#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.

[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

[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——-

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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❤️

[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

[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.

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

word count: 7.9K 

chapter summary: Din and Marathel visit a wedding chapel. 

warnings:  angst, mention of blood, 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’s eyes opened to a dark room, cool and quiet.  He turned his head towards the bed and was unsurprised to see Marathel was not there.  Grogu was in the middle, nestled within a cocoon of blankets, fast asleep.  Din managed to roll off the couch and to his feet without grunting.  Upon standing, he could see the curtains at the end of the room were billowed out around something … or someone. 

As Din crept closer, his visor adjusted better to the low light and he could now tell that Marathel was sitting on the floor, behind the curtains.  He got about three feet away and he saw her turn her head in his direction.  And she says I always sneak up on her.   “Marathel?” 

“Hello,” she said quietly.  “Is Grogu still asleep?” 

“Yes, he is. Is this a private party, or may I join you?” 

He saw her shrug.  “If you like.” 

Din got down on the floor — with a grunt, unfortunately — and joined her on the other side of the curtain.  She was wearing a light knit cardigan over her pajamas and sitting cross-legged on the floor, her wounded forehead pressed against the glass.  He could only see her profile, but her puffy, tired eyes were quite visible. Her slumped pose, rounded shoulders, and hands lying listlessly in her lap all spoke of exhaustion and sadness.   “What are you looking at?” he asked. 

“I’m waiting for the water to dance again,” said Marathel, indicating the giant fountain below.  “There were big spouts of water that swayed back and forth, in all sorts of patterns.  I think there was music, too, but I couldn’t quite hear it.  I wanted to open the window, but I couldn’t work out how.” 

Din nodded.  “Hotel windows generally don’t open.  They don’t want people going out the window.”   

Marathel looked at him, confused at first, but then it dawned on her.  “Oh.” She turned back to the window.  “Is it time for us to leave?” 

“No, not yet.  I was going to let Grogu sleep himself out.  How long have you been awake?” 

“A while.  Grogu took all the blankets, and I got cold.” 

Din chuckled.  “He is a veritable blanket thief. He also is actively stealing blankets everywhere we go.  Every time I straighten up his pram, I find more.” 

“Good thing he’s adorable.” 

“The bad thing is, he knows it.”  They both laughed briefly.  “How are you feeling?” 

Marathel shrugged.  “I’m okay.  I’m all right.”  

“I don’t believe you.”  

“Are you calling me a dwy’tu’ar?” 

Din frowned under his helmet. “So … dwy’tu’ar means ‘liar’?”  Marathel realized her mistake, and she sighed and nodded, her eyes closed.  “Well, that scans.  That means you called Siewan a liar when you thought she’d ratted you out to the Republic.” 

“‘Ratted you out’ what now?” 

“Reported you and your injuries to the people who came to ask you all those questions.”  Din tilted his helmet in thought. “Dwy’tu’ar. Na, nid.  Th’ych’lyth, Din … gaal’wch.  ‘Liar.  No.’  Then … ‘Be Safe, Din, please.’  But I don’t think you’re saying, ‘be safe,’ Marathel.” 

Marathel turned to look at him, scowling in suspicion. “And when did you hear me say all this?” 

“On the Crest, when I was bringing you here.”  Din didn’t feel the need to mention that he was holding her naked body against his bare chest, trying to get her warm.   “You were semi-conscious, suffering from exposure, delirious. You also said ‘gorau’, or something to that effect.” 

“I was … dreaming.  Ranting.  Delirious, as you say.  It means nothing.” 

“Really?  You seemed quite insistent at the time.  Who was lying to you in your dream?” 

Marathel sighed.  “The Dahls.” 

“Well, of course.” 

“And you.” 

“I was the liar?  Ouch,” teased Din.  “Am I never nice to you in your dreams?  You tend to be nice to me …” Din cut himself off, surprised he’d said that much out loud. 

Marathel raised her eyebrows in surprise.  He dreams of me?  

Din harrumphed, then said, “I think ty’ych’lyth doesn’t mean ‘be safe’. It makes me wonder what you were really saying.  You’ve told me yourself how words have changed meaning.  Oldtalk leaves much to be desired regarding good communication.” 

Marathel sighed. “Just … leave it alone.” 

“It seems to me that the liar here is you.  What horrible thing have you been telling me instead of ‘be safe?’”  At Marathel’s shocked look, he muttered, “I’m sorry.  That was rude.” 

She turned back to the window, crestfallen.  She leaned her forehead against the window again, saying, “I’m not sure what could have hurt me more than your words just now, Din.”  Her rebuke stung worse because she called him Din.  If she’d said Bounty Hunter — as she tended to do when she was upset with him — he would been able to let it pass.  Marathel muttered, “I was saying ‘Come back to me’.  ‘Please, come back to me’.” 

“I did, though.  I came back to you, came back for you, Marathel.” 

“Yes, you did.  But soon you will be leaving me on Nevarro, and … and the third time’s the charm.” 

Din sighed.  “You will see us again.” 

Will I?  Will I see you again, or are you just telling me that, like I’m an overtired little child who needs to be appeased with a false promise?  Marathel sniffled and rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling like an overtired little child anyway.  “I’m so worn out.” 

“I’m not surprised.  C’mon, let’s get you back to bed,” said Din, getting up to one knee, putting his arm around Marathel to help her stand. 

“But we must leave … I wanted to see the dancing water … and a wedding chapel …” 

Din led her out from behind the curtains and back into the large bed.  “We don’t have to leave the room for a few hours.  And I’ll see what we can do about the fountains and the wedding chapel.  You need some sleep.”  He unwrapped the blankets from Grogu, spreading them back over Marathel, already lying on her side. 

When Din reached to pick up Grogu, Marathel grabbed the boy and held him close to her.  “No, please … I won’t get to have him for much longer … don’t take him away from me.” 

“I won’t, Marathel, I promise.” 

Marathel whimpered and turned into her pillow, her hair falling over the face so Din couldn’t see it anymore.  Din stepped back and sighed inwardly.  After all, he would have to take Grogu away.  Where he went, the child went.  Din wondered what shared-custody protocol should be between two non-biological parents and a foundling.  Oh, how he didn’t want to hurt her.  But it seemed he inevitably would, whether he wanted to or not.   

By the time Marathel woke up again, bright sun was streaming through the windows.  Din had pulled the curtains back, and a beam of sunlight fell directly across her face.  At the far opposite end of the room, Din was sipping caf through a straw and contemplating the sunbeam that was illuminating the stray wisps of hair that were defying gravity around Marathel’s face.  Her pose was familiar as well: she lay on her back, an arm thrown over her head, her chest rising and falling with each breath.  She looks so … delicate, and lovely, laying there like a fairy tale princess, waiting for a knight to come for her … 

Then she loudly snorted like a congested heifer, coughing herself awake, and Din nearly sprayed the inside of his helmet with a mouthful of caf. 

Marathel half-sat up, hacking to clear to wad of phlegm that had drained into her throat.  Leaning on her elbow, she scrubbed her nose with her hand and squinted into the sunlight.  “Oh, Frith,” she croaked.  “Is it time to get up?” 

Din cleared his throat.  “I suppose so.  Are you feeling better?” 

“My mouth feels furry.” 

“Welcome to your first hangover.  Make sure you hydrate today.” 

Marathel swung her legs over the edge the bed.  “Ugh.  Was I going nark’yl?” 

“I couldn’t say.  What is that?”  Marathel glared at him and made snoring noises.  “Snoring. Just right before you woke up.”  Marathel grunted and headed to the fresher room, hacking a couple more times.  “Dank ferrik, Marathel, you should take up smoking.  You already have the cough.” 

Marathel turned to him, scratching her chest and yawning.  “What is this smoking thing?” 

“Well, people take dried leaves, crush them, and roll them up in paper, then light them on fire so they can breathe in the smoke.” 

“… Why?” 

“People enjoy it, I guess.” 

Marathel rolled her eyes and muttered to herself as she disappeared into the fresher room.  She came back out shortly, asking, “Do we have to leave now?  Do I have time to use the shower?” 

“If you’re quick.  There’s an hour before the water dances again.” 

“The water …?” 

“You said you wanted to see the fountains.  They’re scheduled to go off in about an hour, and we need to get a good spot at street level.” 

Marathel smiled widely, and said, “I’ll be quick!” 

Exactly seventeen minutes later, the trio was heading down to the lobby.  Din kept taking surreptitious glances at Marathel.  She had braided the top section of her hair and left the bottom loose, which fell in soft waves over her shoulders.  She was wearing the dusky purple shirt he had chosen for her, which had a gently scooped neckline that only showed the very top of her cleavage. It was also gathered on the sides in a way that showed off her waist, nice and curvy.   Din wondered which foundation was under her shirt and figured she was wearing one of the more comfortable front-hook ones, as she did not ask for any assistance. Her cheeks were pink from a fresh washing, and she obviously wore no cosmetics as her eyebrows and eyelashes were back to their normal transparent state.  However, he was certain she was wearing the tiniest bit of coral color on her lips, which he found very fetching against her pale skin.  From this angle, he was able to see her ear, and he noticed that she had detached earlobes, and he remembered his mother lamenting about her own attached earlobes, which apparently meant that she couldn’t wear earrings.  He was considering what Marathel’s earlobe would look like with a delicate gold and gemstone earring hanging from it when the elevator reached the ground floor with a ding. 

Marathel thought they must have been a sight, this fat old woman with a horrible wound on her forehead, on the arm of a fully armored Mandalorian, shiny and broad, his hand holding hers rather possessively.  The bag holding Grogu was between them, bouncing back and forth from her hip to Din’s, and Grogu’s tiny hand was clutching the hem of her shirt.  Then Marathel caught the eye of a beautiful woman wearing the most stunning shiny gold beaded gown, with flowers in her hair and in her hand and a tired but blissful look on her face, on the arm of a well-dressed man, all in black, who kept gazing at the beautiful woman on his arm with what Marathel assumed was great affection.  For some reason, the two couples paused as they were passing each other, and the younger woman beamed at Marathel, nodding at Din with a knowing look.  Then, the woman handed her bouquet to Marathel.   

