#din djarin modern AU

[netherfeildren]

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

Read on AO3

He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him. 

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it. 

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself. 

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

 You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine. 

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good. 

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you. 

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other. 

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway. 

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him. 

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention. 

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here. 

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be. 

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it. 

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him. 

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it. 

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu. 

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please. 

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge? 

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely. 

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point. 

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.” 

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you. 

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one. 

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore. 

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore. 

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there. 

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence. 

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up. 

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long. 

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of. 

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return. 

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger. 

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side. 

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing. 

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt. 

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough. 

-

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom. 

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.” 

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about. 

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that. 

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm. 

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him. 

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this. 

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him. 

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others. 

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here. 

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth. 

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart. 

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him. 

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can. 

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had. 

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary. 

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins. 

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him. 

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice. 

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him. 

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside. 

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence. 

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.  

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time. 

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain. 

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart. 

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing. 

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless. 

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[something-tofightfor]

Competing For Christmas 9: Here Comes Santa Claus

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 

Rating: E. It’s happening.

Summary: 12,336

Din still being in Mistletoe is just so he can keep his promise to say goodbye, right? 

Author’s notes:

Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for all of the yelling in comments and reblogs and in my DMs. 

We’re almost at the end - and I’m starting to get sad about it. 

This chapter is a massive thank you - and a very late Christmas present from me to you. 

** Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter. ** 

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open!

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Masterlist  / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5.1 / Part 5.2 / Din’s POV Interlude / Part 6.1 / Part 6.2 / Part 7 / Part 8

We need to talk? “Yeah, Din. We do.” You pulled on Grogu’s leash, urging the dog forward and toward his owner. 

As the two of you neared the man, the dog began to whine. 

You glanced up at Din and the man nodded twice, so you let go of the leash and then stopped moving. You watched as Grogu went back to Din, taking a seat by his feet and then settling his paws in the thin layer of snow that covered the ground. “Sheber olar, Grogu.”

It got quiet then, and as the flakes continued to swirl around you, you realized that you didn’t know what to say - or what to expect. “Are … Do you want to talk here, or -”

“I’m sorry.” He tilted his head back, letting out a long sigh. “My truck’s parked down the street, we can go sit there, if you want.” You did. In fact, you wanted nothing more than to sit in the warm cab and let Din say what he needed to say, but at the same time, you didn’t want to have to walk away from him when the conversation was done. 

“Did you come here to tell me goodbye?” It came out before you’d thought it through, and in the silence that followed the words, you began to understand just how much you didn’t want to hear the answer. “Because if you did, I don’t know how you knew I was even here.” 

“You weren’t home yet.” He pressed his lips together, head shaking back and forth. “And while I was driving home from driving by your place, I remembered the text you sent about coming to see the tree with Gogu. I wanted to stop before …” He trailed off. Before you leave. Before it’s too late. “But then I saw you sitting on that bench, and it…” 

He was upset - you could see it on his face and hear it in his voice, the man’s words thick with emotion and more broken than you’d ever heard him sound before. At least I’m not the only one upset with this. “Here I am.” You spread your hands wide and a bitter laugh escaped from your lips, one hand rising so that you could pinch the bridge of your nose. “Right where I always am, in the -” 

“Look.” Din sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “We need to talk, but I’d rather not do it in public, if that’s ok. It’s cold out here, and -” 

“Don’t make this harder, Din. you said you’d say goodbye before you left, and now you can. We can do that here. Boba said -”

“Boba and Fennec are on their way back to Mandalore right now.” What? You froze at his words, mouth open in disbelief. They are? “I didn’t go.” 

“Din?” Your voice trembled and so did your bottom lip, a tiny flicker of hope reigniting in your chest. “What?” 

“We need to talk.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Please?” 

“My house is closer than yours.” Is this a good idea? Probably not. But … “Grogu’s more than welcome to come in, too.” 

“I’ll meet you there.” He reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding Grogu’s leash but stopped short, the yellow-tipped fingers of his glove curling back against his palm. “Alright?” 

It was and you told him as much. You also told Din to be careful driving before you turned away from him and headed back toward your car, the thoughts in your head a jumbled mess. 

The warm air from your heater was a relief, though. As you started the short drive back to your house, you tried not to think about what Din’s presence - and what the few words he’d said - could possibly mean. 

Fennec and Boba were gone, but Din wasn’t. He seemed off, but in a way that you couldn’t place. He’d found you - by luck - thanks to an offhand comment you’d made over text. It has to mean something … but what? 

You pulled into your driveway before Din did, opening the garage to park inside. Once parked, you closed your eyes and rested your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to calm yourself. What the fuck is happening? 

You didn’t dare to hope that Din’s continued presence in Mistletoe meant anything good. He probably just asked if he could catch a flight out tomorrow. That has to be it.

His lights flashing on the interior walls of the garage pushed you into action. As he cut his engine you got out of the car, waiting until he and Grogu were inside before you shut the main door and unlocked the one that led into your place.

“Let me get Grogu a bowl of water, and then … Din?” Confused, you turned back to look at him when you felt his hand on your arm. The man stood in the center of your kitchen, his eyes on you. “What are you -” 

“He doesn’t need water.” Din drew his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head. “He’s fine.” 

“Ok.” Releasing another shaky breath, you reached for your coat and unzipped it, staring at Din. “You can take yours off, too. Even if you’re only here for a few minutes, it …” 

In the light of your kitchen, your eyes were drawn to the sleeve of his jacket - and a well-hidden design of something that looked like a rhinoceros on the man’s right shoulder that was only briefly visible. It’s like Boba’s. But what is it? When Din removed his jacket, you did the same, also bending over to pull your boots off and set them next to the door. 

He followed suit but when he was done, both of you stood motionless in the kitchen, waiting. Grogu definitely isn’t bothered right now. You smiled as the dog left the kitchen, heading into the room with the tree and flopping down in front of it, his legs stretched out as he laid on his side. “At least he’s comfortable.” Forcing a laugh, you pointed. “Do you want to sit?” 

“I …” He spoke, gloveless fingers flexing by his sides. “I don’t…” Oh, Din. You wanted to step forward, wanted to reach out for him, but instead of doing that, you were rooted to the spot, just waiting. “Fuck it.” He moved first, the man’s arms rising and wrapping around you before you could even react. 

He pulled you against his chest, lowering his head to rest his cheek against your hair. Despite your unease at the overall situation, you let him hold you. And you held him back, eyes squeezed shut as the two of you hugged in the center of your kitchen, clinging to each other wordlessly. But we can’t stay like this. We have to … he has something to say. 

It was you that backed away first, pushing gently against his chest to put space between your bodies and meeting his eyes again. “Why are you still here, Din?” 

He didn’t let you go, the man’s hands settling at your waist - but he didn’t speak, either. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, and so you waited, understanding that he needed a few seconds to collect himself. “I needed to see you.” 

He spoke quietly, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds and then reopening them, the look of uncertainty slightly less pronounced. “Well, you see me, Din. Is this what you wanted?” 

“None of this is what I wanted.” He bit his lip, scoffing. “Not a single damn minute of this is…” You moved to pull away but he didn’t let you, the man saying your name and tightening his hold on your hips. “Except for you. The one thing I actually want, and I can’t do a damn thing about it because of what’s expected of me.” 

“I told Boba you’re going to be a good Mand’alor.” You traced over the neckline of his hoodie with one fingertip. “And I meant it. And in a year, these past few weeks won’t … they won’t hurt as much when we think about them, Din. You’ll have your people to worry about. And Mandalore, and I won’t be a -” Does he believe that any of this is true? Because I sure don’t.

“I wanted to come to see you this morning. I wanted to come last night, but Boba, he … he said it wasn’t a good idea. He said he would come and talk to you. He said -”

“I know.” You nodded. “I know, Din. He told you not to reach out until you knew what you wanted to say, and I appreciate that. And I know that I didn’t let you say goodbye last night, but now, I think … It’s time, right?” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, the sting of them increasingly harder to ignore. “You came here to say goodbye?”

“I came here to explain.” Din pulled you a little closer, the man ducking his head briefly. “I came here to …” He trailed off, looking around the room and then back at you, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “Can we sit? This might take a minute, and I don’t want to be standing next to your kitchen table while -”

“Yeah.” Tearing yourself out of his hold, you spun away. “We can sit, Din.” I have no idea where he’s going with this. 

Only a few minutes later, the two of you were sitting on your couch, almost a full cushion between you even though you were facing each other. Grogu was snoring quietly, and you couldn’t help smiling at the dog when you glanced in his direction. At least one of us is relaxed. 

“I saw he brought you Spotchka. Did he tell you what it was?”

“He did. Said the three of you used to sneak it in school.” Din smiled at that, agreeing. “I’m thinking about taking it tomorrow, and letting my family try it. At least then I can drink some of it and not have to drink alone. It looks good.” 

“It is good. It’s one of the most popular types of alcohol in Mandalore. It’s one of the things I always had in my refrigerator while I’ve been here. I should have offered you some one of the times you were over.” Well, you didn’t.

“At least I get to taste it now.” You gestured in the direction of the bottle with one hand. “So maybe something good did come out of all this.” 

The room went quiet again, and even though you had plenty you wanted to say, you were unsure where to begin. Because this isn’t about me. This is about him and … and what he has to do. 

“We’re going to release a statement on the first day of the new year about me taking Boba’s place. We’re going to try and get ahead of whatever she’s got planned.” Smart. 

It hit you hard, though - almost like someone had punched you in the stomach. But you still didn’t speak, despite the fact that your head whipped toward Din again. That’s so soon. A week. “And I take it you’ll be back in Mandalore for that.” He nodded. “I’m happy for you, Din.” 

“We’re also going to tell people what I’ve been doing for the last year - that I’ve been here, giving myself a chance to enjoy my life before I devote myself to leading them.” Oh. “Bo Katan will probably release the picture of us then, once she realizes Boba’s not going to give in and name her Mand’alor.” Of course she is.

“Thank you for telling me. At least now I can prepare myself. I can tell my family what to expect, and … it won’t all come as a complete shock to them.” Wetting your lips, you linked your hands together on your lap, pressing your palms flat against each other. “I’ll just need to know what you want me to say if anyone asks. I don’t want to ruin your chances of finding a -” Yes. I do. I don’t want to think about you with anyone else. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me, about James?” Din shifted on the cushion, moving slightly closer to you, though his hands stayed put on his lap, too. “About how you couldn’t justify moving to a new city with him without some sort of … promise that he saw a future with you.”

“I did say that. And I meant it.” Confused, you moved closer, too. “But what does that -”

“I have to go back to Mandalore. I have to do my duty and take my place in the Palace. I owe it to the people and to Boba.” He wasn’t saying anything that you didn’t already know. Part of you wondered if he was saying the words out loud in an attempt to convince himself that they were the truth, and that there was no getting around them. “Do you know why I wanted to come here last night?”

“No.” Lowering your head, you shook it slowly. “I don’t, Din.” 

Din dragged his fingers through his hair and then scratched at his scalp, gripping the back of his head with both hands before he turned his head toward you, saying your name again. When he had your attention, he continued. “I wanted to come here and ask you to come home with me. To Mandalore.” 

It felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of the room. Your entire body froze, hands still in your lap and your lips parted. The only thing that moved were your eyes, and those widened at his words. What? That isn’t… we’ve never … He chuckled at the sight of you, wrinkling his nose. 

“Yeah, that’s about how I thought you’d react.” 

“Din…” Forcing the word out, you reached for him, slightly ashamed to see that your hand was shaking. “What?”

“You were with him for how long, and you still wouldn’t have moved if he’d asked you. You said you needed someone to be able to offer you some sort of future before you could make that kind of decision, and I… I can’t do that. I can’t offer you anything past what you see right here, right now.” 

His fingers closed around yours, the man’s grip tight. I know, Din. “I’m not asking you to. I never would. I understand that you have to go, Din. It’s not easy, but -”

“I want to.” He looked up again, the creases between his brows prominent, lower lip jutting out as he frowned. “I want to be selfish and tell you that I want you to come back with me. To be with me. I want you to understand that this has never just been …” He swore, covering his face with his free hand. “But how can I ask you to move to a different country with me if I can’t promise you anything because I don’t know what’s going to happen over the next six months and beyond? I don’t even know if you’d want to be with me in the first place, so how can -”

“Din, slow down.” Your thumb moved slowly over the back of his hand, trying to calm him - even a little. But now it’s my heart beating fast. Now it’s me that needs to calm down. “This is -”

“And you have a family here. Friends. I can’t ask you to leave them. I can’t just take you halfway across the world and see what happens. What if you hate it there? What happens when you miss your friends? What happens when I’m busy running the fucking country and can’t spend as much time with you as either of us wants?” 

