the door swung shut.
You ducked back to the backroom, seeing your sister waiting with her arms crossed.
“You wanna tell me why you just lied outright to two bounty hunters?” She hissed, eyes flashing. “Do you know how kriffing stupid that was?”
You stared blankly at her. “Do you really think I’d lie to bounty hunters without a damn good reason?” Your voice was incredulous. “I’m not a di’kut, A’denla.”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s the reason then?”
You sighed, slumping against one of the tables. “They said their bounty is fifty years old, but the little one who came into our shop? He’s a baby A’denla. He may be fifty, but it’s clear he doesn’t age the same as us! What could a baby do to warrant a bounty? He was hurt, and he was hurt badly. He was sobbing and shaking and it’s clear he was terrified. I wasn’t about to hand him over to the bounty hunters who probably hurt him that bad in the first place!”
A’denla looks shocked at your little outburst, before softening slightly. She’s got a soft spot for little kids too, and you know she wouldn’t be okay with handing a child over to bounty hunters.
“Fine, but if this brings hell down on us, I’m telling buir it was your fault, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, grabbed a basket of products, and went back out front to restock the shelves.
***
The little one had slept for a couple of hours, but now he was wide awake, and demanding your attention. You’d done your best to keep him occupied out of sight in case the bounty hunters came back, but so far, the coast had been clear.
The door suddenly burst open, and Vyshena rushed inside. She owned a shop a couple doors down that sold mechanical parts, so she was a regular, often needing basic medical supplies to patch herself up after being a little too careless with a socket wrench.
“What do you need to–” You started, only to be cut off as Vyshena practically flung herself onto the counter, her grease stained fingers gripping the wood lightly.
“Did you hear?!”
You almost winced at the squeal, and you felt little claws dig into your legs. You looked down, to see the child grasping your leg, his ears drooping as he looked up at you with sorrowful eyes.
“Did I hear what, Vys?”
You bent down to pick up the little one, smoothing one hand over his ear as Vys started in on a rant.
“The King is coming! Apparently his kid went missing and he’s tracking him down! Y’know, he used to be a bounty hunter, so it only makes sense that he’d track his own kid down, apparently there’s a bounty from the Empire on the little guy and–”
You looked up as Vys suddenly stopped, and your brow furrowed as she made a choking sound, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at you.
“And what, Vys?”
Instead of answering, her arm raised shakily, pointing at the little bundle you held on your hip. Her mouth was gaping, and she looked like she was about to pass out.
“Vys, are you alright?”
Her eyes flickered between your face and the kid multiple times before she sucked in a gasp. “WHAT?”
You actually flinched back at her sudden shout, and the kid whimpered, burying his face in your side.
“Vys!”
“I’m sorry, but how do you– where did– HOW DID YOU GET THE KING’S KID??”
Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry, what?”
“YOU HEARD ME!”
“What is all this racket about– oh, hi Vys.” A’denla came out from the back, her hands full of bottled bacta salve. “What’s going on?”
Vys sputtered, and so you mumbled “Apparently this is the King’s son?” As you gesture to the giggling baby on your hip.
A’denla’s jaw dropped, and she nearly dropped the bacta salve. “Are you kidding me??”
You shook your head, feeling faint, and Vys started laughing hysterically, which got the little one going too. “Not helping,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but smile at how happy the little one looked.
“Maker, what are we gonna do?”
Your sister’s moan was mostly drowned out by the giggling, but you frowned thoughtfully. “Vys, hold him please,” you said, handing her the still laughing child, even as your request caused her to audibly shut her mouth. You rummaged through the drawers behind the counter before you found a spare sheet of paper and a pen. A’denla tried to see what you were doing but you waved her off, writing as fast as you could.
“There,” you muttered, folding up the paper, handing it to Vys in exchange for the kid. “Take this to one of the guards. They should be able to get it to the King quickly enough. It states that his son is safe, and here in the apothecary. We’re gonna close early just as an added precaution.”
Vys nodded, and you turned to A’denla. “I also wrote what I could remember about the two bounty hunters who came in, they’re probably the ones who kidnapped the kid to begin with.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” your sister sighed. “Maker, am I glad you lied to them when they asked about the kiddo.”
“Me too.” You turned back to Vys. “Go, get that to a guard. I’ll wait here.”