Marathel somehow managed to stay in step beside Din, despite her bewilderment at a bunch of fragrant flowers that magically appeared in her hands.  They passed through the hotel lobby and into the main casino vestibule, and Marathel was enveloped in all new sensations: ringing noises, bright lights, and so many people that she became nervous again, so she pressed as close as she could to Din’s side.   

Feeling proud again at having Marathel on his arm, Din looked at her and then came up short.  He almost had to rattle the helmet on his head, because he couldn’t fathom why Marathel would suddenly be in possession of a round bouquet of large-headed rosan blossoms of red, deep as the blood she had on her teeth as he had her pinned to the floor, naked, furious, screaming for him to fill her as she was possessed by the Dahls who screamed for the same thing from their mates … 

Wait, what? 

Din took a sharp breath and was glad that he had fully stopped walking; if he’d been in motion while having that thought, he would have face-planted right into this marble floor, he was so surprised.  He pointed at the flowers she held, and asked, “Marathel, where … where did you get those flowers?” 

Marathel blushed.  “Pretty, aren’t they?” 

“Beautiful. Yes. Where — “ 

“There’s a sparkly thing in the center of each flower!” 

“Yes. Those are rhinestones.  But — “ 

“What kind of flowers are these?” 

“Rosans. Marathel, where did you take those from?” 

Marathel scowled at Din.  “I didn’t take them; a pretty lady gave them to me.” 

“A pretty lady?”  

“Oh, she was so beautiful.  Her dress was sparkly like these … um … rheen-stones and she looked so happy, and the man she was with was so tall and handsome, all in black in the finest-looking fabric, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and she smiled at me, at both of us, and she gave me these flowers.  I don’t know why.” 

Din blinked a couple of times, and said, “Well, Marathel, I think you saw a bride and groom … a newly married couple.  Newlyweds, they’re called.” 

“Noo-lee-weds? You mean they’d gone to a wedding chapel?  And … and promised to live together?  With affection?” 

“… yes.” 

Marathel looked down at the bouquet, her cheeks turning pink again.  “But why would she give her flowers away?  They’re so beautiful!  And why would she even be carrying flowers?  Is that something you get at a wedding chapel?” 

Din had to stand close to her, as it was noisy where they were standing, right in the center of the vestibule, under a ceiling made of large, sculpted glass flowers.  He was wondering how to explain what little he knew of the trappings and traditions of a typical wedding, when a group of young women in fancy dresses and even fancier hairstyles passing them squealed and gave Din and Marathel their congratulations, exclaiming over her pretty bouquet and giving her kisses on her cheeks.  Before Din could blink again, a Chiss woman in a sharp high-collared suit appeared at his elbow.  She said, “Greetings and congratulations, you lovely couple.  I take it you’re here to avail yourselves of one of our wedding sites?” 

Marathel had never heard of a double take before, much less seen one, so she was quite surprised when Din quickly whipped his head towards the blue woman twice in quick succession.  “I’m sorry?” 

“We have quite a lovely selection of locations available, even for walk-ins, such as yourselves.” 

Din stammered, “We … we … um … fountains,” before putting an arm around Marathel and quickly ushering her out the front door.   

As they practically ran down the walkway along the edge of the fountains, Marathel had to wrench herself free from Din’s tight grip.  “I can’t … Bounty Hunter!  I can’t walk so fast, please!” 

Din turned back to her, muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m … I’m sorry.”   

Marathel said, “Frith, what just happened?  Those young girls …  that blue woman … and then you’re being all strange about these flowers as well!” 

Din sighed and shuffled his feet in embarrassment.  “I … uh … those girls and the blue lady were assuming that we were there to get married.” 

Marathel blinked. “… us?” Din nodded.  “But … we can’t.  I’m no Mandalorian.  That’s … that’s impossible for you. It’s forbidden. I’m not anything … I’m not …”  She dropped her head to look down at her flowers, and she gently fingered a soft petal with a sad look on her face, while Din wondered why she had that notion, that … a formal arrangement between the two of them would be forbidden.  But then, he’d never told her otherwise, had he?  He pondered whether he should correct that when chimes began to ring.  Marathel cringed at the loud noise and asked, “What is that?” 

Din looked out over the giant pool where the fountains were.  “I think that means the water will start dancing soon.”  He took her hand and placed it back in the crook of his arm. Din allowed Marathel to set the pace, and he led her further down the slanting walkway and found a good spot up against the metal barrier.  “Here we go.  You can see the entire show from here.” More people were arriving and jockeying for room, but they seemed to be giving Din and Marathel wide berth.  The armor and weapons have their benefits.  Din pulled out Grogu and held him out for Marathel to take.  “Can you handle both him and … where did your flowers go?” 

Marathel shrugged, then took Grogu from Din.   “Oh … I left them in that big stone pot up there,” she said, indicating with her head to the top of the walkway. 

“Why?”  

Marathel shrugged again, her face purposely blank and devoid of expression.  “Silly to have them.” 

Frowning, he said, “Not silly at all, Marathel.  You can have the flowers.” Din looked up at the planter she had indicated.  “Would you like them back?  I can go get them.” 

“No.  There’s no point.”  She put on a falsely bright expression for Grogu.  “It’s such a pretty day, isn’t it, my little Godynferth?  There will be dancing water soon, just you wait.”  Marathel set Grogu on the metal barrier, holding him firmly.  He chirruped and looked down into the giant pool.  “Nope, I’m not seeing frogs down there, either!  After the dancing water, we’ll see what we can find for breakfast, yes?”  She dropped her chin to give kisses to Grogu’s fuzzy head. 

Din, confused about Marathel’s sudden mood shift, was reaching for her shoulder to get her attention when the water in the giant pool before them suddenly exploded upward with a loud boom.  Marathel shrieked in surprise and leaned backwards right into the crook of Din’s arm.  Din tightened his arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling backwards.  His other hand went across Grogu’s middle to hold him more securely on the barrier, taking hold of Marathel’s hand in the process.  He felt her stiffen within his arm, then she returned her attention to the fountains. 

Music began, an orchestral piece with many instruments that Din knew but couldn’t quite remember the name of.  As a male tenor voice began to sing, water jets spouted upwards in time with the words in a complicated pattern, delighting Marathel and Grogu, who laughed and clapped his hands.  As the aria continued, the water jets changed shapes and directions, all choreographed to match the music perfectly.  Din finally recognized the tune; it was from an old Naboo opera his mother was particularly fond of, and she often played the holocording in their little house, dancing and humming along as she did her chores.  Marathel leaned against him and whispered, “Do you know this song?  It’s beautiful!” 

“It’s, uh … it’s called Time to Say Goodbye.” 

Marathel glanced at Din, dismayed. “Oh,” she whispered. As she turned back to the fountains, Din watched her face cloud over with sadness. 

He leaned close to her ear and said, “He’s saying … that even though she’s leaving, he will see the mountains and rivers of the place she’s going, just as she sees them. And because he loves her so much, it will be as if they’re still together.” 

“But if he loves her so much, why is she leaving him?” 

“Because … because …” stammered Din, trying desperately to come up with an answer. Finally, he turned to her and said, “Because, sometimes … it’s just time for a person to leave, and people we care about have to be left behind.” Marathel looked into Din’s visor again, and he watched her expression change from confusion, to defeat, and then passiveness before she turned back to the fountain.  No, Marathel, don’t just close yourself off.  I’m sorry it must be this way, but if you hate me, I won’t be able to handle that. 

“Why can’t she just ask him to come with her?” Dank ferrik, thought Din, searching for an answer.  But before he could, she continued, saying, “You asked me to come with you once.  When we were dancing in the shallow water.  Remember?” 

“I remember.  I wanted you to come with me because I was afraid of what would happen to you if I turned you in.” And a damned animal told me to love you. 

“What if I’d said yes? Then what?” 

“Then we would have left Unmanarall.  Beyond that, I don’t know, Marathel.” 

Marathel wiped a tear from under her eye and said, “I wish I’d said yes.” 

So do I, thought Din.  I wish… so many things.   

The aria ended with a long-lasting tenor note and a final blast of water into the bright mid-morning sky.  A strong breeze sent droplets out as mist that landed on Marathel’s hair, sparkling like rhinestones on the silver strands.  While Din thought to himself that Marathel’s hair now resembled a bridal veil, she sighed and said, “Nid dau’dymian yn cachu’por.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“‘Wishes won’t fill a necessary.’” 

“That’s a good one. I learned, ‘wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first.’” 

Marathel turned towards Din with a tiny smirk curling her lip.  “Wisdom from your buir?” 

“No, I’m pretty sure that was my mother.”  Marathel looked at him, shocked, then she laughed.  Din chuckled as well and said, “Did you enjoy the dancing water?” 

“I did.  And the music was very pretty, even if it was sad.” She pulled Grogu to her and balanced him on her hip.  “Well, little one, it’s time we get going, yes?  Let’s go.” 

“Let me take him.  There’s a lot of people around here and it’s not secure.” Marathel gave Grogu a kiss before handing him back to Din, who concealed him in the bag.  They began the climb back up to the main entrance, and Din said, “Show me where you left your flowers; let’s see if they are still there.” 