“Din.” You closed your eyes, letting out another shaky breath. “It’s a good thing that you didn’t come last night or this morning and say any of this.” He recoiled like you’d slapped him, and the movement made you wince. “No. Wait. Not because it’s … shit.” You pulled your hand away from his and then covered your face with both of them, trying to steady yourself. Slow. Say what you mean. “I didn’t realize how much it was going to hurt when you had to leave.”

“Neither did I.” You felt his hand then, the man’s fingers closing around your forearm and urging you to lower your hands. “And then Boba told me last night that we needed to leave, and it … everything happened at once.” Yeah. It did. “I knew you were going to your parents’ earlier. And that was another reason I didn’t want to come, because I didn’t … I couldn’t dump this on you and then expect you to just …” He rubbed at his forehead. “Go.” 

You chewed on your lower lip, your eyes wandering from Din to the dog and then to your tree, focusing on the bright little bulbs. He wanted to ask me to go to Mandalore? He’s thought about it? He thought about it enough to… “Din?” He hummed, tilting his head to the right and letting out a deep sigh. “What do you mean that you can’t offer me anything but right here and now?” 

“How can I ask you to leave everything you know for me? We’ve only really gotten to know each other for the last month and a half, and we’re not … we’re not together. You just ended a relationship, and I was lying to you for -”

“Not lying.” Reaching for his hand, you took it and the squeezed. “You were protecting yourself and your friend and your country. And I understand that. Hell, if you’d just come right out and said “I’m basically a prince, and am going to become my country’s version of a king in a few months, so I have to be discreet”, I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.” 

“But I kept it from you. You had to -”

“And you told me the truth as soon as I asked you to. It wasn’t a lie because you were trying to deceive me. There’s a difference.” You both went quiet, Grogu’s soft snoring reaching your ears. “Are you … are you even allowed to bring people to Mandalore with you? Would you even be able to date someone like me, or were you just -”

“We’re… I’m allowed to be with whoever I want to be. But that isn’t … it wouldn’t be fair of me to pull you into the middle of this for …” He stood, tearing his hand out of yours and pacing in front of the couch. Grogu lifted his head, whining once, but as soon as Din spoke - one low word, nayc, his left hand raising slightly in a placating gesture - the dog dropped his nose back onto his paws, staring upward. What a good dog. 

What he was saying made sense. Din was trying to do the right thing - the responsible thing - by listening to what you’d told him in the beginning about needing some sort of certainty before deciding to uproot yourself. But it’s not the same. Din isn’t James. He isn’t just looking for … “

“What’s a Mudhorn, Din?” Staring up at him, the words tumbled from your mouth. “Why’d you choose that for our team name? And what… Boba seemed to think it was important. He asked me about it, but I didn’t know what to tell him.” Din stopped pacing, the man’s focus back on you as his eyes widened. 

“He brought it up?” You nodded. 

“Yeah, and then he showed me his … crest, I guess? For his family?” Din nodded slowly. “Din … is the Mudhorn that thing on your coat sleeve? Is it …” The pieces fell into place all at once, your mouth dropping open after you’d trailed off. The Mudhorn’s Din’s sigil. It’s his family crest, it … but he …. That was weeks ago. He didn’t … “You and I didn’t…” 

“I didn’t plan on that. It just … came out. But I wasn’t upset after it happened. And the longer we went on in the competition, and the more I heard people call us Clan Mudhorn, I liked it. It’s just been me and Grogu since I adopted him, and then for the last few weeks, it’s been a clan of three, and …”  A clan of three? And he says we’re not … 

 “I’m honored.” Pressing your lips together, you stared up at him and then patted the cushion next to you. “Please sit back down.” It took a few seconds but he did, leaving only a few inches between your thighs. “It might have just been a temporary thing, but that kind of … inclusion, Din? It means a lot.” 

“It’s supposed to.” He nodded, scoffing. “In Mandalore, one of the customs is to wear the signet of your people. The Mythosaur is meant for all Mandalorians, but individual designations are …”

“Well don’t worry.” You reached over, laying your hand on his knee. “The shirts just said Clan Mudhorn on them. The actual symbol wasn’t -”

“I wear it on my clothes now, and when I become Mand’alor, I get … it’s probably going to sound really weird to you, but I get ceremonial armor with it inlaid.” He tapped his shoulder. “It’ll be here, like it is on my coat now. Grogu’s… you can barely see it, but his collar’s got it stitched into the material. He’ll have a ceremonial something forged, too, probably some sort of lead or maybe a plaque for his travel crate. And my riduur, or wife, if I ever get married would have something made for her, too.” That makes sense. “It’s Mandalorian tradition. Every family has something different to identify them. Clan Djarin is also Clan Mudhorn, but when I take the throne, the whole of Mandalore is under the protection of Clan Mudhorn.” That’s huge. That … that’s a piece of him that …  

“Thank you for including me, even only for a few weeks.” Your voice was quiet, and you couldn’t meet his eyes as you spoke. “It means more to me than …” Wetting your lips, you let out a small huff. “More to me than you could ever know, Din.” 

You were dancing around it - and as the minutes passed, you understood what it was more and more. He said he was going to ask but hasn’t. He said he knows he can’t, but … but I think he wants to. And I … 

You wanted him to ask, but you didn’t want to admit it, because that would make it even worse when he left your house without voicing the question. 

Admitting it made things real, and part of you was desperate to continue believing that with the passage of time and Din’s absence, it would be easier to move past what you felt. But it won’t. Even if he just walks out, this is … nothing’s ever going to be the same.  

“When do you have to leave?” How long do I have until you’re gone? 

“As soon as the plane lands and gets checked out, they’re replacing the pilot and sending it back for me.” He sighed. “So it’ll probably be back here late tomorrow night, and then I’ll leave sometime on the 26th.” Oh. As he spoke, your eyes moved to the clock on the cable box beneath the TV. It’s after 12. 

“It’s Christmas.” Sniffling, you lowered your head. “So the plane will be back tonight and you’ll be gone tomorrow.” And I’ll spend the last day I could have with you pretending to be alright with my parents. “Do you need to go? Do you need to pack? It’s late, and I’m sure you -”

“I don’t want to go.” You heard his voice waver, and when you met his gaze again, it was Din that was holding back tears, the man’s eyes shining. “I don’t want to leave, or -”

“What do you want, then?” You shifted, pushing your shoulders back, head shaking back and forth slowly. “Because -”

“I…” He paused, mouth open as he watched you. “I want…” Din blinked, taking a deep breath, and then you saw his expression change, the light coming back into his eyes. “I want you to come to Mandalore with me and Grogu. I want to show you what life could be like there, with me.” He took another breath, reaching over to settle his hand on yours, the man’s touch heavy as he let the weight of his palm rest atop the back of your hand. “I want you.”

Hearing him say it floored you, but it didn’t come as a complete surprise. “Ok.” Swallowing hard, you nodded. “I want that, too. I want you, Din. I have for a -”

He cut you off when he leaned forward, the man’s kiss urgent as his free hand rose to the side of your face, the tips of his fingers curled behind your ear. You were too shocked to pull away, and so you didn’t. Instead, you moved closer, pulling your hand away from Din’s and spreading your fingers wide against his side. Is this happening? 

He squeezed your thigh as he deepened the kiss, the man wasting no time urging your lips apart with his tongue. Neither of you tried to end it. Instead, you moved closer to each other, lifting one leg and draping it over his as he pulled you toward him, holding you tightly. 

Both of you were still fully clothed, but it felt more intimate than even waking up in his arms on the couch had. “Wait.” He murmured the word against your mouth, kissing you once more before putting space between you. “Before I kiss you again, did … did you just agree to come to Mandalore with me?” 

“I did.” You had no idea what you’d do when you got there - if you’d find work, or even be able to work, where you’d live. You didn’t know what you were going to tell your friends and family. But I mean it. “As long as you were serious about me coming with you.” 

“I was. I am.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ve never been more serious about anything.” Turning his head, he cleared his throat, gesturing to Grogu with his chin. “You’ll probably be spending a lot of time with that little guy over there.”

“Good.” You wrinkled your nose and  then grinned. “I like him.” Din laughed softly, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “Not as much as I like you though.” 

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.” Still trying to catch your breath, you let yourself think back over the previous few minutes and everything that had happened during them. I just agreed to go to a different country with him. I just agreed to leave with him without … “Hey. What’s wrong?” 

“I want to go with you Din, but I can’t just … I can’t be ready to go tomorrow. I need time to -” 

Your words were halted with another kiss from the man, but that one was tender, Din nodding as he pressed his lips to yours. “I know. I figured.” Straightening up, he dropped his hands and took both of yours, linking your fingers together. “What if… when do you go back to work?” 

“The fourth.” You paused. “No, the fifth.” He nodded, eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?” 

“I can convince Boba to let me stay until the morning of the 27th. That’ll give you a chance to pack.” Pack? “Come spend some time in Mandalore with me. Let me show you around, and that way … when we make the announcement, and when Bo-Katan does whatever it is she’s going to do, we’ll… be together. And we can make a statement about the picture together, and you won’t be alone to deal with the fallout.” 

“Are … are we together, then?” You were hesitant to ask the question, since he’d already said that you weren’t earlier in the conversation. But that was before. Things have changed, and … “Because -” 

“If you don’t want to be, no. We can say it was just a kiss, that we got caught up in -” 

“Din.” You closed your eyes, mentally preparing yourself. If I don’t say it now, I won’t. “If I didn’t want that, I wouldn’t have agreed to move halfway around the world with you five minutes ago.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you stopped him, holding up one hand. “I know this isn’t going to be a normal relationship. I know it’ll be hard. But as long as you can promise me you won’t get me over there and then just … abandon me right away, that’s … more than enough for right now.” 

“I can promise you that.” He took the hand you were holding up, wrapping his fingers around yours and then pulling it up and toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles - though he didn’t break eye contact. “Bat ner ijaat. On my honor.” 

“Ok.” Chewing on the inside of your lower lip, you nodded. “Ok, Din.” His face broke into a grin then, the man leaning forward and then wrapping his arms around you to hug you tightly. I just … I agreed to… wow. You held him for a few long moments, relishing in the way Din pressed his forehead into the side of your neck, his lips hovering just above your throat. But wait. “Hey. There’s one more thing.” 

He backed off, a look of concern in his eyes, but you were quick to reassure him, fingers stroking the back of his neck. “What? What’s -”

“I’m going to need you to meet my parents before I hop on a plane with you and become a part of this. They know who you are already, and have asked about you multiple times. So even if we can’t explain everything, they need to know some things, in case … in case anyone asks them questions.” If he said no or hesitated, you’d know that you made the wrong call in agreeing to go with him. 

“Alright. Will you call me and let me know when you’re done with your family stuff tomorrow? I don’t have anything to do, so I can come over after you’re done celebrating.”

“You could just come with me.” Your heart pounding, you made the suggestion. “They asked where you were tonight, so you could just come with me tomorrow, and…” Trailing off, you realized how presumptuous it was. “Or I can call you. That’s fine too.”

“I can’t wear this.” He glanced down and then back at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “They’ll never believe a word either of us says if I show up dressed like I’m spending the day on my couch.”

“Oh, are you planning on staying over?” Arching a brow, you cocked your head to the left. “I don’t remember inviting you to stay with me tonight, Din.” His eyes widened, but before he could deny the intention, you burst out laughing, standing up and extending a hand toward him. “I’m just kidding. Please, stay. I’ll get Grogu that water for tonight, and we can stop on the way over to my parents tomorrow to drop him off and so that you can change. Your house isn’t really a detour.” 

“Do you have a guest bedroom?” He stared up at you, his eyes darkening. “Or am I sleeping on the couch with Grogu?” If you’re sleeping on the couch, so am I. 

“I usually sleep on my couch on Christmas Eve so I can wake up with the tree.” Holding out one hand, you waited for Din to take it. When he did, you pulled, urging him to his feet. “And I do have a guest bedroom, Din.” Here goes nothing. “But I’m willing to break tradition tonight, and I don’t think there’s any reason for me to sleep in my bed alone.” 

The room was quiet again, Din’s eyes locked with yours. For a few seconds, you thought you’d overstepped - and that he was going to deny you the same way he had when he’d explained for the first time why things couldn’t progress past kissing.  “Are you sure?” He spoke quietly, the man’s voice dropping into a tone you’d never heard from him before. “We can -”

“I’m sure.” Taking the opportunity, you nodded as you leaned in, kissing the space just in front of his ear. “Very sure.” 

