#Mando angst

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Gotta love when I just randomly post when I feel like it LMAO

Here’s a fun and sweet one xx

Content: smut, fluff, hurt Din(blood), female!reader POV

~5,082 words

********

“Don’t be scared. Do it.” The rough voice whispered back from behind me, leathered hands overtop my own.

I could feel his shallow breathing; beskar plate hardly rising and falling against my back. Every touch made my breath catch in the back of my throat.

“Do it” he whispered again, now with more determination.

I pulled the trigger and the blaster shot. The light barreled towards the target mere feet away and I stumbled backward - into him even further.

“Good” the mandalorian said, adjusting himself so we were no longer in contact.

As I turned to face him, I found he was already walking towards the sheet of metal I had just shot at.

“Not bad for someone who’s never touched a blaster before.”

**

I had lived a peaceful, if not privileged, life before the chaos found me. My city crumbled under the oppressive fist of the evils that prevailed and I had no one left.

No one until he found me.

Nightmares of men clad in white, troopers, the sounds of screaming children, and the smell of blaster fire haunted me. I woke every night clutching my heaving chest and waiting out the hours before dawn; before I felt safe in the sunlight again. It was almost ten years ago now. I was basically a child.

He was only here for a bounty. That’s what he claimed- a quick job and a paycheck.

Maybe he never found them, because he’s still here. With me, here, teaching me how to defend myself.

Why?

**

I looked down at my shaking hands, still clutching his weapon.

I wish I could say I was faking my incompetence for battle, or that I was pretending I couldn’t shoot a blaster- but I wasn’t. I wish I could say it was an act to make him stay longer.

I wanted him to stay longer.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up at him, the black visor of his helmet a foot or two away from me.

“Why are you helping me?”

He just looked away and made a move back towards his ship.

“Wait” I said, breaking into a jog next to him “really… why me? I don’t understand.”

He handed me a larger blaster from the ship, “here, try this one now-“

“No” I looked down, suddenly embarrassed that I was pushing the subject but no less insistent that he answered my questions. “you’ve been here almost a month- I don’t believe someone of your skill would waste time like this-”

“You think I’m wasting my time?” He demanded, cocking his head to the side.

“No, I-“

“If you don’t want to learn to defend yourself, I’ll leave” he responded roughly, coldly.

“That’s not what I meant, I just want to know why-“

“We’ll stop wondering and just take the help you can get- you obviously need it” he said in such a way that I knew the conversation was over.

**

That night I laid restless in my bed. I mulled over all possible reasons for his prolonged stay and seemingly random interest in me.

I was dizzy with unanswered questions and sat up to stare around my bare room.

The mandalorians ship was landed now in what was once akin to the front yard of my home. It was impossible to imagine him here during times of peace, when the land was lush and his ship would’ve made my father furious over it ruining his landscaping.

I would’ve laughed at the image if it didn’t force me to imagine my father. He was a good man, a merchant. I missed him more than anything.

I heard movement outside and lunged for the knife I kept under my pillow. My heart was racing so hard I could hardly hear my own thoughts. They’ve come again to finish the job, I thought.

I crouched low and peered through the hole in my door that was once held a glass pane.

My knees buckled and I started to tremble, annoyed by my own fear.

The door heaved inwards, knocking me to the ground. I struggled to find the blade again in the darkness, but hands were lifting me now. I thrashed and kicked with all my might against muscle and metal. I screamed for help until a large hand was over my open mouth.

“If it wasn’t me, you’d already be dead” a familiar voice growled.

My body went limp in his arms.

He dropped me on the floor, my legs still unstable, and he watched as I struggled to find my balance.

I put my hand against the wall and let myself take deep, haggard breaths.

“What. Is. WRONG WITH YOU?” I screamed at the Mandalorian, shoving him with all my weight as if he wasn’t a wall of pure strength.

“I heard you walking around and decided to see if you really listened when I taught you anything… apparently not” he answered himself with a disgusted tone.

I was furious. “You heard me? That was you stalking around outside? Why the hell do you care so much about what I can or can’t do? Why the f-“

I was pinned against the wall, hands above my head, and the weight of his stare above me made me feel minuscule.

“Why is it so hard for you to accept that I just want you to live?” He barked.

I barred my teeth back at him, “because you don’t even know me.”

The heat of his hands radiated through his gloves.

“Oh I don’t?” Taking both my wrists in one of his large hands, his free one pulled out a bounty puck. My own face glowed before me.

“I… I don’t understand.” I responded breathlessly, sobered instantly by the sight.

“There are powers in this galaxy you can’t even begin to imagine the enormity of. There are people willing to pay for you to be hunted down and join the shallow grave of your family. You know nothing.”

He all but spat at me with those words. I felt like I was melting into the floor.

“Your father was no merchant. You really think you could’ve lived the way you did off of that measly salary?”

I wish he had just shot me.

“You want to know why he’s dead? You want to know why your city is in ruins and you’re the only one left in this hole? Blame him.”

“Don’t you dare” I responded with ice in my words but no conviction to back them up.

I truly was shielded from most everything in my life. So many questions had gone unanswered. Maybe I really didn’t know…

“No. Don’t you dare.” He responded, the grip on my wrists causing me to writhe in pain now. “He was nothing but a con artist that lead the evil back to his own family. He pissed off the wrong people.”

“Please. Stop” I choked out, only now realizing I was sobbing.

I hadn’t faced the facts. I knew there was no way he could support our family trading and bartering. I didn’t want to believe it. I loved him. He was good.

Though really, I hardly ever saw him.

The mandalorian let me go and I slid down the wall shaking my head in disbelief.

He threw the bounty puck towards me. It skid until meeting the hard wall. My own face glowing and mocking me.

“They didn’t get you the first time around and paid me to finish the job.” He said, some unexplained warmth returning to his mechanical voice.

“I don’t understand… was all of this a part of some sick scheme to get me to trust you before you took me in?” I said, still trembling.

“I don’t do that-“

“And why should I trust you?” I almost screamed back at him.

He crouched to my level, visor meeting my tear blurred eyes.

“Why?” Was all I could say, over and over again, between sobs or anger, confusion, and heartbreak.

His helmet cocked to the side and I could hardly see my contorted, wet face in its reflection.

He lifted me off the floor and took me back to his waiting ship. I didn’t have anything left in me to fight him with. I didn’t resist capture. It all went black and quiet.

**

A distant hum of an engine filled my ears and I blinked in the warm light that surrounded me.

The memories of the mandalorian came rushing back to me and I jolted upwards, scanning the room like a trapped animal.

I was on a bed- if you could call it that. On a ship. It was steady and landed.

Heavy footsteps came from the outside of the small room. My body tensed.

The beskar clad man walked in and passed me as if I wasn’t there. He rummaged through a flight pack.

“Where are we” I said, surprised at the roughness of my own scream shredded voice.

“We haven’t moved.”

That’s all he had to say before leaving the room again.

I followed swiftly and saw through the windows that we were still in front of my hovel of a home.

His back was towards me and I followed him outside into the night air.

“You were right to think that someone of my skill wouldn’t waste their time on a bounty like this… I was never going to bring you in.”

I sat down next to him on the steps to his ship. Wary and timid. I wrapped my arms around my knees.

He looked away from me and before I could even open my mouth he answered my questions, “I’ve never struggled like this. I bring in anyone and anything without any shred of feeling.”

He turned towards me and it felt as though I was punched in the chest, “but I couldn’t. You didn’t do anything. You’re a victim.”

I couldn’t place my emotion. I was more than confused, my heart was aching over my father, I was terrified of my fate, I felt betrayed, incompetent… but there was something comforting in the cold man next to me.

We sat in silence, neither one of us knowing what to say.

“Thank you” was all I could say after what felt like a lifetime.

He didn’t respond.

“Why did I wake up in your ship?”

It was the only question I could think of asking with an answer that wouldn’t make me want to start crying.

“It was easier than stalking around your bedroom. Easier to keep an eye on you” he answered matter of factly.

I didn’t respond.

“I’d leave now if I thought they wouldn’t send someone else to come find you” the mandalorian said, looking away again.

“I don’t want you to leave” I said, without even thinking first. My cheeks burned with the embarrassment of revealing that to him.

“I’m sorry I lied to you” was all he said in response.

I just looked at him. A man so fortified with armor, stern and strong, was being gentle before me.

I put my hand on his and I swore I felt a shudder go through him. His fingers flexed and released beneath mine.

I went to pull away when he grabbed my hand back.

We sat in silence, entwined fingers on his thigh, just looking into the dark.

**

The mandalorian left after a month.

He found me a place to stay within a city where no one could find me. He made me feel safe. I was safe.

We never touched again after that night on the steps of his ship. Though, the heat still burned through me when I thought of it.

**

My hands were raw from pulling weeds and the sweat dripped heavily down my back. I was happy. I was safe.

I was tired.

I laid with a thud onto a stack of freshly pulled vegetation and let myself feel the suns on my face.

My brows contorted when it was suddenly cooler and darker overhead. Opening my eyes, I focused on an all too familiar ship.

A smile widened across my face before I got a sudden rush of energy and bounded to the landing site.

I stopped short. What if he doesn’t remember me? I mean, why should he?

I found myself fixing my hair and adjusting my working clothes to fit me better.

What was I doing?

I walked swiftly to the ship, heart beating and cheeks reddening.

That’s when I saw him and stopped dead in my tracks.

I hadn’t noticed the significant damage to the ship or the particularly rough landing.

He stumbled out with blood spattered beskar. The tall mandalorian made contact with the ground.

**

I wrung my hands, pacing around my bed, that now held a man I had known in what felt like a different life.

Blood was both crusted and trickling out of the bottom of his helmet. I knew the rules but I couldn’t help feel responsible if he died on my bed from a treatable head wound.

We were a half a days journey to anyone else.

Did he know I had moved all the way out here?

There were bloodied bandages and cloth littering my floor. I had taken the liberty of removing all other armor besides his helmet. The neat pile of metal stood beside the bed for him when he got up.

Please get up.

The blood was flowing steadily. I had to make a decision.

My fingers gingerly touched the rim and snapped back towards me when a guttural moan and choking noise startled me.

He was drowning.

“I have to. Im sorry” I whispered gently and lifted the helmet with a hiss.

The metallic, animalistic, sent of blood infiltrated my nostrils. He was hardly recognizable as human. I realized that I didn’t even know for certain that he was.

My eyes caught on the matted brown hair sticking to his forehead, the peppered facial hair along his jaw, and finally his eyes. He was human, and he was beautiful.

I worked quickly and carefully, trying my best to avert my eyes out of respect. I guess it’s too late now anyways.

When I fixed and cleaned what I could I poured medicine down his throat, Bacta on his wounds, and left him to sleep.

I realized I hadn’t left his side when I woke up in pain from being contorted in a small chair next to the bed.

My eyes traced the outline of him in the pale darkness of the room. He looked more at ease than I had ever seen. I realized I had missed his presence. He made me feel safe.

The few months he spent with me came flooding back to memory. He was always so gentle, guiding, and almost infuriatingly calm. He became a partner… a friend.

His hand twitched and I shot up from my seat. Whether it was out of fear, guilt, relief, or excitement, I couldn’t tell.

He groaned. Or maybe he tried to speak?

“You’re safe” was all I could think to say when I sat on the bed beside him.

His hand slowly reached up to his face, shaking. I grabbed it before he could reach his bare skin.

“I’m sorry… I had to”

He let his hand fall limp at his side with a noise that was akin to what a hurt animal would make.

My heart shattered. I went to grab his helmet and put it back on and he stopped me.

“It’s useless now” he muttered through blood stained teeth.

I had spent all those months, and the year after, imagining the face beneath the helmet. He suddenly became so much more real to me. More precious.

Tears began to fall from my eyes and his hand left the helmet to wipe them away. It was tender and devastating.

“I wish I knew you in another life” he said, so low it hardly registered.

I grabbed the hand still resting on my cheek and forced a smile through my sob.

“Why not this one” I asked, chuckling sadly.

I already knew the answer.

He managed half a smile. He was treacherously handsome.

I tried to think of anything to say. Anything, but his grip turned loose and his breathing was at a constant lull. He was asleep.

**

I had left his side only so long before I heard movement coming from the bedroom.

I set down a mug of hot caf before rushing in to find him struggling to push himself off the bed.

“What are you doing” I asked in an almost desperate cry.

“My ship” was all he said.

“Worry about that later. You were on deaths doorstep not two hours ago.”

He shook his head like a defiant child. I almost laughed. Almost.

As if by some invisible force, he laid back down on the bed.

“Do you need anything?” I asked, warily, hoping he’d send me off to get something. It felt strange to see him in such a vulnerable state.

A shake of the head, no. I sat back in my chair and he turned his body to face me.

“I should give you your bed back.”

This time I actually let out a laugh.

“No, I want you to sleep.”

I wondered if he remembered his comment from earlier.

**

It was now pitch black in the small bedroom. I sat and watched the stars flicker in the sky out of the window. I hadn’t left his side in hours.

As I turned to look at him, the mandalorian let out a guttural scream and sat up with a start. He ran his trembling fingers through blood matted hair.

“You’re okay. You’re safe” I said, now next to him with one knee on the bed “it was a nightmare, that’s all.”

His chest heaved and his skin prickled at my touch.

I rubbed circles into his back. My mother use to do that for me.

He instinctively flinched away from me.

“I’m sorry” he said before relaxing beneath my open palm.

I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless.

I shifted closer, my arm barely fitting around his back.

“Tell me what you need” I whispered

He broke a prolonged silence with a half hearted laugh.

I didn’t understand his amusement.

I squeezed him tight once more like you’d do for a friend before letting them go. I guess he is a friend. I guess.

I walked to a dresser and sifted through clothes until I found a large green shirt, clean flight pants, and a towel.

He stared, confused, at the items.

“Is this my shirt?” He asked earnestly.

I knew it when I picked it out. It’s all I had that would fit him anyhow. Though, I guess I didn’t expect red, flushed, embarrassment to creep from my neck to my cheeks.

“You gave it to me. To wear once. After I had ruined mine while cleaning the blasters.”

What he would never know is that I slept with it through every nightmare. The smell of him bringing waves of unexplained comfort.

He gave me that half smile again.

“I know. I just didn’t expect you to keep it.”

I averted my gaze and let him change in peace.

“Are you hungry?” I asked before leaving him.

A nod.

“Use the towel to clean up. I won’t mind the blood stains.”

A nod once more.

**

I came face to face with the mandalorian. No- he was just a man now. He seemed like one, anyways. Just a man.

Lines cut deep into his skin, from battle and age. His features were both soft and strong. He had such an air of sadness. He would’ve seemed almost defenseless if I hadn’t known better.

I motioned towards a seat across from mine. His shaggy, wet hair swept across his brow as he sat.

He ate like a starved, wild, thing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He refused to make contact with mine.

When he had finished I took his plate away slowly, almost expecting him to growl and bite. He only looked down.

“Thank you”

I responded only with a genuine smile and another offering of caf. He happily obliged.

It felt almost domestic. It was nice.

He drank slowly, deeply, and without looking up or speaking even once.

The suns began to rise and paint colors across the carved sand walls. I could see him even more clearly now. Battle worn, tired, and inexplicably sad.

“I’m sorry I took off your helmet. I just-“

“You did what you had to” he responded, still looking longingly into his half full mug.

I just peeled away the skin around my fingers, trying to think of anything to ease the uncomfortable silence.

“Are you sure you can’t just put it back on or-“

“I meant what I said earlier” he said lowly.

Unwilling to believe it to be true, what I wanted to be true, I played dumb and confused.

“In another life… I think I’d like … this.”

I couldn’t say anything.

**

He slept soundly through the day, rising only when the moon did. He attempt to fix his ship.

I helped with what I could on the ship, and every time our hands grazed in the passing of tools, a bolt of electricity flowed through me. Each time he passed behind, a gloved hand met the small of my back.

I pleaded with him to rest. I wondered if it was really just a ploy to prolong his stay.

I found myself fumbling while completing basic maintenance. I was trembling and the low sighs of frustration he was making weren’t helping.

I couldn’t even explain my own actions lately. There was something scratching at me from the inside to get closer to him.

I wanted him.

I insisted he spend one more night asleep in a proper bed, mine, as I recalled the hammock he called his.

To my surprise, he agreed.

That night he was restless. He turned, yelled, and cried out in his sleep. I could hear him from down the hall.

I crept slowly to the bedroom. I wanted to comfort him but felt awkward with the thought of any attempt.

That was until I heard my name. Softly, desperately, tumbling from his lips. He was dreaming.

“I’m here” I answered in a half whisper, pushing hair out of his face, “you’re safe. I’m here.”

“Stay with me. Please”, eyes still closed. He grabbed onto my hand.

“You’re dreaming”

“No… I’m not” he replied, eyes fluttering open in a way that seemed to use most of his energy.

My heart was in my throat and I felt as though I was breaking some ancient law by climbing into my own bed.

I laid in the space he had made for me, my body fitting against his as though I were made to be there.

I covered him with the blanket more, so unsure of what to do with my body. My hand lingered on his chest, still clutching the cloth.

His breathing hitched and warmth radiated throughout the bed.

“I don’t even know your name” I laughed lightly, almost a whisper, not expecting an answer but rather trying to cut the tension.

“Do you want to?” His eyes met mine.

The air was all but sucked out of the small space. I could hear the rushing thrum of both of our hearts.

I nodded. Yes.

His face was mere inches from mine and I could feel his warm, sweet breath on my lips.

“Din. Din Djarin.” He whispered, so close that our mouths were all but intertwined.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear and stared into my eyes with so much tenderness that I felt the desperate need to cry.

I traced the outlines of the face I had imagined so many times before. He became warmer to the touch with each line I drew.

“Another life, huh, Din?” I whispered.

He stopped my hand with his.

“Why not this one?”

With these few blessed words, he closed the space between us. My body crashing and arching into his and his fingers entwined with my hair.

Animalistic moans escaped from the two of us, his body engulfing mine.

He smelled like sun warmed wilderness; like musk and lush trees.

His hot mouth met my neck and I soaked in every touch, every scent, every movement of his body. He was desperately clawing at me and I him.

His hands quickly became unsure. He was so battle worn, knowledgable beyond his years, though… he now touched me like he was afraid I’d break.

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he stared back with an almost frightened expression.

“I… I am a dangerous man. I don’t know how- I’ve never-“

I brushed my thumb over his open lips and smiled softly at him. I had never imagined the gentleness of such a rough man. He was right, he was dangerous, he was a killer, a bounty hunter, a mandalorian.

None of that mattered.

I pulled his face closer to mine and kissed him softly. I felt the storm brewing beneath his skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you” he whispered against me.

“I want all of you” was all I answered back.

With those words of permission, he used his legs to pin my back to the bed and stared down at me.

Sitting up on his knees, he used his rough hands to trace down my sides. My skin prickled with desire and my hips bucked unintentionally to meet his.

His fingers found the waistband to my pants and he found my eyes, asking silently to go on.

“Please” I begged

Slowly, painfully slowly, he tugged them down low enough to expose hip bones and the very top of where I desired him most.

Lifting my hips, he bent down to meet them with peppered kisses. Any movement of mine was halted by his fingers digging in to me.

The tenderness of the moment was dictated by him and he wouldn’t let me forget that he was in control.

It only made me more desperate. Between kisses he spoke in a deep, strained voice.

“I’ve thought about this every night” he all but growled. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to touch myself back in my ship just so I wouldn’t lose control and pin you against a wall and fuck you?”

Deep moans escaped me and I begged for him to touch me, to do anything he wanted with me. I needed him. I’ve needed him for longer than I could even admit to myself.

His name fell from my lips over and over. He nipped at the tender skin of my inner thighs as he teasingly pulled the remainder of my pants down.

He noticed I hadn’t been wearing underwear and an almost sadistic smirk swept across his face and his eyes shot up to meet mine.

I couldn’t breathe. All I could remember was his name.

He teased me until I was so close to coming undone from just the first swipe of his tongue against me.

My nails dug into the sheets as he moaned against me, wetness glossing his rugged features.

His eyes were so blown out with lust that they were hardly brown any longer.

I begged until I had tears in my eyes. I needed to feel him inside of me. He knew that and took advantage of every second.

“How- how are you so good?”

He snapped back to sitting on his knees and ground himself into me, leaving a deliciously wet mark on his pants.

“You think I haven’t imagined every inch of you and what I’d like to do to it” He titled his head with pure cockiness, “all the nights I spent avoiding other women were nights I imagined your body, nights I’ve spent touching myself and thinking of the way you’d feel. I may not have experience, but I’d do anything to have you”

I didn’t even have the words to express what that did to me, but as he stripped off his lower half of clothing I knew there was nothing stopping me from getting exactly what I so desperately wanted.

He let himself fall forward, one arm catching himself an inch above me. I let my nails drag down his back as I caught his lips in a feverish kiss.

My hand met his free one and I felt the length of him, wet with his own precum. His forehead fell into the side of my neck and a growl ripped through him. He rocked his hips into my hand.

“You weren’t the only one touching themselves to the thought of this” I whispered into his ear, my own voice deeper than I had ever heard it, “I couldn’t even let myself imagine you were this big.”

He put his free hand on top of mine and guided his length to my desperate, clenching opening.

He was slow, controlled, but the vice grip on the pillow above me gave way to his longing.

I moved my hips to meet his, unable to control myself any longer, and the sound that bounded from him was purely animal.

Something had finally snapped inside of him and his controlled thrusting became more erratic and intense. Even the soft kisses melded into bites and teeth clenched moans into my open mouth.

I bit into his shoulder to stop from screaming, the feeling of this moment too intense to explain.

I wrapped my legs around him and lifted to meet his every stroke. His hair was gripped between my fingers and his forearms boxed me in. I was completely engulfed in him.

Suddenly his strong arms were cradling my back and I was lifted onto his lap. He was sitting on his knees, legs wide, and thrusting into me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him push and pull my body up and down onto him.

Every meeting of thighs was met with a wet smack and stifled moan. I could feel every inch of him and I knew then that I’d feel empty every second he wasn’t inside of me.

With one final stroke he pushed down on my shoulders and up with his hips to fill me at my deepest point. I rocked into him and felt his thick, hot, cum pouring out of me.

He feverishly kissed me, and I responded in turn. We sat connected until our breathing came back into our control.

“Cyar’ika” he mumbled into my lips, over and over again, “I have watched you, always. I could never stay away from you.”

“I’m yours” I responded, “you have me.”

[handspunyarns]

Wrote this bit of dialogue, no reason, not part of my current fiction, and I’m sure this scenario has already been written a gazillion times

OC: (waking up) …. What happened?

Din: You fell on the ice and knocked yourself unconscious. Unfortunately, it took a while for me to find you … you were deeply hypothermic.

OC: That doesnt explain why … it seems I’m in a sleeping bag.

Din: Well …

OC: And you’re in the sleeping bag with me.

Din: See …

OC: But behind me.

Din: I …

OC: And I’m naked.

Din: Yes, I …

OC: And so are you.

Din: (pause) Ah, you’re done. Body heat is the most efficient way to warm someone with hypothermia.

OC: Okay. So … this is a naked Grogu that is tucked in front of me?

Din: He wanted to help.

OC: Okay. So … is your helmet off?

Din: Yes.

OC: I thought you were not allowed to remove your helmet before others …

Din: I am behind you. And I trust you not to turn back.

OC: Din, I …

Din: Wearing the helmet while otherwise naked would be weird.

[handspunyarns]

“Turgid”.

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡The Way｡⋆.

Din Djarin x plus size reader

You don’t know your place in the verse and he’s lost his way. 

Warnings: smut, labelling this dub-con just because Din is a bit forceful, this has a lot of angst, mostly relating to awful self-image and hate towards one's own body, restraints, Din doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, possessive!Din, ownership kink, breeding kink, blindfolds, forced marriage (reader doesn’t fully understand what the vows mean but she accepts after), drinking, no foreplay, creampie, fluff WC: 5.3k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The market was bustling in the late afternoon light. The child cooed over the many bright colours and shiny objects in the vendor’s stalls, little hands reaching out to touch every time you got close. Big brown eyes reflected the lights perfectly. You smoothed over the whips hairs on top of his head, making him smile and snuggle closer to your soft chest, content in being held in your thick arms.

“We should go soon. I don’t want to be here after dark.” The modulated voice easily identifiable in the chatter of the crowd. You tilted your head up slightly, the Mandalorian’s armour glittering the same way as his son’s eyes. 

“Just need to pick up one more thing and then we can go.” You reassured but still hurried along, struggling to keep up with the taller man. He grunted, sounding annoyed but with a large hand placed on the small of your back, you knew he was just tired.

You took your time sorting through the fabrics on the cart, allowing the baby to feel some of them. You kept the softest fabrics in your hands, intending to make more clothes for him since he had quite the nasty habit of destroying them beyond repair. “What a beautiful family.” The vendor cooed, “I’ll even give you a discount so you can take care of that baby of yours.” You opened your mouth to protest but were quickly stopped by your companion.

“Thank you.” You felt your entire body flush as he stood closer, taking credits from his own store to pay for you. As he led you away, you spoke up. 

“You didn’t have to pay for me, Mando. I do have my own money.” He didn’t respond at first, humming under his helmet. 

“It’s my money cyar'ika, I spend it how I wish.”

Your heart pounded as you looked upon the powerful warrior, strong body towering over you, glowing in the light of the setting sun. 

Silent tears fell as you kept your head down, listening as goodbyes were said. Your heart broke as you heard the Jedi begin to walk away, the boy you had grown to love as your own giving a small cry, calling out for his father. There was a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ from Mando, his voice clear without the modulator in his helmet. 

You didn’t speak as you followed him back to the Crest, your heart broken, your arms empty without the little one in them. Mando climbed into the cockpit, slamming the door behind him. His rage and anguish filled the ship, only compounding your own sadness. You lifted up one of Grogu’s little tunics, the colour meant to emulate his father’s armour, that had been laid out on the table as you did laundry. 

Sobs ripped through your chest as you clung to the small outfit, collapsing onto the metal floor, bending over yourself as if it would sooth the incredible ache settling in your chest.

——————

Mando hadn’t spoken to you in a week, taking all his meals in his bunk or the cockpit, grunting in acknowledgement when you told him of the dwindling supplies in the ship’s store. You were no better. That little boy had become your son over the months he had been in your care but now he was gone and you found yourself struggling with your purpose.

You were hired to take care of him when Mando was on a hunt, nothing more. You were just a live-in nanny for the boy, you knew Mando chose you because you weren’t a threat. You were big, sure, but soft, your hands absent of calluses. You weren’t a danger to him, never posing a threat even in those rare occasions where you became furious, usually when Mando had unnecessarily risked his life.

You mothered both of them, keeping them fed, making sure the ship and themselves were clean. And giving Grogu lessons that Mando would sometimes listen in on if they were traveling between worlds and he had nothing else to do. It was what you loved, caring for others. But now, there was no one to care for.

Mando could handle himself, and now that the child is gone, he could easily get rid of you, not having to worry about another mouth to feed, another person to protect. He could easily leave you on some planet somewhere just like when he found you.