“I don’t need those flowers …” 

“I know you don’t, but you liked them, and that’s a good enough reason to have them.”  But the rosans were already gone from the planter, either picked up by some souvenir hunter, a groundskeeper, or perhaps a cheap bride and groom.  “Well, I’m sorry, ma’mwsh ha’laa.”  Marathel shrugged, feigning indifference, but Din had been around her long enough to know that she was sad and upset, as well as confused, tired, and trying so hard to just manage from moment to moment in another overwhelming place.  And soon he was going to take her to a planet she didn’t know, into a house she hadn’t seen, take away the child she loved, and leave her alone to sink or swim.  He put her arm in his again and reentered the casino vestibule.  This time, Marathel noticed the magnificent glass floral sculpture on the ceiling, and she made them stop so she could stare at it for a while.  Din, in turn, enjoyed her childlike wonder at life’s beauty.  He thought about how happy small things made her, like fizzy pink water, some wildflowers picked from a meadow by a little boy, a gorugelly when she thought she wouldn’t have any.        

Marathel pointed up and asked, “Why are the flowers so big and shiny?” 

“Those are made out of glass by a famous artist.” 

“Artist?” 

“Oof, that’s a difficult one.  Artist … um … someone who creates something, for no other purpose than making another person have an emotional reaction to it.” 

Marathel grimaced at Din.  “Oh, I don’t understand that at all.” 

Din chuckled.  “Well, that’s the best explanation you’re going to get out of me.  A thousand people could discuss what art is for a thousand years and still not be able to explain it.”  They began walking again, but instead of turning to the hotel lobby, Din walked them forward into the greenhouse gardens, for which the casino was famous.   

Marathel’s eyes grew large and round, and she could hardly move her head fast enough to see every bit of beauty that was before her.  “Frith,” she whispered, holding her palm to her chest.  All around her, flowers, flowers of every conceivable shape, color, and size, climbing on boughs and hanging above them, laid out in carpets at ground level, standing in long stalks that curled, exploding in every direction.  She grabbed Din’s hand tightly, and stammered, “Is this… is this a wedding chapel?” 

The Chiss woman from before suddenly appeared beside Marathel, saying, “No, these are our gardens.  You could use a corner to hold your wedding, but to have a private ceremony, you must reserve the entire gardens for your event, which is not available for a walk-in.  And dreadfully expensive.” 

Marathel didn’t notice, but Din certainly did hear the slight snarky tone in the Chiss’ voice that doubted that Din — who certainly had the look of a drunken, ragged hobo, armor or not — had the dosh to afford something so swank.  “Well, of course,” replied Din, managing a supercilious tone himself.  “Would you then please just show us your smallest and most reasonably priced chapel?” 

“Of course, sir.  Please, follow me.” 

As they followed the blue woman, Marathel hissed at Din, “What are you doing? There’s no point in …” 

“You said you wanted to see the dancing water and a wedding chapel.” 

“Don’t we need to leave?” 

“This won’t take long,” said Din, patting her hand. Marathel scoffed quietly to herself, thinking that Din knew she was now uncomfortable doing this, and he was just having another laugh at her expense.  They turned a couple more corners and they came to a very decorative doorway that led into a small room.   

The room itself was ivory, trimmed in gold, with a wall that was illuminated stained glass.  At the far end, before the stained glass, stood a small pedestal, and lovely upholstered chairs flanked the area before the glass wall.  “This is our smallest and most intimate room, simply appointed and affordable, with just enough pomp to make it a special occasion …” 

“Yes, it’s very nice,” interrupted Din.  “Excuse me, Marathel,” he said, disengaging his hand from hers. “I’ll be right back.”  He walked over to the Chiss woman and led her out into the hallway, where Marathel could hear them whispering to each other, but not what was being said.   

Shrugging, Marathel went over to the glass wall to get a closer look.  She had not seen a wall or a window such as this before. Upon closer inspection, the glass was … painted or covered with something to make the colorful patterns and not made with cut glass pieces as it appeared to be.  Marathel smiled and figured that it at least looked good enough for holos, and more than likely, a wedding couple would probably not care about such things.  Still, it was a nice enough room, not that she would ever need it.  The odds of her finding a person who would be willing to take on a woman like her were slim.  And really, what kind of … what was the word?  Oh yes, wife … could she be, knowing full well how physically damaged she was?   

“Sorry about leaving you alone for so long,” said Din, making her jump.  “And for sneaking up on you again.”  Marathel heard the smile in his voice and scowled at him.  He shrugged and asked, “So, what do you think?” 

“I’m not sure.  I don’t know what’s supposed to happen in here.” 

“Well,” said Din, “From what little I know, there’s usually an officiant, standing where you are.” 

“What is that? 

“That’s the person who oversees and performs the wedding.” 

“Do you have one of those for a riduurok, too?” 

Din shook his head.  “No, that’s not necessary for a riduurok.  The important part of a riduurok is the pledge between the two people, so that’s all that’s needed.  It doesn’t even require witnesses.  I’ve never heard of a riduurok occurring in a chapel like this.  While being chased off a high cliff by a giant shriek-hawk? Yes.  Got to see that happen in real time, once. 

“But, getting back to where we are … If we’re talking about two people getting married, one would be standing here …” He gently maneuvered her to the appropriate spot.  “The other would be here, where I am.  And then …” 

The blue woman reappeared with a small white box in her hand, saying, “I think I found something that will work for you.” 

As Din took the box, an older Twi’lek man ran into the room, saying, “Oh, Gont, thank the Maker, I found you! That stupid caf heiress cow is raising another fuss about the catering!  Please, I need you!” The Twi’lek and the Chiss rushed from the room to head off whatever the emergency was, leaving Din and Marathel alone in the chapel room again.   

Din turned back to  Marathel, who had a curious look on her face.  She pointed to the box, asking, “What is that?” 

“Something for you.” 

“Me?” Din walked up to her, giving her the box, which was a plain white with a silver ribbon.  With shaking hands, she carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid.  Nestled inside was a small floral arrangement of curling ferns, a cluster of yellow bell-shaped flowers, and a spray of tiny white buds, tied off with another silver ribbon.  “I … I don’t understand.” 

“You should have flowers if you want them.  They didn’t have a yellow bouquet, but I thought this might be better.  Here, let me …” Din lifted the flowers out of the box, finding a couple of hair pins underneath.  “Forgive me, I’ve never done this before …” He carefully pinned the tiny flower arrangement to her hair, just above her right ear.  “There.  Now, you’re perfect.”  He took the box and ribbon from her and placed them on the nearest chair. “Oh, wait, we need Grogu for this …” 

“For what?  What is happening?” 

“You’ll see.”  Din pulled Grogu out of the bag and carefully set him on the little pedestal.  “Sit right there, kid; you’re our witness for this.” 

“Witness?” 

“Yes, witness.  You good, pal?” Grogu made a bleat in the affirmative, and Din gave him a thumbs-up.  “Okay.”  Din took a deep breath, then took Marathel’s hands, and said, “Look, this is in no way official; it’s not a wedding or a riduurok in any way, but … Marathel … I, Din Djarin, promise you, Marathel, that … yes, I must leave you alone on Nevarro, and I don’t know for how long, or when we’ll be back. I have things I must do, important things, yes.  But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to come back to you.  I will do everything I can to keep you in Grogu’s life, because you are so important to him.”  Din had to take a breath before he could continue.    “You have also become important to me, Marathel, these past thirty-three days.  You are the closest thing I’ve had to a … friend I’ve had in a long time, and I do not intend to lose my friend.” 

Tears spilled over Marathel’s eyelashes.  “Oh, Din …” 

“Marathel, with these words, I pledge this vow to you, by Mand’alor, by Frith, by Grogu …” His voice broke a little at this last pledge, knowing that she didn’t trust words at all, but he hoped she would at least try to accept these words he spoke here.  “Do you believe me, my ma’mwsh ha’laa?” 

“… I do.” 

While Marathel had no knowledge of the gravity of those particular words in any setting, much less in a setting such as this one, Din Djarin had seen enough rom-com holos to know that on some cosmic level, the two of them were now tied together for life.  Not tied emotionally through the whims of some supernatural or paranormal dog-cat-lizard critter, or even by formal scripts written long ago, but tied nonetheless — by a promise to one another made by each of their conscious hearts, out of love and respect, by their own choosing.  A wedding, indeed, by the most basic interpretation of the word.   

Ner kar’ta. 

Marathel bit her lip, and whispered, “Now what?” 

Din blinked.  “‘Now what?’” 

She frowned.  “That’s what I said.  I asked, ‘now what?’” 

Din decided to tease her a little.  “Now what?”  

“Din, I swear a vow to you, I am going to punch you in the face.” 

“Don’t do that.  You’ll hurt your hand.” Thoroughly vexed now, Marathel closed her eyes.  “I’m sorry, ma’mwsh ha’laa,” he said, laughter in his voice. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“You’re right, I’m not.  You’re so delightful to tease.” 

“I’m glad I’m so entertaining,” she said, a sneer on her lip.  “You’re as bad as Cobb.” 

Din felt a tiny flash of jealousy before he reminded himself that Cobb wasn’t going to be around her on Nevarro.  “He’s a menace, as I said.  He’s also a bad influence.” 

“I’m not so sure.  Perhaps you need more manwhore in your life.”  Excuse me? thought Din before she said, “So, what happens now?” 

“Usually, the other person repeats the same vows or says their own words.  You can make any promises to me you’d wish.” 

Marathel sighed. “I’m so dumb with words ...” Din shook his head in protest, but Marathel snapped, “No!  Let me say it!”  Din froze; his eyes fixed on hers as they flashed briefly with anger. Marathel took a deep breath, and said, “I’ve never been able to say what I need to.  My words have always been wrong, my whole life.  And I couldn’t trust what others said to me because their words ended up … wrong in my head.  I would say the wrong words, and then get beaten for it, further … making the words wrong.  And then I’ve been alone, except for the Dahls, for over half my life.  It seems …” Marathel shook her head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I can only say what I can, as I’m speaking it. 

“The only comfort I’ve ever had in my life is that I could expect a relative sameness to all my days, painful or not.  But then you showed up, and everything went …” She looked up into his visor.  “How many days did you say we’ve known each other?” 