That was all you needed to say. When you backed away and met his eyes again, Din’s were smoldering, his lips parted as he stared at you. But he didn’t say anything else, instead spinning away from you and saying Grogu’s name, snapping his fingers twice and then leading the dog to the back door. 

You felt a gust of cold air when he opened it, but by the time he’d shut it again you were in the kitchen, bent over in front of a cupboard and getting a large bowl out to fill with water. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I just said that. And that he agreed, and that … 

There was plenty to think about, and you knew that as soon as you had time to do so, it would probably become overwhelming. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to happen. Setting the full bowl down, you walked toward the front door and checked, making sure it was locked. 

The sound of Grogu’s nails on the floor made you turn, and you were treated to the sight of Din crouched next to your counter, the man stroking Grogu’s back slowly and murmuring to him for a few seconds while he drank. I could get used to that. 

Even as you had the thought, you lifted a hand to cover your mouth at the realization that it wasn’t just a fantasy you had to force out of your mind anymore. I … I probably will get used to that, and to being with them every day. 

“Are you ready for bed?” He was right in front of you again, and as he spoke, Din reached out, his hands settling at your waist. “Because I am.” 

You were tired - it had been a long and exhausting day, and you hadn’t slept well the previous night. But I don’t want to sleep. Not yet. Not when he’ll be here with me. “Are you?” Winking at him, you tucked one of his curls behind his right ear, biting your lip. “Alright, then. Come on.” 

Stepping away from Din, you reached back to take his hand before leading him up the stairs, flipping the light off once you’d reached the top. You paused with your hand on your door frame, collecting your thoughts. “What?” 

He pressed a hand against your back, but didn’t say anything else. “I…” Pushing the door all the way open, you turned around to face him. “I never thought this would be happening. I thought you were gone for good, and now you’re…” Reaching out, you fisted the material of his sweatshirt in your hands and then stepped backward, pulling him through the doorway. “Now we’re here.” 

He laughed, agreeing with you, but the laughter stopped once you were both fully inside. The nightlight from the corner illuminated enough so that you could see what you were doing, but you didn’t want to turn on any other lights. There’s no need to. “Want me to sleep in my clothes? I can keep my jeans on, so -”

“Din.” Taking a breath, you reached down and pulled your sweater over your head and then let it drop to the floor. His eyes followed the movement - just like you’d hoped they would, and the way he shifted his weight, fingers curling inward toward his palms encouraged you. “No, I do not want you to sleep in your clothes.” 

The room was silent and after a few seconds, you realized it was because you were both holding your breath, Din’s finally leaving his chest in a whoosh as he stepped forward. Lifting both hands, he gripped your upper arms and then pushed you backward, following until you were pressed against the wall to the right of your bed, the two of you chest to chest. “I don’t want to either.” 

You laughed at that, but it didn’t last, Din’s mouth covering yours in a bruising kiss. 

It made you gasp, though at the same time you leaned in, seeking more from him, your hands rising to push beneath the material of his hooded sweatshirt. He groaned at your touch, his upper lip curling, and then Din pulled back, mumbling your name. “Hmm?” Stroking up and down his back with one hand, you tilted your head back to rest it against the wall. “Everything alright?” 

“I don’t have a condom.” Ah. That. 

“I do.” You chewed on your lower lip, gesturing to the bedside table with your chin. “Box is still in there from… before, so as long as you don’t mind that, we’re… we’re good to go.” You didn’t know if bringing James up - even in passing and in a relevant way - would ruin the mood, but when Din responded by rocking his hips forward and against yours, a single nod of his head visible before he ducked down to kiss you, you knew that it hadn’t. Good. I don’t know what I’d do if … 

He bit down on your lower lip, applying slight pressure before drawing it between his own. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out at the feeling, the glide of your hand turning into a curl of your fingers, the edges of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt he had on under the hoodie. That earned you another roll of his hips, the man’s thighs holding you against the wall even as his hands left your body. 

The longer the kiss went on, the deeper it became. And as it deepened, it slowed, too, every lick of the man’s tongue against yours purposeful, Din masking the sounds you made with ones of his own that you hadn’t even dreamed you’d be fortunate enough to ever hear. 

“Need to get you into bed.” When he spoke, it was directly into your ear, his voice low. “Need to touch you. Want to -” 

Somehow, you pushed him away, though you were focused on not only what the man was saying but how he was saying it, your breath coming out in short bursts. He wants me as much as I want him. “Let me get this off of you, then.” You murmured his name, hands moving down to the bottom hem of his hoodie. “Lift your arms, Din.”

He did what you asked, only dropping them again when his sweatshirt joined your sweater on the floor. When you reached for his belt, he didn’t stop you there, either. 

It came undone with a few deft movements of your fingers, and instead of pulling it totally free you let it hang and turned your attention to his zipper, the tips of your fingers making contact with the cool metal. 

“Wait.” He said your name and you stopped immediately, eyes moving away from your hand and back up to meet his. What did I do wrong? Opening your mouth to ask, you caught the smirk on the man’s face before he spoke again. “Why are you doing all the work?” What? 

He touched you then, large hands beginning at your waist and then moving up, pushing the cotton t-shirt you wore up along with them. Gasping at the contact - and the warmth of his palms on your skin - it was your turn to raise your hands, though you didn’t hold them over your head. Instead, you wound them around his neck, leaning in to kiss Din just as brazenly as he’d kissed you against the wall. 

That seemed to surprise him, the man inhaling sharply, though he didn’t pull away. It encouraged you to continue, even as his hands settled atop where your bra band covered your ribcage, the shirt bunched up just beneath your shoulders. 

Licking along the seam of his lips, you gave him no warning before you took the lower one between your teeth and bit down. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to get a reaction from him, Din’s hands squeezing your flesh as he kissed you back. Tilting your head to the side, you encouraged him when you inched closer, the fingers of one hand tangling in the curled hair at the nape of his neck. 

But Din surprised you, the man backing off as he used both hands to drag your shirt over your head and then twist the material around one curled fist, the motion forcing your elbows closer together in front of you. You didn’t let go of him even as your eyes widened in surprise, though, mouth dropping open in a shocked gasp as your gaze flicked down and then back up to meet his. “Din, w -” 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He was grinning, his eyes heavy-lidded as he stared at you. “But I liked it.” Good. Good, because … “But you and I have been very patient for the last couple weeks, right?” 

“Yeah, but -” He twisted his wrist and your hand slipped, dropping enough so that you had one palm pressed to his skin, the heel of it resting on the back of his shirt collar, the other resting on his shoulder. “Din?” 

“If you keep doing that - biting me, I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” He wet his lips, the man’s tongue dragging over them slowly. “And I want to take my time with you.” He released his hold on your shirt, raising his hand and dragging his knuckles slowly over your cheek. “Okay?” 

All you could do was nod. When Din leaned back in - his mouth finding yours easily, you played along, kissing him slowly, your hands staying in place as you let him lead. 

You didn’t know how it happened but Din maneuvered you so that you crossed the room in careful steps. 

The man only pulled back when your calves hit the side of your bed, Din’s smile once again little more than a smirk, his hands settled at your waist, just above the top band of your leggings. Slowly, you pulled your arms back and removed the shirt, dropping it next to you and then waiting, wondering what the man’s first reaction to seeing you in only a bra would be. 

It was better than you’d expected. Din took a full step back until only his fingertips were in contact with your skin and you could see his chest rising and falling rapidly through the material that was stretched across it. “Worth the wait, or no?” 

You regretted speaking as soon as the words were out, but before you’d had a chance to apologize for how needy you sounded, Din was pulling his own shirt off and tossing it to the side, never looking away from you. “Yes. You have … no idea.” He groaned and then stepped forward again, giving you almost no time to admire him before he was urging you into a seated position on the edge of the bed. 

It forced you to look up at him, your lips slightly parted as he ran a thumb over them, his head cocked to the right. Fuck, this is … You gripped the blanket with both hands, fighting the urge to reach for his jeans again. But when his hand dropped, the man sliding two fingers beneath one bra strap before urging it down and over your shoulder, you stopped holding back. 

As he moved his fingers over the slope of your shoulder, you undid the button and then moved to the zipper, watching the movement of your hand instead of looking up at him. 

You knew he’d stop you if he wanted to, so when Din only shifted his stance, flexing his hips toward you, you took that as a sign he wanted you to continue. 

The man’s jeans slid down and over his thighs before they pooled around his knees - and then his ankles, but you weren’t looking there. Instead, you were focused on what was in front of you - the thick band of his underwear snug against the man’s hips, dark material covering his thighs and stopping much higher than expected on his legs to expose more of his golden skin. Holy shit, look at the way they … fuck. 

“Damn, Din.” You bit your own lip, then, finally looking back up. “Wow.” You were fully aware that you probably sounded like an idiot, but instead of laughing, the man only winked at you, his other hand repeating the process with your second bra strap without breaking eye contact. 

“You wanna take this off, or should I?” He squeezed your shoulder. “You’re wearing more than I am.” You didn’t want to take your hands off of him but did it anyway, reaching behind you to unhook the material before shrugging your arms free and letting it fall onto the mattress next to you. “Maker, look at you. Gar’re mesh’la.” Changing the angle of his hand, the pad of one thumb stroked over the upper part of your chest, but before Din could move it lower, you dragged the edges of your nails up the sides of his thighs and slid your hands around to the backs of them, pausing there. 

You knew that he was just as torn as you - the desire to take your time and explore warring with the need for the instant gratification of touching him, and you wondered what was going to win. 

The question was answered only moments later when his hand moved from your shoulder over the center of your throat and then up, the man’s grip firm but not painful as he tilted your head back. His touch made you shiver, and at the slight motion you watched his brows rise, the smirk back on his lips in full force. “Oh, my G -”

“Lay down.” He tightened his grip briefly but then let you go, bringing the hand that had been on you to his waist before using it to adjust himself. “Lay down so I can take those pants off.” 

It was inelegant but you scrambled backwards and away from him before he was even done speaking. Leaning back on your elbows you watched what he did, breath caught in your throat. The man lifted one hand and let it trail up and over your still-clothed calf and knee, his eyes focused on the movement. 

Without warning, he leaned over and reached for your waist, undoing the single button there - and then slipped his fingers beneath the material so he could drag it downward. 

You lifted your lower body before he could ask, breath catching in your throat as Din pulled your pants off much more slowly than you were expecting. It’s like he’s unwrapping a present. But it’s not an actual gift, it’s me, and - 

“If this is what getting a Christmas present is like, I think I have a new favorite holiday.” You whimpered at his words, your eyes rolling back as his hands made their way to the skin of your calves, urging your legs apart so that he could step between them. “Fuck, this is -” 

“Din, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking him for. But Din reacted to your words, his hands sliding up your legs as he leaned forward, closing the distance between himself and your body. “Please, just…” 

“I’ve got you.” He squeezed your legs, the man’s breath fanning over the skin at the center of your chest. “I’ve got you.” You nodded, the movement of your head the only thing you could manage as he lowered his mouth to kiss your skin, the man turning his head to the right and licking at the swell of one breast. 

The mattress shifted as he raised a knee to give himself better leverage, and when Din’s mouth trailed up the column of your throat, you finally moved, too - hands rising to grip the hair at the back of his head and urge him up faster. 

You could have kissed him for hours, letting the relief you felt at the man’s presence flow from you and into him, but Din had other plans. 

He pulled away from you and stood again, circling the bed and opening your top drawer to reach inside. You repositioned yourself on the bed once he was out of it, stretching out lengthwise so that your head was on the pillows. 

The foil square looked positively small in his hand, but as Din’s fingers curled around it, his smile grew, the man’s eyes never leaving your body as he climbed back into bed with you. “Gotta take those off before you can -”

“Oh, I know.” Din knelt next to you, glancing down. “But so do you.” 

He was right - you still had underwear on, too, and because he’d taken care when he was removing your pants, he hadn’t even touched the thin material. “I can change that.” Digging your heels into the mattress, you lifted your hips and used both hands to tug the only thing you still had on down and over your legs, kicking them off and into a dark corner of your bedroom. “Better?”

“Much.” Din licked his lips as he eyed you, his gaze traveling the length of your body and then back up, his broad chest rising and falling as he nodded. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”

“No, but you can tell me.” You reached out for him, your hand making contact with the elastic at his waist. “If you want.” He swallowed hard as your hand dropped, fingers caressing the bulge beneath the fabric. It took everything in you not to whine at the feel of him - warm and firm, thicker than you’d imagined, but when he thrust his hips forward, pressing himself against your palm, you couldn’t hold your reaction back. “Din, you -”

“I’d rather show you.” He was breathing hard, the man widening the spread of his knees as you curled and uncurled your fingers against him. “One second.” 

