Ellie groaned as her consciousness returns, blinking at a canvas she’d woken up to once before. The realization dawned on her.

“…gods.”

She braced herself for the ache that was already sitting quietly in her muscles, the pain shooting straight to her ribs as she pushed herself upright slowly.

Gale’s book was on the ground almost before she’d finished sitting upright.

“Hey. Easy.”

“I’m fine.”

“The guttural groans suggest otherwise.”

“I am in my thirties…”

“You’re also an elf.”

She huffs a laugh, regretting it just as quickly.

Only once she’d stopped trying to prove she wasn’t dying did he ease back on the pillows, though he stayed watchful of her movements.

“You’ve been unconscious for several hours.”

“I have been wanting to catch up on my sleep.” Her eyes drift around the tent, then back to him with a smirk. “So, put me in your tent, did you?”

Gale glances back to his book. “I considered leaving you where you fell. Seemed an appropriate consequence for being so reckless.”

“Or were you looking for an excuse to get me back to your bedroll?”

“My tent happened to be closest.”

“Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He sighs. “I should have left you there.”

She smirks. “You wouldn’t have had it in you.”

“No, but you needn’t sound quite so certain of it.”

The silence stretched just enough for the rest of the tent to come into focus. A barely touched plate of food and another waiting untouched beside it. His clothes unchanged. The pillows propped in an awkward arrangement where he’d been sitting for hours.

He hadn’t left.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He glances back to her with a lifted brow. “Carrying an unconscious companion back to camp?”

“Sitting here waiting for me to wake up.”

For once he found himself hesitating, whatever clever retort he might’ve had never arriving. “You were injured.”

“How terribly inconvenient of me.”

“Oh good, I was worried your injuries had altered your personality.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Determined to prove her point, she slid her legs over the edge of the bedroll, and every bruise the Bulette had left reminded her exactly why she’d been told to stay put.

“Ah—”

“Don’t.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You forget you make the most smug face when you think you know best.” She pushes to her feet, but the attempt only ends in another involuntary groan and a soft laugh from the corner of the tent.

“Remarkable how you’ve managed to bruise your ribs and your pride in equal measure.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You stay. Recover. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep if you’d rather have the tent.”

Eventually managing to straighten to her feet, albeit with far less dignity than she began, she steadied herself. “I think I’ll survive the walk to my own tent.”

“That inspires significantly less confidence than you intended.”

She snorted, attempting to take the first step without embarrassment. Each step produces another wince until she finally pauses at the tent flap without turning around.

“…Thank you.”

She half-expected his usual know-it-all grin at being proven right, but instead finds relief settling on his face.

“You’re welcome.”

For context, he’s sitting on a couch, she’s sitting in his lap facing forward, and he’s been holding her there and teasing her for a while, bare-handed, stroking but not quite touching…

. “Please, Mando…” you beg, lust searing through your syllables. He reacts instantly – fingers sliding straight between your thighs. The first swipe through your soaking folds draws a moan from deep in your chest just as a gasp crackles through his modulator. His left hand abandons your breast, joining its twin to part you gently, gathering your nectar before returning to circle your nipple with your own glistening slickness. The cooling trail tightens your skin beneath his touch, and your bud hardens as he pinches gently before edging away once more. A note of wanton bliss escapes you, hips bucking toward the fingers that now dance at your entrance. Another whispered appeal tumbles from your mouth, and he rewards your manners with a husky “good girl,” his helmet dipping in approval over your shoulder. Then comes your real reward. He shifts higher, ghosting his thumb over your aching clit and holding steady, allowing you to rub against him, the friction a merciful measure of salvation. Heat rages inside you as you try to grind hard enough, a desperate drive to reach the pinnacle of bliss he’s promised. Your thighs tremble. Sweat beads along your hairline as you chase the pressure, finding it, then losing it again. Your head falls back against his shoulder. A whimper slips through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as you arch wildly in his lap, seeking what he denies. “Stars! Please, Mando… please let me come,” you beg, your voice cracking with need. You clutch at his arm, breath held as your plea hangs in the air, the culmination of every tactic you’ve employed to sway him. His helmet tilts… his body tenses… Suddenly, his arm locks across your chest like a durasteel bar, pinning you against his pervasive warmth. Your protest dies in your throat as two thick fingers plunge straight into your molten core. Reality fractures as he fills you, stretching, curling, claiming spaces within you that have been empty for too long. And he doesn’t hold back, no longer teasing, entirely in control of your pleasure as he’s always been – your own involvement just an illusion he allowed. Unleashed, he explores your depths with unyielding vigour, his relentless rhythm sending electricity up your spine.