“Thirty-three.” 

“Thirty-three days since I threw a rock at your head.”  Marathel looked thoughtful.  “How many days was it … when you made the decision to come to Unmanarall and find me?” 

“Um … five days before that.  Karga — he’s my contact for new bounties — gave me the puck with the recording on it.  I don’t know how long he had it before he told me.” 

Marathel nodded.  “So, thirty-eight days.  Thirty-eight days ago, you made a decision that changed my life forever.” Her brows knitted together for a few moments, then she squeezed his hands tightly.  “Thank you.” 

“I — “ 

“I may never see you again after you leave me on Nevarro.  You can’t say I will, you can’t control that.  Not with what I know about what you do as a Bounty Hunter.  But you have given me the most magnificent gift.  You have shown me what a man can be.  That a man can be kind and not cruel.  That a man can touch me, and it won’t cause me pain.  That a man can make me feel happy and not terrified. And I will be grateful for that knowledge for the rest of my life.  Always and forever.   Bam’ser y byth’ser.  Thank you, Din Djarin, Bounty Hunter.  Fawr’lch, byth’ser.” 

These last two words were whispered as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him with her face against his throat.  She tucked her head under the edge of his helmet, fitting perfectly against him as she’d always had, these thirty-eight days after he’d decided to chase down the vaguest of information on a whim.  A whim had brought him to this moment, with this lovely woman holding him tight, and he knew that his life had been changed forever as well.  Forever. 

Forever. 

I will know you forever. 

His breath trembled in and out of his helmet as his arms encircled her.  Finally, he was able to whisper back to her, 

“You’re welcome.” 

They remained, just like that, for a long time. Grogu stood on the little pedestal, raising his arms to them, wanting up. Marathel expertly lifted him with one hand, cuddling the boy between herself and Din.   He placed one of his hands over hers on Grogu, his other hand going into her hair.  Her hand slid up the back on his neck, under the edge of his helmet.  Her fingertips went into the bottom edge of his hair, seeking out a tiny curl that she stroked gently with her thumb while a fingertip lightly felt the raised mostly healed wound from the marchwyl.   

“I’m not ...” Din cleared his throat.  “I’m not supposed to let you touch my hair like that.” 

“You’re going off to seek absolution from your Living Waters; what’s one more sin?” asked a trembling Marathel against his throat, only a couple of layers of thin fabric between her lips and his neck. And they both knew it. Only microns of fibers separated them from each other. 

You know what she’s suggesting, right, Djarin?  And you don’t even have to get your entire helmet off to kiss her.  Just enough, it’s not my eyes, right?  Just half my face can’t be a sin, right? Right? 

But where does it stop?  How far can I go?  How deeply can I justify my actions and still be right in my Creed?  How can I possibly be an honorable man if I cannot respect my Creed? 

“Marathel, I …” 

“Oh, my stars and garters, I am so sorry to have been gone so long …”  When the Chiss woman reentered the chapel room, Din and Marathel hopped backwards away from each other, so quickly that they both forgot they were holding Grogu, who unfortunately dropped to the floor like a wet rock, landing hard on his little bum. At this point, all four people in the room froze with a gasp, and the first to recover was Grogu himself, and he let out an eyeball-exploding yell.   

Din and Marathel, aghast that they’d failed their little boy in his fight against gravity, both bent down at the same time.  Din reached Grogu first, and he grabbed the squalling boy and was beginning to stand.  Unfortunately, Marathel was continuing her downward trajectory at the same time, and her face and his helmet met each other in the middle with a thwonk. 

Marathel fell sideways on her elbow, Grogu stopped screaming in general in favor of screaming Mama, and Din wondered if he could possibly any more of a derping klutz! The wedding coordinator hurried over to assess the damage before running off to find the hotel medic.  Din sat on the floor with Grogu in the crook of his arm and Marathel’s head in his lap.  “Kriffing Hell, mesh’la! Where did I hit you?” 

She groaned.  “The same cheekbone, where the under-Captain kept punching me.” 

“Well, I can only guess what you did to him for payback, and now I’m terrified.” 

“I drove a little spear into his head.” 

Din grinned.  “Thank Frith I have the helmet.”  He moved his arm to let Grogu get closer, to put his little healing hands on his Mama. “Thank you, kid.  Thank you for helping Mama. And I’m so sorry, Marathel.” 

“Did you hurt my flower?” 

“Your wha… — I beg your pardon?” 

Marathel winced at Grogu’s touch, even though he was gentle.  “The flower you put in my hair.  Is it okay?” 

Din leaned over to see.  “It’s knocked a bit loose; I’ll fix it, I promise. If I sit you up, you’re not gonna puke on me, are you?” 

“I can’t promise that.”  Din gently sat her up about halfway, letting her lean against his leg.  “Oooof.  A little dizzy.  But Grogu helped so much; thank you, my love.”   

“Tell me if I hurt you,” said Din as he gently pressed his helmet against her injured cheek.  “Is the beskar still nice and cool?” 

“No, your helmet is rather warm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hot and blushing under there.” 

“I was just out in the sun…” muttered Din. 

“A loaf of bread ago,” chuckled Marathel.  Before Din could protest, the wedding coordinator returned with a medical droid.  The droid scanned Marathel and found that she was only bruised under her eye.  Good job, Grogu, thought Din while the droid gave Marathel a cold pack and helped her to stand.   

“Would you like a hover chair back to your room?” asked the wedding coordinator, but Marathel declined.  “Oh, and what do you think of this chapel? Does it suit your needs?” 

Din answered, “The chapel is very nice.  We’ll … uh … get back to you on that.  But I think we’re done here today.  Thank you.” 

“Oh, thank you, sir.  My name is Gont.  Here is my information.  Please contact me when you want to make the reservation,” said the wedding coordinator, handing some cards to Din.  She walked them out to a shopping area next to the gardens, spied a new potential couple to assist, and disappeared into the crowd.  

“Is smacking your intended in the face part of a riduurok?” asked Marathel.  “Actually, it wouldn’t happen at all, would it?  Both of you would be wearing helmets, wouldn’t you?” 

“Helmets are not foolproof protection against facial injuries.”  Din re-pinned her flowers securely into her hair. “I once got distracted while following someone, walked into a wall, and broke my nose.” 

“That must have been some distraction,” said Marathel with a chuckle.  She saw her reflection in a shop window and gently touched the flowers in her hair.  “Thank you for the flower.  It’s very pretty.”  Before Din could reply, Marathel asked, “What are all these shiny things?” 

Din blinked — he’d been distracted again, this time, by the simple beauty of the woman before him — and he looked in the shop window himself.  “Jewelry.” 

“Ah, yes.  Adornments, like the one made of yarn on your wrist.  The one that you won’t tell me about.”  She pointed at a pair of earrings, saying, “Those are pretty.  Those would go on ears, yes?” 

The earrings in question were simple dangles of yellow gold sculpted cup flowers with teardrop gemstones of purple, not unlike ones he’d imagined hanging from her ears earlier.  “Yes, those are earrings. But you would need pierced ears to wear them.” 

“Pierced?” 

“You’d have to poke little holes through your earlobes.” 

Marathel instantly covered her ears with her hands.  “Oh, but that would hurt!” 

Din shrugged, chuckling.  “It doesn’t hurt much.” 

“Oh?  You know this from experience?” 

“Well … it hurts less than pulling out a rotten tooth with a pair of rusty pliers.” Din took her arm again and guided them away from the jewelry shop before Marathel could start asking questions about the display of engagement and wedding rings.  As they made their way back through the hotel lobby, Din asked, “Anything else you want to see before we leave?” 

“Breakfast.” 

Din chuckled.  “Do you like dumplings?” 

“I love them.  What are they?” 

Din laughed in earnest, then patted her hand.  “You’ll see.”  They went back to their room, and Din arranged for a secure delivery droid to take all Marathel’s shopping bags to the harbormaster’s office, so they wouldn’t have to carry them.  Meanwhile, Marathel remade the bed. “Marathel, you don’t need to do that.” 

“I don’t want to leave an unmade bed for the next person.” 

“There are housekeepers, who will come in after us, to clean the room and change all the linens.  Each guest gets clean sheets.”  That’s the hope, anyway. 

“Oh.  Well, then,” said Marathel.  She stripped the bed completely, leaving the covers in one pile on the bed, and the sheets in another.  She then went into the ‘fresher room, gathered all the used towels into a pile, and left them in the sink.   

“Marathel, you really don’t need to do that either…” 

“Perhaps not, but I would guess that these housekeepers must clean a lot of rooms.  I’ve had to do that, and the weight of the sheets, having to bend over so many times to pick up wet towels from the floor … it’s so exhausting after a while.” 

Din felt his own back ache.  “I never thought about it that way.” 

Marathel hung her new purse over her shoulder.  “Sometimes … you need to see from a different direction to understand?” 

“See things from a new perspective?” 

“Purse-peck-tihv.  That is a big word.” 

“Well, as you learn to read, you’ll learn big words,” said Din.   

“I still need to … figure out these chats I’m supposed to have with the doctors on the holopad.” 

“I’ll help you, once we get going.  Do you have everything?”  Marathel nodded, and they left the room.  As they went to the lift, they saw a large housekeeper’s cart, and Din peeked in to see an already tired-looking woman pulling the used sheets off the heavy mattress.   

“At least those sheets aren’t soaked in blood… or worse,” quietly remarked Marathel.   

Din was sure that many a housekeeper knew all about that, but he’d never really thought about it before. Perspective.  As they went down in the lift, he said, “I’ll make sure the housekeepers for our room get a tip.” 

“Did you want my credit book?” 

“No, I’ll do it.” 

“Well, then, I guess I’ll buy breakfast.” 