He removed his underwear without getting off of the bed, and at the sight of his totally nude body, you felt your toes curl. I can’t believe … we’re here. We’re … this is happening. Your hand rested against one of his thighs, the room quiet aside from your breathing as you waited. But I don’t want to wait. “Din?” 

“Hmm?” He pressed his hand against your belly, fingers spread wide. “What?” 

“I know you said you wanted to take your time, but …” Your hand slid higher and then in, the pad of your thumb brushing over the length of him. You fought back a smile as his muscles jerked at the touch. Perfect. He’s perfect. “Can we not do that tonight? Can we just -”

“If that’s what you want.” He reached down and took your hand in his, guiding it and urging you to wrap your fingers around him. “Of course.” He closed his eyes as you began to move in slow strokes, the man’s lips parting as he groaned out with each exhale. “Maker, it’s been -” 

“You can touch me too, Din.” You were almost desperate for it, wanting nothing more than to feel the man’s hands on you. “If you want.” 

And he did, the hand that had been on your belly sliding lower before he repositioned it, turning it so that his fingers were pointed down, the tips of them curling as he reached the apex of your thighs. 

You gasped at the feeling and then whined as he slid them through the slick that had already gathered there, two of them spreading you open while the one between began moving in slow circles. He was teasing you with the light touch, and even though you wanted to enjoy it, you also wanted him. No more waiting. 

Your hand moved faster and his did, too, your eyes squeezed shut as you dug your head backwards and into the pillow, your hips rising a few inches off of the mattress as they sought out more from him. “Might never stop touching you now that you told me to start.” He murmured the words into your ear, Din’s cheek pressed to yours as he leaned forward. 

“Good.” You gasped out the word when he pushed a single finger into you, your fingers tightening around him. “Don’t stop.” 

Dragging your hand up higher, you coated your fingertips in the gathered moisture from his tip and then began to stroke him in earnest, your hand picking up speed as he replaced the single finger inside of you with two, both of them pumping in and out of you at a pace that wasn’t quite slow, but also wouldn’t be enough to actually get you off. 

You relished the sounds that both of you were making in the dimly lit confines of your bedroom - sighs and groans along with the occasional grunt, but you’d meant it when you asked him not to take his time. “Need you.” You squeezed him once more and then let go, your hand falling away and then seeking his out, your fingers around his wrist stilling the movement of his hand. 

He didn’t remove his hand from your body, though. Din paused with both fingers still buried in you. Even though he wasn’t moving, you could feel the pull of your muscles around them, your body attempting to draw him in deeper. “Might hurt if I do that now.” He kissed you gently, shaking his head back and forth. “And I don’t -”

“I’ll be alright.” Opening your eyes, you looked up at him. “What’s the Mandalorian word for promise?” His eyes widened but to Din’s credit he replied almost immediately, the words he spoke quiet but clear. 

“Ni rejorhaa'ir te haat.” He pressed his lips to yours and then repeated himself. “It means ‘I tell the truth’, and -” 

“Ni… rejorhaa'ir te… te haat, Din.” You were sure you’d butchered the pronunciation, but Din didn’t seem to mind at all. The man’s mouth met yours in another hard kiss as he drew his hand back and then used both of them to pull you into an upright position, both of your hands scrambling into place to help. 

He repositioned himself as the two of you kissed - the man moving to straddle your lower body, chests pressed together as his fingers dug into your back and urged you to stay in place.

You felt him then, as he relaxed and settled some of his weight against the tops of your thighs. I want to… It was you that broke the kiss, pulling away from him enough so that you could glance down, your eyes fixated on the way he looked. “What are - oh.” He cut himself off when your fingers wrapped around him again, the man’s breath catching as you began to stroke. 

You clung to him with your other hand, the palm pressed against the center of his shoulders, but when Din’s hips began to roll in rhythm with your motion, you stopped thinking about anything else. 

The only thing that mattered was the way he felt in your hand and sounded as he panted into your ear. You only cared that he was in your bed with you, and that he wasn’t stopping you, even though it was you that had made the request to speed things up. 

“Next time,” he rasped, the man’s tongue dragging along the skin just below the lobe of your ear before he bit down on it. “Next time, I’m going to take my time with you. Use my hands and mouth, and dank farrik, you need to stop or -” 

“Alright.” You nearly moaned the word out, your hand stilling - though you didn’t release him. “I’ll stop.” But you didn’t let him reach for the condom - instead, you turned your head toward his and sought his mouth, the man’s lips soft and warm when they met yours, the kiss short but sincere.

Despite the unfamiliar position you were in - Din on your lap, leaking all over your hand while he knelt above you - you’d never been more content. And I’ve never wanted anyone this much, you realized as he deepened the kiss, the man’s tongue pushing into your mouth to meet yours. It’s terrifying. 

He removed one hand from you, and then a few seconds later he backed off completely, saying your name. Din was breathing hard, the rise and fall of his chest much more even than your own rhythm. “Last chance to tell me to leave before -” 

“I don’t ever want you to leave.” Your smile was tight, your exhale deep through your nose. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that this is what I want?” You paused, thinking. “You know what? This would still be what I wanted even if it meant it was only going to happen once.” 

That seemed to be what he needed to hear, the man nodding and then tearing the condom open, holding the latex between his fingers. Oh, I should tell him, it - “This feels …” He frowned as he began to roll it on, gaze dropping and then rising to meet yours. “Why is -”

“We had to get the ones with the extra lube.” You spoke quietly, clearing your throat as you ducked your head. Oh, this is embarrassing. “I’ve never been someone that got really -” 

“Didn’t feel like that to me.” He used the knuckle of one finger to lift your chin, the kindness in his eyes making you gasp. “You just needed the right person.” Yeah, I… At the end of Din’s sentence, his voice dropped, the man’s large hand moving back to your jaw and angling it so that he could kiss you again. “Lay down.” 

The words were whispered but you listened to him, settling back onto the pillows as Din repositioned himself between your legs, finally letting go of himself and using both hands to push your knees apart. 

He stared at you as he moved, lips parted and his eyes never lingering in one place for too long. I like how he’s looking at me. I like how - You moaned his name out as he slid a hand around to the back of one thigh, urging that leg into a bent position, and then Din shifted on his knees, inching closer as he stretched a leg out behind him. 

You wanted to watch but instead, screwed your eyes shut when you felt him press against your entrance briefly, a single flex of his hips allowing him to slide upward and through you, Din also hissing out another string of words that you couldn’t understand. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

It was barely a whisper but you heard it, and after you’d nodded in reply, Din moved again, your body stretching to accommodate him as he pushed inside - first the tip and then a little more every few seconds. 

Din’s groan was loud but nowhere near as loud as yours. And when he lowered himself toward you, both hands sliding up the blankets on either side of your body to settle by your head, you reached for him. Your fingertips skated over his sides and then down, fingers curling around the toned muscle beneath his waist. 

“It’s not too much, Din.” Your leg tightened against his hip and then - moments later, when Din rocked forward again, you encouraged more, dragging him closer until he was completely inside of you. 

But Din didn’t move, except to drop his head so that you couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. His breath traveled over your skin with each sharp exhale, the heat of it raising goosebumps in its wake. 

And there was pain - the size of him something you’d need time to get used to. But the man’s body going completely still was enough to give you a few breaths to adjust. “Oh, Wero. I knew… even then, I…” His hips flexed slightly, the drag inside of you noticeable - and welcome. “Ner yatne wero.” 

You wanted to know what he was saying and wondered if you’d remember to ask later, but your thoughts scattered when he finally began to move, the man thrusting into you in slow, smooth strokes. He was taking it easy - you had no doubt about that. But as the seconds passed, the pinch of pain faded and you were able to focus on everything else. 

The way he filled you on each stroke, his hips making contact with yours before he pulled back and did it again. 

The way he was fisting the blankets on either side of your body, the strain of holding himself upright evident in the bulging of his biceps, tendons rippling just beneath the skin’s surface. 

The sound of his low grunts as Din found his rhythm, the man’s mouth barely separated from yours, though it was close enough that the tips of your noses touched.

And through it all, you encouraged him with sounds of your own. Quiet gasps and groans, a low, breathy moan as he altered his angle and found a spot deep inside of you that you hadn’t been counting on, the whisper of his name as he pressed a quick kiss to your mouth and then whipped his head to the side, tucking his face against your neck. 

And despite the way he was wrecking you with every other part of his body, it was that action that impacted you the most. 

Your attention was torn from the way he filled you and used his broad frame to cover as much of you as he could and drawn instead to the way his soft curls felt against the sweat-sticky skin of your neck, and the heat from each exhale as it washed over the side and front of your throat.  You could feel the tip of his nose as it dug gently into your skin, every thrust forcing a slight movement of the rest of him. 

It was too much - but not in a way that you’d ever admit to him, because it was also everything that you’d never dared to hope was possible, and you weren’t in any hurry to give it up. Ever. 

Din groaned again, the sound vibrating through him, and when he pulled his hips back almost far enough to completely remove himself from you, it was your turn to move first, one leg rising to wind around his thighs and urge him back in. “Oh, that’s what you want?” He hummed, opening his mouth so that he could nip at your throat. “Alright.” 

You kept your leg in place. The next time Din repositioned himself to ensure complete access to you, you let your hands trail up and over his bare back, the man’s muscles flexing beneath your touch. Pulling him closer, you urged his chest against yours and when you adjusted your hips, you whined at one particularly deep stroke, your body reacting with an almost violent shudder. 

“Right there, Din. Oh, shit, right there.” The edges of your nails dug into his back and you were certain that when you finally released him, there’d be tiny crescent shapes indented into his skin. But I don’t care and he doesn’t either and … “Feels good. So good, you…” 

You were panting, breath escaping you in harsh bursts, but before he could reply or you could continue, you felt a molten heat gathering in your belly and then spreading lower, your mouth falling open in surprise as your toes curled. Oh, shit, already? 

It was rare that your orgasm came so quickly - and even less typical for your body to tip over the edge without additional assistance. But the friction from Din’s body - the drag of him as he thrust in and out coupled with the short, coarse hair at his base that rubbed against you on every forward stroke - was enough that night, his name leaving your mouth in an elongated gasp that was also half-whine. 

You loosened your grip and moved your hands up to grasp his hair, urging him to look at you. You need to see this. You need to… He locked eyes with you, the heat of his gaze almost explosive, even in the low light that filled your room - but it didn’t last. “That’s it.” He smiled, the expression softer than you’d imagined, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let me feel you.” 

And you did - trying not to break eye contact while your body shook beneath his, Din’s pace steady and strong, the arch of your back forcing your chests closer together as the contraction of your muscles pulled him deeper into your body. This is perfect. 

But it would only be truly perfect when Din came, too, and so you took as deep a breath as you could manage, tugging on the ends of his hair to bring his face closer. “Let me feel you, now.” You kissed him softly, your lips closing over his and lingering, giving him a small nod of your head before you broke apart.

It didn’t take long - Din’s pace quickening as he shortened each thrust, the man’s eyes closing before his mouth opened, tongue poking out to wet his lips briefly. You whimpered as he changed angles again, releasing his hair and replacing your hands on his shoulders. 

You felt his muscles tense a minute or so later, Din whispering your name as his hips stuttered, stalled completely and then began to move again, filling you as completely as he filled the condom he wore - added heat between your legs, the man’s muscles seizing repeatedly as he finished with a series of quiet grunts that you knew you’d never forget.

When he was done - the man’s arms and legs trembling, his chest rising and falling against yours while be fought to catch his breath - Din finally lowered his head again. He sought your kiss and you gave one to him freely, Din’s tongue delving into your mouth as if he was cementing a promise. And maybe he is. 

He hovered after the kiss ended, the man’s breathing deep and slow. “You ok?” He took another breath and finally lifted one of his hands from the blanket, stroking your temple with his fingertips and then lingering at your cheek. You nodded, biting down on your lip. “You sure?”

“I am.” Settling deeper into your blankets, you sighed. “What about you?” 

“I,” he started, voice low. “I’m better than I have been in a long time.” Din finished speaking and then reached between your bodies before slowly easing himself free, the man turning away from you to sit at the edge of the bed. 

You watched as he stood a few moments later, striding toward your partially open bathroom door and disappearing through it. Did that just happen? You took a few steadying breaths, turning your attention toward the ceiling and placing a hand flat on your abdomen. It did, and I agreed to go with him, and - 

“Here.” He was standing next to your bed, a hand towel between his fingers. “Figured you’d want to clean yourself up.” With a grateful smile you took the cloth from him, exhaling at the fact that he’d dampened a corner of it with warm water. For the next few seconds the room was completely quiet, but when you let the towel fall to the floor and turned toward Din again, he was watching you. 

“What?” Reaching out, you laid a hand on his thigh. “Din?” 