It wasn’t like you had any other use. You weren’t even pretty to look at, let alone fuck, no matter how much you yearned. You had, regretfully, developed an overwhelming, devastating crush on the bounty hunter pretty much as soon as he hired you and that had turned into full blown, heart-stopping love. 

Every moment you spent with him was torture but every moment without him was pure agony. But you knew he would never look at you, not when he had women like Omera. Small women with pleasant faces who could actually keep up with him. Not someone like you with a stomach flap and stretch marks and acne on your breasts. Not someone who could barely run and got winded after multiple trips up the ladder to the cockpit. You didn’t deserve him.

Your bags had been packed, all your things collected and carefully stored, you were just waiting for the day when the Crest would land on some stretch of planet and he would tell you to leave, maybe you would even get a thank you for your job, but you doubted it.

The ship vibrated beneath you as you sat on one of the many crates, a ball of yarn sitting between your folded legs as you used your fingers to crochet a little bantha. Making little toys for Grogu was a habit you still kept even without his presence. You already had a small box full of the little stuffed creatures in some kind of hope that Mando would bring them to him if ever he saw him again. Or maybe, you’d just sell them to get some credits when Mando kicked you out.

You hummed under your breath, being hyper aware of the volume of your own voice, not wanting to annoy the bounty hunter, even if he was locked in the cockpit. The soft yarn tangled around your arm as you put the finishing touches on the animal. Using the small pair of scissors from your sewing kit, you snipped off the extra yarn and winding the ball back up.

With a heavy sigh, you kissed the little head of the bantha before slipping to your bare feet, a shiver rolling up your spine from the cold metal, and wandered over to the small collection of things for Grogu. You carefully pulled the cover off and delicately laid the plushie on the top of the ever-growing pile, quickly shutting the lid before you could cry again.

“We’ll be landing soon.” Mando’s deep voice broke the silence of the hull, pulling you out of your self-deprecating spiral. 

“Yeah, ok.” You muttered, keeping your head down as to not look at your boss, knowing that one glance at his berserker would send your mind reeling, wanting to beg him to let you stay but you just shuffled off to your make-shift room to gather your things.

The cockpit door slammed shut once more and the rumbling beneath your feet increased as the ship entered the atmosphere. You sighed and checked your things one more time, sitting on your cot and pulling on your boots, waiting for the next stage of your journey.

Your breath was caught in your throat but you forced yourself to take a deep inhale, filling your lungs completely as the Crest settled down, jostling you slightly. You steeled yourself for the doors to lower. When they did, a frighteningly cold wind whipped through you, almost knocking you off your feet.

In the distance, you could see the dark outlines of buildings against the horizon. It would be a long walk but perhaps it would give you time to think about what you were supposed to do next. With one last pleading look up to the shut cockpit door, you stepped off the ship and drifted off into the dusty plateau.

“You haven’t asked any questions about the armour.” You looked up from the collection of educational holo programs you had been organising and met the mandalorian’s steel gaze. There were times, you felt, where he could see directly through you, observing your every emotion and thought you tried desperately to keep locked away.

His favourite blaster was half disassembled on the table in front of him, something he only did when the kid was asleep for fear of the little womp-rat stealing pieces for his own amusement. He seemed to fill up the limited space of the ‘kitchen’ with his bulk yet you couldn’t bring yourself to fear his size when he had been so gentle towards you since the moment you were employed.

You cleared your throat and occupied yourself with the various videos before you answered the man. “I don’t think there’s anyone that doesn’t know at least something about a mandalorian’s armour, even if it was just an unfounded rumour they overheard once. Besides, it’s not really my business to ask questions about your wardrobe or lack thereof.” You giggled to yourself, just barely catching the huff of annoyance from him.

“Just because I wear this armour, doesn’t mean I don’t change my clothes beneath it cyar'ika.” You levelled him with a knowing look, one that was far more brave than you felt.

“I think you’re forgetting which one of us does the laundry here.” He grumbled something unintelligible, making you laugh as you turned back to your work, a comfortable silence settling between you. From the corner of your eye, you could see the bounty hunter shift in his seat, said armour glittering beneath the warm light of the Crest. 

He grunted as he finally settled, his back against the wall, his thighs spread. You grinned in his direction, your chest warming with the domesticity of the moment. “You gonna tell me about it then? The creed?”

His head dipped towards you, his fingers still skillfully cleaning the barrel of the blaster. “Mask stays on, I fight, I build something new with a clan of my own.”

“Poetic. Seems like you have it all figured out.” The holopad beeped with an alert, pulling your attention away from him and just barely missing the sigh of disagreement that escaped him.

“Could I get a room for the night?” The inn-keeper gave you a look but complied anyway, snatching the small pile of credits you left on the counter.

“All the way down the hall, last door on the right.” 

The walls of your room were bare save for the cracks in the brick and a singular window that seemed an afterthought to whoever built the inn. You sighed and threw your bag onto the bed, it wasn’t like you would be here for long. Surely there was another ship out there willing to take you on as an extra hand or at least give you a ride to somewhere that would. You’ve made due before, this time wouldn’t be any different.

You chose to ignore the ache in your chest at the thought. 

Noise from the cantina next door drew you from your spiral of self-misery. You knew it was never going to last but for some stupid reason, you had hoped it would. Mando had never hesitated when it came to you, he didn’t underestimate your abilities nor your drive like so many others had done, maybe that was why you had stupidly let yourself believe that he actually liked you.

Maybe a drink would help. Or twelve.

The dense smoke that filled the cantina made your eyes water as soon as you stepped inside, burning your nostrils in a way that pulled your mind from the pit in your stomach for the first time in days. Even on a planet as desolate as this, the bar was crowded, bodies filling every available space as they clambered for drinks. You pressed through the throng, the allure of something that could burn a hole in your throat calling to you. 

You didn’t care that it was probably made out back of the cantina in a distillery that hadn’t ever been cleaned, nor that if the mixture was wrong it could turn you blind. You just wanted to feel something other than the gaping void in your chest that the child and Mando had occupied. 

A credit slammed onto the dusty counter earned you a glass of the fluorescent green liquid that would make you forget, for just a moment at least. The glass was drained in a second and then slammed back onto the bar, another credit joining it. The bartender didn’t even give you a look, all-too-used to the sight. You would think about consequences tomorrow, about how you would have to start over yet again, to be at the mercy of another employer who would most likely berate you, remind you over and over again of your worthlessness. Eventually, you would forget about the Mandalorian, tucking him away into the recesses of your mind for nights when you would succumb to your weakness and fantasise about what could have been.

The blaring music began to fade into the background as you lifted your third shot, intending for it to follow the first two but you suddenly stopped, the rim of the glass resting on the fullness of your bottom lip. The hairs on the back of your neck raised as you felt the crosshairs of a predator’s gaze settle on you. You looked out of the corner of your eye — No one else seemed to notice the target suddenly scrawled on your back.

As nonchalantly as you could, you lowered the glass back down, pushing it to your right, where it was snatched up by the patron next to you. You weren’t in any real danger, somewhere in your hind mind assured, but you had seen what Mando could do when he was pissed and you doubted your hasty departure had made him happy. Though, you were surprised he noticed this quickly, maybe he had wanted something from you before he left the Crest.

People stepped out of his way as the hulking mass of beskar walked towards you, crossing half the length of the room in only a couple steps. “Cyar'ika.” His nickname for you, which he had not uttered in what seemed like forever, almost stopped you, but you couldn’t waver now. A woman close to the door moved closer to her companion, opening up your escape.

You ran.

Dust kicked up under your boots, no doubt leaving a trail for him to follow, but you hoped that he would get the hint. He had to have known that your time aboard the Crest was done, his child was gone, there was no use left for you and you had to leave before he figured it out and kicked you off himself.

You slipped into the now abandoned inn, silent save for the sound of you trying to catch your breath. This is what you wanted.

In your spiral of self-induced misery, you didn’t hear the heavy footfalls of the bounty hunter until it was too late, maybe if you did, you could’ve gotten away before he reached your door. Just as you thrust the ancient key into the lock, a huge hand landed on your shoulder, the strong fingers gripping the bone tightly, almost enough to make you wince.

“Why did you go?” His modulated voice was cold like the armour he wore, unyielding as you blindly tried to reach for the handle.

“It was time for me to leave.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look back. You tried to pull away but he held you tighter. 

“You want to leave me?” If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve swore he sounded sad. Your head tipped up to meet his gaze.

Without the filter of your wholly sober mind, your thoughts spilled from your lips. “We both know I’m just a burden to you. You’d be better off without me.” 

“No.” He sternly replied. 

“No? What do you mean ’no’?” 

“I mean no.” The door opened with a slam that made the thin wall tremble and suddenly, you were shoved into the dusty room, trapped with a man who you gravely misunderstood. Mando appeared as stoic as ever, all while he shut the door behind him, the lock snapping into place once more.

“You won’t leave me too.” He snarled and you gasped but it was quickly cut off as Mando spun you around, pressing your soft body into the hard wall of the inn.

A massive gloved hand clamped down on your hip as the other was planted by your head, caging you in, unable to escape the huge mandalorian. “You’re mine.” 

His chest heaved against your own, keeping you pinned in place as you struggled to breathe around the lump in your throat. He had never gotten this close to you before and it was entirely confusing. The cold metal of his chest plate pushed into your breasts making your nipples harden with the chill. Fear crawled up your spine quickly as his helmet tilted in the way it always did when he was observing a bounty.

“I fucking own you cyar'ika or did you forget about our contract already.” The leather of his gloves creaked as his grip tightened on your hip. You swallowed down a wince, unable to have a single thought other than how large he seemed like this. “You don’t get to leave.”

“Contract?”

Faster than your empty mind could comprehend, your employer’s hand flew to the belt that sat across his slim hips and pulled, drawing your gaze downwards. Though the plates on his thighs and the cup between them remained firmly on, from this close you could see the way his flight suit strained behind it. You forced your eyes back up to the dark line of his visor as he pulled something from one of the pockets on the belt before dropping it carelessly to the floor.

“Arms up.” He barked.

You balked, remaining frozen when you finally saw what was in his hands. A pair of cuffs.

“Up. Now.” Mando grabbed both your wrists in one massive paw and forced them above your head without so much as a peep of resistance from you. The cuffs closed around your wrists with a hiss that made his shoulders ease ever so slightly. His other hand remained on your hip, his thumb pressing into the bone like he was trying to ground himself.

“Mando what-“

“You were gone. I came down and you had taken off. I thought you were hurt or lost, but no, you were running away from me.” His head tipped down, scanning the length of your soft body that wasn’t pressed against him. “And now, you’re saying that I don’t want you, need you.” He kneaded the plush flesh of your hip as he stepped closer, now the whole length of him pushed against you, blocking your view until all you could see was him.

“You were wrong.” You tried to protest but he chose in that moment to press his leg between your own, forcing a whine from your lips before you could even think of smothering it.

“You belong to me.” The world flipped on its axis, knocking the wind from your lungs as the bounty hunter flipped you onto his hard shoulder. You almost expected him to throw open the door and carry you back to the Crest but the Mandalorian tossed you onto the bed in the center of the room, leaving you breathless and very confused.

“I-I can give you back the credits you gave me if that’s what you want.” He yanked at the fasteners on his forearms, letting the armour fall to the ground with a clatter. “Or something…” You trailed off as the beskar on his legs followed, somehow hoping that this was going in the direction you had wished for and it wasn’t some cruel joke he was playing to get back at you.

Mando scoffed beneath his helmet as the chest plate joined the rest of the set, leaving him standing over you in the dark grey flight suit you had seen dozens of times before, but never like this. The front was pulled tight by the heft of his cock pressing against the suit’s seam, a darker patch slowly growing where his bulk ended. 

“You haven’t seen it have you?” With your wrists still bound, you were pliant to his touch. His hands pulled at the shirt you wore, examining it before he suddenly gripped it tight and ripped the fabric apart.

“Hey!” Fear raced through your veins as your body was exposed to the man you had fallen for, you knew he would turn away, find you so wholly disgusting and unattractive that he would leave you on this bed in an inn that could barely be called that on a planet you didn’t know, taking your heart with him when he did. 

“Mesh'la.” His whisper crackled with the modulator in his helmet, but you heard it all the same.

“Please Mando, I’m sorry I left but we both know my usefulness ran out a long time ago. There’s nothing else of me that you want.” You tried to lower your arms over your stomach but he caught your wrists once more and forced them back over your head, keeping you exposed to him.

“I want all of you.” He tugged at the zipper of his suit with his free hand, slowly revealing his own lean body to you. Dark hair speckled his tanned chest, leading down to a soft stomach littered with scars that only added to his beauty. You knew he was strong, immensely so to get his job done, but seeing his strength laid out so plainly to you almost had you drooling. He ripped away the rest of your shirt without much more protest, tearing the fabric apart until all that remained was a thin strip in his hand. “This stays on.”

With more delicacy than you thought him capable of, Mando wrapped the fabric around your eyes, binding it behind your head, blinding you and then removing his touch from you entirely. “Mando, I don’t understand.” Your voice had grown weaker.

“You will.” He assured before another dull thud rang through the room. “I’ll make you understand just how badly I will always need you.” It took you a moment, disoriented from being blindfolded, but you suddenly realised that there was no modulation in his own voice.

“Mando?” 

“Trust me mesh'la.” It was then that his touch returned, burning hot and trembling with desire that you had never felt before. He touched your body with reverence, the tips of his fingers tracing each mark and marr with a soft admiration. “You don’t know what you do to me. So gentle, so soft, so perfect.” Lips followed each careful brush of his fingers.

“I’m not-“ You choked on the protest, tears burned behind your covered eyes.

“I tried to stop myself. I cannot give you the life you deserve but I couldn’t let you go, not after- You are my greatest sin. And my saviour.” Your pants slid down your legs before the weight of the bounty hunter replaced them, your skin flush together, no barriers between you. “And I am never letting you go.”

You tensed in surprise as he pressed his cock against your pussy, letting the heat between you grow unbearable. “I’m not any of those things. I’m not enough.” He froze, though he didn’t pull away.

“You think I’m lying to you.” Anger seeped from his pores. “I don’t lie to you, cyar'ika. Ever. I know you can feel how hard you make me, I’m always like this around you.” His hips pulled back, the tip of his cock falling to notch at your entrance. Even barely pressed into you, you burned with the stretch.

“It’s too much.” 

“You’ll take it.” And with that he blissfully, tortuously, began pushing into you. “You were meant to.” Your back lifted from the thin mattress, arching into him as you took more and more, the length of his cock almost never ending. Your hands curled into fists, your nails biting into the flesh of your palm.

Pain swirled with pleasure, muddying your mind more than any alcohol or spice ever could. Your jaw dropped open as he finally reached the hilt and stopped. “Remember to breathe.”

He drew back and then punched into you, forcing your body further up the bed. You didn’t even get a chance to draw in a breath before he did it again and then again and again until the frame beneath you shook with his power, threatening to collapse if you didn’t move with him.

You yanked your arms down, planting your hands on the solid muscle of his chest like you could steal the air from him in return but Mando grabbed the cuffs and pulled them back up over your head. “Breathe.” You gasped at the reminder, the pain suddenly morphing into blinding ecstasy.

“Please!” You begged, not knowing if you were pleading for mercy or for him to give you more. His lips descended on your neck, coarse hair scratching at the sensitive skin that only fed into the growing feeling in your stomach. His cock hit at something deep inside of you that set your nerves alight.

His body moved against yours perfectly, a dance of pleasure he somehow knew all the steps to already.

“I need you.” You lamented, the words flowing from you like a dam burst inside you. “I was so scared, I needed you and I couldn’t lose you too.” Tears wet the makeshift blindfold, making the fabric darker with each one that fell. 

“I’m sorry, it was all my fault.” He kissed up your jaw with each word. “You were my responsibility and I failed you, both of you.”

“He was mine.” You cried, chasing his lips. You thrust your bound hands into his hair tugging on the thick curls until you could feel the tip of his nose brush yours. “Please, I need-“ He smashed his lips to yours but then quickly pulled away, his voice ringing through your ears once more.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde”

“What’s it mean?” You slurred but instead of an answer, you received a snarl of frustration.

“Repeat it.” His hand pressed down on your stomach like he was trying to feel his cock pounding into you beneath the layer of fat but he only succeeded in adding more pressure to the already building mountain inside of you. You wailed, thrashing beneath him in some vain attempt to escape the pleasure he was inflicting on you but he didn’t relent for a second. He growled and threw one of your legs over his shoulder, forcing himself even deeper inside you.

“Repeat it.” He hit your g-spot with every thrust, brutally pushing you higher and higher. 

“I can’t! I don’t understand!” You sobbed.

He groaned as you tightened around him, your pussy desperately trying to suck him in. “Repeat this; We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.” 

“We are one when together.” The cuffs unlocked and your fingers tangled together with his. “We are one when parted.” Your legs wrapped around his waist. “We will share all.” One of his hands cupped the back of your head, pulling at the knot on the blindfold.

“We will raise warriors.” He repeated with you before he yanked off the fabric. The light blinded you for a moment before he became clear. A halo of warmth surrounded his head, illuminating the delicate, harsh features of his face, a face that had not been seen since he was a child.

“My riddur, my wife.” He cupped your full cheek, wiping away the tears that had been steadily leaking from your eyes. “Say your husband’s name when you cum. Let me feel it.”

Your hips rolled upwards, matching his gentler thrusts as you squeezed his hand. “My husband.” His smile punched a hole right through you, tying the knot in your stomach even tighter.

“Din.” He supplied with a moan against your lips. Your legs wound tighter around him, pulling him into you.

With one more deep roll of his hips, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock brushing your swollen clit, you fell, succumbing to mind-numbing pleasure as you howled his name over and over again. Din shuttered above you, desperately trying to keep up his pace to ride out your orgasm for all its worth.

“Kriff.” He gritted his teeth, his hips catching as his own end barrelled into him. Your thighs sealed him into you as he let out a growl. “I’ll make sure you remember you’re mine with my child in your belly.” Din pinned you to the bed with his hips as molten heat exploded within you, filling you with everything he had. 

Your breaths mixed as you both finally came down from your highs, leaving you sore but pleased. There was so much left to ask, to say, the air was thick with it, but there was only one assurance you could utter to the man above you, in you.

“We will get him back, I promise.” You pressed your lips to his, the scruff of his facial hair poking your skin yet you reveled in the feeling, you may never feel it again. He sighed into the kiss as he slowly softened inside you.

“Do you remember that day in the market? That was the day I knew you were mine, my aliit, my clan.” 

You smiled at him. “That’s the day I knew too. I never thought you’d feel the same.” He kissed you again, his lips unsure but eager against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close for just a few seconds longer.

“It’s time we go, find our son.” He pried himself from you and began to gather the discarded pieces of his armour as you attempted to recover from his attentions. The silence and occasional grunt of exertion as Din forced the cold metal back into place, eased your mind. He was here, he came for you with no hesitation and he proved that you were the one he wished to build something new with.

You threw your legs over the edge of the bed, shakily standing as he donned the last of his beskar. You reached for your pants but instead picked up the final piece of his armour. He swung his head around, far too much like Grogu used to when he had lost something, taking a hesitant step further from you in his search. You cleared your throat, immediately bringing his big brown eyes back to you as you lifted the helmet.

“You ripped my shirt.” You reminded him with a smirk, looking down at your bare chest. 

With a sheepish look on his face, Din yanked off his cape and bundled you up in it, making sure you were completely covered before taking the helmet held lovingly in your hands. His smile was the last thing you saw on his face as he placed the helm back onto his head, once again becoming the Mandalorian. He swept you into his arms, keeping your body tight to his chest as he stepped into the hall.

“We will get him back.” He repeated, holding you closer. 

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[orcasoul]

Broken Part 2

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: Swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4,564

It has been one month since Din left you as a sobbing mess on Sorgan. One month since he'd had anything resembling a good night's sleep, haunted every time he closes his eyes by the image of your devastated face and shaking frame. Please Din, please don't this! echoing on a loop in his mind. He did what needed to be done, so why can't he seem to move on? He has regained his creed, by the grace of the Living Waters, you're safe, you have friends and a new place to start over. That knowledge should be enough to to ease his conscience, so why can't he let you go?

Why does he suffer every day with crushing guilt and endless longing to see you, touch you, laugh with you? Of course he's not the only one suffering. Grogu cried for three days straight when Din told him you wouldn't be coming back. Even now Grogu seems forlorn. He's quieter than usual, not showing much interest in his toys, not constantly harassing the poor froggy's in his pond. Din tried everything he could think of to distract him, but it was futile. Grogu misses you, and in truth, so does Din. Work has been slow for the past couple of weeks, meaning once Din has dropped Grogu off at school, he's had nothing but time to ruminate on the events that led to this.

Had he been too harsh? Maybe, but although he's consumed by guilt - and a part of him wants to run to you, forgive you and hold you - he still can't see how he'll ever be able to trust you again, trust you to make difficult decisions when necessary. His heart and his mind are being pulled in two different directions. He can't take this anymore. He needs to clear his head. Getting up from the settee, he places his helmet on his head before walking out of the door to visit the one non Mandalorian friend he has on Nevarro.

The evening sun drenches Sorgan in a warm, golden hue, rays of sunlight gleaming off the krill ponds, shadows of huts and trees elongating as the sun slowly begins it's decent beyond the horizon. The evening had always been your favourite time of day on any planet. Taking time to relax and unwind after a long day was always something you'd look forward to, but not anymore. The evening heralds the approaching night, and night time is when the tears come. When the loneliness and sorrow become too much to bare and manifest in unbridled anguish and weeping. Omera has been a liferaft in a tumultuous ocean for you, allowing you to cry until you'd exhausted yourself and always ready to offer advice and support as your poured your aching heart out.

You honestly don't know what you would've done without her this past month. You'd told her everything the day Din left you in pieces and a part of you worried that she'd be disappointed in you too, but she showed nothing but understanding, adding that in a situation like that, anyone would do the same. Some nights were easier than other's to endure. Night's when your toilworn body had no choice but to succumb to sleep after spreading yourself too thin. More work meant less time to think and a greater chance of sleeping through the night.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights. The harvest had been collected and the krills had been salted and stored away, which meant for the past two days there had been a lot less work to occupy your mind. Tonight is the village festival, a chance for the community to come together and celebrate the rewards of everyone's hard work. As the orange and pink sky turned to dusk, bonfires were lit throughout the village, a signal of the beginning of the festivities. Banners and streamers hung between huts, log seats and blankets placed around each bonfire, the aromas of different delicacy's wafted from the stalls, reaching every corner of the village and the cool night air came alive with cheerful music.

Children laughed and played, people danced, friends gathered around the fires, enjoying Spotchka, everyone immersed in the exuberant atmosphere. It's moments like this that somewhat lightened your spirits, even if it is temporary. Omera sat beside you by the fire, handing you a cup of Spotchka. "Thanks," you smiled at your friend. "So, how are you enjoying your first harvest festival?" You look at Omera with a soft gaze. "It's great. I love seeing how everyone comes together. It's..." you sigh, "It's a rare thing these days."

And that's true, considering the larger, more metropolitan worlds you've visited seem to have lost all sense of community, everyone too caught up in their own lives, rushing from A to B without a second thought for their neighbours. "It is?" Omera seemed surprised by your answer, but of course she'd never left Sorgan, so this life is all she's known. "Yeah, a lot of people in the galaxy these days tend to keep to themselves, look out for number one." Omera grimaced at the thought of that kind of existence. "I'd hate to live like that." "Yeah, you're lucky here. This place is..." you look around at the heartwarming scene in front of you, one of camaraderie, belonging. "This place is special."

Omera placed a hand on your shoulder. "You mean we're lucky here. This is your home too now." Tears well up in your eyes but you blink them back and look at your feet. While you deeply appreciate what the village has done for you, this could never truly be home. Home is inside the hearts of the two people you love the most in this whole universe. A home you'll never see again. "Mama, Y/N!" Winta comes bounding over to you both, a huge grin lighting up her face. "I made these for you." She placed two little daisy crowns on both your heads.

"Thank you, sweetie. It's beautiful," Omera gushed and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Aww, thank you," you smiled softly. You've grown very fond of Winta over the past month, her happy disposition reminding you so much of Grogu. "I'll wear this proudly all night." With a giggle she turned and ran back to her friends. You watch her laughing and skipping with some of the other kids, and you feel your heart warm at the sight. Your mood quickly shifts, though, when your attention is caught by a toddler (no older than two) running into the waiting arms of his mum and dad.

Watching the sweet embrace, the joy and love so openly displayed sends a wave of pain straight through your heart. So many times Grogu had ran to you and Din like that, like you were both the centre of his universe. If you'd known that life would end, you would have held onto them both and never let go. The familiar numbness you'd been battling over the past month returns, sinking deep into your stomach. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you place your cup down and stand up. "You okay?" Omera asks. "Yeah I... I just need to clear my head. I'll be right back," you try to say casually, hoping Omera didn't notice the slight quaver in your voice.

The outskirts of the village is a little quieter, a little less overwhelming. Finding a boulder you slump down onto it, dipping your face into your hands. You inhale deeply then look up at the cosmos, wondering what Din and Grogu are doing this very moment. Are they well? Do they miss you as much as you do them? You're one hundred percent certain that Grogu misses you, but Din? Well, you can't be too sure anymore. You can't be sure of anything anymore when it comes to Din. He'd told you time and again that he loved you, but if that were true, why did he leave you instead of talking to you, instead of giving you a chance to make amends?

Maybe you'd been foolish this whole time. Maybe you loved -love- him more than he's ever loved you. Of course these thoughts had been swirling around your brain, relentlessly hounding you since that day, and you're still no closer to clarification, except for one harsh truth; that you're expendable, meaningless and not worthy of love, if the one person you'd trusted the most could just turn his back on you. A pained sob breaks free as you bury your face in your hands. In all your years nothing had ever hurt as much as this! Will this feeling lesson over time, granting you the opportunity to to learn to live with it, or will you have to face this bleak void for the rest of your life?

So lost are you in your all consuming spiral that you don't notice the screams at first. It's only when the unmistakable echos of blaster fire ring out that you leap to your feet like a startled Porg. Your immediate thoughts are for your friends. "Omera! Winta!" you scream as you run into the village. It's absolute chaos! Red streaks fly through the air, people screaming in panic as the attackers gain the upper hand. Some women run to nearby huts with their children while other's are being rounded up. The men are fighting back, but without any firearms they stand no chance. 'Winta, Omera! Where are you?!" You push through the throng of panicking people, desperately to catch sight of them amidst the mayhem. It's no use. In the dark and the rush of bodies you can't see them anywhere. "Win- arrrgh!" You hit the ground hard, a white hot burn tearing across your lower back and side. You push yourself up, gasping at the pain and, knowing there's nothing more you can do, you run.