Din smiled under his helmet and stole a glance at Marathel, who stood tall beside him, her chin up, pretty flowers in her hair.  She was so different from the woman he’d met thirty-three days ago, but still so … comfortably the same.  “You know … I really like you, Marathel.” 

She smirked.  “Of course you do.  I’m delightful.” 

That, you are, mesh’la. That, you are. 

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-three point Five. ->

[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

[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

[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.

[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

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 1

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.

A/N: this one has been on my mind for ages and I couldn't wait any longer. I'm a huge sucker for angst, so I hope I've got this just right.

Word Count: 5,174

"Just... a little further. We're almost... there!" Your knees feel about ready to buckle as the Razor Crest comes into view. "Din! Din, no!..." Din's heavy frame slumps from your shoulder, pulling you to the ground with him. "You... argh... you gotta get up." He's still, terrifyingly still. You press the button on Din's vambrace to lower the ramp and with your waning strength, pull the unconscious bounty hunter across the muddy ground and up the ramp, the desperation to save him overriding the burn of your exhausted muscles.

With a last tug at his wrists, you manage to drag him away from the ramp and further into the belly of the ship, immediately pressing the button to close it. You're not taking any chances. "Din? Din, can you hear me?" You shake his shoulders roughly, hoping the momentum will rouse him. Nothing. But at least he's still breathing. A little wail emanates from the sleeping bunk before the door whooses open, revealing a very worried and frightened Grogu.

In an instant, Grogu is at Din's side, having used the force to propel himself across the hull. "It's okay, buddy. He'll be okay." You don't know who you're trying to convince, him or yourself. Grogu murmurs anxiously, his large ears drooping as he places a tiny hand on Din's helmet. Without another moment to lose, you begin to strip Din of his armour, checking for injuries. There are plenty of cuts and bruises, maybe some bruised ribs, but the injuries don't appear to be severe enough to render him unconscious. "Din!" you shout louder this time "Ner Karta, please wake up."

Your frantic heartbeat thumps against your ribs, threatening to break through at any minute. You're at a loss at what to do. That's when you notice it; a sight that makes your blood run cold! A slowly oozing trickle of deep crimson, pooling on the floor by Din's helmet. "No, No, no, no," you shudder as you carefully slide your fingers under the lip of the helmet at the back of Din's head. Your stomach plummets when your fingers meet a warm and sticky substance. Blood! Din's blood!

On hands and knees, you scramble across the floor to a nearby crate, searching frantically until you find the medkit. You rush back to Din's side and with trembling hands, open the medkit and retrieve the Bacta spray. You momentarily freeze when you realise what you must now do. There's nothing else for it. To save Din's life you have to remove his helmet. A barrage of thoughts invade your mind at the same time; would Din be angry? Would he hate you? Would you hate yourself for breaking his creed? Would he understand? Would he forgive you?

Time is of the essence now, every precious second bleeding away, along with Din's life. You have to do it. You have no choice, consequences be damned! You're not about to let the man you love die, even if he does hate you afterwards. You'll accept his wrath if it means he's alive. You set the Bacta spray down beside you and take a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," you whisper regretfully, and with a heavy heart, you gently lift the helmet up with one hand while supporting the back of Din's head with the other.

The helmet rolls away from you with a clunk. Brown curls fall backwards from the most beautifully sculpted face you've ever laid eyes on. Patchy, greying scruff decorating a perfectly chiseled jaw, a strong aquiline nose that suits him so well and plush lips... He really is stunning! So much so, that you're taken aback. But you snap yourself out of it. There's no time to lose! You grab the bacta spray and roll Din onto his side to get to the wound. Your breath hitches in your chest and you spray slowly, making sure to liberally apply the treatment.

You're probably using more than necessary, thinking back to how Din would often scold you for wasting the valuable resource when you've patched him up before. But this is literally Din's life in your hands. You'll exhaust the whole supply if you have to. The affects are almost instantaneous. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bleeding ceases and the damaged tissue begins to repair itself. Grogu looks up at you with expectant eyes. "He'll be okay, sweety," you soothed, while stroking Grogu's ear, comfortingly. "Mmm..." Grogu looks back to his dad, sadly.

Once you're satisfied with the progress of the Bacta spray you unwind a sterile bandage, cautiously wrapping it over the wound and around Din's head, trying not to jostle him too much. You then shift your attention to the many cuts and scrapes littering his body, making sure to disinfect every abrasion you see. There's no way you can lift him off the floor so you fetch a pillow from your shared bunk to place under his head and drape a blanket over him. It's not much but it'll have to suffice. With the adrenaline now subsiding, exhaustion begins to sweep over your body and mind, causing you to fall back on your arse, rather un-gracefully, and catch your breath.

You hadn't noticed just how much you'd been shaking this whole time. With controlled breaths your heart rate slowly returns to normal. Grogu waddles over to you with outstretched arms. Poor little guy needs some reassurance. Your maternal instinct has you reaching for him but you stop as you notice the drying blood on your hands. "Hold on, buddy," you say, gently, then rush to the fresher to wash away the blood and horrors staining your hands. Sitting down next to Din, you scoop Grogu into your lap, cradling his head in your chest, while humming a soothing melody to calm him. "Your dad's a fighter, kid. He'll come back from this," Please, you silently beg to whoever might be listening.

All you can do now is wait. Wait for Din to wake, wait for everything to make sense again. Hopefully he won't be furious. Surely he'd understand there was no other way. Even now it feels wrong to look at his face, the very act being sacrilegious to his people. But it's too soon to put his helmet back on. The wound needs more time to heal. Guilt starts to take root the longer you think about what this now means. What you've taken from Din cannot be easily undone. Because of your actions, he is now technically an apostate. He will be cast out of Mandalorian society, exiled in disgrace and it's all because of you.

But what was the alternative? Let him die? Let Grogu lose his dad? Live with the knowledge you could have saved him, but refused? No! It's unthinkable. You know in your heart, you've made the right decision. You just hope Din will see it that way, too. You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long you and Grogu have been asleep, when you are startled awake by a low moan. Grogu stirs in your lap as you sit up from the wall you were slumped against. An equal amount of relief and dread consume you. He's okay, he's waking... But how will he react to the violation of his creed?

"Din?" you gulped, nervously. Din lets out another grumble as his head turns in your direction. You clutch a now awakened Grogu tighter to your chest, apprehension swirling in your stomach. You feel sick! You bite your lower lip, waiting for his eyes to open, for the inevitable realisation to dawn on him. Slowly Din's eyelids lift and you are met with rich, chocolate brown eyes, eyes you would happily let yourself drown in, if it weren't for the look of abject horror and betrayal staring back at you. "Wh... what have you DONE?!!" Din exploded, his face turning red with rage and his eyes filling with tears.

You're frozen to the spot, eyes wide, voice lodged in your throat, refusing to co operate. He's furious, of course he is. "I..." your voice fails as your throat constricts in panic. Between Din's shocked gaze and Grogu's little whimper, you somehow find your voice. "I'm so sorry, Cyare. I had to. You... you were bleeding." Desperation to make Din understand claws at you. "It was the only way to save-" "No!" If looks could kill, you would be dead this very second. "It was NOT the only way," Din seethed, staring daggers at you, "You didn't have to remove my helmet. You chose to do it!" You can't believe what you're hearing.

"But you would have died!" Tears gather at your lash line at the thought. "Better to die a Mandalorian than live as an apostate," Din snapped as he sat up, clutching the back of his head. His eyes frantically dart around the hull, searching for his helmet. He reaches for it but you reach for his arm to stop him. "You can't. You're still healing-" "Don't!" Din recoiled from your touch as if you'd burned him. You heart drops like a stone to your stomach. You've never seen Din so angry, so hurt, his face portraying the image of a man who has lost it all. And you did that. You took away his sacred creed and left him with the ashes. The hiss of the helmet fills the tense air as Din places it back on, the familiar T- shape in front of you once again.

Only it's directed to your lap, where Grogu sits, looking with uncertainty between you both. "Patu," he murmured, while reaching out for Din. Din gently takes Grogu into his arms, his heaving chest and taut shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm okay, pal," Din soothed, trying to calm his foundling, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he now fights to keep his emotions at bay, no doubt for Grogus' sake. Din stands on shaky legs, your first instinct is to help him up, but you stop just short of touching him, unsure if your help will be welcomed. Without so much as a glance in your direction, Din heads to the ladder with Grogu tucked into his chest. "Din? Cyare wait, we have to talk about this-" "Just!..." Din raises his hand to stop your words, his back still facing you. "just stop," he sighs despondently. "I can't look at you right now." Tears sting your eyes as you watch him ascend the ladder, locking himself and Grogu in the cockpit, away from you.

Din sat in quiet dispair, trying to come to terms with his new reality. One where he is now an apostate... again. Sure, he had removed his helmet to save Grogu when he'd been abducted by Moff Gideon and to say goodbye, but that was his call, his decision to make. By removing his helmet, you'd taken away his choice, his creed, his very identity. You should have let him die an honourable death. Of course, redemption is possible but that doesn't change the fact that you betrayed him. He had trusted you, opened up to you and believed that you respected his creed and his way of life.

The longer he sat contemplating, the angrier he became. How could she! he thought bitterly. Not only had you dishonored the very foundation of who he is, you had also inadvertently destroyed the close bond you'd both built over the past year. He doesn't even know who you are anymore. To have done what you've done... how can he ever forgive you? His helmet suddenly feels too restrictive, too suffocating. Din pulled his helmet off with one hand while still holding Grogu close, and set it down on his lap, staring bleakly into the pitch black visor.

Until he can atone, this helmet will serve as a reminder of what has been lost. "Mmm..." Grogu tilted his head as if to ask 'are you alright?' Din exhaled, long and deep and looked at his son with a thin lipped smile, his face reflecting back to him in the childs' large, glossy eyes, the only eyes that are, by creed, permitted to look upon his face. "I'll be okay," he whispered softly, "I'll make this right." He can find forgiveness in the living waters, that part is simple enough - well maybe simple isn't the right word. He still has to live with the fact that he has grievously sinned against the creed. Even the living waters can't wash that truth away - but how can you both move forward from this? Is it even possible?