“I really want you to come home with me. I wasn’t just -” He shook his head. “I meant it all.” 

“Hey.” Squeezing his leg you jerked your head toward the pillows. “Lay down, OK? You’re naked and it’s gonna get cold pretty fast.” He looked torn but did as you asked, and when both of you were covered with your comforter, rolled onto your sides and facing each other, you took a deep breath. “I know you did, and I meant it, too.” 

“But I can’t ask -” 

“You asked me to come with you for a few days. Let’s start there.” You ran your fingers through his hair and were unable to keep the smile off of your face at the man’s damp roots. It’s going to be so curly when it dries. “We have a lot to talk about, Din. There’s a lot to consider - like my house and my job and my family, but none of that needs to be decided now, does it?” 

“No.” He swallowed, his hand sliding over your bare hip and resting there. “It doesn’t.” You watched each other for a little while, the man’s eyes searching your face, and when he spoke next, the question he asked didn’t surprise you. “Why?” 

Because I’m pretty sure I love you. It was too soon - too fast, too much, and so you didn’t say it out loud. Not yet. “Because I want to.” You yawned, using the pillow to cover your face, and when you looked back at him, he was frowning. “This is different than it was with James. I don’t … I don’t know if anyone will understand, especially with how fast this is all happening, but it doesn’t matter, Din. I understand and you understand. This isn’t a normal situation, and we just … we have to do what we can to make it work.” 

“What if it doesn’t?” He ran his hand up your back slowly, the tips of his fingers following your spine. At the touch, you moved forward, closing the distance between your bodies. “What if me being Mand’alor makes you decide to -”

“Then we figure it out as it happens.” Leaning in, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his mouth and then to his jaw, taking a breath. “We won’t know until we try, right?” 

It was different for you, despite the relationship between you and Din being so new and untested. You trusted him, and even though taking the leap of uprooting yourself from your life had seemed unthinkable only a few months earlier with James, it didn’t feel that way with Din. And it never has, even in the beginning. 

“This is The Way.” His voice dropped again, Din nodding as he inched closer. Whatever that means … yeah. I guess it is. 

You kissed him again then, the weight of Din’s upper body pressing against yours as he urged you onto your back, his hand trapped between you and the mattress, the fingers of one of yours tangled in his hair. There was hope in his kiss, a lightness that hadn’t been there only moments earlier. When you broke apart, Din kept his eyes on you, the set of his lips going from a slight smile to his signature smirk. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“I was right.” Questioning him silently with a frown and a few quick blinks, you waited. “You just needed the right person. Maybe next time we can try something different and a little less… lubricated.” It took you a second, but when you realized that he was changing the subject and talking about the condoms - and your body’s reaction to him, you laughed, eyes squeezing shut and your hand tugging his hair harder than necessary. 

“It’s Christmas, Din. Are you trying to get on the naughty list? I hear there’s no presents that way.” He laughed, too, but didn’t answer until you were both settled again, the laughter subsiding. 

“I already got my present.” So did I. He paused. “And I was just making an observation.” He arched a brow. “Hopefully I can make it a habit.” 

“I’d like that.” A lot. “And if you don’t want to, you don’t have to come with me tomorrow, Din. It’s not like they’re expecting you, so -”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m not going to let you explain all of this on your own.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not who I am.” He didn’t need you to agree, and so you didn’t, instead mouthing the words “good night” to the man and then closing your eyes, your arm slung around his upper body and his around the lower portion of yours. 

You wouldn’t get much sleep that night, but you didn’t care. And I don’t think he does, either. You also knew that in the light of day, everything that had happened in the previous 36 hours would catch up to you - and it would be a lot. But I won’t change my mind. Not before either of us knows what being in Mandalore together will be like. 

“Hey.” You were almost asleep when he interrupted your thoughts, his voice tinged with fatigue. “After your parents’... I know you need to pack, but …” He sighed, the end of it turning into a yawn. “Will you come over to my place and give Grogu his present?” 

“He’ll need something to keep him occupied on the plane.” You smiled at the thought, nodding, though you didn’t open your eyes. “Yes. I’ll come over.” He hummed in agreement, and a few seconds later, you did open your eyes, saying his name. I forgot until … “And that way, I can watch you open yours, too.” 

—  

Sheber olar = sit here 

Nayc = no 

Bat ner ijaat = on my honor

Gar’re mesh’la = you’re beautiful 

Ni rejorhaa'ir te haat = I tell the truth

Ner yatne wero = my ‘best’ problem (my favorite problem)

--- 

tag list reblog coming soon ! 

[nerdieforpedro]

Finally Away

Chapter 2 of “This is the Neighborhood Din” Series

Din Djarin (Modern AU) x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 3k

Warnings: Divorce, domestic violence (both referenced and actual), burns, scratches, blood, stalking, description of injuries, self-esteem issues, matchmaking?, domestic fluff, soft moments and hugs

Summary: Sierra has arrived to her aunt's home and meets their new neighbors Din and little Grogu. She didn't plan on her ex-husband showing up before her long drive - that man decided to ensure she had his disgusting marks on her arms.

Notes: In this chapter there is domestic violence and descriptions of Sierra's injuries as well as past incidents with her ex-husband. Likely will be mentioned again but not with injuries. There's also a burn mentioned as well that Sierra caused.

Special thanks to @pedroshotwifey for beta reading and @julesonrecord for having these resources in their Cherry Wine fic. It’s an excellent read, just make sure to review the warnings as it is marked DDNE.

I would have posted this earlier but I didn’t get a notification about the poll results. 😭 My bad.

Domestic Violence resources (In case you or someone you know need them):

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Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist/ This is the Neighborhood Din Series

The drive from Maryland to New York State hasn’t been that bad, just so long. Nearly seven hours. Sierra had planned to leave earlier than she did. It was her last day in her apartment, she was going to leave the keys since all her belongings she planned to take were already in her car. It had been six months since the divorce was final but a year and a half that she had lived apart from Darius.

Sierra knew he hadn’t cared about her, at least the last few years of their marriage, not after those beatings started. She didn’t stay because she loved him, falling out of love with him was at the first punch. She’d been confused at first, he’d never been violent before, always kind. But when Sierra thought on it after the second bloody nose, she wondered if this was happening because something was wrong with her. When he hit her and this time, kept hitting her in her stomach after that last time he came home, she let him sleep and then poured boiled hot grits on him. She’d already looked into getting an apartment by herself and was going to stay with a friend for a week until it was ready. Darius never did press charges against her or told anyone how he got those burns on his abdomen and chest, Sierra assumed that he was embarrassed that his wife who he had been beating got one over on him. After she left, she needed to try and figure out what was next and who to turn to for help.

Thankfully, her aunt Johnnie Mae was more than willing to take her in after she’d been able to save some money by living in that cheap apartment. It almost made the hour long commute to the middle school she taught at worth it. Saving money was her priority so she would have some money to give her Aunt for letting her stay with her outside of New York City. The plan was working, she was able to get rid of clothes and stuff she didn’t absolutely need. That way, everything would fit in her small blue Nissan. Her aunt had said that she didn’t need to offer her any money, let alone rent while she stayed with her but that’s not how she was raised. Before they passed, Sierra’s parents stressed being responsible, paying your debts and taking care of yourself. She’s failed at that last one.

That morning, all she had to do was get up use the bathroom before leaving and leave. That was all the science teacher had planned. She even had a new job set up at a middle school substitute teaching next week. She was open to picking up a part time job until she could get a full time one as keeping a work history going and money coming is was more important than ever.

The barrier to her leaving on time was Darius himself. He sat outside of her small blue car waiting for her. Darius was a few inches taller than Sierra but slender and full of mean streaks. One would think a so called ‘short king’ as he often called himself would be a bit nicer to anyone, let alone his wife but no. The bastard beat Sierra, leaving bruises, cuts and made sure never to break or sprain anything enough to need an urgent care or hospital visit. He left to be with his mistress a month after Sierra burnt him with hot grits as he lay sleep in bed.

The divorce as far as property went was split down the middle, even though the end of their relationship was anything but amicable. Sierra hadn’t see him since the divorce decree was handed down in court, but now he sits here blocking her path away from him finally, no longer tied to him.

“What do you want?” The venom in her voice is clear as he moves toward her.

“Just wanted to see you off. I mean, we had something special for a while there you know.” He attempted to touch her face and she smacked his hand away. Darius grabbed it and her other hand as she struggled against him. “You always fought me on everything after becoming a full time teacher. Being full of yourself. Now you’re going to be fat, broke and alone. You thought it was hard to get married before? No man’s going to be looking for you!”

“This is what you came here for Darius?! Just to try and intimidate me?” Sierra pushed forward, making his legs hit the bumper of a sedan parked next to her, he fell back, but grabbed her forearms hard, digging his fingers into them. She yelled and tried to shake him off but he dug deeper. “You’re a sad bastard who left me for a woman who’s now left you for an old rich man. She’s riding his dick somewhere in Italy!” Her knee connected with his crotch and his grip loosened. Sierra was able to wiggle free and run toward the driver’s side of her car, quickly getting in. She started driving only checking her arms when she finally stopped at a McDonald’s.

Her caramel skin was a deep red, nearly purple with blood as he broke the skin on both arms. She made a stop at a CVS and got some bandages to clean and wrap her arms before continuing on her drive. After a few more hours she stopped crying and determined that he wasn’t worth it, he hadn’t been for quite some time. Just be glad you’re no longer tied to him. If he shows up again, I can use a brick on him or whatever I have nearby. Maybe I need to carry one of those switchblades. As she crossed over from Pennsylvania to New York, she wondered how she’d hide the bandages from her Aunt. She hadn’t shared the full story with her, only that he’d become distant, they would get in shouting matches and the cheating. Sierra hadn’t told her about the physical abuse. She didn’t know how to explain why it went on for so long. She barely wanted to tell the one friend she felt safe enough to move in with for that week. Thankfully she didn’t judge her, just supported Sierra. She was eternally grateful for that.

Pulling up to her aunt’s home she was completely unprepared for the man she saw. The opposite of her ex-husband was sitting on her aunt’s porch. Putting his shirt back on. No one said he had to. Sierra thought, her aunt let go of her and pinched her shoulder.

“You’ll burn a hole into the man if you keep staring at him like that.” Ms. Harris teased.

“How could I not look at him? Who is he?” Sierra inquired. She grabbed her purse from the car and walked over with her aunt to the porch.

Din started to get a bit cold after finishing his glass of water and stood to slip his shirt back on. He still felt her eyes on him and turned to see Ms. Harris walking to the house with a caramel beauty who’s calling his new neighbor ‘auntie.’ Maybe she was just here visiting, his eyes cut to her car before focusing back on her as they drew closer to the porch. She’s staying for a little while at least, I’m not in the market for just a short time though.

As she made her way up the stairs, her black shorts bunched between her thighs. In an effort not to stare, his eyes scanned her legs which were thick and jiggled along with the rolls of her belly that it appeared like she was trig to hide under her large purple t-shirt. She was wearing a black sweatshirt which he suspected her would find equally soft arms covered by the fabric. Her face appeared tired, he assumed from the long drive, but there seemed to be a remnant of sadness in her honey eyes with some redness in her cheeks. Her hair was in tight pun with a matching purple scarf tied at the top of her head. It wasn’t a handshake she offered but a small wave and Din couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin and chuckle.

“H-Hi. I’m Sierra, nice to meet you. Seems you’ve met my Aunt Mae already.” Though clearly nervous, her voice had a dulcet tone to it that had Din exhale to keep from clearing his throat to make it too obvious. He raised his hand and returned her small wave, stepping forward to close the distance. He looked down at her, keeping his grin.

“I’m Din. Your aunt, Ms. Harris has been so welcoming to me and my son Grogu. It’s our first day here. Pleasure to meet you Sierra.”

He is taller and broader up close and his hands are….this man appears to be massive in every sense. Even his voice feels like it’s wrapping around me. Am I okay? My shorts are halfway in my crotch and I know my eyes are puffy and red along with my entire face. This is one of the days, I wish I had more melanin so everything from earlier in the day wouldn’t be on my damn face.

“Well dear, you mind helping me make some dinner while Din keeps an eye on the kids? You missed lunch.” Ms. Harris elbows Sierra in the side and she winces as her aunt’s arm grazes her forearm.

“Sure, lead the way. Um, are you staying for dinner Din?” Sierra asked and Din nodded with Johnnie Mae adding that of course he was, he bought her groceries as a thank you for watching little Grogu for a few hours.