Stumbling through the dark woods with only the moonlight to guide you, your mind tries to make sense of what just happened. Your lungs burn as you push through the woodland. You don't know where you're gong but you keep moving, until your legs can't take it anymore. A sharp pang jolts through your knees as you land on them, sweating and gasping for air. Dizziness and nausea sweep over you like a wave and you dig your fingers into the damp soil to ground yourself. As your breathing becomes less frantic, your head clears, and thats when you feel a warm wetness running down your thigh, soaking your trousers and making them stick to you.

You reach a hand around to where the pain radiates from and when you pull away, you squint at the dark, thick liquid staining your hand. The moonlight isn't bright enough to give you a clear view so you bring your hand to your nose, praying your suspicions are wrong. Your sense of smell is instantly overwhelmed by a strong metallic scent. Blood! "Fuck!" you groan quietly. I've been shot! You begin to tremble as you realise just how dire your situation has become. The sudden sounds of snapping and rustling has you jerking your head in it's direction. Voices follow the noises, telling each other to scour the woodland for any escapees. With a silent groan you force yourself to your feet and keep running.

For the past couple of days, Din has been in mental torture. His visit to Karga hadn't gone the way he'd planned. All he'd wanted was a new bounty to keep his mind off you, but instead he'd been given some harsh truths. And the more he thinks about the conversation, the more he realises what a grievous mistake he has made, his mind constantly replaying the moment he'd had some sense knocked into him.

"Mando!" Greef Karga exclaimed enthusiastically while rising from his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Din clasped his friends' arm and sat down opposite him. "I'm looking for more work." "Straight to the point as usual," Karga chuckled. "I've got a few bounty pucks, but to be honest the reward is so low it probably wouldn't even cover fuel." Din sighed and sat back in the chair. "Anyway, what's the rush? Your last two jobs paid handsomely. Why not take some time off and relax?" "I don't need to relax," Din replied, curtly, his shoulders stiffening with tension. Karga raised an eyebrow at Din's clipped response. "So, uh... how's the little one doing?"

Just the mention of Grogu helped to relax Din's tense posture. "He's good," Din answered, with a hint of affection in his voice. "He's been making new friends at school." Karga smiled at that, then clasped his hands together on the desk in front of him, focusing entirely on the black T of Din's helmet. "And how are you?" Din shrugged, "I'm fine." Karga just kept his gaze, fixing Din with a questioning look. "What?" Din asked awkwardly. "You're not doing yourself any favours by bottling everything up, you know." Din shifted uncomfortably, fists clenching as Karga continued. "Sooner or later it'll all catch up with you and -" "I said I'm fine," Din snapped.

"No you're not fine, Mando! You haven't been 'fine' since you left Y/N on Sorgan. You think I haven't noticed how distracted you've been lately?" Karga sighed and lowered his tone. "The only time you seem okay is when you're around the kid, but even then, I can't help but suspect it's a front. Just go to her. You obviously miss her. Din shook his head and let out long exhale. "Of course I miss her, but it's not that simple. "Why?" Karga asked, clearly confused, "You've redeemed yourself. You have your creed-" "It's not about the creed," Din interrupted in frustration, "It's about trust. I trusted her completely."

"Mando-" karga began but Din continued, "She went against my wishes and disrespected the creed and myself, even if it was to save my life. It was a ... selfish thing she did." Karga's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Selfish?!" "Yes! She said she couldn't lose me. She only thought about how she would feel, so yes, she was selfish." Karga pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head as he did so. "Mando, you're my friend so I'm going to be blunt. That's Bantha shit!!" Din jerked back at Karga's sudden outburst. "She saved your life, knowing that doing so could end with you hating her. She knew what she was risking by removing your helmet, and it wasn't just losing you, but Grogu too. She sacrificed everything so you could live, even if she could no longer be a part of your lives. That is the most selfless thing I've ever heard of."

Din is speechless. He'd been so consumed by, what he'd seen as a betrayal, that he hadn't stopped to consider what it would have really meant for you to let him die. You loved him so much that you'd risked losing everything, just for him. The sudden clarity made his stomach churn and chest tighten under the weight of such a revelation. What the hell had he done?! "I... I never thought of it like that," Din faltered as regret swept through him. "Maybe it's not too late. I'm sure you'll do the right thing," Karga smiled sincerely. Din stood quickly; he needed to get out of there, needed space to think clearly. "Thank you," Din nodded at his friend and rushed outside.

For two days Din had been obsessing over how he can fix everything, but what could he say to excuse his behaviour? Would you forgive him? He couldn't blame you if you wouldn't. He doesn't deserve it. He feels sick to his stomach knowing the pain he's put both you and Grogu through. He has to see you, even if you won't forgive him, he needs you to know how sorry he is and how much he still loves you. Din is brought out of his thoughts by the blinking of his holoprojector, a quick press of the button revealing Greef Karga's hazy image. "Mando," Karga began, "I've just received communication from Captain Carson Teva. He has a proposition for you. I need to discuss this with you in person. Can you come to the office ASAP? It's important."

Din frowned as Karga's image disappeared. He could tell from his voice that something was very wrong. Din slipped his helmet on and made his way to the office. Upon arrival, Din was met with a very somber looking Karga. This can't be good, Din surmised internally. "Thank you for coming in, Mando," Greef said, stretching out an arm for Din to sit. "You said you have work for me from Captain Teva?" Din asked as he took a seat. "Yes... uh, he's had confirmed reports that an organisation of Spice runners have taken control of a planet in a nearby system. There have also been reports of fatalities and enslavement of the local people. As the Planet is part of the Outer Rim Territories," -Din bristled at that, hoping Karga isn't going to say what he thinks he's going to say- "It's not exactly a top priority for the over stretched republic officers. That's why Captain Teva has requested the help of allies nearby. He'll pay 30,000 Galactic Credits."

"Okay..." Din replied, hesitantly, a knot forming in his stomach. Greef closed his eyes and sighed. "Mando..." he looked back up. "It happened on Sorgan. Din's heart dropped to his stomach as the words he didn't want to hear washed over him. He could barely breathe, fear and disbelief choking his airways. The room began to spin and Din had to grip the edge of the desk to steady himself. "When did this happen?" Din pressed, trying to calm his racing mind. "Two days ago, Nevarro time." Din's jaw dropped under his helmet. "Two days!" All this time you'd needed him and he knew nothing of it.

Maker knows what could have become of you in the past two days, that's if you're still- no! He can't even entertain that possibility. You're alive! You're alive and he'll come for you. "Tell Captain Teva I'm on my way!" Din spun around, ready to high tail it out of there, but then stopped abruptly. In his panic he'd completely forgotten about Grogu. Karga raised a hand, already knowing what Din was about to say. "Go. Find her. I'll get the kid from school and he can stay with me until you return." "Thank you," Din replied and ran out of the room.

You're cold, so bloody cold. The icy chill seems to be coming from inside your very bones, your entire body trembling uncontrollably, while a constant layer of sweat coats your skin. The only respite you get is when you lose consciousness. At this point, though, you're not sure what's real and what's not, how often you've woken and how often you've been dreaming becoming harder to distinguish between. After managing to stop the bleeding with a strip of your shirt, you forced yourself onwards until you came across a small cave, finally collapsing in an exhausted heap.

Time has now become meaningless. Maybe you've been here for minutes, maybe hours; there's no way to know. What you do know, even in your delirious state, is that you're in serious trouble, and if you don't get help soon... well, it's game over. Dying alone on a freezing cave floor wasn't how you ever envisioned yourself going out. Every breath is becoming difficult and every slight movement sends a burning jolt through your abdomen. Slowly, you slip back into the calm.

The fight didn't last long, if it could even be called that. Along with Captain Teva and his men and several other mercenaries, Din wasted no time in obliterating every one of those low life drug runners and freeing the villagers from bondage. Families and friends cried happy tears as they embraced each other, others crying over the loss of a loved one, and an abundance of gratitude and praise was offered up to the liberators. It was a moment of immense joy and relief. However, Din felt none of it as he scanned the crowd. Where the hell are you? he asked himself again and again. With every passing minute Din's composure threatened to shatter.

"Have you seen Y/N anywhere?!" he asked repeatedly as more and more villagers approached him to thank him, every one of them confirming they hadn't seen you. Worry and frustration began to boil within until Din felt like he was going to explode. "Mando!" a sweet little voice cried out, catching Din's attention and pulling him from his imminent spiral. Small arms wrapped around his waist and a head of dark hair nuzzled into his stomach. "Winta." Din gasped in relief, returning her embrace. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" Winta looked up with a big grin. "I'm okay. You saved us, thank you!"

Din crouched down to Winta's level, gently holding on to her arms. "Where's your mother? Where's Y/N?" he asked, trying to remain calm. "Mama's over there," winta pointed behind her to where Omera was quickly walking through the crowd towards him. "Mando..." Omera smiled, relief swimming in her brown eyes. "What are you doing here?" "I heard what happened and I had to come. Where is she?" Omera's face dropped at Din's question, taking his heart along with it. "Omera?..." Din hesitated, almost afraid to ask again but he needed to know. "Where's Y/N?"

"I don't know," Omera shook her head while tucking Winta into her side. "I haven't seen her since the attack." Din's chest seized, Omera's confirmation that you weren't there making his stomach swirl with dread. "I can't be sure, it was dark, but I think I saw her run into the woods." A glimmer of hope! "Which way?" Omera pointed to the tree line behind him, tears building in her eyes. "Please bring her back, Mando," she sniffled. "I will," Din declared with determination, placing a reassuring hand on Omera's shoulder. "I promise!" Then Din turned, sprinting towards the forrest as fast as his legs could carry him.

It didn't take Din long to spot the tell tale signs of disturbance once he'd entered the forrest. Broken branches on bushes, flattened vegetation, and most importantly, footprints. Several different tracks criss crossed the damp soil, some human, some not. Most of the human prints where too big to be you, so Din could easily rule them out, along with the non human tracks. The tracks that caught his attention, though, were sporadic, indicating that whoever they belonged to was in a hurry, but also Physically impaired as the trail was often interrupted by signs of dragging, which could only mean the tracks' owner had stumbled multiple times in their haste to keep moving.

Din swallowed down his rising anxiety at the thought of you being injured, scared and alone. Now's not the time to fall apart. Keep it together, for her! Fortifying himself, Din pushed forward, certain he's on the right path. He engaged the heat signature function in his helmet. It would be useless to track your footsteps now, the heat in them long gone, but if you're in the vicinity, he would easily spot your body heat. Din moved in stealthy silence as he would while tracking quarries, acutely aware of his surroundings. Only this time the stakes were much higher.

Your life is in his hands now. He can't fail you; he wont! He follows the tracks for several more minutes, analysing every minute detail. Rounding the corner of a bush Din stops dead, his muscles freezing as he stares at the ground. There in a patch of dried blood is the beaded bracelet Grogu had made for you in school. He'd recognise it anywhere. His legs turn to jelly and he drops to his knees. Hand trembling he picks it up. Bile rises up his throat at the sight of your blood. It suddenly becomes all too real. This confirms it; you're hurt. You needed him and he wasn't there. Pocketing the bracelet, Din rises to his full height. "Y/N?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his body turning in every direction. "Y/N! Where are you?!"

He's met with nothing but the sounds of the forrest and his echoing, modulated voice. "If you can hear me, call out, please!" The last word came out as a desperate plea. Nothing. A thorough scan of the area reveals no body heat signature but you have to be close. The tracks keep going and so does Din. The more he presses on, the more blood he discovers littering the trail. So determined he'd been about finding you, that he'd didn't stop to think about what condition he'd find you in. Would you even be alive? Din shakes the abhorrent thought from his mind.

You're alive. Surely he'd have felt it in his gut if you weren't. Din has become a man possessed, his only mission now is to find you, hold you in his arms and never let any harm befall you ever again. He stalks on, following the tracks for another quarter of a mile until the trail brings him to the mouth of a small cave. This has to be it! With renewed hope, Din charges into the cave, calling your name into the chilled air.

A series of violent shivers jerk you awake, and with consciousness comes the torturous pain spreading along your side. A trickle of sunlight filters down from a hole in the cave ceiling, bathing part of the area in a warm yellow glow. You groan as everything begins to spin in your vision, shutting your eyes in an attempt to ease the nausea trying to climb up you throat. It's hopeless; you know that now. With every waking moment a little more of your strength ebbs away. Your mind wonders to Din and Grogu. Even if you never physically see them again, at least you'll die seeing them in your memories.

A wistful smile tugs at your mouth as you imagine the antics your precious boy is probably up to at this moment, but your smile slowly drops, sadness settling deep within as the image of Din -both with and without his helmet- comes to the forefront of your mind. You'll die now, without the chance to tell him one last time how much he means to you, and that even though he broke your heart, you forgive him. You hadn't even realised until now that your face is wet, tears running down the temples of your head and into your hairline behind your ears.

"Y/N? !Y/N?! Cyar'ika are you in here?!" Din's frantic voice cuts through your silent despair. It sounds strange, almost as if he's under water. So close, yet so far away. How cruel of your mind to play tricks on you now. You hear the call of your name again, closer and clearer this time. In your disorientation, you turn your head in the direction of the voice. The last thing you see before darkness swallows you again is the gleam of sunlight reflecting off a fast moving mass of silver and black.

Part 3

[atyourmerci]

✩Your Galaxy✩

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Abby Anderson / Mandolorian AU

Summary: Abby as a Mandolorian. No specific relationship to reader yet (will obv get into if this turns into a fic).

Warnings: smut, MDNI, some fluff holy fuck Madda wrote fluff?? Fingering, cunnilingus, switch!abby, switch!reader, cannon typical violence, no y/n, only description of reader is having hair, making up shit about space and Star Wars uni that I don’t know!!!it’s fine!!!

A/N: hey babies, so I’ve been sittingggg on this idea for a sec and idk if it will gel with you guys so pls lmk if this would be something you’re interested in. I guess this is a blurb?? If you wanna see it turn into a fic pls let me know:))

✩ ✩

Mando!abby who takes off her gloves so she can feel how wet you really are, even when you promise her.

Mando!abby who let’s you trace your fingers along her face in the darkness of the night so you can imagine what she truly looks like. The first time you weren’t expecting her vulnerability, she had just fucked you senseless as you laid there heaving when she pulled your shaky fingertips to her defined face, allowing you to let them roam freely.

Mando!abby who took her helmet off for the first time when you were laid inbetween her thighs, lapping at her swollen clit. She wanted you to hear her pathetic whimpers that no one else had. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly when you heard the rustling of the helmet come off, but she trusted you… “k- keep going baby I- jus’ wanna watch you”

Mando!abby who couldn’t help but to admit her real name with you as she had you bent over her bed, helmet off heavy breathed over the shell of your ear, driving her soaked fingers into your needy cunt. “F-fuck Mando…” you pathetically breathe out, muffled by the thin white fabric of her bed. “Abby,” Mando remarked flatly. It took you aback at the unrecognizable name, your body froze as your mind raced, did she call you the wr- “call me abby,” she corrects herself. A guttural breath you didn’t notice you were holding escapes your lips. Abby…Abby. A delicate name for the otherwise ruthless murderer. The name swirled aimlessly in your mind over and over again…abby.

Mando!abby who’s secret you knew. She was able to go unrecognized as a woman in her field, tweaking her modulator so her voice came out husky, her build making her larger and more threatening than any other mandolorian you had seen before. She didn’t want them to treat her differently, think less of her ability. You accidentally stumbled upon her well held secret when she came back to the ship with a gash across her abdomen. She tried hiding it from you, but it came up so close on her chest you unknowingly forced it out of her. You froze at the sight of her black bra peeking under her tunic, cheeks flushed. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she bit under her breath. You internally pulled yourself together with your new found information on the mysterious killer, wild eyed averting your gaze back to her cover eyes, eyes that you’ll never see. “Okay.” You said with an attempt at confidence. An attempt at reassurance. She had no reason to trust your word, but she did.

Mando!abby who insists on showering your body even if the lights are on. A stupid fucking ship. If the shower was running the lights had to be on. This was an automatic off zone for you when things started with you and abby. Not only could you see her face, but her entire body would be revealed to you in the intimate space of the well-lit shower. Her body that you had only seen bits and pieces of in desperate, heavy breathed moments, but never her face. But when you had returned from a rather brutal hunt, blood caked in your hair, she insisted to clean you off. “B-but abby-“ before you can protest she began removing your blood soaked clothing out of your sight behind you, “just close your eyes, I’ll stand behind you. I’m not leaving you by yourself for another moment,” the tang of her sweet voice fluttered your ears, unmarked by the hardness of the modulated voice of her visor.

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed

[pigeonmama]

I love the green baby so much. Where's a Mandalorian when I need one, eh?

I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

Keep reading

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Night on the town

Mandalorian x reader

Pairing: Din Djarin Mandalorian x reader

Warning: mentions of alcohol and some 18+ themes. No minors please!

Summary: Reader doesn’t listen to Mandos warnings about staying on the ship, then wakes up with something new and a bit troubling…

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“Don’t leave the ship” those four words had been echoing in your head all week.

For months you’d never really minded following your Mandalorians orders, most planets he landed on for bounties were backwater scugholes whose inhabitants were low level creeps and criminals. You were perfectly fine staying within the safe compounds of the ship normally…but this planet was different.

Ceralis 3 was known for its bustling city full of high quality clothing stalls, the tastiest food establishments, musical performances, and oh how you couldn’t stop thinking about the renowned city square that’s lit up like starlight when the suns go down and everyone gathers to dance. You’d seen so many brochures advertising Ceralis 3 as a top vacation spot. And now you were finally here… stuck on a ship.

“Must be nice..” you mumble head resting flat on your arms watching the suns set from behind the glass of the ships viewport. The twinkling lights in the distant mocking you as if to say “here we are shining so bright and you’re stuck in a dark smelly cockpit”.

Ok so maybe that’s an exaggeration.. but still you were minutes away from going crazy with boredom.

“Don’t leave the ship” he said from the bottom of the ramp like he always does before leaving for a bounty.

Bounty hunting usually doesn’t take a week though… ugh

You lean up on your arms watching the twinkling lights of the city getting brighter. What was everyone doing now? Drinking? Dancing? Having 1000x more fun than you were right now??

You glance at the small data pad that Din gave you. When he was finished with a bounty he usually sent a quick message through.

You checked it again for the millionth time.

No new messages…

What if you just went for a quick look… no

No you couldn’t do that, din would be angry if he found out.

If he found out…

If…

You check the data pad again. Every time he sent a message it usually took him a decent amount of time to get back to the ship, he’d usually stop for supplies and whatnot.

So you had time even if he messaged you while you were out…

But could you break his trust so easily-

*pop pop pop*

Bright strands of fiery light shot up from the skyline in the shapes of flowers.

Well he didn’t need to know everything…

You sprung up practically jumping down the ladder to your small closet.

You smirked pulling out the one nice “out for a night on the town outfit” you owned. A stark contrast to the usual travel outfits you donned.

You applied some light makeup, grabbed your satchel and were off the ship in record time.

You took note of the pathway, and kept the data pad close to your hip in case that all to familiar beep sounded and you needed to rush back..

You gasped nearing a well lit archway taller than anything you’d seen before.

Giddy with excitement you ran in and were immediately overtaken by a rush of… well everything.

The streets were lit bright with lanterns, full of laughing and singing people.

The smells were making your mouth water wondering what on earth could smell so heavenly, and the buildings.. oh the absolutely breathtaking carvings. You didn’t know what to do first!

So you did the first thing that you saw, you ate from several stalls, bought a bunch of jewelry and souvenirs that you absolutely didn’t need, watched a few performances, drank some juice being served on a tray that you didn’t realize had alcohol… and then made your way to the famous square.

Oh and what a sight it was… like someone had the most dazzling dream and brought it to life. Everyone was jumping and dancing to live musicians. You wondered briefly if your Mandalorian could dance. Probably not.. but maybe if you really asked nicely he would.. or if you just dragged him..

You wished he was here.. you usually weren’t separated that long so it’s been a little lonely.

You sighed watching the couples dance and hold each other warmly. Some kissing some just gazing into each others eyes…

Ok more than a little lonely..

Maybe you should head back..

You sipped on your juice walking back in the direction of the ship.

What lovely juice, so sweet and spicy at the same time..

Mmm juicy juice so lovely

Hmm you peeked at a stall in passing, maybe you should get him something? Yeah that’s right, he wouldn’t be mad at you for leaving if you got him a gift!

Maybe you’d get some more juice while you shopped and then maybe——-

************************************************

Ugh why is my head pounding so bad…

You wince sitting up in the cot holding your head with a hand.

You blink slowly regaining your senses, the previous nights memories ending in a blur. You didn’t even remember coming back to the ship…

Ugh you were so stupid, the “juice” was alcohol and you’d had so many of them..

You panicked a bit not seeing your satchel on the hook but then calmed seeing it on the floor.

With a sigh you reached in pulling out the data pad and pressing the button.

*new message*

Oh kriff..

*Heading back. Shouldn’t take more than half a day.*

Half a day… wait when did he send that!?

The sky was so bright outside how long had you been asleep?? You looked down seeing you were still dressed up from last night.

I better change before he gets-

You stumble a bit feeling your leg let out a painful throb.

Oh no was I stupid and injured myself last night?

Quickly you pull up your clothing expecting a bruise or a cut or something but instead what awaited you was infinitely worse.

“Oh maker what have I done…”

You vaguely remember wanting to get something for Din but why on earth did your drunken state think that was a good idea!?!?

Kriff what did I do!?!?

You wobble quickly to the mirror to get a better look at the new addition to your outer thigh.

An abstract outline of your mandalorians helmet with his name cursively written under it.

Oh now you remembered.. bits and pieces as you stumbled into a tattoo stall and scribbled on a paper demanding it be the bestest bestie best tattoo ever, you even remember the guy asking if you wanted to wait until you were sober but then you cried until he did it.

Kill me now…

Ugh Why why why!? How was I going to explain this to Din!?

As if the universe was punishing you even more you heard a familiar beeping and gasped feeling the vibrations of the ships ramp moving.

Of kriffing course he would arrive now!

You quickly pull your clothing down and try to look as nonchalant as you can watching as Din walks up the ramp into the hull.

His bounty blocked your view of him but he was fighting and throwing some curses but Din is quick to throw him in the carbonite freezer.

You gulp as he finally turns around to regard you.

“Welcome back..” you tried to sound like your normal self. Key word being tried.

Din stood still for a moment then his helmet slowly shifted from your face down to your body then up again.

Oh yeah my outfit and makeup…

“You look…nice” he said a bit confused.

Maybe you could spin this…

“Oh well I um wanted to um surprise you… I really missed you Din..”

You hoped your nervousness would be taken as you just being embarrassed to dress up for him.

He tilted his helmet a bit, his stance relaxing ever so slightly and he took a couple steps in your direction.

“Yeah?”

Oh how easy men could be sometimes…

“Yeah” you smiled stepping forward too and wrapping your arms around him. “You were gone a while this time..”

He pulled back a bit to see you but his strong arms were still held firm around you.

“Yeah the bounty was more work than I originally anticipated, sorry you had to be alone so long.”

“It’s alright..you’re back now that’s all that matters…” you smile up into his visor knowing his eyes are deeply peering into yours just as lovingly.

His hands slide a bit and he grips you a bit tighter “if I knew you were gonna dress up just for me, I would’ve forgotten all about the bounty and rushed here..”

“Mm I’ll have to remember that for next time…” you lean up tilting your head to the side to kiss the bare skin just under his helmet. He breathes in, deep and crackley through the modulator.

Your hands reach up about to lift his helmet off when suddenly his head moves to the side.

“Din?” You frown a bit following his gaze then when you do your eyes widen a bit at what you see.

A beautifully beaded tote bag overflowing with items leaned against the wall, a strand of pearls strewn across it along with a shimmery scarf and a bottle of “juice”. Oh Kriff just how drunk did you get last night!?!?

“What’s that?”

“Oh um just some old stuff I pulled out when I was trying stuff on for you..”

He pulled away and you knew you had messed up.

“Din..?”

He approached the bag and knelt down. He picked up the bottle with one hand.

“And you just happened to have an alcohol that’s only produced on this planet in your storage?” His voice had completely shifted from gentle and loving to interrogative typical pre meeting me Mando.

“Well…”

He abruptly stood up with a sigh.

“You left the ship” he stated with a huff.

You bite your lip looking away from the intense stare.

“…”

“What’s the one thing I told you never to do?” You could tell he was angry but was trying to hold it back.

“…go against your orders..”

“Go against my orders and what did you do?”

“I left the ship… I’m sorry but I was so bored and lonely and I just…” maker could you sound any more pathetic and whiny.

He let out a huff of annoyance, “you put yourself in danger because you were bored?”

“Din..”

“You don’t know this planet, and I have a million enemies, I don’t tell you to stay on the ship for the hell of it” he bit out getting more frustrated.

“I… I know… I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking..”

You heard a sigh again and hesitantly looked up. His shoulder relaxed a bit his tone a bit softer but still plenty stern. “I can’t go after bounties and worry about you too..”

Well now you felt like absolutely shit

“Oh Din I’m so sorry, of course you can’t, shouldn’t actually. It was dumb and stupid and reckless and I promise I won’t leave again. No matter how tempting it is..”

He stood for a moment deciding you were sincere in your words, he held out a single arm motioning for you to come closer again,

You do and hug him muttering another apology.

“So you didn’t dress up for me huh..?”

Oh..

You peek up from his chest finding his gaze on yours,

“Well… not exactly but my first thought when I looked in the mirror was how I wished you were by my side to see me… does that count?”

He lets out a scoff and lowers his hands “No”

You pout

“But I know how you can make it up to me”.

His hands are back on you stroking your thighs kneeding them softly when all the sudden you yelp.

He pulls away shocked “what’s wrong?”

“Oh uh nothing just got caught up in the moment…”

His head tilts and boy for someone with a helmet on his expressions were clear as day.

“Wanna run that by me again?”

“I had a cramp?” You lamely ask.

Seconds of silence pass before his hands are reaching for the tips of your dress.

“Ah wait no!”

You jump back not ready now or ever for him to see your latest mistake.

He freezes, now that’s something you’d never done before.

“You hurt yourself didn’t you?” He crosses his arms.

“I did not..”

“Then what are you hiding?”

“….”

He sighs again loudly “you have three seconds to show me before I do it myself.”

Kriff…

You hesitate not knowing what to do.

“One”

Ugh what now!?

“Two”

Maybe you could lock yourself in the fresher…

“Three”

You make a dash for the open door but make it all of two steps before strong arms pull you back.

“Really?” He huffs annoyed.

“Din wait!”

“Just relax what’s the worst it could be?”

No way you couldn’t show him, you catch him off guard by fighting his hold.

“Hey stop that”

“Enough!” His bark cuts through you like a knife and you freeze.

He spins you around, his hands locked onto your arms.

“Din...” you plead but he won’t budge.

He maneuvers your hands into one of his while his other reaches for your dress. You can’t help but try one more time to evade him and use the one move he taught you in self defense,

Of course because he’s who he is all it buys you is three seconds before he has you sprawled over his knees.

How ironic… if only he knew how you’d fantasized about this exact position.

“You really wanna make things hard don’t you?”