. When you try to shift your hips to find his thumb once more, his arm tightens across your torso, pinning you in place. “Keep still,” he growls, the vocoder barely containing the raw hunger in those words. His fingers curl upward, finding that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your vision blur at the edges… …and then his thumb expertly circles your clit, and a raw, involuntary cry of pleasure bursts forth, echoing through the room. Mando whispers a staticky “shh” into your ear, but his movements remain merciless, adjusting pace and pressure as he learns to play your body like an instrument. Faster, deeper, the wet sounds of your arousal mixing with your ragged breathing. With each touch, he ignites sparks that build into a blazing fire of longing, leaving you burning with the strength of your desire. And this is it – the absolute summit, your muscles trembling as he draws slick, obscene sounds from your cunt while you swallow your moans. The fire in your core flares white hot, an inferno of sensation consuming every thought… and you’re teetering on the edge of an exquisite peak, wrapped in this warrior’s arms, utterly at his mercy, so close to surrender… “Come for me, mesh’la,” he commands. You shatter. The cabin dissolves as seismic waves of burning rapture engulf you, muscles seizing, senses screaming. His name tears from your throat, raw and desperate… his answering growl vibrates through your core as your body arches, defying his command to remain still, yet it only spurs him on. “That’s it,” he breathes, voice rough through the modulator, as his thumb on your clit circles, circles, relentless… …and then his talented fingers curl inside you again, and stars burst behind your eyelids. You’re falling, drowning, gasping, suspended in a glorious moment where nothing exists but his touch and the lightning coursing through your veins. And when you start to drift back to reality, he varies rhythm, pressure, angle, and you’re gone again, lost in the frenzied bliss of this epic climax.

A longer snippet than I usually offer, but it would’ve been mean of me not to include the last few paragraphs 😁

You can find previous WIPs containing more (unedited) snippets from this fic here: [snippet 1] [snippet 2] [snippet 3] [snippet 4] [snippet 5] [snippet 6]

Related ramblings:

It’s taking forever to edit this damn story. I know we all have different reasons for writing fanfic, and all are equally valid. In my case, I write fanfic to practice and improve – to develop my authorial voice in the hope that, one day, I’ll be good enough to write and publish original works. And a big part of that is continued learning. I’m aware of my own areas of weakness, so I’ve been taking online classes and reading articles, etc., primarily focused on how to effectively “show, not tell” in my writing. I’m now going through my upcoming fic sentence by sentence, attempting to apply what I’ve learned, which is why the editing is taking so long (it’s over 120k words).

But for me, much of what I love about writing is perfecting it, living in these characters’ heads, and really digging into why they’re doing and saying these things. Part of me is sorry for making everyone wait. A more selfish part of me is blissfully editing away, happy in my self-created universe, where I get to spend hours tweaking it to my liking and finding more evocative ways to illustrate my blorbos’ thoughts and feelings for readers. Hopefully, I can reward patient readers with something epic when it’s finally finished.

I’m aiming to have this ready around the time the Mando & Grogu movie is released (May 2026). If you can wait that long and would like a tag when I finally start posting, please raise your hand. You can also join my tag list if you like. No worries if it’s not your cup of tea; I know not everyone in this corner of Tumblr is a Din girlie (gn), but I always try to tag widely for the community spirit (despite the distressingly rapid shrinking of said community 😔) and because I enjoy reading other characters too.

Speaking of, since this is a Din-heavy post (surprise, surprise), I would also like to remind everyone that I have a side blog devoted to Pedro boy fic recs, where you can find daily reblogs for other Pedro character stories. These are a mix of old, new, acclaimed, and unsung fics – mostly oneshots, but a few multichapter fics as well, all of varying lengths. If you’d like to enjoy the fruits of my in-depth fic-hunting, please give it a follow, thanks 🙏🏻

Okay, tagging time. Much love and adoration to the following talented people – please accept this tag for either a general WIP Weekend/Wednesday/Whenever, or for the WIP Word Game if you fancy it. If you choose to play, the word I’m assigning you is: SPACE. Either way, I would love to see what you’re all working on 🤩💚

@604to647 @ak-vintage @almostempty @avastrasposts @beefrobeefcal

@bumblepony @covetyou @din-cognito @eupheme @everybodylovedcontractors

@for-a-longlongtime @galway-girlatwork @grogusmum @hapan-in-exile @jennaispunk

@jessthebaker @joelalorian @kedsandtubesocks @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills

@mandaloriankait @mermaidgirl30 @milla-frenchy @missredherring @myownwholewildworld

@newpathwrites @nonbinairyboi @oonajaeadira @orcasoul @penvisions

@sawymredfox @sin-djarin @sizzlingcloudmentality @sunshinehaze1 @the-mandawhor1an