“I really do appreciate it Ms. Harris. I was able to get a lot done in the house so we’ll be set for our first night in the house. The kids we be fine until dinner’s ready.” Rolling his shoulders back, he puts his hands in his pockets and his grin becomes a smile. Sierra’s lips part slightly but no sound comes out, she really hopes nothing came out. It didn’t but her aunt is ever watchful of their interaction and leads her niece into the kitchen. Din turns to the side to watch Sierra walk away, paying special attention to her wide hips and plump backside. I think I should find out how long she’ll be here. If she needs to leave, maybe I can convince her to come back through and visit. Such thoughts were distracting Din from the children and he heard a cry. Delia was sitting in the grass giving a dirty look to both Grogu and Quinton. “Well, I am a man of my word. Let me see what’s going on.” As he made his way down the stairs, Johnnie Mae peeped at the door to Mae sure Din was out of earshot.

“Tell me what you think, I mean I was going to set you up with that boy Leon because he seemed nice, but Din is a grown man. Good and grown man dear. I don’t see a ring and-“

“It’s too soon I can’t even think about that right now. Especially today, I look an entire mess.” And that rat bastard fucked up my arms. Even if my arms were fine, I’m not even wearing my cute leggings. Damn.

“I didn’t ask you all that girl.” Johnnie Mae got out a pot and threw in some chicken broth followed two bags of vegetable medleys complete with carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. “I asked you what you thought. I understand you might not feel like you’re ready. Doesn’t mean you can look.”

Sighing, Sierra washed her hands, got the chicken out of the fridge and started seasoning it before plopping it in a frying pan to cook in some butter. “He’s the complete opposite of my ex-husband. Which is entirely welcome. I just don’t know if I can….” Johnnie Mae hip bumped her niece as an indication of getting a non-answer. Sierra sighed again, “I’d climb him like a tree auntie. I’m not ready, but if I was at all. He would be the first choice.”

“Just need to know your tastes have changed. No more assholes Sierra.” Johnnie Mae laughed and so did Sierra, shaking her head. On that she agreed. The pair finished up dinner making homemade chicken noddle soup. Something that everyone ate two bowels of. Din and Grogu ate three. Delia and Quinton were picked up by their parents when the sun started setting around five in the evening. They thanked Ms. Harris and hugged her before introducing themselves to Din. They suggested that Ms. Harris could watch little Grogu before and after school. That way Grogu could play with Delia and Quinton as they likely were going to go to the same elementary school. The family departed leaving Din, Grogu, Johnnie Mae and Sierra.

Din suggested he could wash the dishes and Sierra rejected his help because he was a guest. Technically she was too, but she’d be living here. It was decided that he would wash and she would dry.

Grogu found a comfy spot on the couch as Ms. Harris sat next to him. “Little G, we’re going to watch a classic me and you. Look at this.” She turned on ‘Winnie the Pooh.’ Ms. Harris started singing along and Grogu joined in, bobbing their heads side to side.

Din’s hands were covered in soapy water, scrubbing the dishes before rising them and handing them to Sierra to dry. They chatted about the merits of Pooh and Piglet’s adventures. They laughed that before the episode was over, both Ms. Harris and Grogu were asleep on the couch and arm wrapped around each other. Din snapped a few pictures with his phone. Sierra hesitated, but asked if he could send her the pictures he took. Din was going to suggest that she take her own, but understood that she was asking for his number without saying it. Trying to be subtle. That’s cute of her. He agreed and send her the pictures, the small smile on her face felt like a part of a curtain had been pulled back.

Back at the sink, dishes slowly made their way into the cabinets. Sierra’s sleeves were getting wet and it made her arms itchy so she pulled them up, and reached for the plate Din was handing and she took the plate. She started drying and looked down at her forearms, some blood had soaked through. Panic set in for the second time today, though not from fear of her safety. Instead it was that the easy laughter would stop, there was nothing funny about her arms or what had made them that way. Din stopped washing and wiped his wet hands on his pants.

“You don’t have to tell me how it happened. Just…are you safe Sierra? Is the person who did that after you?” Keeping his voice flat was the only way not to yell, he shouldn’t yell at her. It would be misdirected. It looked like they were fresh maybe even today. She looked up at him and the brightness was gone from them, only panic. Is that why she came here? How fall far had she driven? She did seem to have a lot of stuff in her car.

“No. Thankfully I’ll never see him again. He has no reason to find me. That ended six months ago. I’m…” Closing her eyes, she swallowed the saliva building in her throat. “Divorced. Six months ago. He was…just the worst. Could you just…”

“I’m not going to act like I didn’t see them. If don’t want me to say anything it’s not mine to tell. But does she know?” His eyes shift over to the couch before refocusing on her. He’d rather know this bastard’s name, just in case but she didn’t say it and now isn’t the time to press. He hesitated, but placed a hand between her shoulder blades. Sierra flinched but when Din began to pull his arm back she turned and reached for his hand.

“Please don’t do that. I’m not fragile. I know you’re not going to do anything I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have touched-“

“Then you don’t say sorry either.” Sighing, she looked down at his hand and held it as to shake it. “Let’s start over. Please Din and I’ll tell her. I kinda have to with these.” A weak smile matched a soft chuckle. He missed the smile he’d seen when he sent her pictures a few minutes ago. Shaking her hand, he nodded.

“I won’t apologize then, but I disagree, you are fragile. It’s a fact for now. You won’t always be, but it’s okay.” He didn’t release her hand. “Is it alright if I hug you and then take a look at your arms? You have more bandages?” Sierra nods and doesn’t speak, she folds her arms around Din’s torso. His hands returned to her back, rubbing it slowly and started stepping side to side, rocking her. Short whimpers came from her, quieting as the pair swayed.

“I have more in the car, but I can take care of that. Just a little more. A little while longer.” Sierra was conflicted in asking him to continue to hold her, but she didn’t want to let go. She felt it was selfish to ask this of him upon just meeting him today. He just moved in with his son no less. That’s plenty on his plate.

Din didn’t answer her. He didn’t release her either. They continued to remain in each other’s arms as Johnnie Mae peered over her shoulder from the couch. Now truly aware of why her niece has said she’s not ready, she wouldn’t push Sierra.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed in the kitchen embracing but Sierra let go first citing that Din should get little Grogu home, thanking him. He told her it wasn’t an issue and told her he was going to bring in her bags before leaving. She blinked and Ms. Harris told him the keys were near the door. The older woman shot a look at Sierra warning her to stay put. After bringing them in, Din said goodnight and scooped up Grogu taking him home.

A pivotal first impression had been made.

Chapter One. Chapter Three

Space Buddies: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl

@harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty

@bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse @littlemisspascal

[noramsblog]

⭐👨‍👨‍👦‼

[bon-sides-sw]

Grogu's favorite teacher, he really wishes to see him more often!

[nothing-but-flowers88]

Ok headcanon I take as fact is that any modern Star Wars au, Luke skywalker can do mind blowing magic card tricks and fuckin no one can figure out how. Like he has you pick a card, makes it disappear, then says you’ll find it later. Everyone thinks it’s bullshit at first but then they find the card in their shoe like ????

Boba: how the fuck did he do that??

Din: I have no idea…

Boba:….. you think it’s hot don’t you?

Din: what?? No

Boba: you wanna kiss the magic man huh?

Din: oh my god-

Fennec: magicians aren’t hot, mando

Din: I never said they were!!

[604to647]

Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑

Ch. 15 (The BBQ) 🚑

Ch. 16 (The Match-up) 🚑

Ch. 17 (The Preparations) 🚑

Ch. 18 (The Threat) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹 Inspo

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal) 🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 1)❤️‍🩹

Ch. 21 (The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)🚑 ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 22 (The Long Road to Forgiveness) 🚑 vibes

The Epilogue new!

Art new!

Dog walk (@kenobiwanx commission 🙏🏻)

Bedtime (@pinkiemme Ch. 11A commission 🥹) 🚑

101 Dalmations Inspired new! (@dazzlingjedi Epilogue commission 😍)

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline; as the chapters get written, I’ll note where they fit in. For now, consider the below to all be set when Din and Reader are in an established relationship (hence the smut 😂).

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10) (Link to the Lingerie set)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12) Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🚑

Birthday Bunny 🚑 (HBD P! 🥳)

Gouda Girl (Happy Pedro Hours Challenge)

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Young boxer Din inspo

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

[ediehhil]

modern dinluke au and very jealous dad Anakin :3

upd: I changed the dialogs bcs the original ones were so cringe :D I have big problems with written english, but my friend helped me hehe

part 2

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Din and Gregorio “Grogu” Djarin

Finally getting around to a Mandalorian Modern AU 💚🩶

Thanks to @anniet852 for the suggestion of a rhino for Grogu and @seleneisrising for suggesting something classic Star Wars which I incorporated on Din’s tee (it’s a modern AU; I figured they can still have Star Wars as a movie franchise 😉). ( @desertbeskar I loved the triceratops suggestion and I totally believe modern!Grogu is a dinosaur kid)

(The irony for Din here is that he hasn’t even seen Star Wars. His workmate Cara gave him the shirt as a gift and a ploy to get him to actually watch the movie that literally everyone’s seen when they were babies but he keeps just not getting around to it and continues uneducated)

(Process and alternate colourings (because I couldn’t get happy with that building in the background) under the cut)

I’ve got a bunch of ideas for this AU.

I’m thinking Din could be a paramedic and his “quarries” translate to calls he responds to. Cara is either his partner or an officer (I can’t decide) and Paz is a firefighter; they often meet on jobs. Greef is his boss, of course, and Peli is his landlady who’s got a soft spot for him and is always down to babysit the adorable toddler he rescued on the job and somehow ended up adopting. Kuiil, IG, Cobb, Boba, Fennec, Ahsoka, etc. are all either his neighbours or friends/workmates.

[netherfeildren]

🎄✨Read Here ✨🎄

edit by the lovely and gorgeous @f0rlornmyths ❣️

[something-tofightfor]

Competing For Christmas 10: Last Christmas

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,170

Rating: E - but not all the way through. 

Summary: 

Making plans for the future means telling the people you care about what’s going on ... how will they take it? Mandalorian traditions are new to you, but that doesn’t mean that there’s no place for them alongside your own holiday celebrations.

Author’s notes:

I’ll keep it simple here - this is it. This story has come to an end, and I’m so happy with what I’ve written and the story I’ve told for these two. Thank you for giving this version of Din a chance, and for sticking around throughout the whole thing.  More gratitude at the end if you want to read it - I’ll let you get to reading now. 

** Mando’a translation at the end of the chapter. **

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open!

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Masterlist  / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5.1 / Part 5.2 / Din’s POV Interlude / Part 6.1 / Part 6.2 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 

You were more nervous than you wanted to admit as the two of you stepped toward your parents’ front door the following morning. 

It wasn’t because you were unsure of Din. It was because you knew that no matter how much trust your family had in you to do what was best for yourself, what you were about to tell them you had planned was not going to be what they wanted to hear. And I get it, but … 

“You alright?” Din’s fingers were laced with yours, the man squeezing your hand tightly as he spoke. “You just got really stiff, and -”

“I’ll be ok. It’s just going to be a lot for them to take in, and …” You sighed. “And it’ll probably be a lot of questions for you.” 

“I can handle it.” He leaned over, kissing the side of your head. “Believe it or not, I’m a pro at diffusing difficult situations when I’ve got the proper motivation.” You believed him, and even though you were still worried, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to face the truth alone. 

Raising your free hand, you settled it on the doorknob, taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing, Din.” 

— 

The first half of the day went well, and your family seemed to love the man. 

After explaining that his presence was a last minute decision thanks to a change of his original plans, he’d joined in on the festivities.

Din participated in the white elephant game with one of the extra gifts your mother always bought and wrapped, and himself into conversations as often as he could, charming your father with endless pictures of Grogu. He sat back and watched as the three of you exchanged gifts, and the smile didn’t leave his face the entire time, even though you could see that the situation made him a little uneasy. Is it because he isn’t participating, or because he sees … that this is so important to us? 

You didn’t know - and planned on asking as soon as you could. But it would need to wait, because as the day want on, things shifted - and your parents increased their focus on getting to know the man sitting beside you.

They asked him a few questions but nothing too personal, even though you knew that they wanted to. And to his credit, Din answered each one candidly, explaining that he’d grown up not knowing his parents and under the care of Mandalore’s foster system, that he’d been in school until his mid 20’s, participated in military training, and had only decided to experience what life was like in Mistletoe much later on, once he’d taken care of most of his immediate responsibilities. 

He told the truth but not the entire truth each time he spoke, since you’d decided that you weren’t going to say anything about leaving until after dinner.  That way … if they get upset, I won’t have ruined the whole holiday. 

The doorbell rang later that afternoon while the four of you were sitting around and watching a movie, and Din’s eyes immediately went to it. You calmed him with one hand on his arm, leaning over to let him know what was going on. “Just my aunt and uncle. They always stop over on their way home from his sister’s.” He nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders. 