“Din please you don’t understand! Just leave me alone-“ and just like that the delicate freshly tattooed skin was exposed to the cool air of the ship and his searing gaze.

Then it was silent..

“I-I didn’t mean to I got drunk by accident and then wanted to get you a gift and for some crazy reason I thought a tattoo would be a good idea and…and…and-“ your nervous ramblings continued until you suck in a sharp breath feeling soft fingers caress the area just around the tender area.

“You did this…for me?”

“W-well yeah…”

You try to turn your head to see him but it’s impossible in your condition.

He silently caresses the area around it as if he…wait no way!?

“Do… do you like it?” You asked hesitantly.

He let out a breath.

“Can’t say I hate it…”

Oh my maker

“R-really?” You question an eyebrow raised.

“Mm” you flinch a bit feeling his fingers trace over the sore area.

He pulled you up so you were straddling him facing his visor.

“Sorry I left the ship…” you say after a few moments of silence.

“Swear you won’t do that again..”

“I promise..”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Yes” he said without hesitation.

“Really? After all the trouble I went through getting you your gift” you smirk a bit wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His hands gripped your thighs squeezing softly, “Yes…” you smiled knowing by his voice he was all talk. You already had him in the palm of your hand.

“Want me to make it up to you?” You whisper near the side of his helmet.

He makes some sort of hum through the helmet and you take that as a yes, you push him back a bit so the distance between you is closed, your core pressed against him deliciously.

His hands travelled around squeezing and caressing in the ways only he knew how you liked. You’re about to lift his helmet up so you could finally kiss him when he pauses his movements.

Ugh not again

“What’s wrong?”

“You were drunk…?”

Ah Kriff, why did I have to let that part slip out.

“Y-yes but just a bit…”

He looks at you in a no nonsense way,

“Ok maybe more than a bit but it really wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know the drinks had alcohol..”

He sighs

Man if I had a credit for everytime I made this man sigh…

“I know I know, it was dumb and reckless and I won’t do it again, can we go back to what we were doing please? Remember the tattoo I got for you?”

I push his helmet towards my thigh.

He lets out a little laugh, “alright alright I get it”

His thumb strokes it again, “it suits you”

You let out a laugh, “I think it suits you more…didn’t realize you were that type of guy…but honestly it’s growing on me too, he did a good job didn’t he?” You peer down admiring the details. Not realizing Dins fingers had froze.

“He?”

“….”

Oh Kriff

************************************************

I’ve been on a huge Mandalorian kick lately and had this little idea. Hope you enjoyed! Also please excuse the lazy editing❤️

[koi-illust]

[StarWars] [DinLuke]

The Forced Apostate

Din Djarin / (Dark) Luke Skywalker

The dark Luke is using his Force to…🫣

Don’t get me wrong, even though my first attempt at drawing Dinluke involved a Dark-Luke for Din, I also really enjoy Din/Nice-Luke. It’s just that there aren’t enough works in the fandom depicting Din in a more vulnerable and less aggressive role, with Luke in a position of absolute power showcasing his justified masculinity (he’s a Jedi Master who slaughtered a whole ship of robot killers all by himself! I want to see him overpower Din!!!) And there aren’t enough Bottom(or sub or omega)-Din / Top(or dom or alpha)-Luke dynamics as well, so I chose to draw this to convey my point...

(Or maybe it‘s just me loving to whump my fav character, as I often do 🤭)

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-Three point Five.

pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C  

word count: 8.7K  

chapter summary: Din and Marathel share a dumpling, have a fight, and then make up 

warnings:  angst, sexual language, English and Mando’a cursing  

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

Read this chapter on Ao3  

You Were Marked: Masterlist   

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Din pulled aside the curtain of the dumpling shop so Marathel could enter.  She immediately recognized the smells of baking bread, cooking meat, and caramelizing sugar.  The same Sullustan proprietor from the day before recognized Din, and he said, “Aha!  The Mandalorian returns!  And he brings his beautiful wife!  I have your booth right here!” 

Din cleared his throat.  “She’s not my wife.” 

“But beautiful!  Go, go, into the booth, I remember what you had yesterday, I bring it to you again.”  The little man beckoned Din to the tiny, curtained cubicle.  “Small, yes, but you both can fit, you can be very close in small space, you love each other, this is easy to see.  Maker bless you, Maker bless us all, Maker bless my little shop and all of Canto Bight!” 

The proprietor was practically pushing them both, and Marathel was both embarrassed and completely amused.  She managed to side-step away and said, “Good sir, I am not allowed to watch him eat.” 

The little man raised his … well, the ridges on his forehead that apparently served as eyebrows.  “My greatest apologies, both to you, good Mandalorian, and to your lovely companion.  Go, go, man of metal, seclude yourself, I will accompany your magnificent lady to my counter, if you will permit me to gaze upon her loveliness, and if Maker allows me to continue to breathe on this side of the ground she walks on!”  Din found himself shoved into the curtained booth while the little man escorted Marathel to the tiny counter, pulling out a stool with a flourish.  “Sit here, my most comely new friend, I will get your man his food and return to you posthaste, or my name is not Cowboy Nil, Maker bless us all!”  

Marathel smiled and said, “Cowboy?” 

The little man began collecting dumplings from the glass-walled case.  “Nil was cowboy when young, Nil rode many a running beast to herd many cow beasts, the beasts finally break Nil’s back, so now I herd dumplings and happy couples who come to Canto Bight to get married, couples in love like you.”  Nil shoved the plate of dumplings between the curtains, saying, “Take, take, Mandalorian!  Sooner you eat, sooner you take this beautiful woman for wife, you are on Canto!” 

Marathel shook her head.  “No, we are here … I was very ill.  We came for the medical center.  Not a wedding chapel.” 

Nil’s face fell.  “I am sorry beyond belief, my most lovely lady.  I will bring you my best dumplings, they will make you strong again, put color in your cheeks.  Maker will bless you with health, Maker bless us all with good health!”  Nil placed a plate in front of her with three perfectly round dumplings.  “Eat, eat!” 

Marathel picked up the warm dumpling and bit into it: the steamed bun was light and delicious, and inside was a fragrant and tasty collection of meat and vegetables.  She hummed with pleasure and nodded.  “Very good, Sir Nil.  Very good.” 

“Not Sir, Nil is Cowboy!  Eat, eat, I will make a special sweet for the two of you!” Nil washed his hands and began to roll out sweet dough.  “Special dumpling I make for you.  Love dumpling.  Happy dumpling.  Dumpling you both eat so you are no longer hungry in your hearts. Dumpling you both eat to make you both no longer sad.” Nil looked deeply into Marathel’s eyes.  “I see the sadness in your eyes, beautiful lady.  Your name, please, bless me with your name,” he whispered. 

“Marathel,” she whispered back. 

“Marathel Moon, your lovely pale face reflects what is in your heart just as our moon reflects our sun.  Your heart is in so much pain, for all you have suffered.  But I can also see a heart very much in love for the metal man, just as his, for you.” 

Marathel scoffed and smirked.  “He can hear you, you know.” 

“Then I hope Maker has him also listen.” 

“Cowboy Nil, as much as I appreciate your belief in… there is no chance for us.  It’s impossible,” she whispered.  “Save your love dumpling for someone else.” 

“Why do you say it’s impossible?  Because he is Mandalorian?” 

“Yes,” she said, her eyes downcast.  “It’s not allowed.” 

The Sullastan harrumphed as he added sweet filling to the dumpling before dropping it in the hot oil before him.  He narrowed his enormous black eyes, and muttered, “Not allowed.  Love is strong, breaks down walls of not allowed.”  He used a large mesh spoon to fish out the dumpling, and he set it on a grate to drain.  “This must cool.  Finish your dumplings, then you two will share this one.  You eat enough?  You need your strength to get well.  Body needs food to heal.  Heart needs love to live.  Maker bless us with strong bodies and hearts, Maker bless us all!”   

Marathel looked down to see that she had eaten all her dumplings; they were so delicious she had practically inhaled them.  “May I have one more?” 

“Music to Cowboy Nil’s ears!  Yes, yes, my Marathel Moon may have one more!  Here, have this one as well; it is small and lopsided, lonely and scared, and must travel with your other dumpling for safety.  Eat!  Be strong!  Be blessed by Maker!” 

Inside the curtained cubicle, Din was entertained by the dumpling maker’s running commentary with Marathel.  This Cowboy Nil was not anywhere near as chatty with him yesterday; the Sullastan obviously knew he could be charming with a woman.  He was glad Marathel was taking it all in relatively good humor, even with her continuing assumption that a relationship with her would be forbidden for him.  He was wondering why he was so reticent about correcting that notion when Cowboy Nil announced that the Love Dumpling was ready. 

The Sullastan pulled Marathel over to the little curtained booth, saying, “Now, you two share this dumpling!  You eat it together at the same time!”  Before Marathel could question how that was to be accomplished, Nil handed her the heart-shaped dumpling and pushed her arm between the curtains.  She quickly closed her eyes before any part of Din’s face could be revealed to her.  “Grab hold, Mandalorian, now pull dumpling apart!”  Marathel felt the soft leather of Din’s glove brush against her fingertips as he took hold of the dumpling, then their hands separated as the dumpling broke in two equal parts.  “Quickly now, feed each other the dumpling before all the love and blessings run out!” Marathel instantly felt Din’s teeth graze her thumb as he ate the dumpling from her fingers.  She gasped, her lips parting slightly. Din’s hand reached between the curtains and lightly pressed his dumpling half against her soft, full lips.  It was a moment before she opened her mouth enough to accept the dumpling, and he carefully pushed the dumpling past her lips and her teeth, his gloved fingertips lingering there as she closed her mouth over the stitched leather covering his thumb, holding it between her lips for far longer than was necessary for the deposit of a small dumpling.  Marathel opened her eyes — she hadn’t meant to — and she thought, she thought she saw one of Din’s eyes, but she wasn’t sure. 

Before Din could retract his arm back into the relative safety of the curtained booth, Cowboy Nil grabbed both their hands and clasped them together.  “Now that the beautiful Marathel Moon and the Mandalorian have shared this dumpling, these two most beautiful people, my lovely new friends, may Maker bless them, may Maker bless us all, and may Cowboy Nil dance at their wedding! And then, may Maker bless them with many warriors to raise!” 

Marathel looked at Cowboy Nil with surprise.  Warriors?  Why does that sound familiar? 

In the curtained booth, Din’s eyes were focused on their clasped hands, held tight by the diminutive Sullastan.  Warriors, he thought.  We will raise warriors.  He wondered why the Maker (whom he didn’t believe in) or even Frith (whom he believed in even less) kept pushing the two of them together, even as he was trying … well, not break them apart, exactly, but … kriffing hell!  I have shit to do, a boy to protect! I can’t also take responsibility for her when I have Moff Gideon and all his Imps on my tail!  Prowess with a broken spear against stupid men wouldn’t matter in a fight against battle droids and blasters!  He had to keep her safe in a place where he could come back to her, when all this foolishness was over …  

“… and here is your bill, I only charge half-price for love dumpling, Maker bless my shop with good business, Maker bless Canto Bight!”   

“… Bounty Hunter?  I need my hand to pay the bill … and you’re holding my hand too tight!” 

Din blinked, belatedly realizing he held Marathel’s hand in a death grip, squeezing her healing fingers in their spiral metal splints.  He immediately let go, and muttered, “Sorry, ma’mwsh ha’laa,” as he pulled his his hand back through the curtain.  He quickly replaced his helmet and deposited Grogu and his giant dumpling into the bag, joining Marathel in the shop.  He tossed a few credits in the tip jar as Marathel maneuvered her way through her credit book, making the payment as if she’d been using a credit book her whole life.  Din smiled under his helmet, idly thinking, that’s my girl. 

After paying the bill, Din and Marathel stepped back out into the bright sunlight. Marathel felt quite strong enough to walk on her own after her meal, but Din appropriated her arm in his again as they walked towards the hangar.  “So many people assume we are a couple,” mused Marathel.  

“… It seems that way, yes.” 

“It makes me wonder what they can see that we cannot.” Or will not.   

Din had an idea, but he wasn’t going to say it out loud. “I suppose … it’s not unusual to make that assumption, seeing a man and a woman together, with her on his arm, like this.” 

“But you could simply be … my protector.  I could be your aged mother …” 

“You are nowhere near old enough to be my mother,” scoffed Din. 

Not where I came from.  “… not that anyone could tell with your armor and helmet.  You are … oh, I’m sure there’s a word in your Basic.  I would say w’dyen.  Um … ‘hidden so you cannot be known.’” 

“Anonymous, possibly?  Unidentifiable?” 

“Oof, more big words.  I guess so.  I mean, most Mandalorians look alike, yes?” 

“Not at all.  Many paint their armor with their clan colors, like Boba Fett.  Some customize the shape of their visors on their helmets, add little horns, things like that.” 

Marathel looked at Din.  “But you prefer unpainted armor.” 

“It’s still very new.  I only recently earned this armor.  I had painted Durasteel before this.  But I do prefer unpainted armor, yes.”  He shrugged again. “I like shiny.” 

Marathel smiled.  “You were quite the shiny sight, walking toward my hut. I was terrified.” 

“Terrified or not, you throw very accurately.  Efficiency is paramount in a dangerous situation.  I can only imagine what you were like when you went back into the Hold.” 

“I killed thirty-four men before the sun came up.  Do you consider that efficient?” 

Kriffing hell, that’s right, thirty-four.  With only her rage and a spear.   Din looked at her, but she was looking off at something in the distance.  “Based on what I saw in the Hold, I would want you in my attack party, yes.” This little tidbit pleased Marathel immensely.  Din then said, “Someday, not right now, but only when you want to … I hope you will tell me the full story, in order, of what you did when I left you on Unmanarall.” 

“I … I don’t know.  Perhaps.  I just told the whole story to those officers.  I have a feeling I’ll be telling the story again soon, and …” 

Over and over, you could tell that story, but they’ll never believe you, who believes a whore and her lying, quacking tongue?  Your father should should have cut out your tongue at birth, you brazen … 

Marathel suddenly felt faint, and she weaved on her feet.  From seemingly far away, she could just hear Din saying, “Marathel?  Mesh’la?” despite the fact he was right next to her. 

“I’m okay.  I’m all right.  Just …” She leaned against him, resting her head on Din’s shoulder, fitting perfectly under the edge of his helmet.  

Din suddenly felt … fizzy.  “Do you need to sit?  Should I carry you …?” 

“Oh, Frith, don’t pick me up; I might vomit.  Just give me a moment, please.”  Marathel heard Grogu crying mama as he clutched the hem of her shirt.  “I’m all right, my little one.  Mama just … I had … I just had a brain fart, that’s all.”  Grogu was apparently mollified by this explanation, and he giggled at his mama saying such a vulgar word as fart.  Din laughed too.  “You don’t believe me?” 

“I can honestly say, I have never heard a woman say the word fart.” 

Marathel chuckled, then got them walking again.  “I have something to tell you.  Not only do women say it, they do it, too.” 

“Now, that, I am perfectly aware of.” 

“Oh?  When did I ever fart in front of you?” 

“You were sleeping and popped off a good ladylike little poot,” said Din with a chuckle. 

Marathel nudged him hard in the ribs.  “I can’t help what I do when I’m sleeping!”  She laughed, and squeezed his arm with hers, while Din smiled under his helmet and thought about how much he was going to miss just having her around.   

They got to the hangar, and Din led them to the harbormaster’s office.  It was a different person today.  Din held out his claim chit for the bags he’d sent ahead by droid, but the harbormaster said, “Name and chip, please.” 

Din rolled his eyes.  “Din Djarin,” he said, raising his arm for the scanner, which went beep with confirmation.  The harbormaster released the bags and told Din he could exit the hangar immediately.   

Meanwhile, Marathel was confused.  Din had blithely told this person his name.  His name, which Marathel had assumed was a great secret — not as secret as his appearance, but still! She thought he had to live without people knowing who he was!  Obviously, some people, like Boba, Fennec, even Cobb would know his name, but they were friends! But this … this harbormaster now knew his name.  Was Din supposed to be w’dyen to everyone, or not?  He wouldn’t even tell her his name, not until she begged to know it, right before she expected to die!  And they had … they were … he was allegedly in love with her … 

Never ‘in love’!  Never his equal! You were always less than to him, he never wanted you, not even as a nameless fuck, he was forced to fuck you, even with your whore cu—… 

“Marathel?  What is it?  Why are you crying?” 

Marathel’s mind snapped back into the here and now, and she touched her cheek to find it was wet with tears.  She swiped her tears away, muttering, “Can we go?” 

“Yes, we can go,” said Din, wary, deeply concerned about Marathel’s mercurial moods.  He had thought she had been holding her own very well yesterday and today, but it seemed she was falling back into her old pattern of silences and emotional outbursts. He quickly led her back to the Crest, and she immediately climbed up into the cockpit.  Din did a quick check to make sure the damaged electrical systems had been fully repaired, and he stowed away Marathel’s things with her wooden cup and broken spear.  Grogu jumped out of the bag, carrying his half-eaten dumpling over his head like a trophy as he toddled over to the ladder and leapt into the cockpit. 

Marathel was already in the aft seat, strapped in. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and she could not seem to stop crying.  She found one of the cloths Din had given her in her pocket, and she held it against her eyes. 

Grogu hopped up on her lap, holding up the dumpling to her, asking, “Mama?” 

“No, sweetheart, I don’t want any of your dumpling.  But thank you for offering, my love.” 

“Patu sad Mama?” 

Marathel tearfully smiled at Grogu and stroked his ear.  “No, darling, Patu did not make Mama sad.” 

“Faht!” 

“Oh-ho! Calling me a fart, are you?  Shame on you!  You should only call your father that, you little gochgoch!”  Marathel gave Grogu tickles, just enough to make him giggle, but not spill the dumpling in her lap. 

By the time Din got up into the cockpit, Marathel’s tears were mostly subsided, and she was cuddling Grogu.  Din sat in his chair, cleared his throat, and said, “We need to stop for fuel first; you don’t need to be strapped in.”  Marathel made a non-committal hmm noise as she unlatched her belts.   “Are you all right?” 

“I’m okay.  I’m all right.”  

Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Din fired up the engines, listening for any electronic noise that would alert him to some error made by Teva’s crew.  Nothing sounded off to him, so he lifted off and flew low towards the crowded fueling center.  He managed to catch a berth right away, so he landed and headed towards the ladder.   

“May I …?” 

Din turned to Marathel, one foot on the ladder.  “What?” 

“May I observe this refueling? I could hold Grogu, so you could show him as well.” 

Din agreed, so Marathel put Grogu on her hip and followed Din down the ramp.  He demonstrated the attaching of the fuel hose, carefully showing Grogu the proper way to lock the seal.  He then watched the fuel meter; Canto was one of those planets that had a exorbitant surcharge when purchasing fuel.  Din wanted to avoid that surcharge, so he bought the barest minimum he could to still reach Nevarro, where refueling was much cheaper. Marathel scrunched her nose at the smell of the fuel.  Grinning, she sniffed the air then her armpit before pretending to faint, which made Grogu laugh.  Din chuckled too as he shut off the fuel feed.  “Did you want to disengage the hose?” 

“Could I?” 

“Give it a try.”  Marathel handed Grogu over.  Din pointed out the handles she needed to twist. 

As she gripped the handles, she looked over her shoulder.  “Lefty-loosey?” 

Din grinned, not that she could see it, of course. “Yes, lefty-loosey.”  Marathel gave the handles a hard twist, and the fuel hose came off in her hands. She wasn’t expecting its weight, nor was she expecting the cloud of fuel mist that went right up her nose.  As she coughed, Din took the fuel hose from her, saying, “I’m sorry, I forgot to warn you of that.” 

“Frith!” she exclaimed as she coughed a couple more times.  “See if I do that again!” 

“Sorry.” 

Marathel scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand.  “Ugh.”  She watched him pay for the fuel.  “Did you get enough?” 

“Should be enough.” 

“You didn’t … fill the ship completely?”   

Din shook his head.  “The planet charges extra the more fuel you buy.  I didn’t want to pay the extra.”  

As he led them back to the ship, Marathel said, “But … what if you run out of fuel?” 

“We won’t.” 

“If it’s a matter of the extra charge, I’m willing to pay for it.” 

Din huffed.  “Absolutely not.” 

“But — “ 

“I said no, Marathel.” 

Marathel arched her eyebrow.  “Fine, then.”  

They went back up the ramp, and Marathel scrubbed her hands, wanting to get the fuel smell off.   Din closed the door and quickly looked over his gloves, checking for any fuel spills on the leather, and noticed that Marathel had left a pale coral lipstick mark on his thumb when he’d fed her the dumpling.  He did a last systems check, hopped up the cockpit ladder, and found a new glove, stashing the lipstick-marked one in a drawer.  “Are you done down there?  We need to get out of the way.” 

“Coming,” called Marathel.  She thought she could still smell the fuel, but she didn’t want to keep Din waiting.  She lifted Grogu up into the cockpit, then climbed up herself.  Din was standing at the console, flipping switches and turning knobs. A disembodied voice requested Din’s information to queue for takeoff, which included some long numbers, and once again, Din’s name.  Marathel’s mind went back to the harbormaster requesting Din’s name, and she sighed.  

Din looked over his shoulder when he heard Marathel sigh.  She had just been smiling and joking, but now it seemed that she was distressed again. 

Confused — and mildly irritated — he sat in the captain’s chair, firing up the old engines and lifting the craft off the ground.  After a brief holding pattern, Din was given the go-ahead to leave the atmosphere, and he throttled the ship out into open space with only a few brief moments of turbulence.  He did his vector calculations and pushed the old ship on her hyperspace track without any troubles, leaving Din pleased that Teva’s goons had repaired their damage as promised. 

Din clicked off his safety straps, saying, “And off we go.”  He spun his chair around to look at Marathel, who appeared to be contemplating a green diode on the far wall.  “Are you upset with me again?” 

Marathel shut her eyes and muttered, “No.” 

“What did I do this time?” 

She grumbled as she undid her safety straps. “You … you …” Then the calming voice, the one she called Practical-Sensible, came to her. 

Why bother, old girl?  Why worry so much about what Din does or says?  Does it even matter anymore? Does it? 

Marathel took a breath.  No, old girl.  It doesn’t.  Din will do … what Din will do.  I have the rest of my life to figure out, and I think I need to conserve what’s left of my mind for that. Do you think that’s wise, old girl? 

Practical-Sensible didn’t answer, but Marathel felt calmed by the conversation in her head.  Meanwhile, Din was tapping her knee, trying to get her attention, because to him, it looked like she had gone still again. “Marathel?  Ma’mwsh ha’laa?”  He removed his glove and snapped his fingers several times around her face. 

Her eyes refocused — Din could have sworn he saw the swirls of a Dahl’s eyes spinning in her irises — and she looked at his visor.  “What? What is it?” 

“‘What is it?’ What in Frith is wrong with you?” 

Frowning, Marathel asked, “What’s wrong with me?”   

“You went still again.  Why?” 

Marathel shook her head.  “I … nothing.  It’s nothing.”  Din tilted his helmet.  “I know you don’t believe me, but … I don’t care.  May I get up now?”  She stood and squeezed past him, heading to the ladder. 

“Seriously?  You ‘don’t care’?” 

“I’m trying to not care as much about things that don’t matter.  Isn’t that a good thing?” 

Din stood up.  “Well, it’s obvious to me that it does matter!  So, what did I do to piss you off this time?” 

Marathel scoffed. “Oh!  You always think it’s about you!”  

“Because it usually is,” he said.  “You get upset over some little thing …” 

“Little thing?” Marathel huffed again and climbed down the ladder. 

“… and then you sulk or cry and make me feel like an utter osi’kovid, because I can’t read your incomprehensible mind!” 

“I make you do nothing!” She disappeared below. 

He followed her down the ladder.  “Dammit, Marathel, don’t walk away from me when we’re fighting!” 

“‘Don’t walk away’?  Where in the name of Frith can I go?  I’m stuck in here with you!  I can’t even get enough privacy to use the fresher without you listening in!” 

“I … I apologized for that!” 

Marathel crossed her arms.  “No, you did not.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.  “But it doesn’t matter, really.  It doesn’t.” 

“Next, you’re going to say there’s no point,” scoffed Din. 

“Well … there isn’t.  We are no longer tethered to each other, and once you leave me on Nevarro … your responsibility to me ends.” 

“Marathel, I …” 

“And I think it will be better that way.  Better for you, that you are not … as distracted by the chaos I have brought into your life.” 

“Chaos?  Marathel …” 

“You have much to do, as do I.  I only ask that you allow me to share Grogu, in whatever small way you see fit, please.” 

Din was now… well, he didn’t know what.  Never mind the fact that what Marathel was proposing was precisely what he’d had in mind since his release from the … Dahl Hive, but it rankled him. It wasn’t as if he wanted her to fight or resist their near future, but her … bland acceptance made him even more annoyed.  “I said I would bring Grogu back to you.  I promised you in that damned wedding chapel!  I couldn’t have made a more … definitive vow to you unless we’d performed an actual riduurok!” 

“I … I know that, Din.  And I know it’s the best promise I can expect from you.” 

“The best you can expect?  Are you taking the piss?” 

Marathel colored, then hissed, “I have many physical problems, but that’s not one of them!” Din grimaced under his helmet as Marathel pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “I do not understand why we’re speaking to each other this way.  Yes, I was upset about … something, but it truly doesn’t matter!” 

“If it doesn’t matter, then why did you get upset about it in the first place?” 

“Oh, for the love of FRITH, Bounty Hunter …” 

Din raised his hands, annoyed. “And here you go, calling me Bounty Hunter again!  You know my name!” 

“Well, so does everyone else, apparently, without any argument from you!” 

“… what?” 

Marathel’s tears started again.  “When did you tell me your name?” 

“Marathel …” 

“When did you tell me your name?” 

“YA-TA, YA-TA, YA-TA!” came from the cockpit.  Both Din and Marathel whirled around to see a very angry Grogu standing at the cockpit door. The little boy stuck out his tongue at them and blew the loudest raspberry before the cockpit door slid shut. 

After a few moments of stunned silence, Din said, “I guess the kid doesn’t like it when Mama and Patu argue.” He took her upper arm and pulled Marathel as far away from the cockpit door as he could, snapping, “Grogu doesn’t need to hear this.”  Marathel struggled against his tight grip, but he refused to let her go. “So, your question was … when did I tell you my name?”  She nodded.  “You asked me my name right before you went into the Hold.”  She nodded again.  “That’s when I told you my name.”  She didn’t nod this time.  “I don’t … I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.” 

“You told the man at the hangar your name.” 

“Because he asked.  He requested my name, so I gave it to him. My name’s not a secret, Marathel.” 

“Well, I thought it was!” 

“Marathel …” 

“You certainly made it seem that way.  You never corrected me about my calling you ‘Bounty Hunter.’ I thought you needed to move around secretly, to protect Grogu!  I have lied, over and over, about knowing who you are, about my … actions with you, thinking I had to keep you safe!  But now I know you’ll just tell anyone who you are!” 