Vys nodded shakily, still a little pale, but she dashed out of the shop. A’denla opened her mouth, but closed it again quickly.
“Go on, spit it out.”
She shook her head. “Buir is never gonna believe this.” You snickered, imaging your mother’s face when she found out that the King of Mandalore’s son had wandered into your apothecary.
“You should go home and tell her. I’d hate for her to hear about this from someone else.” A’denla looked worried, but you shook her off. “I’m closing the store anyways. It’s not like I won’t need your help.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Yes, go.”
After a little more persuading, A’denla finally left, leaving you and the little one alone in the shop. He was still perched on your hip, and for a moment, you stood in the middle of the store, mind racing.
“I can’t believe you’re actually the King’s son,” you muttered, looking down at the wide-eyed child. “Just my luck, huh?”
He cooed at you, playing with the fabric of your top. Your eyes fell to the gauze wrapped around his arm, and you sighed. “I guess we better check on that, buddy. Make sure you’re healing alright.”
Just like before, he was a good patient, not too squirmy as you carefully unwound the gauze. His bruise was healing nicely, and you carefully applied a little more bacta for good measure, re-wrapping his arm. Right as you were pinning it in place, a loud banging sounded from the front door.
You jumped, hand flying to your chest. Carefully picking the kid up, you made your way to the door, peering through the curtains, eyes widening as you realized just who was standing there.
Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, stepping to the side to let the odd looking group inside.
You recognized Fennec Shand, a notorious bounty hunter and partner to Boba Fett, who was also a part of the group. Both were known for their close kinship with the King. There was a woman you didn’t recognize, but judging by the small tattoo on her upper cheek, she had ties to the Republic.
Finally, clad in full beskar’gam, was the King. His beskar was unpainted, the silver gleaming in the low light of your shop. He had no shortage of weapons, his spear was strapped to his back, and a blaster and various vibroblades were strapped to his legs. But the most prominent was the Darksaber that hung from his belt.
Dropping into a curtsy, you bowed your head in respect, a quiet “my king,” leaving your lips. You’d heard stories about the King, about his strength and speed in battle, but especially from his time as a bounty hunter. He’d been one of, if not the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, before winning the Darksaber from Maul in a duel, granting him the right to the throne of Mandalore.
Some said he was cruel, terrifying and dangerous, not to mention volatile. You had no way of knowing. He wasn’t one for major public appearances, so knowledge on his true personality was reserved for those closest to him.
There was a tense silence for a moment when suddenly, the child on your hip reached his little arms out towards the King, babbling loudly. He had a large smile on his face and was wriggling desperately to get out of your grasp.
The King took a step forward, his own hands stretching out towards his son. You carefully handed the child over, your bare hands brushing over the King’s leather gloves as you transferred the little one to his father’s arms.
“Su’cuy, ad’ika.”
The King’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he pressed his helmet against the little one’s brow, his hand pressing against the child’s back to hold him close.
You fold your arms in front of you, absently noting the way that you already miss the comforting weight of the kid on your hip. You look away from the King and his son, not wanting to intrude on their reunion.
The others seem a little uncomfortable, like you, and thankfully, the woman you don’t know breaks the awkward silence.
“You said in your note that you had two bounty hunters come looking for him?”
You’re looking at the woman, so you don’t notice the way the King’s head whips in your direction, nor the way his hand falls to rest on the hilt of the Darksaber.
“Mmhmm, a Rodian and a human.” You pause. “Actually, I’d almost forgotten, we had security cameras installed about a month ago, they should be on the holos.”
“Why bother with security cameras?” Fett cut in, and you were taken aback by the blatant suspicion in his voice. “This isn’t exactly a high crime area.”
You sighed. “We had a break in a couple months ago. Some di’kut took off with half our supply of bacta salve. We’re one of the only apothecaries on Mandalore licensed to make it, and unfortunately, that usually means we have a large stock, and the prices are pretty steep.”
“You didn’t report it.”
You narrowed your eyes at the accusatory tone. “I figure if someone’s going to go to all that trouble just to steal bacta salve and not even touch the register or safe, they probably needed it. It’s diluted when it’s in a salve, so it can’t be sold on the black market, unlike pure bacta.”
“What’s this?”