When Din turned his head to speak quietly into your ear, you felt goosebumps rise on your arms, the warmth of his breath on your skin making you shiver. “So will they be here when … we tell them?” Yeah. You nodded, lips pressed together. I hope that’s ok. “Alright.” 

“She’s the one that asked where you were last night.” You nudged him, smiling. “Wondered why I didn’t bring you, so I’m sure she’s going to be -”

“Oh, so he is here.” Your aunt Carol stepped into the room, busy unwinding her scarf from around her neck. “Jess, come meet the new guy.” You rolled your eyes, sighing. He’s got to know that’s not how I introduced him. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” She stepped closer and Din pushed to his feet, extending his hand and nodding as he took hers - and then her husband’s, introducing himself. “Din. That’s an unusual name. Is it short for something?”

“It isn’t.” He smiled, shrugging. “Where I’m from, we usually take on a name from our family’s history, as a way to honor the past. Din’s … well, I don’t really know the whole story behind it, but it -” He was flustered and so you interjected, reaching up to tug on his hand and urge him to sit down next to you. 

“Aunt Carol’s nosy but she means well, I promise.” The woman scoffed, sinking onto the loveseat without looking away from the two of you. “I’m going to go and get a drink, does anyone need anything?” Din raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “Is it time?” 

“I think it is.” He stood again, extending his hand and helping you to your feet before turning to face the rest of your family. “We brought a traditional Mandalorian drink for everyone to try, if you’d like.” 

“Is it alcohol?” Carol leaned forward, her smile widening. “Because I love trying new -”

“It is.” He smiled, nodding once. “We’ll get it ready and then bring it out to all of you.” Your parents agreed, too, shooing you out of the room. So they can talk about him, I’m sure. When you and Din were alone in the kitchen, you took a few seconds to compose yourself, gripping the edge of the counter and taking a deep breath as you leaned over the sink. “We can still wait to tell them,” he started, stepping close and settling a hand on your back. “I know what you said last night, but -”

“Din, I’m leaving in like 48 hours. They need to know.” You looked up at him, giving him a tight smile. “Their reaction won’t change my mind about going with you, but I’m … I’m worried they won’t support it entirely, and -” And I’d like them to.

“Oh, they won’t.” He laughed quietly, heading for the refrigerator. “What parents would? We weren’t close until a few weeks ago, and now you’re just … leaving to go across an ocean with me?” He uncorked the jug as you reached for glasses and set them on the counter, eyeing Din as he lifted the neck to his nose and inhaled. “This is a good batch.” He sighed. “I’d expect nothing less from Boba, though.” 

“I’m excited to try it. Can you tell me what to expect?” It was changing the subject, but that was fine with you. I don’t want to think about the fact that before Thanksgiving, we didn’t even really know each other

“About that.” He wet his lips, pouring two fingers of the drink into a glass and setting the bottle down. “It’s tradition for …” He sighed. “This is kind of strange so please forgive me.” Din reached for the glass and picked it up, turning to face you. “It’s tradition for Mandalorians to share spotchka when they’re …” He paused. “Courting.” 

“Mandalorians or the Mand’alor?” Because if it’s all Mandalorians, that’s one thing … but if it’s just royalty … Swallowing hard, you chewed on your lower lip. “Because -”

“The Mand’alor. And I know I’m not that yet, but I’d… I’d like to do this right …with you.” Oh, Din. He’d told you that he couldn’t offer you anything concrete, and yet he was willing to participate in a sacred tradition with you - and that meant a lot. He’s got to know it. He has to realize it, especially if I do. 

“Ok.” You nodded. “Ok, so how do we…” You trailed off as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before holding the remaining liquid out to you. You took it and did the same, keeping your gaze on him. 3 … 2 … 1…. 

You didn’t know what to expect, but the spotchka was sweet as you first sipped it, your eyes widening at the taste. Oh, that’s not … that’s not bad. Taking a larger drink, you smiled with a full mouth, raising an eyebrow before you swallowed, setting the glass down on the countertop. Din’s grin grew, the man reaching out with one hand to swipe his thumb over your lower lip, his eyes bright. “Did you like it?” Ok, we’re definitely going to have to talk about this later. I need him to understand how much it meant to me.  

“I did.” You looked at the jug. “It wasn’t what I expected, though. Is it … is it supposed to be salty? It’s sweet, too, but there’s a little bit of -”

“It is.”  He busied himself with rinsing the glass you’d used and re-corking the bottle. “It’s brewed with seawater, which adds the brine, but there’s also fruit in the mix.” He waited until you’d put the glasses onto a tray to continue as you walked back toward where your family was. “Each batch is a little different, depending on when and where it’s made, but it’s the same general taste.” 

You set the tray down on the table and Din did the same with the bottle. Everyone leaned forward, ooh-ing at the color of the bright blue liquid, but it was your mother that spoke first, keeping her eyes on Din as he poured. “Are we celebrating something? This feels like we’re celebrating something, and I don’t mean Christmas.” 

Din didn’t falter in his movement, finishing the pour and beginning to hand the glasses out, one at a time. But you weren’t as easily able to hide your reaction, a slight frown crossing your father’s features at your brief wince. “We are.” You took a deep breath as you accepted the second to last glass from Din, glancing over at the man before you looked at your parents. “We -”

“Are you pregnant?” Your aunt spoke first, narrowing her eyes. “No, that’s not it, you’re drinking today, and you drank last night, so -” 

“I’m not pregnant. I promise.” Laughing, you held up the glass and looked around the room. “It’s nothing like that, but …” With another look at Din - the man nodding so quickly you almost missed it - you continued. “We’re celebrating Christmas and … the fact that Din is going to be named as the Mand’alor next week when he goes home.” 

The room was silent - and then it wasn’t, your uncle cutting in as he leaned closer. “Can you repeat that?” 

“Drink first and then we will.” Din’s tone was steady, the man gesturing with his spotchka. “It’s better to drink it right after pouring.” 

“Merry Christmas, everyone.” There were murmurs of the same in return, and as all of you drained the small amount of liquid Din had poured, you mentally cursed yourself. That wasn’t slick. I could have done that better. I could have - 

“What’s a Mand…alore?” Your mother frowned, setting the empty glass down. “That was a very good drink, but… going home? That seems like -”

“The Mand’alor is my country’s version of a king or queen.” Din straightened his shoulders. “And your daughter is correct in saying that as of next week, my plans to formally fill the role will be announced.” He took a breath. “A good friend of mine currently holds the position, and he’s stepping down, so it’s my turn.” You reached over, squeezing his knee. “And that means that I’m headed back home in the next few days to make those plans.” 

“But the two of you are …” Your father leaned back in his chair, staring at Din. “How are you here right now if you’ve got such a responsibility?” 

“This - my time in Mistletoe - wasn’t ever going to be permanent.” Din set his glass down, shaking his head. “I was supposed to be here until later this year, and then go back, but … circumstances have changed, and I need to go back sooner. I came here to enjoy my last little bit of freedom before I take the title, and things … well, they didn’t go as planned.” Din lowered his head briefly and then raised it, making sure to make eye contact with each of your parents in turn. “Your daughter asking me to be her partner for this competition wasn’t part of my plan, but now … now it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” 

He wasn’t lying - you knew that he wouldn’t dare, and you inhaled sharply at his words, your fingers tightening against his knee, even as your mother leaned forward, opening her mouth to speak. One of the best things? But it’s only been a few weeks, it … “So you’re just going to… what? Have your fun here and then leave? The two of you seem very close. My daughter isn’t just going to -”

“Mom.” You glanced up at the ceiling, sighing. “Din and I are close. We’ve worked together since he got here, but we only really got to know each other after James and I broke up. We’re still… in the process, but, yeah. He’s leaving. And I’m …” Din’s hand covered yours, the man silently letting you know that he was there. “I’m going with him.” 

The room was silent, four pairs of eyes focused on you and Din, and for the first time, you felt true fear as you waited to see what they’d say. They have to understand, at least somewhat. They have to know that this isn’t just a crazy decision. 

“When are you leaving?” Your mother spoke first, the fingers of one hand twisting the end of her sweater’s sleeve. “If he’s announcing so soon, then it has to be before he does, right? What about your job?” 

“My plan is to leave the morning of the 27th.” Din cleared his throat, meeting the woman’s gaze straight on. “There are some … things that have come up that make it necessary for me to go back as soon as possible. There’s a plane on the way here for me right now.” 

“That man… the one that came up to you at the carnival the other night.” Your aunt took a breath, letting it out in a slow sigh. “Was that -”

“It was. That’s the current Mand’alor and my closest friend. He came here to bring me home, but I couldn’t … I couldn’t go without being honest with her.” Din reached for your hand, his head turning enough that he could look at you. “I care about your daughter. But I want to show her where I’m from before we make any long term decisions.” Your father stayed silent, his arms crossed, and you had no idea what to say in response. Something. Anything. 

“I’m leaving with Din and then I’ll be home in time to go back to work on the 5th.” You circled your thumb over Din’s knuckle, the warmth of his skin calming. “And then … then we might have some things to talk about.” It was the easiest way to explain things to them - telling them that you were going but the first trip was going to be a short one, that you were definitely coming back, that that day wouldn’t be the last time they saw you for the foreseeable future. “Besides, I haven’t been on vacation in a long time, and going somewhere for New Year’s Eve will be nice.” 

“Well I’m happy for you.” Carol held up a hand, her smile widening. “It sounds like fun. And congratulations, Din, on the new title. It sounds like -”

“Can I talk to you?” Your mother stood, pointing toward the kitchen. “Alone?” With a deep sigh, you agreed, standing. Din gave your hand one final squeeze and then dropped it, clearing his throat. 

You heard him begin to tell your family members more about Mandalore and himself as you and the woman excused yourself into the other room. It was apparent that she was fighting back emotions as you made your way to the small table, but you had no idea what she was going to say - or how you’d reply. 

She sat first, clasping her hands together and staring at them, and when she finally spoke, you were shocked to hear how incredulous she sounded, her tone sharper than you remembered her ever using with you before. “You’re telling us on Christmas that this man, this coworker of yours is actually next in line to become the king of a country that no one’s ever heard of?”

It was difficult to keep your voice even, but your desire to make her understand outweighed the part of you that wanted to lash out. “Yeah, mom. He was here for the last little bit of time he’ll have to himself before he takes over for Boba. He decided to leave Mandalore and see what else was out there, and… he ended up here.”

“And you knew this? But you didn’t say anything earlier? Why? Why didn’t you tell us?” She blinked a few times, her eyes filled with tears when she met yours. “Why did you lie?” It hurt that she thought you’d been lying to her, but the truth was probably going to hurt more. Because it’s unbelievable. 

“No. I didn’t know.” You covered your face with your hands. “Mom, I had no idea about any of this until the night of the snowman event. I just thought he was some guy that moved here. When he finally told me, I didn’t … I didn’t believe it either. But then I looked into it, and it’s all true. I met Boba and Din explained more about Mandalore and his position. It’s all happening fast, and I know it. But it feels right. It feels … good.” 

“You just broke up with James what, two months ago?” She scoffed. “And now you’re already getting ready to leave with some man you barely know? Didn’t you say that you wouldn’t have moved from Mistletoe with James? So why now? Why with Din?” 

She was making valid points, and even though hearing them stung, you stayed strong, flattening both hands on the table.

“Because James wanted me to move without any certainty for the future. He said he wasn’t ready to marry me or plan a life with me, but I needed to be ready to move as soon as he found an opportunity.” You rolled your eyes. “Din offered me a choice. He asked me to go with him. And he was honest about the fact that it might not work out after I see what being with him means after he takes over.” You reached out, touching the back of one of her hands. “I know it’s fast, and I know you probably think I’m an idiot. Maybe I am. But I wouldn’t have agreed to go if I didn’t … if I didn’t think that we …” 

You didn’t know exactly what to say - or even how to articulate what you were feeling. If I say that I think I love him, she’ll lose it.  “You own a house. You have a good job. Your friends and family and life are here. Are you just going to leave all that for him? You’ve known this man for less than a year, and have been … are you even dating? You’ve been dating him for less than two months, and… where is Mandalore? I’ve never even heard of it.” 

“We’re not at that point yet. I’m just going to visit for a week. No one’s talking about me quitting or selling a house or leaving for good.” Yet. There was a lump in your throat, but you cleared it away, swallowing. “I don’t care what his title is. He’s a good guy, Mom. Smart. Funny. Nice. And this isn’t an ideal situation because of timing, but if I just let him go and pretend like I don’t care, or it doesn’t bother me? I’ll regret it.” Your eyes filled with tears and you brought the back of the hand that wasn’t holding hers up to press it against your lips, biting down on one knuckle. “I wouldn’t ever forgive myself for letting him walk away.” 