“Marathel …” 

“Seven days on Unmanarall, seven days, and you wouldn’t even tell me your name!” 

Din bristled.  “You didn’t ask!” 

“After … everything we went through on Unmanarall … the Dahls, the Mist, the nights in my bed, with you … I would have thought I earned the privilege of knowing your name! Even if I could never see your face, I thought we … had some sort of … relationship!” 

Din scoffed.  “A relationship.  You’re bent out of shape over my name, but you kept secrets from me, withheld information, lied to me over and over about your sick, perverted Hold, and those damned eggs!  I don’t think you have a barometer for what a relationship entails!” 

“How would I?  I don’t even know what a bare-ohm-metter is!” 

“It’s a measuring device for atmospheric pressure!” 

Marathel hissed, “I would think that a measure of a relationship would be knowing the name of the man balls deep in your cunt!” 

“I’ve been balls deep in many cunts who never knew my name!” 

Marathel blanched, then her cheeks grew red with fury and embarrassment.  Her lip trembled.  “Get away from me.” 

“Gladly!” Din made a glorious, stomping exit, up the cockpit ladder, opening the door, and closing it behind him.  He only wished he could have slammed the damned thing.  He caught Grogu’s eye and muttered, “Don’t you start,” before sitting down heavily on his chair.   

Grogu wasn’t mad.  Grogu wasn’t sad.  

Grogu was tired of Mama and Patu yelling.  Yelling was loud.  Loud hurt Grogu’s ears.  Grogu didn’t like hurt ears.  Grogu liked Mama and Patu holding hands. Grogu liked Mama and Patu smiling at each other.  Grogu liked Mama and Patu hugging each other.  Grogu liked Mama and Patu and Grogu hugging each other best.   

Except that time when Mama and Patu dropped Grogu.  That hurt Grogu’s bottom.  But that was just an accident, like Patu hitting Mama on the eye with Patu’s helmet.  Grogu wished Patu would take off the helmet around Mama.  Mama didn’t like the helmet.  The helmet made Mama sad.  The helmet made Patu sad, too, sometimes.   

And that made Grogu sad. 

After a long sigh, Din turned to the kid and said, “Grogu, buddy, I am sorry you heard and saw all that. I hope we didn’t scare you or upset you.  The problems between Marathel and me are not your fault; it’s the two of us grown-ups who can’t seem to get along.” 

“Mama sad.” 

Din scoffed. Being an unreasonable bitch, more like, he thought before he chastised himself for being cruel and unseemly.  Din took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before going through an unnecessary systems check.  Next, he climbed under the console, opened the panel and began checking all the wiring, searching for any loose connections, even going so far as to loosen some connections, just so he could tighten them again.   

All the busywork, however, didn’t change the fact that he was frustrated and angry, but mostly, frustrated.  “Yes, Mama is sad,” Din said to Grogu.  Sad, scared, angry, tired, all the above.  Possibly in pain all the time too, not that she says anything until she’s about to faint. “But … dammit, if she’s upset about something, why can’t she just say so?”   

Grogu didn’t have anything to say to that, so Din went back to his tinkering. He started the overdue task of calibrating all the gauges, even popping loose and cleaning all the glass housings … and that’s when he found the problem with the fuel gauge.   

It didn’t look like anything was wrong at first glance, but he wondered why the fuel he’d just added wasn’t registering on the needle.  He pulled the housing to find some random grime was inhibiting the movement of the needle.  And when he cleared it, he found that he’d miscalculated how much fuel he had, or ... didn’t have. 

Oh … haar’chak.  This is not good. 

Before he could formulate a Plan B, a series of beeps sounded. Din looked over the console, although he knew that sound couldn’t have come from his ship.  “You heard that, right, kid?” 

The beeping sound repeated.  Grogu pointed to the back of the aft seat and said, “Mee-Yah!” 

“Marathel’s chair?” 

“Aaah.” 

Din spun the chair, seeing Marathel’s new purse hanging on the chair back.  Haar’chak.  Now I get to paw through her handbag and piss her off even more.  He snagged the bag anyway, knowing instantly that this was one good bag, probably costing more than three pairs of his own boots.  He carefully unlatched the top and peered inside, seeing her credit book, a couple of the cloths he’d given her, as well as a compact, a lipstick, and the contact cards of her new Canto friends.  Having a couple of tough nurses and a savvy fashion maven in her corner would be very beneficial to Marathel.  She desperately needs women friends, not a socially stunted dickless wonder tymffodd like me.  Even Cobb could give her more useful advice than I could about the Galaxy.  I could only teach her 37 Different Ways to Fuck Up an Asshole, 2 of them Fun! 

The beep came again, and Din located Marathel’s holopad underneath the handkerchiefs.  He brought up the screen; someone wanted to send a holo message.  He tapped the screen, and an image of Doctor Diné popped up.  “Oh!  Mando!  I was looking for Marathel.” 

“She’s … down below at the moment.  I can get her.” 

The doctor smiled, and said, “No, don’t do that.  I saw that Marathel had not yet set up the application for us to chat.  I wanted to contact her because I was able to wrangle two the other doctors to join us in thirty minutes.  Will that be possible?” 

“I will ask.  I don’t wish to speak for her.” 

“That is wise.  How is she today?” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “You’re asking me?” 

“This won’t go into the record.  Just small talk, Mando.” 

Din thought about it for a moment.  “She is experiencing highs and lows.” 

Doctor Diné chuckled.  “Vague and precise at the same time; just like a Mandalorian.  Please encourage Marathel to speak with us today, if you would. We will check back in thirty minutes.”  She clicked off. 

Din grumbled under his breath.  Now he had two problems.  The quickest thing to do about the fuel problem was to shut down the water recyclers and turn down the climate control.  That would buy him some time. 

Now, on to the second problem. 

He wasn’t ready to speak to Marathel yet, but he supposed he better go down there. He straightened up his flight suit and his armor, opened the cockpit door, and headed down the ladder.  

He didn’t see her right away.  She wasn’t sitting against the wall in the corridor.  He looked in his quarters, and they were empty.  He didn’t hear anything from the fresher, but he tapped on the door anyway.  “Marathel?” 

“I’m over here.” 

He turned around; voice had come from behind the hanging carbonite shells.  He stepped over to the far end, bending down to see Marathel wedged into the corner, her legs folded under herself, and arms crossed.  He waved.  “Hi.”  Lame, Djarin. 

Silence.   

He held up her holopad.  “Um … Doctor Diné messaged.  She says she can get two doctors on the application with you in thirty minutes.  She would like you to speak with them.”   

Marathel simply looked at him.   

He continued, “I’m sorry … I went into your purse to find your holopad.  It was beeping, and I thought it … might be important.” 

No response from Marathel. 

“To join in on the application … in thirty minutes, this icon here will flash.  All you do is tap the screen, on that icon, like this …”  

He demonstrated.  She blinked; her expression still blank.   

“The volume button is here on the side, here … press this one to make the holopad louder. This button makes the volume go down.”   

Still no response.   

“… Does that all make sense?” 

“Yes, thank you.”  Marathel scooted out from behind the shells and stood.  She plucked the holopad from his hand and marched towards his quarters.  “Any glitter on my ass?”  She stepped inside his quarters and scowled at him, saying, “Made you look,” before shutting the door. 

Joke’s on you, I was looking anyway, thought Din.  He got himself a cup of caf and a ration bar and headed back to the cockpit, closing the door.  He split the ration bar with Grogu, who was juggling every throttle knob from the console in midair.  Grogu paused the complicated flight pattern as he looked at Din, his little eyebrows raised.  “Nope, she’s still mad, kid.”  Grogu shrugged and went back to manipulating his little floating knob galaxy.   

Din sat down with a grunt, elbows on his knees.  He let himself be pissed for about three seconds before he pulled out his logbook and flipped to the back for his ever-growing file of How to Deal with Weird Shit, finding his list of what systems he could shut down or put on standby to conserve fuel.  He turned down the heat as far as he knew he could stand and then lowered the air circulators and the oxygen regenerators.  Din knew he and Grogu would be just fine, but he’d have to keep an eye on Marathel.  If she got anoxic, he could put her on supplemental oxygen; he had tanks that could tide her over.  If she got too cold … well, he’d have to play that one by ear.  As much as he wouldn’t mind snuggles under a blanket, he figured she wouldn’t be so keen.  Especially after this latest … tiff of theirs. 

Haar’chak! Why couldn’t they … get along for more than thirty seconds at a kriffing time? 

He remembered getting in snippy tiffs with his buir, mostly in the time right before and right after he took the helmet. Mandalorians traditionally took the helmet at the beginning of adolescence, which the now adult Din thought might be unwise.  Taking on an extreme, lifetime pledge just as puberty and all its hormonal trappings were starting to boil?  He supposed that apprentices could wait; in fact, buir was reticent to have Din take his vows when he did.  But young Din was not willing to wait any longer, not when he was already two years older than the other apprentices, due to his “late start” in the covert.  His foundling status was already a source of shame, to also be head and shoulders taller than the other apprentices just made it worse.   

Buir finally relented, and Din took his vows. Unfortunately, he spent his early helmet years struggling to keep up, because he simply wasn’t prepared for the emotional toll of living as a full Mandalorian.  This, of course, led to more ugly fights with buir, whose quiet disappointment spoke louder than any yelling would.  And the imposter feeling never quite went away. 

Din figured Marathel now knew that imposter feeling quite well. No wonder she was lashing out at him; who else was she supposed to lash out towards?  Well, hopefully these doctors can give her another sounding board, someone to talk to after … I leave.   

Din sighed and sat up.  He took a long drink of his caf, then started rolling through his holomonitors.  After inspecting the exterior monitors, he clicked through the interior ones, landing on the holomonitor he’d installed in his quarters.  He’d set up this one himself, pointing it directly on Grogu’s little hammock so he could keep an eye on him.  The screen showed the hammock with its nest of blankets and the two Fawgs.  Directly underneath, sitting on the head of his bed roll, was Marathel.  She didn’t look angry anymore, or sad, just deep in thought.  She’d kicked off her shoes, and she was gathering his top sheet, using her bare toes, into a little bundle under her feet.  Once it was all gathered, she would grip an edge in her toes and spread the sheet back out flat, so she could start the process again.  Prehensile toes, how about that.  He briefly fantasized about those prehensile toes doing …  

Marathel suddenly jumped and looked at her holopad.  Din checked the chronometer and saw that thirty minutes had passed.  He watched Marathel timidly press the screen’s flashing app, then she jumped as a holo of three people popped up.  It looked like introductions were made, and Marathel made an adjustment on the volume buttons, just as he’d shown her.  She’s up and running, now I just need to leave her to it.  He reached for the switch to turn off the monitor … but didn’t press it.   

Djarin, don’t be an asshole.  She deserves her privacy, as much as you can give her on this tiny ship. 

This holomonitor, though, was different than the rest on the Crest.  It was newer and was much better resolution than the old ones.   

It also had wireless audio capabilities that he could hook up directly to his helmet receiver. 

You can’t.  You can’t do this. She’s never betrayed you.  She’s never tried to see you without your helmet.  She’s kept your name a secret.  She’s kept Grogu a secret.  She even averted her eyes from seeing your bare chest! 

If you do this, if you betray her privacy, if you dishonor her this way, then you will be the worst kind of deceiver and not worthy of being a decent man, much less a Mandalorian! 

His hand twitched.  If he did listen in, he might learn her state of mind, her fears, her worries about Nevarro and her future. Her thoughts and feelings about … 

Din stared at the audio switch. 

Haar’chak. 

After the doctors introduced themselves, Doctor Diné laid down some what she called ground rules.  “Nothing you say to us will be spoken about by anyone other than us four here.  There are times that I will be speaking with Tr’kel and Yuupo, to discuss the direction we’d like to go with you, but mostly, we’re just going to talk.  If, for some reason, we feel the need to bring in someone else, we will ask your permission, and we will only speak of what is pertinent.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Like what?” 

Yuupo, a short squatty individual with a massive head, said, “For example, if you start displaying — or tell us about — some physical symptoms that may require a medical specialist in that field, we would like to do a consult.  Things like … headaches, or double vision, or loss of feeling in your fingers.  Does that make sense?” 

“Yes, it does.” 

Diné smiled.  “Good.  I know that you are reticent — unwilling — to speak to us, because, as you said, ‘words always lead to lies.’  I hope that you will try to trust us.  We will do our best to be honest with you, and we hope you will do your best to be honest with us.  Okay?”   

Marathel swallowed.  “Okay.” 

“Good. Well, Marathel … how are you today?” 

“I’m okay.  I’m all right.”  The three doctors just looked back at her.  “I … I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

Tr’kel said, “Just what comes to mind, Marathel.  But we would like you to expand a bit beyond ‘I’m okay’ in your answers, if you can.” 

Diné asked, “What did you do yesterday, after you left the hospital?” 

“Well … the … Bounty … he took me to a place called Mise-Tusil.  I bought some new clothes, because I don’t have much. The lady there was very nice to me.  She even convinced me to cut my hair.” 

“I noticed.  Your hair looks lovely.  Did you enjoy that experience?” 

“Not at first.  I was very scared.” 

“Why is that, Marathel?” 

“I’d never had my hair cut before.  It wasn’t allowed, where I came from.  It was a punishment.” 

Yuupo asked, “A punishment?” 

Marathel nodded. “I mean, they’d — the men — they’d pull our hair all the time.  Grab it and … fling us.  Make us move to where they wanted us.  Rip it out, sometimes.  But cutting hair … that was one of the worst punishments.  That was for women who were … it was almost as bad as being made a Belwhyn. You’d live but you wouldn’t want to … but then … once …” The memories suddenly came up from deep within her soul, like the great Godenfyrth leaping out from the depths of the sea.  She hadn’t thought about that day since it happened, a day when two Belwhyns were made.  Her face crumpled with the memory, remembering why they were made Belwhyns, the mortal sins they had committed, even worse than her own sins.  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.  I can’t.  Llonyddwch. Llonyddwch …” 

“Marathel?  What is it?” 

“Shwd’ay ni geld a shwd’ay ni llonyddwch. Shwd’ay ni geld a shwd’ay ni llonyddwch …” Marathel wrapped her hands over her head and began to rock as she continued to chant her Oldtalk.  

“Marathel?  Marathel, to me, Marathel, to me!  Let it go, Marathel, let it go!”  Diné had a small hand-held device that began making a loud rhythmic click noise as she repeated the phrases to me and let it go, and somehow it broke through Marathel’s Oldtalk chant, leaving Marathel blinking and breathing hard, confused and scatter-brained.  Diné breathed out a sigh of relief, saying, “Well, I wasn’t sure if that was going to work.  Dank ferrik, Marathel …” 

Marathel began to cry.  “I’m sorry … I’m sorry, I don’t …” 

“No, Marathel, do not ever be sorry about expressing … anything in here.  I just didn’t expect you to go into such a distressed state so quickly.   You went into your old language there.  What were you saying?” 

“I was telling myself to be still.  I was asking the Mothers that Went Before, ‘keep up safe and keep us still.’” 

“’Be still.’  And then you tend to go into a fugue state to protect yourself from yourself.” 

Marathel sniffled, then blew her nose.  “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I think I’ve mentioned compartmentalizing to you, yes?”  Marathel nodded, and Diné continued.  “You have this method of taking upsetting thoughts or memories and putting them into a mental box, so that you can focus on your everyday life.” 

Marathel shrugged.  “That seems… practical.” 

“Yes, it works very well for a while.  But you can’t always do that, Marathel.  You will eventually need to face these distressing thoughts and memories.  You can’t avoid them forever, and over-reliance on compartmentalization will inhibit your growth and your future well-being.” 

“But … if it works, why do I need to stop?  This compartment-thing … it’s worked so far.” 

Yuupo quietly said, “Does it?  Look how quickly you got upset when thinking about why you were scared to cut your hair.  You went from zero to hyperspace almost instantly.”  

“But …” 

“We are accustomed to emotions like yours, but others in your life may not be well-equipped to … I don’t want to say handle your emotions, but that’s what it boils down to.” 

Marathel’s face fell.  “You mean … I would hurt people?  With how I handle my emotions?”  Her tears started again.  “I don’t ever want to hurt people I care about!  I should learn how to … compartment better!  Keep them safe from me!”  She began to sob uncontrollably.  The doctors let her, then they went on to speak about trying to not be afraid, as well as doing her best to vocalize her fears and concerns about things that confused her.  

“In particular, Marathel, do try to keep a good rapport going with your Mandalorian friend,” said Diné.  “I have a suspicion that your Mando cares greatly for you, but I also suspect you are well outside his emotional comfort zone.  Remember that you both have a common link with his child companion, and that you don’t want to jeopardize that with hurt feelings or resentment.” 

“I think I would die if he took Gr— I mean, his son away.” 

“Then concentrate on what you can do, in a positive manner, to keep that from happening.” 

They all spoke for a little while longer and arranged a time for the following day.  The other two doctors clicked off, leaving Diné alone with Marathel.  “I don’t understand what you mean by the number for time, but I will ask the Bounty Hunter,” said Marathel. 

Diné asked, “I’m just curious, Marathel … do you know Mando’s name?” 

“Yes.” 

���But you will not say his name?” 

“No, I mean, yes.  I thought … I thought it was a secret. To keep him safe when… bounty hunting.”  Marathel’s brow furrowed.  “I thought I was special to him, because I knew his name.” 

“He told you?” 

“I asked.  He didn’t offer it to me.  I had to ask.” 

“But he told you.” 

“He’ll tell people if they ask.”  Marathel shrugged.  “I’m not special to him after all.” 

“Oh, Marathel,” crooned Diné.  “As both Siewan and Ya-Bito would say, I doubt that very much.  They send their regards, by the way.  See you tomorrow.” 

Diné clicked off, and Marathel’s holopad screen went back to the main screen.  Marathel remembered that Fennec mentioned putting something on here that could teach her to read.  She’d have to talk to Din. 

Oh, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.  He must think I’m horrible, the worst kind of person.  I just … don’t understand … anything, but that’s no reason to take it out on Din, especially when he’s been so kind to me!  And then, to fight in front of Grogu? Oh, no, I must beg their forgiveness, now! 

In the cockpit, Din had been thinking the same thing. 

Dank ferrik, poor Marathel.  Why can’t I keep it in mind that she’s not knowledgeable about life in general?  There is nothing familiar to her out here!  Surrounded by strange things, strange people, even strange food, for kriff’s sake.  It must be so exhausting to be her right now!  

Din sighed once more, then said to Grogu, “I should be kinder to her, shouldn’t I, kid?  I can’t possibly see things from her point of view, but I could at least see her point of view as valid, right?”  Grogu tilted his head and burbled.  Din chuckled and said, “Well, you are older than me; I should probably heed your advice.” Din reached for Grogu, lifting the boy into a hug.  “It was wrong of us to behave so badly, especially in front of you.  I promise, I’ll do better.  I know Marathel is sorry, too. She loves you so much. We both do.  That’s the one thing I know we agree on.”  He tapped the boy’s head with his helmet.  “C’mon, kid.  That ration bar was crap.  Let’s see what else we can eat around here.” 

Din, carrying Grogu, hopped down the cockpit ladder just as Marathel stepped out of Din’s quarters, and they stopped short of each other.  She stared into his visor as he stared into her red puffy eyes, and then they spoke simultaneously. 

“Marathel, I’m so sorry …” 

“Din, please forgive me …” 

“There’s nothing to forgive …” 

“You’ve done nothing wrong …” 

“I should have explained …” 

“I should have asked …” 

“And then in front of Grogu …” 

“What a terrible thing to do …” 

“Buddy, I’m sorry, too …” 

“Please forgive me, my love …” 

Marathel pitched herself into Din, wrapping her arms around both of them.  Din held both her and Grogu tight, intending to never let go, wondering if leaving her on Nevarro and going to Manda’lor was the correct choice. 

Is this the way, questioned Din. Is it?  Or do I consider a new way? 

Marathel squeezed even tighter, deciding that not being special to him would have to be the right way. 

This is the way, concluded Marathel. This way, his mind will be free of me.  This way, he and Grogu will be safe. 

Meanwhile, Grogu basked in the love of the two grown-ups that held him tight. 

No drop Grogu, Mama and Patu. 

Best, this is. 

Future Days: coming soon

[handspunyarns]

I am so kriffing HONORED to be tagged!

So You Were Marked has been the treasure trove of angst, but now the epic has turned a corner. I’m not saying that the angst-fest is over, but there will definitely be more of a rom-com feel to the whole thing as Marathel now has to learn how to function in relatively normal society.

Expect some teenage-type rebellion in our old girl, is what I’m saying.

After paying the bill, Din and Marathel stepped back out into the bright sunlight. Marathel felt quite strong enough to walk on her own after her meal, but Din appropriated her arm in his again as they walked towards the hangar. “So many people assume we are a couple,” mused Marathel.

“… It seems that way, yes.”

“It makes me wonder what they can see, that we cannot.” Or will not.

WIP Weekend

I haven’t done a WIP post since December because I’ve been suffering through the dreaded writer’s block 😓, but thank you to everyone who has tagged me in WIP games since then. I do keep track, so big hugs to these gracious people for not forgetting I exist while I’ve been stagnating in writer’s hell 💚:

@the-mandawhor1an @myownwholewildworld @burntheedges @ace-turned-confused @quinnnfabrgay-writes

@evolnoomym @djarinmuse @almostfoxglove @bergamote-catsandbooks @sawymredfox

I’ve been really struggling with the concluding chapter of my (now over six months late!) secret relationship fic for last summer’s Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge, and I couldn’t figure out why. It’s a massive smutfest, and yeah, smut usually takes me longer to write, but I’ve never had this much trouble before.

After stepping away for a while, when I came back to it, I realised I was trying to make my characters do things that were out of character. It wasn’t working because it didn’t make sense in the context of the 70k words that had come before!

So I decided to write that into the smut, and today I’m giving you a peek at the moment the characters realise they aren’t entirely on the same page…

Please check out my previous WIP posts for additional snippets from earlier in the fic, here, here, here and here.

He groans his approval, shifting his hips until his blunt tip notches at your entrance. And just like during your last encounter in this room, he throttles time to a near standstill, pushing into you at a sublimely slow pace. Each second drips by like molten metal, searing and stretching in burning bliss as he fills you deeper and deeper until he can go no further and you can take no more. Yet still he pushes – as if he wants to root himself inside you – and his tongue finds its way back into your mouth, locking you together at both ends. You whine against him, crushed by a weight in your chest that has nothing to do with the heavy man atop you. It’s a hunger, a need, a desperation. You’re teetering on the cusp of fulfilment – it’s close enough to taste but not enough to sate. Yet you can’t move with his heavy pelvis immobilising your hips and a mouthful of his tongue preventing you from encouraging the friction you crave. A growl of urgency rumbles in your throat, and you drag your nails down his naked back, landing a goading slap on his ass. It has the desired result, and he eases off the kiss, nipping your lip in retribution but continuing to pin your hips in place. “Fuck me.” It tumbles out like a challenge, so you appeal to his dominance by making it a request. “Gedet’ye!” You feel him bury his face in your neck, where he releases a heavy breath before picking back up and quietly confessing the reason for delaying your pleasure. “Do you have any idea how fucking magnificent it feels to be inside you again? I will fuck you, senaar’ika, I’ll give you everything you want… but let me savour this first. Gedet’ye.”

gedet'ye = please

Sorry it’s a little shorter than usual. This being a final chapter snippet already makes it a smidge spoilery, so it’s all I can offer.

I can assure you, though, that the final smutfest will be... let’s say, ‘multifaceted’, so Din slowing things down here is not indicative of the ongoing mood. 😈

As usual, if you’d like me to tag you when I (finally) release the chapters, please raise your hand or communicate your wish however you see fit. You can also join my tag list if you like.

(Including this GIF simply because I’m obsessed with the “attentively receiving instructions before ravishing you” vibe + extremely biteable neck combo 🧛🏼‍♀️, which I find very Din-esque)

Sending no pressure WIP whatevs/whenevs tags to the following wonderful writers 💚:

@604to647 @ak-vintage @almostempty @beefrobeefcal @bluestar22x

@captainredspade @cas-readsandwrites @drewharrisonwriter @guiltyasdave @handspunyarns

@hauntedhowlett-writes @hellishjoel @iamsherlocked-1998 @itsjuststardust @jennaispunk

@joelalorian @kedsandtubesocks @lotusbxtch @mandaloriankait @mermaidgirl30

@mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @mushgloomz @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @novemberrain-writes @peepawispunk

@penvisions @probablyreadinsmut @prolix-yuy @schnarfer @secretelephanttattoo

@sin-djarin @stellamarielu @the-blind-assassin-12 @thischarmingmandalorian @tightjeansjavi

@two-birds-alone-together @whocaresstillthelouvre @whxtedreams @xdaddysprincessxx @yopossum

[cowboygenesis]

8: good side | din djarin x reader

part 8 of the "brown eyes" series: masterlist | buy me a coffee?

pairing: din djarin x reader chapter warnings: none. word count: 5.7k series summary: din settles on the distant planet of lazure prime while seeking a safe-haven for his son. unbeknownst to him, the choice leads him to unforeseen threats—and a deeper connection he never thought possible. notes: squeezing this in at 3am, hope y'all enjoy the rebirth of this fic and some new friends joining the roster!

The rain is much gentler this morning.

It drums against the roof of your small cottage like fingers tapping thoughtfully on a table, not thunderous like last week’s storm, but steady and promising of lush greenery come evening.

You stand by the rustic window with your arms crossed, watching the mist rise off the fertile earth, fields blurred into watercolor by the curtain of rain. Your fingers wrap tightly around ceramic, letting the warmth of it seep into your bones.

Din sits near the hearth, a half-cleaned rifle resting against his knee. You hear it clatter every so often, and when you turn to look, you’re met with the gorgeous sight of the Mandalorian’s broad back clad with nothing but an earthy shade of linen. His trap muscles flex and unflex with every tug of the rag, hypnotizing you with the gentle rhythm.

It’s come to your selfishly satisfied attention that, gradually, he had begun settling into the comforts of your home. First it was a pauldron, then a cuisse, and eventually he shed it all like a bear in summertime.

The spare pieces of beskar lie in the corner, nearly piled atop each other in a shiny stack. You spot Grogu curled up in a woven basket nearby, tiny snores barely audible above the pattering rain.

You turn slightly, gaze flicking toward Din. The silence has been comfortable, yet you know it’s been hours, and the void never did your overthinking any favors.

“Poiko’s back in town,” you announce softly, prepping your face with a smile.

Din doesn’t look up right away, but you see the way his shoulders shift with the sudden presence of your voice. You hope you didn’t startle him, though you doubt much did at this point.

“The merchant?” he questions smoothly.

“Head merchant,” you gently correct, turning toward the dining table and placing your half-finished mug with a soft thud. “You can make your trip to the capital, if you’re still after that.”

There’s a pause as he leans forward, flames licking up his helmet like a sunlit creature. His elbows press into his knees, visor tilted toward the ground as rain drums against the roof above, steady and soft like a lullaby you’d love to listen to forever.