A dull, throbbing pain pulses through Dins' temples, causing him to groan and lean his forehead into his palm, his elbow resting on the armrest. He needs to calm down. He needs to think with a cool head. Grogu yawns and snuggles into Dins' stomach. "Okay you little womp rat, time for bed," Din smiled as he tucked Grogu into the crook of his elbow. After securing his helmet, Din makes his way down the ladder and into the hull, where he finds you sitting with your back pressed against the wall. His heart physically aches at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blotchy face. You look as though you're about to say something, but he hasn't got the energy for this right now. All he wants to do is settle the kid in his hammock and rock him to sleep. So Din quickly opens the bunk door, disappearing inside.

The dim light of the hull reflects your sombre mood as you listen to Din's modulated voice, muffled by the closed door, speaking softly to Grogu. Most of the time you and Din would say goodnight to him together, every bit the picture of a happy family. But now you are shut out, physically and metaphorically, and it hurts, maker it hurts so much. You are only meters away but it might as well be the length of the entire galaxy. A short while later the door slides open and Din slowly walks out, keeping his steps light as to not wake Grogu. He turns to you for a moment, seemingly unsure of what he wants to do next. He takes a step towards you but then stops. Sighing, he turns on his heel and retreats to the cockpit once again.

Your heart sinks and lungs deflate in crushing disappointment. You can't stand it anymore. If Din won't talk to you then you'll talk to him. You bring the sleeve of your top to wipe your face - not that it'll make a difference to your puffy eyes and reddened cheeks - and steeling yourself, you make your way to the cockpit. The silence is deafening, oppressive, brutal. You gingerly sit in the co-pilots' chair, fiddling nervously with the hem of your top. Din remains motionless, staring out of the window, shoulders strung tighter than a bow. You feel invisible and you hate it. With a steady breath, you break the silence.

"Din, we have to talk about what happened." Din still doesn't look at you. "There's nothing to talk about," Din retaliated, the coldness of his tone sending shivers down your spine, "What's done is done!" You shake your head. "Please believe me when I say I didn't make this decision lightly. It was the only way to save your life. What else could I have done?" The tears threaten your eyes again as you try desperately to make Din understand. "You could have let me die an honourable death." An incredulous huff forced it's way up your throat. "How could you expect me to do that? Listen to what you're asking? Would you have let me die if I were injured?! "That's different," Din retorted, annoyance building on his voice.

"How?!" You're so close to clawing at your eyes in frustration. "Because you're not Mandalorian!" Din's booming outburst had you shrinking back in your seat, his large frame now towering over you, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. You know Din would never hurt you, no matter how angry he got, but at the same time you've never felt so small, so helpless. Is this how his bounties feel under his intimidating gaze? Din seemed to notice your unease, immediately unclenching his balled up fists and taking a step back to give you some space. After a moment of silent staring, he shakes his head and simply states, "You'll never understand."

That was a low blow! You've always respected Dins' creed, his way of life. Never asked him to go against it and never judged him like so many other's have. It's a part of him and you love all of him. Fear and despair have now given way to anger. "Maybe you're right," you glowered, "I'll never understand because if it comes down to chosing between the creed and your life, I'd chose you everytime. I love you too much to just let you die for an ideal." "And you think being an apostate is any better?" It's like talking to a fucking brick wall! How could he not see the impossible situation you'd been placed in?

"I don't know what else to say, Din..." you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat, "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I'm not sorry for saving your life." "Then there's nothing more to say," Din clarified with finality, sitting back down and turning to the window again. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you leave the cockpit and join Grogu in the bunk.

When you wake the next morning the bunk is empty, cold. Even though you were certain Din wouldn't have joined you last night, disappointment weighs heavily on your heart. A part of you had hoped he would calm down and come to you. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up with a groan, dreading the tension that will, no doubt, still be rife. "Morning, buddy..." you cooed, gently as you stood on the mattress to wake Grogu. Your brows scrunch in confusion at the empty hammock. Din must have come in to get him while you were still asleep.

Stepping into the hull, you hear babbling from Grogu in the cockpit, followed by the occasional chuckle from Din. A flicker of hope ignites within. Maybe now he's had time to cool off, you can both talk reasonably and calmly. Maybe not all is lost? However that flicker is soon doused when you walk into the cockpit and see Din's posture turn rigid, his chair not even turning so he can acknowledge your presence. The air turns icy and heavy with friction as you take a seat. "Good morning..." you offer, meekly. "Morning." Din's monotone reply confirms that he's still upset.

"Patu," Grogu smiled as he patted your leg to pick him up. You couldn't be more grateful for the distraction right now. "And good morning to you, baby," you grin as you scoop him up and place him in your lap. "You two strap in," Din orders as he fires up the engines. "Where are we going?" You bring the seat belt around yourself and Grogu. "Sorgon." Din's clipped tone is like a knife to your heart. It's the same tone he'd used when he'd first employed you two years ago, when you were both still adjusting to each others' company.

Now you realise how you've taken his caring tone, his laugh, his tenderness for granted. It feels a million miles away now. You swallow the lump in your throat and give Grogu your full attention, feigning cheery laughter while trying to ignore the 'bantha in the room' the whole way to Sorgon. The Razor Crest descends into the atmosphere, the blackness of space giving way to a dazzling blue, causing you to squint and shield your eyes. You've always liked Sorgon, visiting several times with Din over the years.

The simple, peaceful way of life is so unlike most worlds you've visited, and with that simplicity comes a tight knit community. One who always welcomes you with open arms. You've even made a few friends here, your closet one being Omera. Grogu bounces excitedly on your lap as the ship touches down on the outskirts of the small village, no doubt ecstatic at the prospect of seeing his friends again, especially Winta. "I know, I know..." you chuckle fondly, placing a kiss on Grogu's head.

Din shuts down the engines and without a word or even a glance in your direction, he leaves the cockpit. The harsh treatment makes you want to cry, but in an effort to shield the kid from any more tension you plaster on your best fake smile. "Ready to see your friends, sweetie?" Din lowered the ramp and was instantly greeted by a handful of locals, eager to welcome back the man who gave them back their home and dignity when the Klatooinian bootleggers attacked them.

He shook hands and accepted enthusiastic slaps on the back. He looked to where you stood, embraced in Omera's arms. Winta had already claimed Grogu, the two of them heading off to play with the other kids. The sight of his son playing with the other children warmed Din's heart, but that content, fuzzy feeling soon faded when his gaze fell back on you. Dread and sorrow wash over him, choking him, knowing what he has to do. Din turns to one of the men, lowering his voice. "Please, I need to speak to the village elders."

Din felt like the worst person in the galaxy as he discussed your future with the council, all the while you remained completely unaware of the real reason he'd brought you here. He'd been reassured you'd have a place here, a safe community to call home. Even through the anger and hurt, he had to know you'd be safe, protected. And since the defeat of the Klatooinian's, sorgon had become a peaceful planet again. He couldn't imagine a safer place for you to start over. Now all that's left to do is to break the news to you.

The ache in Din's chest grew stronger as he walked through the village looking for you. It didn't take him long to spot you, sitting by a fire with two other women you'd become friendly with. Din could tell you were wearing a forced smile by how it didn't reach your eyes. When your gaze locked with his, your smile faltered, replaced with a look of deep remorse and longing. Din sighed wearily and walked over to where Grogu was happily frolicking about with other kids. Again, guilt gnawed away at him as he thought about how hard this is going to be on Grogu. In time, he'll understand, hopefully.

Din catches sight of Omera and makes his way over to her. "Hi," Omera smiled. "Can I speak with you? It's important." Omera's smile dropped slightly, her face taking on a more serious countenance. "Of course," she replied. Din shifted uncomfortably, unused to asking for favours. This is the second time today. "Could you do something for me?" Omera raised an eyebrow in intrigue, waiting for Din to continue. "Would you look after Y/N? She... she's going to need a friend now, more than ever." " What do you mean?" Omera asked, clearly confused. "We're leaving, me and the kid... and Y/N is staying here... permanantly."

Omera glanced over her shoulder to you, then turned back to Din. "Is everything okay with you two?" Din looked down and placed his hands on his hips. "No." He shook his head before raising it again. "I can't explain right now, but, please, promise me you'll look out for her." Omera's face softened. "Of course I will. She's my friend." Din felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, albeit a small one, compared to the weight he'll have to bare for the rest of his life; the weight of breaking your heart and leaving you alone in the galaxy.

But what else was there to do? Nothing could ever be the same between you both again. This is for the best... at least that's what he keeps telling himself. "Thank you," Din replied with a twinge of sadness in his voice. "That... means a lot to me." He patted Omera on the arm in gratitude before making his way over to where Grogu was playing. "Time to go, pal," Din cooed as he bent down to pick Grogu up. "Say goodbye to your friends." Grogu waved as the other kids bade him farewell.

You could tell something was wrong when Omera sat beside you, her normally soft and calm mien now absent. In it's place, concern and worry clouded her features. But before you could ask her if she's okay, Din appeared before you. It's the first time he's acknowledged you since this morning. "Would you come with me for a minute?" The gentle tone of his voice and outstretched hand made your tummy flutter in anticipation. Without a second thought, you took Din's hand and stood up. But the little hope that gesture had given you was dashed when Din immediately released your hand, and you had to fight against the anguish his absent touch left in it's wake.

You silently follow Din to the Razor Crest, stopping at the edge of the ramp. "Are we leaving already?" you ask disappointedly. Din remains silent while he turns around to pick up a bag off the ramp. He holds it out for you and sighs, "I am... you're staying here." And just like that your whole world has come crashing down around you. Din's words are a punch to you gut, stealing your breath away. "What do you mean I'm staying here?!" Your voice wobbled as your veins ran cold. "I mean..." Din set his shoulders and took a deep breath, "This... us..." he gestured between you both, "it's over." Shock has you rooted to the ground. Icy chills prickle over your skin, nausea sweeping through you.