You started at the King’s voice, turning to look in his direction, seeing him inspecting the gauze wrapped around the little one’s arm. You frowned. “The little one had a pretty bad bruise, it was nearly black. I applied some bacta salve and wrapped it. I checked it just before you got here, it looks a lot better.”
“And I suppose you just thought it was okay to–”
“Fett.”
Your eyes widened at the King’s tone, looking away as the green-armoured bounty hunter grumbled, but stayed silent.
“I’m a licensed medic, and I have been for close to ten years now. I know what I’m doing.” Perhaps your voice was a little defensive, but you weren’t going to apologize for easing the kid’s pain, no matter the opinion of grumpy men in beskar.
“Thank you.”
You nodded at the King, eyes flicking up to his helmet before looking away, your cheeks growing warm. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but something about the way he seemed to stare directly into your soul, even through the beskar made you feel... odd.
He handed the little one to the woman with the tattoo, before turning back to you. “May I see the holos?”
You nodded again, turning and walking towards the back of the shop, where the holos were stored. It wasn’t a large room, an old refurbished closet really, and it was a bit tight for one person, let alone a second covered in beskar. You opened up the data station and pulled up the holos from earlier, trying to ignore the silent mountain of a man behind you. You could feel his eyes on your back, and you tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine.
You found the correct timestamp, and enlarged the holovid, pointing to the figures on the screen. “This is when they entered.”
Suddenly, there was a large warm hand on the small of your back as the King stepped up behind you, his other hand coming down to rest on the surface of the table, caging you in as he leaned forward. He was peering over your shoulder, and you inadvertently sucked in a breath at the sudden closeness.
The two of you watched the footage in silence. Unfortunately, you didn’t have audio to go with the holos, so all the King would have to go off of is the visual.
“Is there anything distinctive about them that you can remember?” He murmured, the rasp of his helmet’s modulator doing nothing to hide the exquisite way his voice sounded in your ear.
“Um–” You trailed off, trying to focus, which was especially hard with the King so kriffing close. “Uh, the Rodian? He spoke Huttese.” You could’ve smacked yourself. Of course the Rodian spoke Huttese, it was a common language bounty hunters learned, and Rodian’s were known for speaking it along with their native Rodese.
The King let out a sigh, and just as you were about to apologize, he thanked you.
“That– that helps. Thank you, very much.” His hand pressed a little more into your back, and you fought the urge to arch into his touch. You weren’t some child with a crush damn it, you were a village shopkeeper and he was your king. It would be entirely inappropriate, although your traitorous mind was quick to remind you that his touching you could be considered inappropriate as well.
You told your mind to shut the hell up.
“You’re welcome, my king.”
There, that was a perfectly respectable answer. Now all you had to do was avoid embarrassing yourself any further, and–
“Please, darling. Call me Din.”
Well, there went that plan.
You bit your lip and looked down at the keyboard, hoping that the King–Din, didn’t see your hands tighten at the sound of his voice when he called you darling.
“Can you give me a copy of these holovids?”
You nodded, grateful for something, anything to distract you from the peculiar man at your back. Copying the holos onto a drive unfortunately didn’t take very long, and when you turned to hand them to the Ki–Din, your eyes widened when you realized just how close he was to you. Your chests were practically touching, and you had to tilt your head up to be able to look at his helmet, which was aimed directly at you.
He carefully took the drive, tucking it into one of the pockets on his belt, before stepping back, crossing one arm over his chest and bowing. To you.
“You’ve done me a great service. I won’t forget it.”
You swallowed harshly. For a moment, it had sounded like he’d said “I won’t forget you,” although it had to be wishful thinking on your part. He was your King, you were so far removed from royalty it wasn’t even funny. He was just being polite.
“I’m just glad you were able to reunite with your son. He seems to love you a lot.”
“His name is Grogu. I was blessed with him as my foundling, and I treasure him greatly.”
You smiled. It was clear as day how much the King loved his son, and how the little one returned those feelings tenfold. To be blessed with a foundling was a great honor, and it didn’t surprise you one bit that your King had been blessed in such a way.
He stepped back to make space for you to leave the small room, and you hurried to where the others were undoubtedly waiting, only just now realizing how long the two of you had been gone.