“Yeah,” he finally says. “I’ll need to.”

Something briefly unsteady in his voice makes you glance back at him, tightening the shawl around your shoulders, the small tassels tickling your forearms. “Looking for something?”

His fingers flex slightly where they rest on his knees, and for a second, you think he might brush the question off entirely. You wouldn’t blame him.

“Just tying up a few loose ends,” he says, voice consciously neutral.

You narrow your eyes a little, not out of suspicion, but curiosity. The few months you’ve known Din weren’t nearly enough to actually know him, but you never saw that as a flaw. All either of you needed was some quiet company and a shared meal, and the rest could come later, if at all.

Still, his past sometimes tugged at your curiosity. Despite your earthly comforts, the open galaxy still found sneaky ways of tempting you back in, and Din’s mysterious past happened to be just one of those things.

“You mean... from before you got here?”

Din raises his helmet, his hands tightening around the rifle. “Something like that.”

The soft pattering and infrequent coos fill the space between you. You think of all the things he’s never told you: how he found Grogu, what he does when he’s not in town, why he carries enough armor to start a war —and you know better than to pry. But it still lingers on your tongue.

“Are you taking him with you?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you nod toward the tranquil crib.

Grogu’s tiny body shifts with a sleepy sigh, curled up like a stone tucked beneath moss, utterly unaware of the tension hanging in the air between the three of you.

Din keeps his gaze on the weapon in his lap, hands flexing slightly around the stock. You can’t see his expression, but you can feel the question weigh down on his shoulders as they dip. Something about your query broke his usually calm demeanor, and you couldn’t help but boil it down to your endless curiosity.

“Yeah,” he says after a pause, placing the rifle down before the fire.

You blink, slowly approaching the crib and smiling as soon as you catch the slight outline of Grogu’s large ears peeking from under his quilt. The small, intricately woven dandelion in the corner makes your heart swell. You had embroidered it during one of their stays, being meticulous with each individual leaf.

“Really?” you question, gently smoothing the feather-light fur on the baby’s head with your digits. “I figured you’d want to travel light.”

When no response comes, you glance toward the man. He’s still seated against the hearth, coiled into a tense bundle as he contemplates your words, silently.

“Let me guess,” you press gently, attempting to inject some levity into the situation. “You need him to find a properly fitted crib. I mean, have you seen this one? All scratched and worn—little guy deserves an upgrade.”

Din doesn’t rise to the joke, you realise that when he reaches for the pile of beskar in the corner.

“Oh! Or maybe he’s outgrown that old sack of his and—” you lean back slightly, eyes narrowing when you spot him dressing. He spares you a single, fleeting glance, through which your smile drops. “You’re… you’re serious.”

He grumbles something incoherent within his helmet, crouching against your loveseat. “I am.”

You study him for a long beat, watching in silence as he shifts his beautifully tanned hands back into the gauntlets. You frown, realising you took the moment of vulnerability for granted. A part of you worries it might be your last time seeing them like that.

“It’s not just a supply run, is it?”

You don’t look at him when you ask. You keep your eyes on Grogu’s basket, watching the rise and fall of his tiny chest, the way his ears twitch every now and then with some dream you’ll never know about. Din shifts slightly in his seat, weighing your question or just ignoring you altogether.

And you know much better than to push. You’ve learned that he doesn’t offer unless he chooses to, yet you can’t let him go without at least a slither of information.

Because something cold and gritty tugs at your heartstrings the moment he settles into his beskar again, making your lip quiver in the warmth of the hearth. You make a soft noise, like clearing your throat to get the pitiful phlegm out of fear’s way.

“Are you coming back?” you croak, quiet yet determined, and your voice carries through the din of rain like a desperate prayer, round near the edges as if you tried to plead but couldn’t muster the courage to.

He looks at you then. Not moving much, but enough that you feel the weight of his gaze. You hate how much your heart sinks at that silence between you. His helmet shifts between you and elsewhere entirely, reflecting shades of brown and green.

“I can’t leave him,” he says quietly, nodding toward Grogu. You don’t follow his gaze, yet something about the confession urges his child to coo happily from the safety of his crib. He must have awoken, feeling the palpable tension in the air of your home. You knew he was particularly attuned to that, and it’s something you had in common. Sometimes you pitied yourself for it, and the baby by proxy.

The Mandalorian shifted uncomfortably on the woven carpet, stiffly leaning his back against the plush loveseat. You watch as he slowly rises to his full height, hesitating for a moment before taking a few steps toward the crib. His gloved hand reaches for his kid, a three-fingered nub grabbing his knuckle with a squeal of delight. The baby babbles out, stringing words that nearly sound coherent.

And then Din turns toward you with a hum, as if broken through a shared revelation. If you weren’t impartial to fantasy, you’d think Grogu told him something vital.

“Or you.”

You blink. The room feels smaller all of a sudden, or maybe just warmer with the steady pumping of blood to your face.

“What?” you question quietly, non-accusatorily, hands fiddling the hem of your sleeves.

“I—” he stutters, and you’re quick to note the absolute miracle of the fact before he clears loudly his throat. “I can’t leave you.”

You squeeze your lips tight, holding back a wide, selfish grin when you catch Grogu reaching out toward you. The pumping spreads through your skull, ringing your ears and making your eyes widen with awe-struck glitter.

“You’ve been good to us,” Din elaborates suddenly, his voice losing that unusual edge and stiffening back to business. “It’d be irrational to move on now, just as the kid has gotten comfortable.”

Your hands clutch the backrest of a dining chair, exhaling your giddiness and replacing it with a sympathetic, nearly grateful smile.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable here, Din.” You nod, smoothing a flyaway.

His visor levels on you with an acknowledging nod, letting the sudden silence settle over you like a warm blanket. A gust of wind picks up outside, whistling through the trees and knocking fat pellets against your windows.

You sigh deeply, pushing the chair into the table and moving toward the kitchen. You feel Din’s eyes tracing your movements, helmet tilting when you stand on your tip-toes to withdraw a large wicker basket from the wall-mounted cupboard, settling it on the counter with a soft thud.

“What are you doing?” he questions as you withdraw a paper-wrapped hunk of cheese from your fridge, a small bunch of Shiir fruit, and a flour-dusted bread loaf.

“I’m packing sustenance,” you reply simply, tapping your cheek for a beat before finally deciding on loading the basket with a jar of preserves and a small knife to go with it. “For the road.”

The Mandalorian stays silent for a moment, letting you pack the rest of the basket in comfortable silence interrupted only by your quiet whistling. Once you secure the produce with a checkered cloth, you hum in satisfaction and turn toward the man with a smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” he comments stiffly, arms lax at his sides. He must have gotten closer while you were packing, because your ears finally manage to pick up the slow gust of his breath.

“I want to,” you say with a shrug, heaving the basket up and groaning slightly at its added weight when you drop it on the dining room table. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you eat something that isn’t freeze-dried.”

You think you catch the man’s shoulders bouncing with a chuckle, but the fantasy is quickly intercepted by a loud sigh carrying through his modulator.

“I’m saying you don’t have to go,” he stiffens his palm in the air through the explanation, lingering on every word like it’s hurting him to utter. “You shouldn’t.”

You poke the inside of your cheek at that, tracing a fingernail down a coiled length of hardened twine before it weaves with the rest of the basket.

“Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t know yet,” he replies promptly, and suddenly you realise that he’s not trying to scare you off. If anything, any doubt of your being a burden slowly trickles away the longer he takes to satisfy your curiosity. “There’s always a chance for something going wrong.”

“All the more reason for me to go,” you bite your lip, eyes wide with kindness and reassurance, when he rubs a glove up the length of his helmet. “Who’ll take care of your kid when you’re off catching criminals?”

The Mandalorian groans in exasperation, planting his fists on his hips. “It’s not a bounty this time. I—”

“So you are a bounty hunter!” you intercept, painting your investigative revelation with a wide grin that you’re certain Din isn’t mirroring. He stares at you in silence, stiff and stonelike save for the brief tensing of his fingers. It’s not like you minded, anyway. Bad people were capable of good, and it took but one glance for you to decide that Din was the very opposite of that. You knew his profession didn’t define him, but you’d reassure him another time.

You sigh, dropping your jolliness in favor of a serious-ish smile.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” you explain, softer this time. The man’s head tilts at that, shoulders dropping just an inch. You approach him slowly but certainly, matching the square of his shoulders with your own. “Promise.”

Another stretch of silence twists taut between you, and it’s only now you’ve realised the rain has come to a slow, quiet drum. You imagine the clouds passing overhead, disappearing down the horizon and giving way to light again.

Din sighs, his shoulders visibly heaving under the weight of his breath. “You’re so stubborn.”

You can’t help the smile that pops on your face at the tired but rarely tender words, squeezing your fists with excitement as your companion shakes his head.

“Does that mean I’ve convinced you?” you wiggle a brow humorously, but the man rejects it with a common flatness.

He stands then, straightening slowly with that quiet, intimidating ease that always makes the room feel smaller. Despite his hesitant mein, you know that deep down he’s already made his choice. You beam at that before he even gives you an outright answer.

“All right,” he finally succumbs, his body going lax like clockwork while yours tenses with a happy giggle. He watches you flatly, his gaze briefly flickering toward Grogu who has once again fallen into a deep slumber. “You’re the only other person he listens to, anyway.”

You feel your breath catch slightly, emitting with a barely audible hitch. Not because of the words themselves, but because of how easily he said them.

You smile faintly, boldly poking a finger against his chestplate and having your reflection smirk back at you. “Is that Mandalorian for I don’t trust anyone else to take care of my kid ?”

Din grunts, slowly pivoting toward the hearth again to collect his weapon while you make sure your basket is neatly tucked in.

“It’s Mandalorian for don’t let him eat worms again .”

You chuckle, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chill of rain against the windows.

୨ৎ

The rain has quietly settled into the remnants of a soft drizzle by the time you reach the outer limits of town. The dirt path to Poiko’s home winds through mossy lowlands and old stone walls, water dripping from broad leaves and shivering grass as you press through dampened earth.

Grogu coos softly against your chest, bundled in your makeshift baby sling that you insisted on using, leaving the floating crib abandoned as it floats by Din’s side. He walks just behind you, footfalls steady and quiet like a metal-clad ghost as you duck under a particularly broad shrub.

“Mando?” you ask in a mild croak, vocal cords cramped from walking in comfortable silence for so long.

“Hm?” he hums in acknowledgment, keeping his visor on the road ahead as it dips downhill. His hand flexes, keeping your provisions steady in one hand while the other grips his own pack. The sight of such a great, fearless mercenary donning a ribbon-tied basket makes your heart both jump and swell at the contrast.

You pucker your lips, angling your body backward as the decline becomes steep. The ground had yet to dry, so you place a palm over Grogu’s back in case you’re unfortunate enough to slip and land on your ass.

“Why don’t we just take the Crest?”

Din gives you a once-over, making your eyebrows crease with sudden worry. You hope you’re not coming off as ungrateful for letting you tag along on his mission with the absolute minimum of training and combat knowledge—not like you’ll need it, but still. It makes you feel like a burden on some level.

“It’s more hassle than it’s worth,” the man explains calmly, briefly eyeing his son. His ears twitch softly through a dreamful sleep, lulled by the warmth of your body. “A speeder is much more subtle and harder to track.”

You hum, trying your best to ignore the latter part of his answer. Part of you wants to believe Mando simply favored practicality and safety at all times despite the actual threat level, yet you couldn’t help but worry your lip between your teeth for a beat as your stomach sank just an inch.

“Right,” you nod quietly, your lips curling into a bittersweet smile as you try to insert some levity into the situation, “and parking is absolutely ridiculous in the city.”

He looks at you for a long moment, visor unreadable, yet his shoulders jolt briefly with something like a dry chuckle. You smile.

As you walk on, you pass by a moss-hugged, rundown shed darkened by years of rain and memory, its roof half-collapsed from the sheer force of the elements. You watch the overgrown path toward the doorway with mild curiosity, wondering if the shed had always been there.

“Can I ask you something else?”

The Mandalorian keeps walking, never turning his helmet, but still gracing you with a visible nod. “I have a feeling you’ll ask regardless of my permission.”

You flash your teeth just before he inches his visor toward you, sending him a wild, mischievous smile you wish you could see him return. Over the few months you’ve spent getting to know Din, you’ve learned to puzzle together his expression purely based on the way his body reacted, or the small sounds that left his modulator. A sigh meant a scowl, one shrug a frown, and two meant laughter. But a smile? You’d never know unless he spoke.

“What will you do once we reach the city?” you ask with more confidence than you’d warranted, your body jolting when you realise the weight of your question.

Din stiffens, his pace jittering for a beat before it picks up again. You frown at his poor reaction, cradling Grogu as you rush to catch up.

“You don’t have to tell me the details if you don’t want to,” you elaborate softly, adjusting your shawl once it briefly slips off your hair, “but I promise I’ll be understanding. Whatever it is.”

He carries on through the soft drizzle, squeezing his gloved fists as you round a wooden signpost. Needless of a single glance, you know you’re getting close to your destination.

“It’s not just about me,” he speaks, voice low and rough through the dryness of the modulator. You blink, surprised at the admission, and glance over at him properly now. “It’s about the kid.”

Your gaze softens, instinctively cradling Grogu a little tighter against your breast.

“There’s an informant passing through Mon Kilim, on their way toward the Inner Rim.” Din explains carefully, nitpicking his every word and even their individual annunciation. You flatten your lips at the detailing. “It’s not guaranteed, but they might… know something I need.”

You open your mouth to ask more, but something about the way he holds himself back—even physically—makes you recoil, too. Your voice is low and hoarse when it finally comes.

“For him?” you question, gazing down at the grey tuft lying upon a canvas of green. Grogu snores softly against you, his eyes shut tight and making your heart ache at the purity of this very view. You think that if you were in Din’s position, you’d also move mountains just to see his little giggles. You wondered if his dad felt the same way.

The Mandalorian follows your eyes, his helmet tilting just slightly in your peripheral.

“For him.”

There’s an indescribable force pushing through his words, tugging at your nerves like thunder. For a second, it feels like the brewing electricity flickering through the air, making your breath hitch and ultimately stay silent. It’s all you need to know, and much more than you’d ever expect your companion to say.

Your boots squelch against the wet dirt, and stray patches of grass as you walk on, settling into the silence like clockwork. As the trees thin out, you catch sight of the familiar fork in the road, and beyond it, Poiko’s home perched on the outskirts of your town like a stubborn old tree root clinging to the hillside. The stone house leans slightly eastward from years of wind and rain, but its wooden beams are still strong, and the plumes of smoke curling from the chimney are a welcome sight as always.

You pick up your pace slightly, the shawl clinging damply to your shoulders, and grogu stirs with a soft coo in your arms. As you catch the soft, cascading waves rolling through the lake beyond, Din catches up to your side with a tilted helmet.

“You trust Poiko?” he asks lowly, yet you can’t help but linger on the slight underbelly of warning lacing the edges of his tone.

“With my life,” you say without hesitation, adjusting your hold on Grogu as you huff a loose strand of hair from your face.

Maybe it’s the way Poiko used to sneak you treats from his merchant stands when you had just arrived, or the countless times he saved you broken bits of machinery from his trips to the city without asking for a credit in return. Or maybe it’s simply because he chose to stay by your side when most others turned their back.

Din doesn’t respond immediately, but you sense his acceptance in the way his gait loosens a fraction.

The mist rolling off the lake carries the subtle scent of wet stone and pine as you close the distance, worn path crunching underfoot as you step onto the crooked walkway leading up to the house. A sputtering lantern swings above the front door, casting long, dappled shadows against the mossy stone like a beacon of hope amongst the grey.

You shift Grogu higher and lift your hand to knock. Before your knuckles can touch wood, the heavy door creaks open with a drawn-out groan, revealing a familiar figure as it bustles forward. Poiko, wrapped in a patchwork cloak stitched from dozens of mismatched fabrics, a wide grin splitting his broad, weathered face.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he rumbles, voice warm as fresh bread. His deep-set, gold-flecked eyes crinkle at the edges as he sweeps you into a firm, sturdy hug, urging a muffled laugh as you smush against his chest.

“Stars above, look at you!” Poiko pulls back just enough to take in the sight of you, his rough palms cupping your face for a moment before he catches sight of the green bundle in your arms.

“And what’s this?” His voice shifts immediately to a softer, cooing register, his large hands hovering awkwardly over the sash as if unsure whether to touch or just admire from afar. His eyes briefly shift toward Din, before looking you in the eye again.

“This,” you say, stepping back with a smile, “is Grogu. And…” you gesture toward Din, who stands a few paces behind you with one hand resting lightly near his belt, every inch the wary protector. “This is Mando. A friend, and this little guy’s dad.”

Poiko’s sharp eyes flicker over Din, lingering a beat longer than necessary on the armor and weapons. His expression turns politely guarded, though not exactly unfriendly. For now, you think.

“A Mandalorian,” he muses, scratching at his scruffy jaw. “Maker. You need the speeder, don’t you?”

You offer him an apologetic smile, clasping your hands against the mound of your sash. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Poiko huffs something between a laugh and a sigh, eyeing you down with cat-like irises. “Trouble follows you like a shadow, girl.”

Your eyebrows furrow with worry, but before you can try to beg your case, he turns, waving you both after him with a casual flick of his wrist. “Come on, come on. She’s out back.”

You offer Din a reassuring glance before trailing behind Poiko, Grogu nestling deeper into your arms as the wind picks up again, carrying the rich scent of wet earth straight into your nostrils. Din’s boots are steady behind you, his gaze sweeping the surrounding landscapes like he’s on the lookout for danger. You’d normally think him silly, yet knowing of his reserved nature and dangerous profession, you instead opt for careful.

The old boards of the back porch creak underfoot as Poiko leads you through. Beyond, the lake glimmers like a stretched mirror, flowing reeds lining the shore where a worn chair sits, propping up a makeshift fishing rod.

But your attention is already on the speeder. It sags into the ground like a patched-up beauty, rough but loved for years and years. Poiko gestures broadly toward it, showcasing his own pride with a palm over his heart.

“That’s the speeder?” Din voices lowly, surveying the battered vehicle parked under the lean-to. The rain slicks off its mismatched panels, some still bearing the faintest trace of an old insignia that had been sanded down to near oblivion.

The taller, lankier man crosses his thick arms, giving the mercenary a snort. His amber eyes gleam under his heavy brow, a faint smile curling the edges of his broad, leathery mouth. “You think there’s a hangar somewhere behind me? Of course that’s the speeder.”

Din approaches it warily, one gloved hand brushing along the frame. His head tilts as he notes the strange construction, making you bite your lip in slight insecurity.

“It doesn’t look Imperial.”

Poiko lets out another snort, this one almost fond as he approaches the speeder on the other side. His hand moves toward the windshield, smoothing along the top with a long finger.

“It was,” he explains smoothly, sending you a silent wink. “Before we got to work on it.”

Din follows Poiko’s line of sight, meeting you with the T of his visor. You suddenly feel hot, tugging at your shawl to let it fall over the nape of your neck and reveal your forehead to the soft, warm droplets of rain.

“She’s not much to look at, but she’s solid,” you shrug, giving the two men a kind smile. “And most importantly, she’s the only speeder this village owns.”

Din steps toward the front for inspection, his gloved hands running over the bodywork and tapping lightly on the sleek hood to test its frame. You watch him for a moment, noting the care of his movements as Poiko takes your side, leaning in to just barely match your height.

"He don’t talk much, does he?"

You suppress a grin, hiding it in the curve of your palm as you whisper back. "Not if he can help it."

Poiko chuckles under his breath, straightening back to his full height and shaking your shoulder playfully. His meaty fingers dig into the soft linen of your dress, familiar and warm when they squeeze. "Figures you'd end up finding someone even quieter than you."

You nudge him lightly with your elbow, trying to ignore the way your chest warms at the idea. “It’s not like that.”

Your friend opens his mouth, but before you can keep pestering you with remarks, Din returns to your side, giving a short, approving nod.

"It'll do."

You and Poiko nod in return as you walk forward, spotting your luggage and Grogu’s crib tucked into a small compartment behind the two leather seats. You figure Din must have loaded up while you were talking, meaning you could sit back and take a nap with the baby as soon as you hit the road.

Poiko eyes the Mandalorian for a beat before turning back to you with a sly, almost knowing smile. He withdraws something from the pocket of his overalls, hooking his finger into a small, silver ring.

“Care to do the honors?” he asks, jingling the ignition fob in his palm.

You blink at him in surprise, yet the smile painting your lips is palpable. “You know I don’t drive.”

He shrugs, a mischievous twinkle lighting up his weathered face. “Got the intuition for it, if you’d just trust yourself a little more.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but tuck his words away somewhere quiet and warm inside you. You knew he meant more by it, always seeing you just a little clearer than most until recently.

Din watches the exchange in silence, then steps forward to relieve Poiko of the keys. His glove's fingers brush briefly against yours as he passes you to get to the speeder, and for some reason, the small contact leaves your heart beating a little unevenly against Grogu’s little body. He lets out a soft coo against your chest, and you smile down at him, brushing your fingers gently over his ears.

Poiko leans against one of the porch beams, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches Din climb into the pilot seat. His gaze flicks back to you, more serious now as you settle into the passenger seat, sighing at the unexpected ergonomics of it.

“Take care of yourself, kid. Roads are rougher than they used to be,” he speaks, waving two fingers your way, and you return the gesture with a reassuring smile.

“Should be back by sundown tomorrow,” You nod, feeling a weight of excitement settle low in your stomach. “We’ll be careful.”

Poiko nods, pushing himself off the wooden beam and approaching you with a glint of slyness in his bright eyes. He leans against the speeder’s side, his elbow poking into the door as he lowers his face to your ear.

“And if that helmeted fella gives you any grief,” he adds in a stage whisper, with a sideways smirk, “you tell him he’ll answer to me.”

You snort, biting back a grin as you playfully slap at his arm. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

Din settles into the seat beside you with a low grunt. The old engine rattles to life with a familiar whine, coughing up a small cloud of smoke before smoothing into a steady purr.

Poiko stands at the edge of the path now, arms crossed over his wide chest, squinting against the misty rain as it drizzles over the four of you. He lifts a thick hand in farewell as you ease the speeder forward, tires splashing through puddles as you start down the muddy road.

You lean out the side slightly, waving back with a grin so wide it makes your cheeks ache.

“See you soon, Poiko!” you call over the hum of the engine.

Poiko only shakes his head and lifts his hand higher, his rough face softening with something like affection as he watches you go.

The speeder bumps along the rutted path, the countryside unfolding around you in rolling swaths of gray and green. Rain dapples the worn windshield, the wipers barely keeping up as you pick up speed, the mist curling like breath around the edges of the road and along the muddy trail, throwing up small sprays of rainwater from its worn repulsorlift pads. You lean back against the cracked seat, feeling the mist dampen your hair as the rain thins into a lazy drizzle.

Grogu snoozes quietly against your chest, tucked snugly in the folds of your shawl, his little hand curled into your tunic as you enjoy the flickering wind.

Din shifts beside you, glancing back over his shoulder at the shrinking figure of Poiko’s house. His armor clinks softly with the movement. When he twists forward again, you catch the low grumble from his modulator.

“He doesn’t like me,” he says.

You hide a grin behind your hand, casting him a sideways glance. “Poiko doesn’t like anyone,” you whisper back, voice warm with amusement.

Din’s helmet tilts slightly, surprisingly considering your words. “He likes you.”

You grin openly now, your eyes crinkling with mischief.

“That’s different. I fixed his broken repulsorlift once and never charged him for it,” you explain softly, leaning your head back to let the thinning droplets settle over your bare face. “He’s been trying to adopt me ever since.”

Din shifts again, the leather of his gloves creaking as he adjusts his grip on the controls. He glances once more toward the fading outline of Poiko’s home.

“He looks like he could break me in half,” he mutters.

“He probably could,” you reply in a mock-serious tone, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “So you better stay on his good side.”

Din huffs under his breath, almost a chuckle, and his helmet tilts as if he’s throwing you a look you wish you could see. “And how do I do that?”

You smile, brushing a thumb gently over Grogu’s soft ear and feeling your cheeks warm with a comfortable heat, even under the chill of the elements.

“Be nice to me.”

Din’s voice lowers almost teasingly, one arm shifting against the back of your headrest. You’re not sure why or how, but the small gesture makes you swoon.

“I am nice to you.”

You turn your head toward him, catching the faint glint of his visor through the misty air, and for a heartbeat, the world feels simple, with just the three of you in the soft gray rain as you admire your companion's wonderful, steely profile.

“Yeah," you murmur, voice thick with something you don't dare name. "You are."

The speeder rattles steadily beneath you, the worn old machine pushing onward through the misty countryside. Fields roll by, waterlogged and golden-green, trees dripping in the last threads of rain. Somewhere far off, a low river sings against the rocks.

You adjust Grogu carefully in your arms, smoothing a hand over his head before glancing back at Din, a mischievous twinkle returning to your eye.

“You know, if you smile really nicely, Poiko might even let you call him ‘dad.’”

Din presses a little more firmly on the throttle, the speeder lifting off the muddy ground, skimming just a breath above the earth.

“I’ll take my chances,” the man replies, voice stiff yet so full of life you’ve longed to discover, and now? You think you might have the chance to.

You match his gruff with a soul-filled laughter, letting it carry between you like bells in clean, damp air. And with the stutter of daylight, you set off toward Mon Kilim, leaving the cozy hearthlight of Poiko’s house flickering like a beacon behind you as your eyes slowly glaze over with sleep, the gentle elements lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {{masterlist}}

Fandom: The Mandalorian (Star Wars Universe)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. 

Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

Word Count: 177.3k - ongoing

Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, plot heavy, very dialogue heavy in later chapters, reader has rich lore that will slowly be explored and brought to light, mentions of sa trauma (brief but integral to reader's character), canon typical violence

A/N: whew, okay. i have so much excitement for this fic. i have been editing a nearly 30k document for months now flushing out details and scenes and plotlines. this is a labor of love, i’m putting so much thought into each chapter before i post and making sure it’s all cohesive before posting! please feel free to share with me your thoughts on this one!!  ♡

ao3 link || main masterlist

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5

chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 8 || chapter 9 || chapter 10

chapter 11 || chapter 12 || chapter 13 || chapter 14 || chapter 15

chapter 16 || chapter 17 || chapter 18 || chapter 19 || chapter 20

chapter 21 || chapter 22 || chapter 23 || chapter 24 || chapter 25

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 11

Chapter Summary: Din and yourself spend some time apart.

Series Rating: Explicit

warnings/tags: heavy angst, some self-deprecating speech (reader), cliffhanger, use of alcohol and being intoxicated, healthy but sad relationship talks, idiots in love, unreliable narration, moff gideon (peep the new header)

a/n: all mistakes are mine because I move too fast-- also thanks again to @immarocketman for letting me use some of their art for my header!! (reader finally knows what Mr. Djarin looks like). I still can 't believe how perfect if fits with the theme of my fic 🥹 and being lucky enough to use it <3)

Just one time it would be nice to wake up next to Din still asleep next to you. The ship is completely empty, not even R5 is here. It’s so quiet, eerily silent as you walk around, exploring rooms you’ve only ever looked at the door of. So many guns and other weapons you hadn’t ever seen before. You play with the darksaber for a while. 