"You... you can't be serious! Din, we have to talk about this. You can't just go making rash decisions like this, please!" Your imploring eyes search Din's visor, hoping to detect even a fraction of hesitation behind it, but you find nothing but unnerving calmness. "I'm not making a rash decision," Din replied almost emotionlessly, pushing your bag of belongings into your hands, "I thought about it all last night and it's the right thing to do." "Look, I know you're upset with me but please just take a minute to -" "I don't need a minute!" Din snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Tears burn your eyes, the lump in your throat causing your voice to quiver. "But I don't understand," you begin, willing your tears to remain where they are, but your resolve is cracking with every passing second. You have to make him see how ridiculous this is! "You broke the creed once to save Grogu and you attoned. Can't you do that again?" "Of course I can," Din answered through gritted teeth. "Then... what's the problem?!" Your voice has now risen in pitch, despite your best efforts to de-escalate the tension. "The problem is you!" Your mouth snaps shut and eyes widen in response to Din's sharp words. Words lined with a razor edge, cutting straight to your core. "You didn't just break the creed Y/N, you broke my trust! The creed can be restored, my trust in you can't."

Words have now completely abandoned you, numbness slowly consuming you as you let Din's truth sink in. You now realise just how much you've hurt him. 'I thought you understood me, respected how my religion is absolute. I can't..." Din shook his head, his voice shuddering as he continued, "I can't trust you ever again. I feel like I don't even know who you are anymore." "Please..." you whimper as your tears begin to fall freely. "please don't do this. Don't leave me. I love you and I know you love me." "I do," Din agreed without hesitation. "Then we can get passed this." You reach for Din's hand but he pulls away. "No." he takes a few steps back, "Love isn't enough."

"So, what?..." you yell as your heartbreak turns into anger, "You're just gonna leave me here, after everything we've been through? You're just gonna to throw it all away like it meant nothing?!" "This is the way," Din responded, robotically, as if he's no longer a living, feeling organism. Fury welled up in your chest, until you were trembling with rage. "Fuck the way!" you exploded, wanting in the moment to wound Din as he has you, but regretting it simultaneously. Din visibly stiffened at your blasphemous insult, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I couldn't lose you Din. I saved your life and I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry." A silence settles between you both before Din sighs and responds, "I know... I'm sorry, Cyar'ika." Din Turns to walk away but you grab his arm, spinning him to face you. "Wait! Where's Grogu?" Your eyes dart to the ramp in search of him. "He's in the ship." "You were just going to take him away from me?!..." you gasped, hand on your chest as if the action would lesson the intensifying ache, "Without letting me see him." "It's for the best. Saying goodbye will only upset him," Din spoke, now devoid of emotion, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

In that moment your heart shattered completely, the shards ripping you apart from the inside. They say love hurts, but that is an understatement. This raw agony feels like it might just be the end of you. "Please!" you now beg, tears streaming down your face, "He's my son too. Don't take him away from me! He'll think I abandoned him." "He'll understand.... in time." Despite Din's persistence, he seems conflicted, like he's fighting himself on his decision, like underneath all that Beskar he's hurting as much as you.

"Please Din! Please don't do this!. Don't leave me!" you sob loudly as you fall to your knees, clutching your abdomen as if to comfort yourself. Seeing you in distress is unbearable to Din, but what makes it worse is that he's the cause of said distress. He Automatically takes a step towards you, hands outstretched, seeking to hold you but he stops himself and regains his rigid posture. "I'm sorry," he mutters as he quickly spins on his heel and storms up the ramp.

The rising Crest wobbles in your tear filled eyes as it ascends into the sky, heaving breathes causing violent hiccups to rip through your airways, as you watch your family disappear forever. In your distraught state you don't notice a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. It's only when your head is gently pulled into a warm chest, that you realise Omera is holding you as your whole life falls apart.

Part 2

[thefrogdalorian]

Nowhere Else To Run

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite the fact that sharing a cabin with you and Grogu on Nevarro has given him the peaceful life he was searching for, Din cannot escape the nightmares of his past which haunt him most nights.

Although he feels unworthy of your love, the only time things make sense is when you take him in your arms and dutifully put his pieces back together. Even on nights when he feels he does not deserve it.

Word Count:  3.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: ✯ PTSD, nightmares, descriptions of canon-typical violence, survivor's guilt, Din feeling unworthy of love, Din's violent past, reader's hands described as being smaller than Din's. Author's Note: I created my blog six months ago, so here is a little Din drabble to celebrate. Title is taken from 'All These Things That I've Done' by The Killers (which is so Din coded) and I also listened to 2 Rocking Chairs by Jon Bellion a lot recently, so that might have inspired some of this too! Really hope you enjoyed it and here's to many more months of Din Djarin brainrot ☺︎

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

On the nights he startles awake, haunted by the nightmarish, twisted visions of the worst things he has done, he is certain that he does not deserve you. With all his evil deeds laid bare as his mind plays cruel tricks on him, Din Djarin remains convinced that he could live a thousand lifetimes and never be worthy of your love. 

His eyelids fly open as his bare, muscular chest heaves. His golden skin is covered with a sheen of sweat. Din raises a trembling hand to wipe the moisture from his furrowed brow. Disorientated and afraid in the darkness.

His sharpened senses, honed thanks to his previous life as a bounty hunter, begin to function with all the effectiveness which once led to him being deemed the best in the parsec. He cringes as he remembers his narcissism, disgusted by how dishonourable it was to take pride in such an epithet. 

First, Din feels your presence at his side. A warm mass of flesh in the dark, coldness of the night. So close that he could reach out and touch you if only he were not petrified that doing so would shatter your beauty. He yearns to draw comfort from you. Yet, he is too afraid to bring you down to his level, to defile your splendour.

Then, Din hears your soft snores. Truthfully, the sweet sounds you make are not quite snores at all. Merely the even, shallow sounds which indicate that you are peacefully resting. He relaxes slightly, relieved that his unwanted awakening has not disturbed you. 

Emboldened by your continued slumber, Din sits up and gazes at you. Your stunning features are barely illuminated by the faint moonlight which streams in through an ill-fitting blind, yet even such a simple glimpse leaves him overwhelmed by your beauty.

As he quietly watches you, Din wonders what he could have done to deserve you in a past life. He certainly is not worthy of you in this one.

How could someone as wicked and treacherous as he ever be worthy of the love you envelop him in each day of your lives?

The guilt creeps in, then. It snakes its horrifying tendrils around Din's entire being and suffocates him under the weight of his regret and his pain. 

He feels guilty that he has even found himself in a position to receive love like this in the first place. Especially after everything he has done, all the pain he has caused and contributed to.

Din wonders whether it is cruel to keep you around. To have intertwined his life with yours in the way he has. Surely you deserve someone better than him.

Inviting you to move in with him changed so much for Din. It deepened and strengthened his relationship with you while opening him up to experiences he had missed for much of his life. How to share space with someone else, to show affection and receive it in return.

Sharing a bunk with someone for the first time meant Din could not continue outrunning his past. It was a race that had begun decades prior on the day he lost everything on Aq Vetina, a marathon which continued well into adulthood. 

The race was almost won when Din took the job that changed his life and led him to Arvala-7 in the hunt for the bounty who eventually became his son.

Yet it wasn’t until Din found you that he had finally crossed the finish line. 

He still remembered the horrified look in your eyes when he awoke for the first time in your presence, thrashing and screaming as the night terrors plagued him. Terrified by the haunting visions that made his past as vivid as though it was happening right before him. 

The nightmares are indiscriminate when they strike. Extensive in their scope. 

In slumber, Din is confronted with the shameful jobs he took from the most reprehensible individuals in the galaxy, reminded of the ego he once possessed.

He relives how readily he hunted people for his gain, collecting bounties without a care for who he hurt. Who was he to be the law? To be judge, jury and, on occasion, executioner? Din is pained at the memory of the life of sin he led. 

Din sees the job on Alzoc III in harrowing detail. The unspeakable acts of violence he had a hand in. As much as he tries to downplay his role and blame the atrocities on the disgusting band of crooks he ran with at the time, deep down, Din knows that he was a willing participant in the barbarity.

He replays the moment when, in a cruel, unforgiving tone, the gold-helmeted woman he had always idolised coldly informed him that he was a Mandalorian no more. Din is tormented time and again by the knowledge that he rendered himself an apostate in the eyes of the people who saved him; who taught him how to live. Being a Mandalorian and swearing the Creed were the only things aside from violence Din had truly ever been successful at. Walking The Way of the Mandalore was the only thing which had brought him anywhere close to achieving inner peace.

But most chillingly of all, Din is reminded of the gravest transgression of his life. An act of cruelty he knows that he will never truly forgive himself for committing, for as long as he lives.

Night after night, Din is haunted by how he had given up the child you both adore beyond comparison, who sleeps peacefully next door, to the Empire for the measly sum of a camtono of Beskar. 

Was that truly all Grogu’s life was worth?

Of course, Din knows that there is no sum in the entire galaxy which would prove comparable to how Grogu has enriched his life.

Even though Din has seen the error of his ways, as he thinks back across the decades and counts his mistakes, Din Djarin knows that he is not a good man. 

Yet, somehow, he has found you. 

You are the greatest blessing to happen to him, matched only by his son.

He thinks of the way you still look at him with such love in your eyes, even after knowing the atrocities he committed in a past life; it almost embarrasses him to be loved in such a manner. 

Somehow, Din has secured your unconditional love. A fact which proves every now and then, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail. That even the most undeserving of rodents can occasionally have the greatest of fortunes.