Fett and Shand were gone by the time you got back to the main floor of your shop. Just the woman and the little one–Grogu–stood their waiting. The King easily plucked Grogu from the woman’s grasp, and with a tight nod, she left your shop as well, leaving you alone with the King and his son.
He turned back to you, his helmet once more trained on your face. “I must thank you again, for everything.”
You felt your cheeks grow warm at the gratitude dripping from his words. “It was nothing, my king,” you murmured, curtsying once more.
As you slowly straightened back up, the King reached out and ever so gently lifted your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. You were forced to look at him, even as the fluttering in your stomach renewed with vigour.
summary: the new ruler of Mand’alor, Din Djarin, needs to marry in order to be fully accepted as the king and you happen to catch his eye (*fem!reader)
warnings: SMUT 18+ only (use of a blindfold, oral-F, fingering, very light dirty talk)
The desperation in his voice matches the feeling inside of you and as it rings through the silent room, his hand comes down from its place on the wall beside your head to tug off his gloves, swiftly throwing them to the corner of the room. His hands, now bare, hover over your sides and the heat radiating off of them and him make your head dizzy as your breathing picks up, your chest grazing his armour.
“Can I touch you, mesh’la?” He tilts his helmet to rest it against your forehead and you can hear the way it crackles with his laboured breathing. “Let me feel you?”
As soon as you nod your head, he sighs softly, his hands finally coming back to rest on your skin, lifting the tunic to see you bare. Even though your body tingles with warmth and his hands are hot, you shiver at the contact as his thumb strokes up and down, visor focused on the movement he makes.
Impatient, you groan and rest your hands on his own, leading them upwards to your chest. The thin fabric of your tunic follows with them, brushing against your pebbled nipples and you gasp quietly, something that makes Din groan and yank the clothing over your head with new vigour, tossing it somewhere in the room.
His thigh pushes between your legs and you grind against it, the chill of the beskar against your pussy causing a pleased sigh to leave your lips, as his hands cover your breasts, timidly squeezing. When a surprised gasp leaves your lips, he takes that as a sign to continue, fingers grazing over them and when you whimper, he retracts his hands away from you.
“Do you trust me, cyar’ika?” His visor focuses intently on your face and for a second you wonder what he looks like, the colour of his eyes and what they would look like as he stared at you. He looks at you when you nod before turning to his satchel, taking out a small piece of dark fabric and your pussy clenches around nothing when you realise what he wants to do with it.
He turns back to you and places his hand around the back of your head, gently moving it until there's enough space to slip the fabric over your eyes and tie it. The world turns dark and goosebumps spread over your skin as Din takes a step back from you, a small hum of approval vibrating through his chest. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the small bed in the corner and softly tells you to lie down.
The silence is overwhelming in the dark and your ears focus on the sound of Din as he removes his armour, the beskar ringing as it makes contact with the ground. There’s a soft hiss and without the ability to see anything it doesn't occur to you what it could be so when a huff of warm breath blows across your face as he hovers over, you gasp, hands coming up to push slightly at his chest.
“Din-”
“It’s okay,” he whispers as he takes ahold of your hand and lifts it up to his face to place a kiss to your palm. You bite your lip to contain the smile that, unbeknownst to you, he copies as he brings your hand up to his face, eyes fluttering closed at the warmth of it on his face. “As long as you don't see my face then it is allowed.”
The stubble under your palm surprises you and your fingers lightly scratch at it before tracing his face, over his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose, his lips before coming up to tug at his hair, leading him down to your face. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing together and desperate, but you don't mind as you arch your back to press closer into him.
His hand traces down over thigh, fingers digging into the skin as he pulls it up so that he can slot in-between your legs. A whimper leaves your lips when you feel his cock pressing tightly against his trousers and he notices, shifting his hips to press into you and he groans, lips leaving yours to rest his head in the crook of your neck, his nose tracing the skin there.
“Can I-” he stops with a groan, rumbling deep in his throat, when you push your hips down to meet his. “Can I taste you?”
“Yes.”
Biting your lip when he presses a fleeting kiss to your neck, shifting downwards and placing the odd kiss to your skin before reaching your chest where he takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, the warmth of his mouth making you press into him. He chuckles, the vibration ticking, before he continues moving down, hands moving your legs to the side as he settles between them.