You’re in the hull with more room to move around in. Okay. This is gonna be easy. You press the button with your left thumb and your whole left arm is propelled backwards but you hold on tight and force it back in front of you with a grunt. 

“Fuckin’ knock it off.” You growl at it, and for some reason, the propulsion lessens in the other direction and you’re able to wield it more easily. Not very easy, but easier. You left arm feels weird holding a saber. You don't normally hold anything in this hand unless your right one is helping. You do spin it around a couple times and take a couple slashes through the air with it though. It starts to fight you again like it did before. “Knock it the fuck off, my guy. ” You stare at it and instead of fighting you…it’s purring. “Oh…do you like that? You stupid swamp-rat?”

The handle of the grip starts to vibrate like it’s telling you yes. What the fuck? You turn it off and set it down on the floor. Nope. Not today. Maybe.

Okay, you pick it back up and turn it on and again, your left arm almost get ripped off. You just think about how much you hate the thing in your hand. It purrs again. “No fuckin’ way.” You whisper. “You really do gotta be mean to it.”  

With the lightsaber it was about respect and calmness. This was the opposite of a lightsaber so it’s about anger and chaos. It makes you laugh when your thoughts make the darksaber purr softly like it loves your bad thoughts and wants you to have more of them. You turn the saber off and put it back in the weapons room because you could have easily had more thoughts like that if you had held on to it. Kept working with it. It’s terrifying. 

Then a crazy idea comes to you. You run to the cockpit and press a button. 

With all the sun-shields down in the ship now, and no one can see in even if they try to, you look into your reflection in the helmet. You were told to wait but you don’t think you can. It’s too pretty, and you need to see what it’s like in there. You place it on top of your head as steadily as you can with one hand and then press it down slowly. It’s tight, you have to fight to get it down over your cheeks but once it’s on it fits like a glove. Din’s was way too big, you realize now. This is how a helmet should fit. You wish you could see yourself but it doesn’t matter. The heads-up display you’re looking into looks exactly like Din’s did. You can see fully almost completely around to the back of you. 

Din had explained how his helmet worked to you one night in the darkness of the ship. 

You press an unseen button on the left temple of the helmet and the HUD changes, “Infrared,” you whisper into the modulator. Hearing your own raspy voice through the static in your ears sends a shock through you. Now the display inside shows you an infrared picture of the inside of the ship. The only thing warm in the ship is where the engine is and that is only warm because it’s idling so the ship and you and Din and the child don’t freeze in the night. Din normally turns it off by now. You use your new helmet to go turn the engine off completely. 

Another tap of that hidden button and the screen goes black for a moment and then changes back to just the normal ship. You press the button on the dash now that shuts the engine of the ship off and sigh. 

You press the comms button and rasp his name but get no response. Shit.

Where is he? 

You have a much bigger problem right now.

You’re stuck in your helmet. You cannot lift it off your head with just one hand. It’s too tight. You start to panic, because what if Din comes back before you can figure out how to get it off? What if everyone sees and then The Armorer hates you? Ugh no this cannot be happening. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.” Your modulated whisper echoes quietly thorough the ship. You’ve been trying for ten minutes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You run around the ship in your helmet and nightgown like a fool. You look like a fool, such a fool. Why didn’t you just wait!? Din could have been here to see it and you could have had him help you get it off and now you’re going to get caught not following the rules. Being a brat. You could cry inside your helmet.

“Okay...” You’re panting. This is the last resort. Nothing else has worked. You have the heel of your left hand and the ball of your right foot inside the underside of the helmet and you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay. I can do this.” You rasp softly. You push as hard as you can and finally, the helmet slips off your head. You gasp as your hair falls into your face. “Okay. I can take it off.” Very satisfied with yourself. 

It’s dark again now. Dark as shit outside. You almost thought the sun visor was still down after you had put it back up. What the fuck!? Where was Din?! Where the hell was anyone? Not like you had gone to check. You hadn’t left the ship once today. Too sad. Too scared. You lay on the mat on the floor and sigh.

It’s been a thought pressing into your asshole all day. It’s painful and uncomfortable and you’d like it to go away but it persists. You can’t even speak it out into your brain, it's too painful. 

Does Din lie to you?

He clearly has no quarrels eating your candy. Or telling you that you are not maimed when he clearly thought you had been. There were more lies too. You could feel it. He lied about your doodles! He had already seen what was in your notebook when he asked what you were doing! Another lie! Where does it end? When do the lies end and the truth begins with Lyin’ Din Djarin. Would he be capable of lying about loving you? Is he capable of lying to you to touch you? Is that all you're here for? He loves you but apparently you’re just a friend.

Okay. A normal person might die for their friend right? If they cared for them deeply enough? Yes. You guess. Would a friend let their friend stick an Amban Stun Gun in both of their holes at the same time and then let the friend watch through their stupid night vision helmet? Hpmh.

You don’t think so.

Friends also don’t jerk off and come on their friends' bellies or fill them with their seed and tell them they want you to carry their helmeted babies! No! Friend’s don’t do that stuff. 

Fuck. 

So Din lies and now you don’t know if you trust him? Is that what’s happening in that broken, dumb brain? Yes. That’s exactly what’s happening.

You gasp in horror.

Did Din ever even come visit you in the temple like he said he did?

No one ever mentioned him coming to see you, or stopping by-- not Ahsoka or Luke. None of the younglings or other Jedi's!

The reasoning could be that Luke and Ahsoka were trying to keep you levelheaded with a clear mind and un-desiring heart.

Or it could be because that lying metal man never even came to see you like he said he did. How would you ever know without asking the Jedi's outright?

What The Armorer said yesterday in the cockpit rings in your head. Din Djarin hid you away.

That’s exactly what that lying sonofabitch did! Hid you away on the Crest, hid you away on some celibacy planet full of children and Jedi.

Din Djarin didnt' seem very reluctant to watch you walk into your new sexless home while he said goodbye to Grogu.

Old feelings of anger and new ones mix together inside of you. 

Nothing makes sense anymore...you’ve been alone too long. Alone with your thoughts for too long. Maybe. Or maybe this is good? Are you thinking clearly? You don’t know. You just know that one day you trusted Din with your whole life and now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you.

Perfect. Beautiful.

Ugh. Those words make you feel sick because are you beautiful? You’re definitely not perfect.

You roll over onto your left side and just lay there with your eyes open until you hear the ramp drop down. You’ve had hours to stew in your newfound anger. It’s very justified.

He lies to you and now you don’t know what about. He admitted it himself-- he lies.

Din meets you in the hallway. You point at him with your index finger. Din stops in his tracks and holds the baby out to you. You take a step forward and Din takes a step back. 

“Put the green child down.” You growl at Din.

He just shakes his helmet from side to side dramatically.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Din goes to put the child down, but then snaps back up and holds Grogu in his elbow crook. He shakes his head no at you again.

“I would like to yell at you. Really yell because I don’t think I ever have before. I’m not doing it in front of the baby, so put him down.” You speak more calmly than you thought you would. You thought you would be yelling already.

“I will never put this child down.” Din rasps through the modulator just as calmly.

You press two fingers into the bridge of your nose where there is a small cut and bruise. It hurts but you don’t care.

“You’re–” Din starts then stops suddenly, he tilts his helmet to the side. “Annoyed with me?” 

The words fling you back into the past somehow, just like you flung through the air before you slammed into the rock in that bug-robots room and broke your back; it’s feeling much better now though. You’re sitting around the small fire, looking up at Din and you had no idea what was in store for you yet. He had just asked you the same question, if you were annoyed with him. Your response then was much more pleasant than what you say to him in the present. 

“Annoyed doesn’t even begin to cover it, you lying sonofabitch!" You point at him again. “Full of lies. I wanna know what else you lie to me about, but you know what?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He shakes his helmet no slowly- almost like he doesn't want to answer you at all.

“I wouldn’t believe you!” Your brain doesn’t feel as foggy or as heavy as it did the other day, but oh man, you are just pissed off and you know why.

A real anger...with roots to it. You genuinely didn’t think Din could or would lie to you. You don’t know why. He was just a good honest man until he admitted he lied.

Told you to lie about the scars on your face. Like you’d lower yourself to his lying standards.

“I don’t lie?” Din sounds confused about where this is coming from. “Are you mad about the orange candies?”

You nod slowly and squint your eyes at him.

“I got you more. I was just on Nevarro.” Din pulls a bag from behind his back. Bigger than the first bag you got.

Sonofabitch. Why? You were just so mad at him, a good mad, a real mad and now he does this? You almost tell him to stop being cute but then you remember that you are mad! And not just about the orange treats.

“It’s not about the candies!” You exclaim.

Din tilts his head again. “You just said that it was about the candies.” He holds the bag out to you like you didn’t just watch him pull a giant sack of neon candy from behind his back. Like he’s a magician who performs at the casino when he’s done with his comedy sets! 

“You lied about my face!” You flick your eyebrows up at him once and point to your mechnosutures.

Din’s head rolls backward and he stares at the ceiling. “Did you want me to say it looked bad? It did. It looked bad. Are you happy? Did that feel nice?” His helmet snaps to you as you take several angry steps towards him.

He takes several steps back but bumps into the table behind him. 

“What else do you lie about, Djarin?” 

Din’s helmet is staring down at you. He has the child in one hand and the bag of candy in the other. 

“I don’t lie.” He sighs listlessly. “Why are you so upset? I thought our—” He looks down at the child in his arms and leans into you. “- talk last night made everything alright?”

“Oh, all the things you said to get me into bed and then also—” You glance at the child and then back to the helmet, “- get you in someplace else!? How very convenient that you had all those nice things to say suddenly. You couldn’t speak them to me before I was upset with you.” You cross your one good arm over your chest and take a step away and look down at the candy. 

Din finally puts the child down now and sets the candy on the table behind him.  “You think I lie? To you?” His helmet cocks to the side. “I don’t lie to you. Tease maybe. Poke fun at sometimes. I don’t lie to you.” 

“You admitted you did. You said it last night yourself. And then I wake up this morning and you’re not here. You didn’t even wake me to say goodbye or tell me where you were going.” You uncross your one arm and Din puts one gloved hand over his pressure point in his shoulder. “I don’t know why I feel these things. I don’t like being left behind. Makes my mind wander. It’s terrible.” 

Din rasps through the modulator, “It’s because you are a brat.”

You stare up at him, blinking.

“If you had left the ship and talked to my clan, been social with them at all, they would have told you where I went. They said you stayed here all day.”

"Well I--" You don't have a good reason for not going outside of the ship all day. Other than feeling sorry for yourself that Din had abandoned you once again. There isn't an excuse why you couldn't have gone to ask the Armorer or anyone else for that matter.

"A perfect opportunity for you to socialize-- potentially accrue friendships that are apparently so important to you, and I am the villain once again?" He sounds irritated with you more than anything now. He walks around you, leaving you to think about his kind gesture alone. "Brat," he mumbles under his breath through the voice modulator as he passes by.

You stay in your spot looking at the candies on the table and getting new scratches on your legs from Grogu who is trying to crawl up them with the razors on the ends of his fingers.

Are you still upset? Do you believe him?

You pick up Grogu and give him a small kiss on the forehead before you put him to bed in his little closet room.

The metal man does nice things, but he does them in such a strange way that it's hard to recognize them for what they are.

Din is on the floor in just his helmet and the blankets. He gasps in mock surprise, “The brat is here to sleep next to the liar?”

The words hurt, but you don't have anything to say because you do feel slightly foolish. All you had wanted to do was meet new people when you first started this gig. Din Djarin gave you a chance to do just that, and you stayed locked inside the ship all day.

“You tried on your helmet?” Din nods to it sitting on your bed.

You nod silently, wondering if he's going to be upset about that, too.

“Did you like it?” He asks apathetically, like he would rather talk about anything else.

“It got stuck. I had to use my foot to get it off.” You hold your right foot out in front of you and point to it with your left hand. “I was stuck for several minutes.” You don’t know why you’re telling him that. You had planned on never telling a single soul you got stuck in that thing.

Din chuckles, "I would have paid good credits to see that."

“Now you’re upset with me?” You ask, taking a step towards him. He shrugs.

Din turns his head to look at you. “I have every right to be upset with you if I want to be," he rasps. T

his makes your stomach flutter. But in a bad way. The worst way. You don’t know if Din has ever been upset with you unless it was for dying for two long minutes in the mines. Shit.

“I come back from helping High Magistrate Karga on Nevarro with my clan. You call me a liar and a sonofabitch .” Din shakes his helmet at you disappointingly. 

Ouch that fucking hurts. Din’s right. You are a brat. 

“I accepted that tract of land on Nevarro for us.” Din brings his hands under his helmet and rests it on them while he looks out of the window. 

Us. 

“You and Grogu?” You sink to your knees now and sit a couple feet behind him.

Din shakes his head still refusing to look at you again. “Brat," he rasps pointedly. “Of course not. I come home to try and tell you the good news and I get accused of lying about loving you before my boots are inside.” Din doesn’t look at you still.

Your heart is shattering in your chest. 

“I’m sorry," you whisper softly. You feel like a fool, as foolish as you felt earlier with your helmet stuck on your head. 

“Of course you are," Din sighs.

What does that mean? Why did he say it like that?

"You had a right to be upset yesterday--but not today. I did kiss you goodbye. I did not want to wake you because you are broken and healing. Was that so wrong of me?” 

No it wasn't, it's actually very sweet and thoughtful of him. Very thoughtful. Fool. You’re a fool and now you think you may be sick, and possibly your heart will come out with the little food you’ve eaten today. You inch yourself closer to him slowly on the floor. Din tilts his helmet a little backwards so you can see his face visor. 

“Are you upset because I said I don’t want you to swear the Creed?” Din respires softly into the modulator. “I wasn’t forbidding it. You are a free person to do as they wish. But why do you want it?” Din is still looking back at you as you inch now closer to him so you are right beside his helmet. 

“So that we can be together.” You whisper.

Din’s helmet stares at you. “Are we not together right now?” Din sounds worried and now you’re confused. 

“I…mean we’re physically together… right here and now. Yes.” You look around the room and back to Din. 

“Why would you have to swear the Creed for us to be together?” Din sounds just as confused as you are.

You blink at him. 

“Do–” The words you say next scare you because you’re afraid it’s going to scare him. “Don’t you have to marry another Mandalorian?” You look away because you are too afraid to see his reaction. You’re sure that when you look back he’s going to be gone. Back in the cave with his clan telling everyone how you’re crazy. Surely. But when you look back Din is sitting up. Yep just like you thought, getting ready to leave. 

“No. Why would you think that?” Din rasps, turning his body towards you.

He is naked under those blankets and you just got a peek when he turned and now you’re not thinking about anything else. You’re just staring at that little trail of hair under his belly button and you can’t even hold back the smirk you have on your face because he is perfect. Actually perfect. Din snaps his fingers at you. It makes you jump and you look up into his helmet. 

“What?” You’re smiling at yourself in his visor and he’s just looking at you. What does he want? You were enjoying yourself. You never get to look. It’s always dark when he’s not in beskar. You’ve seen him very few times without it. “What?” You ask again because he doesn’t say anything. 

“Why would you think that?” He rasps, unentertained with you. You’re confused. What were you guys talking about?

“Think what?” You say before you actually think about it because really, all you want to do is touch him and you have to stop yourself. Your eyes flick back down to his stomach and his little trail of hair and then back up to his helmet and then back down. Din covers himself with the blankets. “Hey, why’d you go and do that?” You look up into his helmet. 

“ Why… would I only be able to marry another Mandalorian?” Din is still covering himself with the blankets when you remember what you were talking about. You still don’t have an answer because you don’t know why you thought that. It…just made sense? You’re staring at yourself in his helmet when he snaps at you again with his fingers. 

“Would you stop doing that!” You exclaim quietly. “I’m not a small animal. You can speak to me!” You tap your index finger on the floor of the ship one time and hold it there between the two of you. Din taps his finger in a similar fashion on the floor next to yours but more times and rapidly as he rasps through the modulator quickly and annoyed. 

“I have been speaking to you! You don’t speak back. Say something—stop staring at me, and I will stop snapping at you.” 

“I don’t know why I make these things up in my head! You not being able to lie. Then you only lying to me. Why must a mandalorian marry within a clan. I was convinced you slept in your beskar for Makers sake! I don’t know. I just do it!” You start tapping your finger on the floor of the ship quickly like him. “I don’t know! Stop snapping your fingers at me!” 

Din does it. He just snaps his ungloved fingers right in your face and as soon as he’s done he crosses his arms over his chest and covers his pressure points with his hands.

You gasp. How dare he snap and then block himself?!

“I’m learning,” Din rasps softly, nodding slowly. “You think you are the only one whose brain tells them false truths?” Din shakes his head at you. “The things I told myself you were doing at that temple without me—I’d come to see you and Ahsoka wouldn’t even let me inside. Luke wouldn’t even answer my questions about you. They just said you were fine. When I asked if you’d like to come with me they said no—”

You gasp louder than you have ever gasped before in your whole life. 

“They did what!?” you almost shout. “They never told me you asked for me. I would have said yes .” You look all around the floor around you, thinking of ways you can hurt Luke and Ahsoka. How could they do that to you? Make that choice for you. Now you not receiving a gift at the temple makes sense. He didn’t think you wanted to come back to him

“Yes, so you’re not the only one who has untrue thoughts in your head. Did I accuse you of being with another, or not caring for me after two years of waiting for you as soon as you got off that return ship? No! I did not!” Din is very annoyed with you. You’ve never heard him talk that fast. 

You are a dumb brat. A real idiot. 

“I figured out the darksaber while you were on Nevarro!” You snap at him because you are unwilling to accept that you are in fact a giant dumb idiot brat. Din called it. You feel stupid. You try to change the subject. It works. 

“You did? You wielded it well in the mines. You wielded it well here on the ship.” Din’s head turns to the window for a moment and then snaps back to you. “We can talk about that later. Admit that you are wrong. Apologize to me. Because what you do is wrong. Accuse me? You say you love me. Love me so much. Yet you can’t speak to me. Can’t ask me simple questions that would ease your beautiful bruised brain. You want to yell at me. You want to call me names. I call you my little one and I get called sonofabitch. So loving . I don’t get a nice name from you.” Din lays back down on his pillows and his raspy sigh breaks your heart. 

You are a hotheaded…stupid…ungrateful brat. You accept it in your heart now. You try to move closer to him but he pulls his arm away. 

“I am upset with you now.” Din rasps. Your heart no longer exists. You reach for him but he pulls away again.

“Can I fix this right now…or should I go…to the cockpit for a while?” You’re not really sure what you’re saying, but maybe he just needs a minute to cool down. 

“Go look at buttons for a while if that’s what you wish to do. I don’t care where you go. I’ll come to you when I’m no longer upset.” 

It’s a struggle to get to your feet. You have been hunched for so long. You finally do though. You grab a blanket off your bed and your helmet and hold the tears back until you get out into the hallway and shut the door. The crying you're doing has no sound. You can’t breathe. It’s not coming to you when you try. This is worse. This is the worst feeling in the whole world because Din had never cast you away like this. He leaves. He walks away. It feels like it takes twenty years to get to the cockpit. Once the door there is shut, you can gasp. All the air in the cockpit is now in your lungs and you think you’re going to explode. 

The button to close the sun shields feels like it fights back against you when you press it. They close and you’re plunged into darkness. The helmet goes on like last time, with a struggle. But then you sit in the co-pilot's chair in the dark. Looking at everything through your night vision. Din still hasn’t seen you in your helmet. He might never want to.

The door to the cockpit opening jolts you almost out of the chair you fell asleep crying in. Your helmet is still on when Din walks in, wearing his black undergarments and his helmet.  Everything is still in night vision and you don’t know what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. You know you cried for a long time. Din sit’s down in his chair silently after he shuts the door. He doesn’t even look at you. It feels like time has stopped. Somehow being able to see into the void makes the now soft constant static ticking in your ear less comforting. Din just stared forward like a droid. 

“Peli needs some help on Tatooine. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her out for a while and I think you should go.” Din’s rasp sounds just like it does when you have your helmet off.

You start thinking of arguments of why you should stay and why you need to be here with him. You want to tell him that you’ll share the floor bed on this ship with him forever if that’s what he wanted. 

“Okay.” You don’t say any of those things, because if Din doesn’t want you here, what’s the point of being here? Grogu loves you. You love Grogu but he is not your child. As much as you wish he was, he is Din’s child. Din’s alone. R5 is your child though, whether Din likes it or not. 

“Not for long, two weeks possibly.” Din still hasn’t looked in your direction, you haven’t stopped looking in his direction. Things feel so different right now. “I have things to attend to. I’ll leave this ship and take the N-1.” So he has to come back for you. He can’t just leave you there. “I’ll be taking Grogu though.” 

You just nod in response because you know he can see your helmet nodding at him in his display. Even if he’s not looking in your direction. You think about swearing the Creed. You could just stay here. Walk the Way. This doesn’t feel like the Way though. None of this feels noble or honorable or brave. 

“I’m sorry.” You rasp to him in the dark. He nods in response. Still not looking at you. “I shouldn’t have called you mean things.” You whisper into your modulator. You could keep this thing on forever. If Din never wanted to kiss you again? You’re never taking this helmet off. 

“I’ll drop you at Peli’s in a couple hours. You should rest before we get there. One shoulder or not she’ll put you to work.” Din rasps. You also like this helmet because Din can’t see your tears. 

“Have you rested?” You ask softly. He shakes his head from side to side. “Would you like to come rest with me? It can be quiet and dark.” Din does nothing for a long time and then he stands and opens the door to the cockpit and walks out. You follow him into the bedroom. 

Din has his hands on the side of your helmet and is pulling it off for you. He sets it on your bed you think, it’s dark again. Then you lay down on the mats below your feet and wait for him. When he crawls in next to you can feel that he took his black undershirt off. When he lays down onto your chest and you wrap your hand around his neck and twist his hair in your finger he sighs. It makes you sigh. 

You keep your promise and stay quiet until you hear him snoring softly. You can feel it in his chest when he breathes too. Just a deep rumble. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers taking in this feeling because you wont be with him for two weeks and then who knows if he will want you to be around after that. Bo-Katan has been around more than normal. Maybe she did all this to get in between you two because she was jealous. You don’t know. You don’t seem to know anything. You make up lies. You’re the liar. You lie to yourself. 

Din’s arm suddenly flinches softly and then he tightens it around your waist and pulls you closer into him. 

“I love you. Death cannot part us. Mine forever.” You whisper it down into his ears and hope your words are delivered to him like gifts wrapped in bows as he dreams. If he dreams. Tired Din. Working so hard all the time. Barely rested. Cares for you deeply. Loves you. 

The night passes you and sleep avoids your eyes. Passes them right by and you just lay with your eyes open in the dark. You touched Din all night long. Across his strong, muscular back and you twirled his hair in your fingers until he stirred against your chest. It stays quiet in the ship as his breathing goes from soft rumbly snoring to his regular, soft breaths of air. His hair stays in your fingers until he’s pulling himself away from you. 

“I need you to show me how to use the darksaber.” Din whispers into the dark. You could cry again. No kiss or any sign of affection that he still meant those words he spoke to you so gently the other night. 

“Okay.” It takes everything in you to keep it together while you get dressed in real clothes. You put your boots on. You put your helmet on because you're ashamed of your selfish face and don’t want Din to see your selfish eyes. 

You grab the darksaber and your lightsaber from the weapons room and meet him in the hull. Din watches as you set both handles on the ground in front of him. 

“This one,” You point to the lightsaber with your foot. “You need to be able to control your mind. Have peace and serenity in your heart and mind. You don’t think when you hold the saber. It’s almost like the saber thinks for you. Leads you to what your heart really wants almost. It’s helping you during your fight.” You rasp. You pick it up in your left hand and let the plasma extend. “You love it. You care for your saber like it was an extension of your own arm.” You hold it out in front of you as it hums quietly. Din nods. You sheathe the plasma and clip the lightsaber to your waistband. 

The darksaber feels like one hundred of your lightsabers. 

“You don’t need any of that when it comes to this though.” You respire as you hold the handle of the darksaber out to him. He takes it within his gloved hand and grasps it gently. “You hate to hate it.” Din’s helmet snaps up to yours. Your helmet nods at him. “Turn it on and let all the bad inside of you flow through it. It feels and propels itself against your positivity. Away from your serenity.” Din looks back down at the saber and you take several large steps back as he presses the button. You can see him fighting back against it. 

“Fuck.” Din rasps as he has to wrap his left hand around the grip now, forcing it forward with his body weight. “Shit.” You see his hands slipping from the handle. 

“Din, be mad at it. Think about all the terrible things you could do with it.” You hold your hands at your side. It’s like he didn’t listen to a single word you said. The lightsaber on your belt feels cool in your hands as you unsheathe the plasma again. “C’mon. Think about how terrible it is and lift it over your head. Bring it down onto mine.” You hold your lightsaber up sideways above your head so you can block Din’s attempt to slice into the air. 

Din can’t lift the saber over his head. It’s fighting him too much. 

“Hard.” Din’s rasp is strained like he’s really fighting with it. 

“You’re not being angry enough. Let the saber feed off any anger inside you. The chaos, the bad. Let the saber take it from you.” You try to explain to Din over the buzzing of the sabers in your hands. Din hesitates for a second and then you watch as he brings the darksaber over his head and brings it down onto your plasma blade hard. It vibrates in your hand when he connects. 

You’re full of excitement for Din. It’s short lived as he retracts the white plasma back into the handle and clips it to his belt. 

“Thank you. Good job.” And then he leaves you in the hull and walks to the cockpit. 

Okay. This is terrible. The actual worst feeling in the whole world. 

“Good morning.” Grogu looks up at you through the crack in the door and presses himself into the wall. The helmet must be scaring him. “It’s just me. I just have a helmet on like your Dad.” You open the door completely but Grogu doesn’t move. “Do you not like it?” You show off your helmet to him and he shakes his head. “Why? Is it frightening to you?” The child nods as you bend at the knees to his level. “Don’t be frightened, young foundling. It’s just I. Your caretaker. Your bratty helmeted babysitter.” You whisper down to him through the modulator. 

Grogu hesitantly peels himself away from the wall and takes a step towards you. You extend your arm to him and he scrambles up it and to your shoulder where he inspects his own reflection in the side of your helmet. 

“A very handsome boy.” You rasp to him as you watch him look at himself. “Hey, listen to me.” You pull him down off your shoulder and hold him in the crook of your elbow as you make your way into your bedroom. You set the child down on the metal bedframe you no longer use. You sit down on the ground in front of him. “I have to go help Peli for a while.” Grogu gets so excited but you have to put your hand on one of his shoulders and calm him. “Just me. You’ll stay with your Dad while I’m gone.” Grogu looks up at you with big eyes and it makes your eyes water from behind your HUD. 