Even when the terrors overcome him, you have never contemplated deserting him. No matter how dark and disgraceful the visions he divulges to you are.

When he wakes up yelling for his parents or screaming for Grogu, whom he is momentarily convinced the Empire have recaptured, you are always there to reassure him and to hold him while he sobs; to kiss his pain away with a touch of your soft lips against his tear-streaked cheeks.

Even knowing all he has done, you still look at him as though he is responsible for hanging all the stars which twinkle in the sky above your cabin on Nevarro. 

Din recalls evenings spent on the porch with you outside the unassuming cabin you share by the lava flats of Nevarro. Watching the sun set beneath the horizon as he holds your smaller hand in his, while he admires how your hands fit together as they rest on his lap. He thinks about how smooth your skin is there, how it is so unlike the calloused roughness of his own.

You are softness and humanity in the face of his wickedness. 

A wave of nausea overcomes him. Din is stricken by an overwhelming urge to get away from you. To put some distance between himself and you before he corrupts you with his immorality once more.

He ponders that perhaps he will find some relief on the porch in the dead of night. A solitary figure, save for his thoughts and the ghosts that haunt him. Sitting in total silence, apart from the bugs which chirp in the distance, is an appealing prospect.

So Din slowly swings his legs off the edge of the bunk, careful not to disturb you. He cringes at the way the sheets rustle. It is a minor offence compared to the many sins Din has already committed. Still, he does not want to add disturbing your peace to that list.

He sighs in the darkness as he perches on the edge of the bunk, a forceful exhale which causes his shoulders to droop when he realises you are still sleeping soundly. Din is relieved that you are unaware of his distress. 

He is tantalisingly close to the door when the moment of solace is cruelly snatched away. His careful steps across the wooden floor were evidently not soft enough.

The gentle sound of your voice cutting through the darkness stops him in his tracks. Din turns to face you.

“Din?” you whisper, voice thick and husky with sleep.

The wave of guilt that washes over him is immediate. It threatens to wash him away, to drown him. 

“Go back to sleep, cyare,” Din shakily responds, hoping he sounds convincing to someone so attuned to his every mannerism.

“Did you have another nightmare?” you ask, clearly unconvinced by his display.

Din Djarin may be many things, but he is not a liar. 

Even under the merciful cover of darkness, when he would not have to look you in the eye as he skirted around the truth, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

“Yes,” Din finally responds. His voice cracks as he struggles under the pressure of admitting his weakness. 

The light is on before he can protest, and you rise from the bed before he can insist that there is no need. Din blinks rapidly for a few seconds as his retinas adjust to the rude intrusion into the darkness.

When his eyes finally focus, you are standing right before him, already moving to gather him into your arms.

It is strange to him, this notion that he ever needed someone to pick him up and dutifully put his shattered pieces back together. A human needing repairs is an alien concept to Din Djarin. While he has always been adept at finding and fixing faults in his impressive arsenal and starships, he was never able to identify his weaknesses and repair himself. Until he found his Clan.

It wasn't until Din saved the kid that he realised he had been running from something for his entire life. Since that terrible day, when he watched over his father's shoulder as the bodies of his neighbours hit the dusty floor. Crumpled heaps, which used to be people until moments ago, were clad in the same distinctive red robes as him. The terror he felt as his parents ran through the streets, determined to save him, their only son. 

On his worst days, Din wonders if their sacrifice was worthwhile. He frets over what they would think if they could see what became of their precious boy. Whether they would be disappointed to see the life he followed. A life of such violence, such mercilessness. 

Your warm presence against him, as you take him into your arms, snaps him back to the present. Din willingly melts into your embrace, relishing the human contact. 

“Talk to me, Din,” you whisper as you hold him to your chest.

When you run your fingers through his hair, he loses all composure and breaks down into small sobs. Din shudders in your arms as you trail soothing fingers through his hair with one hand and rub your hand in circles on his back with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” he eventually murmurs, voice quivering. 

Din feels the way you shake your head. You gently place your hand underneath his chin and tilt his face up. Din's eyes meet your gaze and he notices how your eyes are full of concern for him. He can hardly look at you, feeling mortified at being studied like this. 

Allowing himself to be vulnerable like this is still so fresh to him. To have his soul laid bare like this is uncomfortable and unnatural.

“You are not the worst things you have ever done, Din,” you whisper as you gently wipe the tears he was unable to prevent trailing a hot path down his cheek with your fingertips, “You cannot change the past. I know that you are a good man, Din, and I love you. All of you. You would not be the man that I adore without those parts of you. For better or worse, they shaped you into the man you are today.”

Din trembles under your gaze, under the weight of your words. Unsure whether he can allow himself to accept the unconditional love you offer so readily to him, time and again.

The tears stream steadily down his cheeks, as you continue to soothe his soul:

“In you, I see a caring father. A considerate man who will do anything to protect his Clan. A fearless Mandalorian warrior who has turned his fighting prowess towards a more noble endeavour. To rid the galaxy of any threats, to build a better life for your son. That is an honourable undertaking, Din.”

“I am not an honourable man,” he scoffs, instantly rebutting such a compliment. He is far too undeserving of such praise.

“You are,” you sigh, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. There is such tenderness in your gaze and in how you touch him that he struggles to keep his emotions at bay. His bottom lip trembles at your next words, “Your life is not defined by your most evil deeds. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I adore you, Din. There is so much of you that is loveable.”

Din sighs. In his current mental state, he is unable to believe your words. Unable to let them sink in, to find solace in your reassurances. He looks away from you, shaking his head in a silent response.

When he finally feels able to find your gaze again, he watches as something shifts in your eyes. A tether of patience snaps. 

There is a firmness in your tone the next time you address him.

“Do you know how empty our lives would be without you? How much the little boy in the other room adores you?" you plead in an exasperated tone. "He’s asleep right now, surrounded by a mountain of plushies that his father bought for him because even though you intimidate most you come into contact with thanks to your appearance, I have seen firsthand that, beneath your armour, you have a pure heart. And you are wrapped around each one of his little green talons.”

At the mention of his son, Din cannot help the way his lips curve upwards, the ghost of a smile crossing against his features. A welcome respite from the tortured look he has worn since he awoke from his nightmare. 

“Grogu adores you, Din. He idolises you. You would do anything to secure his happiness,” you nod, “And mine. How lucky am I to know a love like that?”

“I do love you," Din nods, "And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of both of you,” Din vows, the cracks in his voice replaced with steely determination. 

Din notices the way you seem to loosen at his words, knowing that the man you know and love is gradually returning to you. His insecurities and devastation have been replaced by his determination to protect you from anything in the galaxy which could harm you.

“Then, let’s get some more rest, honey,” you whisper as you press a soft kiss onto Din’s stubbly cheek.

Din nods and laces his fingers with yours, allowing you to lead him the few steps back to the bunk you share. He slides underneath the covers, watching you as you round the bunk to join him. Once you have slid beneath the sheets, you turn the light off and plunge the room back into darkness. 

Yet, the darkness which permeated every atom of Din Djarin’s being has vanished. He can only see the light now. The way your love illuminates every part of his life. How unrelenting, yet not overbearing, the way you adore him is. 

Especially when you gently encourage him to roll over on his side so you can wrap your arms around his tight waist and nuzzle into the centre of his back. Your nose and mouth nestled between his broad shoulders.

Din lets out a sigh of contentment. 

In your arms, there is tranquillity. The necessary remedy which soothes his anguished spirit. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Later, when Grogu is finally sleeping soundly after another long day of being doted on by his parents, Din finally makes it to his intended destination. Although he tried to reach the porch in the middle of the night, he would rather be here now. Especially since you are by his side, sitting next to him. It is a moment of rest after a hectic day spent entertaining a hyperactive Force-sensitive toddler with a voracious appetite.

With your presence in his life, Grogu has only continued to flourish. Din’s chest swells with pride as he thinks of his son's progress and all the milestones he has reached. Din knows that being a good father to Grogu is the most important role he will ever fulfil. He treats it with as much seriousness as such a responsibility warrants.

But Grogu is asleep.

Now, it is just Din and you. He smiles as he looks at your hands together, and appreciates how your fingers are intertwined. Din relishes the comfort he draws from your physical presence. He feels soothed by the knowledge that he has hidden nothing from you, that you can still love him regardless of his past transgressions. 

Din looks out across the landscape towards the rolling volcanic hills of Nevarro, dusted a pale pink and orange colour in the fading light of dusk. He thinks about how he will grow old with you here in this little cabin. If fate grants him such an honour. 

He cannot help but smile as he thinks about how you will sit out here on this very porch, holding hands with each other. When his patchy facial hair is flecked with grey and even when it is entirely white. When the wrinkles on his face are as lined and drawn as the crevices which scar the surface of Nevarro. Perhaps Grogu will be old enough to run around by then. Maybe he will have gained the gift of speech.

Regardless, even many rotations from now, Din knows with absolute certainty that he will still think you are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. Even after years of adoring each other, he will still wonder how he was ever so lucky to be worthy of your love. 

Din is excited to spend the rest of his life proving to you that he is the good man you repeatedly inform him you still see, even amongst all his flaws. It is a heavy task, yet one he relishes. Love had terrified him for so much of his life. When he discovered its beauty, he was determined to make up for lost time.

It is a heavy thought that he may never exhaust his capacity and reach the depths of all the love he has realised he possesses.

For now, though, Din turns his head to look at you, a soft smile lighting up his face as the sunset illuminates his features. The colour has returned to his cheeks. You return the gesture, gently sweeping your thumb across the back of his hand. 

In the fading light, your face glows golden, only accentuating your beauty. Din wonders again how he was ever so lucky to know a love like this. 

Except now, he does not doubt that he deserves it.

Now, Din Djarin allows his chest to be flooded with the warmth he feels when he embraces your love.

He accepts it, even after all the things that he’s done.