“Fuck,” he huffs out and his breath hits your underwear, causing your legs to fall shut but he pushes them back out again. “You're so wet. Soaking your kriffing underwear, cyar’ika.”
You whimper, shifting your hips closer to his face and his hands slowly trace over your legs until they reach the band of your underwear, snapping it against your skin and causing a sharp gasp to leave your lips. His fingers sneak underneath them, barely tracing the lips of your pussy and you throw your head back against the pillow, hand slapping the mattress in frustration.
“Patience.” He retracts his fingers and you groan at the loss of contact, reaching your hand down to rub over your clit. A growl leaves him at the sight and a part of you ignites at the sound as he swats your hand away before tugging at your underwear and removing them, tossing the clothing over his shoulder.
His lips come down to litter kisses over your legs, teeth softly biting at the skin and your stomach clenches in anticipation. You shudder when his hot breath fans over your pussy and you shift your hips closer to his face, his hands coming up to cradle your hips, thumbs stroking the skin and making you shudder.
“Please, Din.”
The words barely leave your lips before he comes closer, his own hips pressing down into the mattress below him as his tongue finally peeks out to flatten against your folds, the tangy taste of you causing him to groan. It leaves you breathless and you whimper when he flicks his tongue upwards to your clit and your hand reaches down to tug at the short strands of his hair.
His arm comes up to pin your hips to the mattress as you writhe under the attention, your hand resting on his and gripping whenever his tongue moves up to play with your clit.
“More.” You manage to gasp out and you throw your head back, arching when he gently nibble your clit between his teeth. His name leaves your lips, almost a mantra, and he smiles into your pussy, licking your clit faster. “Please.”
What kind of man would he be if he turned down your begging? So one of his hands come down to join his tongue, two fingers pumping into you in time with the movement of his tongue. You gasp out at the feeling, tugging sharply at his hair and he groans, pushing his hips into the mattress as his eyes trace over your blushing body glowing with a sheen of sweat, settling on your face as whimpers and praises leave your lips.
His tongue flattens against your clit and with that you come, a cry escaping you as your body lifts off of the mattress. Your thighs close around his head as your stomach clenches from your release. He continues sucking on your clit in an attempt to remember the taste of you on his tongue, his fingers slowing before he removes them. You push against his head and he groans as he leaves you, moving up your body to press a quick kiss to your lips and you whimper at the taste of yourself.
“I want to feel you.” Blindly reaching downwards to cup him, you squeeze his cock through his trousers and Din swears under his breath. “Want to feel all of you. Please.”
“Cyar’ika,” he grits out when you squeeze him again. Your fingers reach his belt, quickly taking it out of its loops and he hisses when they dip down into his trousers, wrapping around him as your thumb swipes the tip, spreading the precum gathering there. “I’m not going to last long.”
You shake your head with a small smile on your face, “Doesn't matter.”
A shaky groan leaves him and he nods his head once, then twice, before sitting up between your legs, ready to take off his trousers. And that's when a knock sounds at the door.
“Mando?” Fennec calls through the door, amusement clear in her voice, and a blush crosses both yours and Din’s faces when you realise that she could probably hear you. “Vizsla is trying to contact you. Said it’s urgent.”
He swears above you and you can't help but giggle as he gets off of you, retrieving his armour from the floor. His helmet lets out another hiss as he puts it on before he moves towards you as you sit up in the bed. With gently fingers he unties the fabric and slips it off your face and you slowly blink as your surrounding comes back into view.
“Do you think everything is okay?” You ask as you push past him to retrieve your tunic, slipping it over you before moving back to Din. Once gloves cover his hands once again, he gently cups your cheek.
“I’m sure it is but I should go and see.” He leans his head down to press his helmet to your forehead and you smile gently at him, gently squeezing his fingers as his hand falls to his side.
The smirk on Fennec’s face has Din blushing under his helmet as he leaves your room with one final look at you and he lowly warns her not to say something as she leads him down the long hallways to the throne room. The com link is still open so when he reaches the terminal in the middle of the room, Paz greets him with a slight tilt of his helmet.
“My king,” he says and the hesitation in his voice has his heart racing within his chest. “There has been an update here and I think you should return home as soon as possible.”
“What has happened, Viszla?”
“Bo-Katan is threatening to come back to take the throne unless you marry, my king.”