Grogu babbles sadly. 

“I know.” You try to hold back a sob. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too.” The tears well in your eyes and your nose burns for a moment while you hold it back. “A lot. I will. I’ll miss you but our friend Peli needs my help and I’m the only one who can do it.” You shrug your shoulders and say the words fast so you can get them out before you have to hold back a sob in front of the child. 

Grogu warbles sound downcast. 

“No, I’m not still mad about the scratches.” More fast spat out words because you’re crying behind the helmet but you don’t want to sound like you're crying. You tilt your helmet to the side when you look down at him now. “I love you very much. I always will. But I need to go for a while. And you ne–need to learn h-how to become a-a-a M-Mandalorian.” You stammer into the modulator. This is hard. “I love you.” You lean down and press the forehead of your helmet to his tiny little green head and sigh. “My good boy.” You whisper into the modulator. 

“What good is she to me with one shoulder and a helmet?” Peli looks at you, and you look back at her through the HUD. “Is she the same one who was here last time?” She leans down and looks at her reflection in the shiny beskar. “What’d ya do to her in the mines of Mand’alor? She mess that face up real bad? It’s ugly under there now? Shame. She was cute.” 

“She has a couple scratches.” Din rasps flatly. “She works hard. Is strong despite the shoulder.” Peli looks you up and down and you watch her through the display. “It’ll be good for her.” 

This makes you roll your eyes under the helmet. He’s not wrong though it’ll be good for your ungrateful ass and maybe you’ll actually learn something this time. What is the most frustrating about all of this is that Din is right. If you had just calmly sat down at the table after greeting him from being gone all day and thanked him for the candy and taken the child from him; you could have talked to him nicely and told him how you felt and he would have comforted you and made you feel reassured.

No. You went in yelling at him with your finger pointed. Calling him a sonofabitch for things you didn’t even know were true. Hurtful accusations that he manipulated you into allowing him to touch you when it was something you had been drawing in your notebook! For several days leading up to the first incident in the Crest! Din’s request was strange but it eventually gave you what you had been wanting so badly. Did it not!? To see the image of his lower stomach and the base of him! He does have a curly patch of dark pubic hair that rents space there! You had forgotten because you never saw that notebook again. 

“Alright. She’s gonna get put to work.” Peli gives you a big missing-one-tooth smile and you nod your head once at her slowly because you can’t smile back. She turns to Din now and sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. I’ll give you twenty percent off since she’s workin’ for free. Only ‘cause I gotta go find the part you need for that big honkin’ ship anyway.” 

Wait. Did Din just…trade your services here at Peli’s for discounted work on the ship? Sure seems like it. Who cares, maybe she can teach you something. 

“Two weeks seems like more than twenty percent.” Din rasps make you turn your helmet at him. Now he’s bargaining. Peli points an index finger and then looks at you; she looks back to Din and points her finger at his helmet.

“Fine. Forty but only ‘cause I like the kid.” Peli cradles him in her elbow. “You sure he can’t stay? I’ll throw in an extra ten percent if ya let him.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down quickly at Din but frowns and rocks back on the heels of her foot when Din shakes his helmet from side to side.

“Kids gotta come with me this time.” Din rasps holding one gloved hand out to him. Grogu turns away from him and into Peli’s chest. Din tilts his head to the side because Grogu never does that. The child always goes to Dad Djarin. You gasp quietly enough but it registers in the modulator. Din’s helmet snaps at you and then back to the child. “Grogu, come on. We have to go.” 

Grogu shakes his head from side to side. He said no. You gasp again softly and take a step back in shock. Din’s helmet stays on Grogu but he points back at you with his free hands. 

“Stop making that sound.” Then he holds the hand that had been pointing behind him at you up to Grogu. “Okay, our visit with Peli is over. We need to go.” Din’s not messing around. Grogu pulls his ears into his head tightly and chomps with his little teeth at Din’s gloved hand. 

You make a very audible gasp. Your hand goes to your chest again, in shock, and Peli laughs loudly while Din’s hands fall to his sides. 

“See! Even he wants to stay with Peli!” She laughs again and holds the frowning child out to Din. Grogu is really frowning. His little ears are stiff against his head and his eyebrows are furrowed as Din takes him from Peli. As soon as the child is in Din’s hands he looks back at you, reaching for you with his little arms and now his eyes are sad and his ears are much less stiff. He’s whimpering. “Ohhh. He wants his mommy! Give ‘em to her, Mando! It’s sad!” Peli exclaims, pointing between you and the child now. 

Din turns and holds the child out to you. Grogu doesn’t wait for either of you to be close enough to exchange him, Grogu flings himself to you and wraps himself around your neck as tightly as he can with your helmet now. It knocks you back a couple of stumbled steps but you regain your balance. 

“Oh, it’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” You hold your one good hand up to his back to hold him to you even though you don’t need to, his grip is tight. “You have to go learn things with your dad. I’m going to miss you too.” You pat his back a couple of times. Grogu babbles quietly. He sounds different in your helmet. Raspier. Like Din. Everything rasps. Including you now too. “Shhhh. It’s gonna be alright.” You turn your back and start to walk back towards the ship. 

Din’s close behind you. 

Once inside the not-so-new ship– an X4 Gunship you just learned the name of it three minutes ago when Peli told you–Din never bothered to tell you but you had also never bothered to ask– Grogu would not let go of you. Din had his hand on his little waist and Grogu had his grip dug into your shoulders now. 

“Oohh my May-ker— stop pullin’ him! He’s got his lil’ razors in me again—Grogu! Knock it off!” Your knees buckle at the white hot pain searing into your flesh. “Grogu! Release! Drop it! Let me go!” You plead raspily with the child but he holds tight, whining and whimpering loudly. 

“Grogu. This is not funny.” Din’s modulated voice sounds serious. “I mean it. Let go of the blasted woman! Get your claws out of her!” Din’s not messing around. Grogu does not care. “I’m going to lift and you drop at the same time.” Din’s helmet peers around the side of Grogu’s head. You nod in confirmation because you cannot speak. 

Din lifts the child from off your chest and shoulders and at the same time, you bend your knees and drop to the floor and finally—relief of some sort as his lil’ fuckin’ knives come— get ripped out of your flesh. 

“You are a crikking little snot!” You exclaim from the floor. “You maim my face! You use me as a pin cushion! I am just a girl, Grogu! I feel pain! Just like you do! Oh my Maker! ” You bring one hand to your bad shoulder and sigh. It had just started to not ache dully all the time and he does this!

“I know you are going to miss her. We will only be gone for two or three weeks.” Din rasps. You have to fight everything inside of you telling to question him about this new, extra week he just mentioned for the first time. 

“I will miss you too.” You stand from the floor and pet his ears softly. “Don’t scratch or impale me anymore. I do not like it.” You scold him softly. “I love you dearly. Please be careful.” You press your helmeted forehead to his little green one. “Behave.” You rasp quietly. “Learn to Walk the Way.” You sigh into the modulator. 

“I will be back for you soon. There are just–” Din starts to rasp but you snap your helmet up at him. 

“Things to attend to. I understand.” You wish he would just leave if he’s going to leave you here for a month. “Time away will be good for me.” You lie. You lie to Din Djarin. But you wonder to yourself if it is in fact a lie. Will time with these new thoughts and feelings all alone be good for you? It’s all unknown now. R5 bleeps up at them sadly. You touch the top of his little domed head. 

“I’m glad you’re looking at it that way.” Din is short, turning his helmet to look at the wall now.

Nothing he has said makes you think that he actually wants to come back for you. 

“I’ll be thinking of you.” You rasp quietly, looking down at your feet. 

“And I you. I must go. I’ll send a call if I have time.” Din presses his helmet to yours very gently and very quickly before turning to enter the door that leads to the hangar. 

You waste no time going to Peli and asking what she needs help with. R5 follows you as she leads you to a giant room. Big. So big and so many shelves and a set of rolling stairs that go all the way to the top. 

“I need this—” She holds both her hands up and does a slow spin. “-cleaned and organized. My picker droids don’t do well on the stairs and the Jawas are too small.” 

You look around the room that is about the size of a cathedral. It has multiple shelves throughout and those shelves are covered with things! You don’t even know what most of those things are! 

“The picker droids and the Jawas will help with the organizing part. But you’ll need to clean, give everything a good wipe down. Make sure nothin’s too yucky .” Peli looks at you and nods. “You can be done when the sun goes down. You’ll start after we eat breakfast. I’ll feed you, I guess. But then you’re on your own. Don’t come knocking on my door looking for entertainment when it’s dark. I’ll be asleep.” 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me stay here.” Peli gives you a look of distaste. 

“Well Mando practically begged me, and he’s a friend so…Get to work!” She points at the shelves.

Begged. Begged Peli to let you stay. You don’t blame him, you had been a brat and were still healing so it’s not like you could be much used to him in whatever matters he has to attend to. Mando didn’t tell you. 

The rest of the evening is spent talking to R5. 

“Do you think this is too yucky?” You rasp to the droid; holding up a long cylindrical pipe covered in grease and rust and…hair or fur. The droid backs away, then bloops quickly in response. “Yeah, me too.” You say tossing it in a large bucket Peli had brought in. There are so many things. Old ship parts. New ship parts. Pieces of clothing. Helmets, shoulder pauldrons, shin guards of all kinds. There were podracer pieces! So many things. You organize it all into piles the best you can when Peli comes in and tells you that the work day is over. 

“Know of any good bars around here?” You ask, taking your helmet off for the first time with Peli’s help. 

“Didn’t think you guys could take these off.” She sighed, handing the helmet back to you after you fix your hair. 

“I’m not a Mandalorian. Just got the cool helmet.” You sigh at her and shrug your one good shoulder. 

“I see…” She looks you up and down, noticing the lightsaber on your hip. “Well…with that thing you could probably check out Mos Eisley. Not too far, you can walk. Just lil’ dangerous though. Be careful. I told Din I’d keep my eye out and you’re not going to blow me in for lying by gettin’ hurt more than you already are!” She exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the cantina. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender smiled at you so sweetly. Even though you probably looked like you could cry and fall off your stool and die. 

“Can I please have a whiskey?” You sigh and set your bag down in your lap. She nods and grabs a bottle from behind her. 

“I have this! It’s a really nice Tevraki whiskey. A great year.” She explains as you nod mindlessly. You don’t care where it’s from or how old it is or who its’ mother could be. You just want to ease the pain in your heart and this is the only way you know how. 

“That’ll be eight credits.” She holds her hand out to you. Picking through your bag for the right amount, you hand them to her but not before stumbling across a loose piece of paper. From your notebook. 

How long has this been in here? You don’t really go through your bag often any more. You don’t need it much. You don’t remember this being in here the last time you looked inside though. When you unfold the wrinkled and soft paper in your hands and see the doodle inside it brings tears to your eyes. It’s a little doodle of the child you had done so so long ago. You don’t doodle much anymore. Lost the need for it very quickly when you stopped being bored all the time. 

You press the old piece of paper to your chest and drink the entire small glass of whiskey in front of you in one big gulp. It burns going down, you almost choke but you force it back, down deep into your belly where it’s still burning you. Is that lava!? Real life hot lava you just drank?! Why do people drink that!? You’ve never had it before, it was just something that you had heard people around you at the casino order! It was ordered so often that you assumed it had to be good and look at you now, assuming more things and now almost throwing up in the cantina. Like a fool. Assuming. Have you learned nothing? Stick to your fruity drinks that glow in the dark or that delicious mandalorian wine. 

“Would you like another?” The bartender notices your empty glass and you nod, too afraid to tell her you did not want another and would like something that glowed. Or tasted like sweet candy. She was already pouring more brown liquid into your glass. You pay her and stare at the shot in front of you. 

Brown. Who wants to drink things that are brown and taste like they came out of the engine of the X4 Gunship! And burn. You hold it in your hand like it might bite you as you bring it to your lips. You drink it so fast and it still burns. The previous drink did absolutely nothing to prepare your body for this one like you had been hoping. 

This time you almost spit it out. You almost reject it—but you make yourself swallow it. You are not going to throw up in this cantina. You are a grown woman and you already are on the verge of a mental breakdown. That would completely send you over the edge. Embarrassing yourself in front of all these people who are looking at you—

Why was everyone in this cantina staring right at you? You do a little look around the room and almost every single set of eyes or one eye or multiple sets of eyes on one face were looking at you. Some of them looked at you in awe, like they could not believe that you were actually sitting in front of them. Some of these faces and eyes looked at you with unease…distaste maybe. You couldn’t tell there were so many eyes your own two eyes were flashing between. 

You wish you had your helmet but you would have had to take it off to drink anyway. The hood of your robe goes up over your face because maybe…they’re just not used to seeing a small dala alone in their bar. Unarmored. Looking broken and fragile. Most of these people in the cantina looked like smugglers! Where had Peli sent you off to?!

“Do you want another?” The bartender was already pouring brown liquid in your glass again before you could respond that yes you did want more in your glass and in your belly because once that nasty brown shit got down there…it was kinda nice. You felt warm all over. Every inch of you was…loose. It was nice to not feel tense and angry and upset. 

You’ve been trying so hard to not think about Din, it’s only day one. You have so many days left of trying not to think about him. And he leaves you with no answers, nothing to know if you should be waiting for him or packing your things to get off the ship when he returns. You don’t know. Again, nothing makes sense and this all just hurts your heart too much. The doodle of Grogu is still pressed tightly to your chest with your right hand as your left takes the drink. You hand the bartender more credits and now…you can go home. 

Back to X4, not home. Your home would be on Nevarro with Din and the two little ones hopefully. Not this forsaken ship! You kick it when you get back to it. You stand right alongside the landing gear and give it a good ole whack with your foot and now that hurts too. Why are you such a fool? You limp into the ship and R5 bleep bloops at you happily. You lay down right on the floor inside the ship's entrance once the ramp is shut. 

“Do you still care for me, tiny droid child?” You turn your head to the droid who is rolling himself into your leg, bleeping over and over again. “I don’t want to get up. I’d like to die here. Honestly.” The droid increases his beeping and his rolling into your leg repeatedly. “Oh stop it. I’m not actually going to. I’m being dramatic. I like being dramatic. I like to complain and bitch and be an asshole to someone I love, apparently.” You exclaim exasperatedly. 

 “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.  Kyr'am Kelir kis'wa mhi.  Pal'vut ratiin. I love you. Death will part us. Mine always.” Din’s voice rings throughout the ship and you sit up so quickly it makes you lightheaded. 

“Din?” You look around but then he speaks again but it’s coming from the same room as you. You look around and it’s coming from R5. “Are you doing that? How are you doing that? Din?” You speak into the droid's dome but Din just keeps repeating it over and over again. It’s a recording. “You recorded us!?” You gasp at the droid who stops playing the recording and starts beeping again wildly and rolling away from you.

It’s a struggle to get to your feet but you stumble after him shouting obscenities at him for recording you like that. You fall asleep on your bed with R5 next to you playing that recording for you as you touch the top of his little head. 

“Do you think he still cares for me in that way?” You whisper to the flashing buttons in the dark.

He doesn’t respond to you this time.

The cantina isn’t too bad. You like whiskey now after your two long weeks. Peli said you did good when you showed her that you had finished that giant room. Your shoulder still hurts but you took the sling off. Now you must wait for Din to return, however long that will be. You feel a gloved hand on your shoulder and your stomach flutters. 

“I was just thinkin–” The glove on your shoulder is not the one of Din Djarin. Who is this strange glove that’s holding your shoulder this way?

“Hello little-loth. Aren’t you just lovely? The stories I hear of you do not do you justice.” A very calm and astute sounding voice from behind you says. It’s unmodulated. You turn and see a tall man with a dark complexion a black mustache and short, almost shaved black hair smiling at you kindly. There are nine storm-troopers standing behind him in all black. You sigh loudly. “I’m Moff Gideon. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” 

“Moff Gideon?” You do not know this man. You’ve never even heard his name. You look back at the bartender but she is nowhere to be seen. It feels like it’s just the eleven of you here in this cantina. 

“Oh…Did Din Djarin not tell you about me?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a seat alongside you at the bar. “He didn’t tell you about how I captured the small green child you cared for so many years ago? Even if it was only for a couple hours.” Moff Gideon is smiling at you, like he knows a secret that you do not and he’s about to tell you. 

“I still care for the child.” You say, turning your nose up at him because who even was he? Obviously Din got the child back. So who cares? “Why are you here? What stories have you heard about me?” You’re curious, that's for sure. What could this man in black want with you? Why is he talking to you?

“Oh, I’ve heard many stories. That you have your own lightsaber made of beskar.” He raises his eyebrows once and smirks. “That is very impressive of a woman of your stature. Especially one without the Force. Or any previous militia training.” He nods his head at you like he really is impressed. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty.” Gideon raises one glove and very tenderly traces the back of three fingers across the scars where your mechnosutures used to be. “Scarred. Still beautiful though. Now I hear you have your own helmet. And that you’ve mastered the darksaber.”  

Panic. You’re not sure why but pure panic fills your body because the only person that knows that is Din you’re pretty sure. Unless he told people. How did Moff Gideon hear of this?

“Not mastered. I think I figured it out though.” You try to stay as calm as you can because if you panic you don’t know what this caped man in armor will do to you. 

“So you know about the anger?” Gideon asks curiously. You nod in response. “Think of what you could do if you hated your opponent.” Your eyes go wide when you do think about it because that has never crossed your mind. You had only thought about the hatred for the thing in your hand. If the lightsaber guided you towards the good things you fought for… what would the darksaber guide you to,with angry, hate filled thoughts of murder and massacre? “Have you ever killed anyone, beautiful little loth-cat? He whispers the last part to you. It makes you shiver.

“No.” You say because you honestly didn’t even kill the bug down in mines. Din did after you passed out. Why is he asking you these questions? What’s it to him?

“Would you like to? I hear you’re very skilled. I could use…what is it that Din Djarin calls you?” He looks to the ceiling and then to his stormtroopers like they would help him. “Oh. I remember now. Hired help.” 

“That was before.” You whisper softly. The words make you want to throw up but that’s exactly what you had been at one time. Help that he hired. And this was so many years ago. He’s just trying to anger you. 

“So what are you to The Mandalorian?” Moff Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Because right now…he’s in the stars with Bo-Katan Kryze. Flying in her ship. Potentially sleeping in her bed—alongside her .” 

You actually feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s been a nagging thought in your brain. He did take the N-1 but there is no place to sleep there. That’s no place to house a child. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, looking away from Gideon now. 

“I know what you could be…to me.” He sounds so pleased with himself. 

“Oh and what is that? More hired help?” You’re annoyed and wished he would go away. 

“You would definitely be helping me with something.”

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories @wandamaximoff4578 @probablyreadinsmut @katw474 @cowboy-like-m3 @gummy-dummy @cathynstuff

[midniqhtt]

din djarin - the mandalorian

masterlist • pedro pascal characters • 06/01/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

𑣲 significant pt2 I @softlyspector

Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

𑣲 request I @/softlyspector

𑣲 jealousy!din I @/softlyspector

𑣲 request I @/softlyspector

𑣲 pregnant!reader I @/softlyspector

𑣲 common mistake I @theidiotwhowritesthings

𑣲 in a perfect world, you love me pt2 I @/theidiotwhowritesthings

On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

𑣲 familiar and unfamiliar I @/theidiotwhowritesthings

You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

𑣲 bucket of bolts I @rosepascal

The dad and the dog he didn't want but its Din Djarin and a BD unit.

𑣲 push and pull I @sinsofsummers

after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way.

𑣲 touching din I @archieimagines

The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

𑣲 secrets I @absurdthirst

Reader gets drunk and mouthy. Mando wrestles with his own sense of sexuality and wonders if he can fulfill the desires of his crew member.

𑣲 pure beskar I @bits-and-babs

𑣲 kiss the scars I @januaryembrs

You and Mando are forced to remove your helmets to save the child. But to you, it means more than breaking your creed. To you, it means revealing the thing you're most insecure about.

𑣲 kar’taylir I @the-archxr

the four times Din Djarin almost says it, and the one time he does. alternatively, the four times you almost say it, and the one time you do.

𑣲 my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand I @thefrogdalorian

When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him...

𑣲 downpour I @/thefrogdalorian

Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

𑣲 pretty picture I @groguspicklejar

Din would do anything to keep any outside threat from touching his clan.

𑣲 keep it down I @multifandombitxh

𑣲 creed I @wheresarizona

Upon meeting Bo-Katan Kryze and discovering there are other Mandalorians out in the galaxy who remove their helmets, Din Djarin is suddenly questioning his beliefs and unable to stop from wondering what you, his wife, look like under your own helm.

𑣲 i need you more than i wanted to I @peterparkersnose

Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

𑣲 face to face I @bluebeary-jay

as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment.

𑣲 united we fall I @dindjarindiaries

Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

𑣲 untitled I @/dindjarindiaries

𑣲 everything i wanted I @/dindjarindiaries

You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

𑣲 courting I @writerlyhabits

𑣲 request I @/writerlyhabits

Din’s partner figures out they’re pregnant, and is terrified. They aren’t married, this is the worst time possible, Din already has so much responsibility on his shoulders. But they have to tell him. Because Din deserves to know. She’s terrified of what his reaction might be, if he’d be angry, or excited, or dismissive, etc.

𑣲 shine and polish I @/writerlyhabits

Din catches you cleaning/polishing his armor for him (something usually only done between courting Mandos) and gets all shy explaining the implications to you

𑣲 lost in translation I @flowersforjude

A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𑣲 not that easy I @backtothefanfiction

When Din realised he was starting to have feelings for you, he got scared. Snuck away before sunrise and left you stranded on Nevarro. When you catch up to him on Tatooine, you have a few choice words for him.

𑣲 caught in 4k I @beskarandblasters

You catch Din watching porn and discover his secret; his breeding kink.

𑣲 you’re the loss of my life I @/beskarandblasters

You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death.

𑣲 kiss me thru the comlink I @/beskarandblasters

𑣲 the sweetest melody I @noisynaia

𑣲 uncharted territory I @pedrito-friskito

𑣲 beneath the mask I @saradika

when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions

𑣲 where to start I @tremendum

Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, “it’s not like- I don’t not want to- I just haven’t-I don’t know where to start." 

𑣲 mine I @thefanbasewhore

Din says goodbye to reader and Grogu but once they are reunited Din has mixed feels about the situation, jealous of Luke

𑣲 beautiful truths I @haylzcyon

After hiring you for your unique ability of being able to detect lies, the Mandalorian unknowingly consumes a tea that has adverse effects. You decide to help him, and find out some surprising truths along the way.

𑣲 best kept secret I @lincolndjarin

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

𑣲 of beskar and kyber I @penvisions

You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

𑣲 expanding clan mudhorn I @iron-strangers

Din Djarin met a former jedi padawan who, after surviving order sixty-six, was adopted and raised as a Mandalorian. This series explores the journey of their growing clan as Din juggles the newfound responsibility of being the Mand'alor.

𑣲 supply of run part two part three I @thepascalofus

You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

𑣲 ever since we met, i only shoot up with your perfume I @yeollie-plz

You receive a new perfume, Din really likes your new perfume.

𑣲 tear in my heart I @suresnips

after a rough encounter with a bounty leaves him worse for wear, din needs your help to patch himself up. little do you know he's struggling with more than just external injuries.

𑣲 quarry I @ak-vintage

Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities. Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

𑣲 i’d look for you I @jolalibrary

din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Frodo closes his eyes on the slope of Mount Doom, molten fire flowing around him, smoke and ash and a foul, acrid smell choking his body, sharp pain from where his finger used to be—and Sam still clutched tightly to him, for at least in this doom, dear Samwise is still with him.

It is strange, to finally die. It was always meant for him, in the end. He was never meant to survive this journey. He knew that when he chose to bear the Ring, what feels like a lifetime ago in Rivendell, he would not return. He is so far from home, so far from the Frodo he used to be. But he cannot bring himself to despair. Instead, as he closes his eyes and knows no more, there is only relief.

When Frodo opens his eyes again, he is no longer on the slope of Mount Doom, there is no more fire and ash and no more of that foul smell, and Sam is nowhere to be found. He is in a vast, empty hall, carved in stone or marble. The columns reach high, far out of sight, but they are beautiful and ancient, and shrouded in a mist that seems to cover the entire place. The halls and mist are bathed in soft, comforting light, and having spent countless days in a dark, harsh place, it is strange that he is surrounded by light and softness, crisp as a morning rain.

Then from out of the mist, someone appears. He is tall and his robes are a dark, somber color while his hood drawn over flowing, white hair. His eyes are soft and old, and speak of knowledge and unavoidable doom. He is impossibly ancient and beautiful. He is a stranger, and yet Frodo knows who he must be.

“Is it time?” he whispers. It comes out hoarse and harsh, dried from sand and no water.

The stranger regards him, a hobbit covered in dirt and dust and bloody, tattered clothes, with a piercing look. Frodo feels he is looking into his soul, but strangely does not mind.

“Not yet,” the stranger answers. His voice tremors with ancient, long-forgotten years and the memories that were lost alongside them.

Frodo sighs, feeling his insides sink in sadness. “I am so tired,” he says, unsure if he is trying to plead a case or simply stating a fact.

“I understand.”

“I want to rest.”

“As do all who come here.”

“Have you all forsaken me?”

The stranger seems mildly surprised by the question, as is Frodo, who hadn’t intended to say it. “Have we?” he asks in response.

Frodo feels very unsure. “Have you?” he repeats. “Was I ever meant to succeed?”

The stranger’s face softens, almost as though he regrets the answer he gives. “No.”

His heart sinks and his eyes burn, and he feels as though the stranger knew, years before the words “I will take it,” were spoken, that Frodo would not succeed. “Then you have forsaken me?”

“Do you believe we have forsaken you because you were alone?”

It was what he had believed, hadn’t it, crawling slowly through Mordor? That in that dark, barren place, no hope or comfort was to be found? “To bear a Ring of Power,” he whispers, “is to be alone.”

The stranger nods, perhaps conceding to his statement. But he still says, “Do you believe the only power at work was of Evil? That we could not watch over you?”

“But—”

The brace of coneys in Ithilien that appeared from nowhere.

The brambles and branches that gave cover in Mordor.

The little streams of dirty, acrid-tasting water.

The bright, luminescent star beyond the dark clouds that no evil could touch, glinting down from above.

Frodo’s eyes burn again. “You were there,” he whispers.

The stranger nods. “Your doom was decided long ago. But you have chosen to face it with courage. This is not the time for you to rest. Not yet.”

But Frodo still wishes it is. He is so very tired. “Then may I rest here… for a little while?”

The mist shrouds the stranger’s face, but his voice still reverberates with solemn promises of rest to come. “For a little while.”

Frodo sighs again, this time feeling ready to sleep for centuries. “Thank you.”

The mist rises and begins to cloak the halls in cloudy light. “Rest, Frodo Baggins,” Námo whispers. “We shall meet again soon.”

Frodo closes his eyes, and sleeps.