“Then don’t.” She pulled her hand from yours and flattened both of them on the tabletop, letting out a deep sigh. “If that’s really how you feel, you can’t ignore it. You’ve seemed … happier since the competition started, and if you care about him as much as it seems like you do, then…” She tilted her head back and swore, her eyes on the ceiling. “Then we can’t stop you. All I can do is tell you to be realistic about the way this might work out.” 

“I know.” You felt relief - and at the sound of laughter from the other room, your eyebrows rose, your gaze drifting from your mother and to the doorway. Well that sounds promising. You’d thought that your father would be the one that Din had to work hard to win over, but you’d been wrong. It’ll be fine. “He’s a great guy, Mom. You should see him with Grogu.” 

“Well maybe sometime I will.” She stood, staring at you before she placed both hands on her hips. “If he comes back.” He will. He has to. He’ll have to pack. But you didn’t say anything else, instead giving her a smile and a nod. 

“Thank you for understanding.” Biting your lower lip, you pointed at the doorway. “Want to go back in there?” 

— 

You stayed at your parents’ for another hour and a half, the six of you talking in the living room for almost the whole time. Din filled your relatives in on the proper protocol in case anyone asked questions about you, telling them to use their best judgment about what they revealed. It might not even come to that, though. If Bo-Katan is going to try and make me look bad, she could talk to James, and… 

There would be a difficult adjustment period ahead for everyone involved, even if you and Din decided that continuing things between you wasn’t the right call. And we’ll deal with it as it comes. That’s all we can do. 

Din sat in the passenger seat as you drove, the man’s elbow resting against the windowsill. “That went well.” He sighed. “Better than I expected it to, anyway.” 

“Really?” You stopped at a red light, turning your head to look at him. “My mom all but begged me not to go with you when she and I were in the kitchen because I don’t know you well enough to make that kind of decision.” He smiled, the dimple in his cheek deep. 

“How’d you convince her?” His other hand was on your knee,the man’s palm covering most of it. “Your dad was surprisingly … receptive to the idea of you coming with me, which isn’t what I thought would happen.” As you started driving again, the tires spinning briefly on the slushy street, you sighed out an agreement.

“I told her that I know that this isn’t a typical situation, but that if I let you go back to Mandalore without seeing what could happen with us, I’d regret it. And that even if it is a mistake because it doesn’t work out and I get hurt… it’s my mistake to make.” Dropping one hand to rest on top of his, you squeezed. “Our mistake to make.” 

“It’s not a mistake.” He spoke so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but it was impossible to ignore the way he flipped his hand over, linking your fingers together. “But I’d regret it, too.” 

Both of you were silent the final few minutes it took to get to his house - but Din didn’t let go of your hand until you were parked, headlights shining against the closed garage. “I can come in for a little while, Din, but I need to go home and pack. I have to figure out what to bring with me, and put a hold on my mail, and -” He nodded, reaching up to brush his fingertips over your chin. “There’s a lot to do and I know I have all day tomorrow, but I don’t want to forget anything.” 

“We do have stores in Mandalore.” He arched a brow. “Lots of them, actually.” He leaned in. “Some of them even sell clothes.” You laughed at that, the sound bursting out as you rolled your eyes. “But I get it.” Jerking his chin toward the house, Din wet his lips. “Let’s go inside. I’ve gotta let the womp rat out, and I’m going to need you to tell me what to do with that tree since we’re going to be gone and it’s going to die, so…” 

I didn’t even think of that. You got out of the car, locking it as the two of you headed for the front door. The sound of Grogu’s excited barks from inside made you grin, and the moment you stepped into the hallway, he made sure you knew how happy he was that you were back. 

Din let him out into the yard while you took your coat and shoes off, your fingertips trailing along the wall as you headed for the kitchen. “You’ll probably want to put the tree outside tomorrow, Din. Take the lights and ornaments off, and then set the tree out on the deck, unless you want to come back to it and have pine needles all over the floor.” Stopping next to the table, you eyed the shape of the tree, though it wasn’t plugged in. “I can help you tonight if you want, it won’t take long.” 

“We just put it up.” He stepped behind you, arms going around your upper body and pulling you back and against him. “Will it be alright if I just unplug it? I don’t mind cleaning up the needles, but taking it all apart now just seems … unnecessary.” 

“If you want.” Sighing, you closed your eyes and focused on the way his breathing felt, the rise and fall of his chest steady. “I just wanted to warn you since you’ve never had a tree before.” With a low hum, you turned in his arms to face him, one hand rising to touch his cheek. “Thank you for today. Thank you for going. Thank you for being so -” 

That was as far as you got, Din’s mouth meeting yours to silence you mid-sentence. You kissed him without hesitation, the hand at his cheek sliding back so that you could grip his hair. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it was familiar, the man’s lips closing around your lower one and drawing it between them, the tip of his tongue pressed against it before he backed off. 

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome.” He smiled, hands landing on your biceps and squeezing. “I’m going to go let him in, and then you can give him his present, ok? I moved both of them downstairs.” I’d like that. He gave you a final squeeze and then let go, stepping away and then toward the door. You followed, letting Din head to the sliding door as you looked for the wrapped presents.

They were sitting on a small table next to the couch, but before you picked them up, you switched the tree on, the tiny lights twinkling from between the branches. I wish I had more to give him, this seems… like nothing. At the sound of Grogu yipping, you turned your attention to the door. You watched as the dog ran inside, shaking his entire body to fling off lingering snowflakes. “Does it ever snow in Mandalore, Din?” Grinning, you pointed at his tiny body. “Because I think he’d mss it if it didn’t.” 

“Sometimes.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Nothing like this, though. You’d have to go a couple hours away from the bigger cities to find real snow, so maybe that’s what we’ll do next year.” Grogu sniffed at your legs, nudging into them a few times. “He does really seem to like it, though.” Wait a minute. 

“You said he saw snow last summer, though?” Din nodded as he turned away from you, taking the few steps toward the fireplace before he knelt down in front of it, beginning to prep logs inside. “So does that mean you didn’t go to -”

“I went back to Mandalore, but we weren’t at the palace the whole time. Boba has … I guess you could call it a summer place, but really, it’s just where he goes when he needs some time away. It’s probably where he’ll end up after he steps down, actually.” He crinkled up a few pieces of newspaper, stuffing them between the wood. “He and I - and Grogu - went last summer to have some privacy, and there were a couple inches of snow in a few places.” Makes sense. 

Din used a long lighter to ignite the paper, staying put while he made sure that the logs were going to catch. When he was satisfied, he stood and wiped his hands on his thighs, looking at you. “You did that fast. I’m impressed.” 

“One of my many skills.” He grinned. “Figured it would be nice to have it going even if you’re not staying long.” It was nice - the crackling flames paired with the lights and the hint of pine in the air reminded you of many previous holidays. But this one, I’m with … him. “Going to grab those?” He pointed at the gifts. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Shaking your head, you reached for the table, picking up Grogu’s present and then stacking Din’s atop it before you moved to sit on the couch - much like you had the first time you visited. “You didn’t seen too worried about him getting into anything at the street fair, so I just … grabbed a little of everything.” Din sat next to you, snapping his fingers to get the dog’s attention. But he didn’t call out to him, instead turning his head toward you and lifting a brow. Oh, he wants me to… “Grogu, come.”  

“K’olar.” Leaning over so that he could whisper it into your ear, you felt his lips move against your skin. “K’olar.” 

“K’olar, Grogu.” Heart pounding, you tried to pronounce the word the same way he did, and were rewarded with an immediate response, the dog closing the distance to you before he lowered himself into a sitting position by your feet - head cocked to the side and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Well aren’t you cute.” 

Your smile grew as you pulled the bow off of the colored plastic around the basket, the dog’s head tilted enough to follow the movement. His tail began to wag the second the contents became visible - and when he could smell them better. But he stayed put, tail thumping against the floor.

“You’re going to spoil him.” Din leaned forward, eyeing the basket. “Where did -” You took the ball out first, holding it up and letting Grogu sniff it before you set it on the table.

“Went to Peli’s store. She had everything there. But,” you continued as you dug deeper into the basket, fingers closing around the bag of jerky. “I got him stuff that she recommended. More of those frogs. Some jerky. A big bone.” You held that up, your smile growing as Grogu got to his feet, his excitement apparent as he shuffled back and forth in place. “It’s all honestly just snacks and one toy, but -” Grogu sniffed the bone, his tongue appearing as he licked it once. “Can I let him have it?” Din nodded and you held it out closer, Grogu’s mouth opening so that he could close his teeth around the treat. “There you go, pal.” 

You let go, eyes on him as he carried it across the room and plopped down in front of the tree, getting comfortable as he dug into what he’d just been given. “He’s very food motivated.” Din rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad he likes it.” The two of you watched the dog for a few seconds, but then you reached forward and began to repack the basket, lingering on the rounded surface of the sphere. “Will you have room to take all of his stuff with you? I didn’t know when you’d be leaving when I bought this, and -”

“Yes.” Din’s hand settled on your leg, his touch comforting. “Plenty of room. I could take everything in this house that wasn’t furniture, and I’d still have room on the plane.” He paused. “I probably should have told you that before. You can bring whatever you want with you, too. As much as you need.” Good to know. 

As the moment of truth drew closer, you realized that you were nervous for Din to open his gift. 

What you bought had felt right at the time, but the more you thought about it, the more you were unsure. He might not even want it.  “So.” Clearing your throat, you reached for Din’s present, using both hands to lift the box. “I didn’t want to do too much, because I didn’t want … I don’t know. I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying too hard, but …” Just do it. “Here. Merry Christmas, Din.” 

He took the box from your hands and set it atop his thighs, the tips of his fingers running over the silver paper. “Did you wrap this?” Murmuring a yes, you took a deep breath as you watched him undo the ribbon, carefully pulling it to the side. It was silver - like the paper - but there was an iridescent sheen to it that made it look darker, and you’d chosen it because it reminded you of his jacket. But if I tell him, that’ll be weird. 

“What is this?” He stared over at you, wide eyed after pulling the paper off and opening the box beneath it to reveal the filled stocking, his name embellished on the cuff of it in festive, plaid fabric. “This is…”

“It’s a Christmas tradition. Mostly for kids, but I thought that since you’ve never had one, this would…” He traced the stitched-on letters of his name, Din’s lips curving upward and into a smile. “I just hope you like it.” 

“I already do.” He set the box and lid aside and then dipped his fingers into the stocking, lifting the smaller wrapped box out first. “Should I open this now, or wait?” 

“That can be last.” Wetting your lips, you gestured with one hand. “Go ahead and look through the other stuff.” 

Over the next few minutes, Din worked through the contents of the stocking methodically. He took his time with each item, laughing at the novelty socks that were printed with the lights and exclaiming over the snacks and gift card, even as you rolled your eyes and said that it was kind of pointless since you’d be leaving so soon. 

“Maybe we can stop on the way to the airport.” He turned his head to look at you, reaching up to scratch the side of his head. “And it’ll be perfect when I come back to pack the rest of this place up.” 

“You’re coming back to do that?” It surprised you - you figured he’d have someone to come and do it, especially with the increased visibility of being named as Boba’s successor. “You’ll have the time?” 

Din sighed, opening the tin of mints and popping one into his mouth before he spoke again. “Yes to both.” He paused again, frowning as he stared at Grogu, who was still chewing diligently on the large bone. “I won’t be back here for long, but there’s … a process that I’ll follow after my name is announced. It’ll probably be six months before I’m … before I become Mand’alor, if not longer.” I didn’t realize that it would be that long. “I’ll be able to come back. I might have security with me, but …” He looked around the room. “I’ll get to come back to Mistletoe to finish a few things.” 

“OK.” Closing your eyes, you nodded. “Well, then I look forward to seeing you then.” He moved closer, one arm winding around you and urging you to lean against him. “Din? What -”

“We’ve got to use that weekend getaway, right?” Really? “We won that together, and we’re using it together. I’ve never been to a brewery like that, and -”

You threw your arms around him, Din reacting with a surprised oof, though he didn’t move much, his return hug tight as you lowered your face to rest it against the crook of his neck. That’s something to look forward to. “

You thought I wasn’t going to be here for that?” He scoffed as you separated, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t know. I figured you wouldn’t be able to. Even if you wanted to, I wasn’t sure … it would be possible.” 

“I’ll make it work.” He tilted his head to the right. “You’ll have to get used to having security, too. Probably as soon as your name is made public, actually.” What? “Just to be safe, especially with Bo-Katan as a variable, and…” That was something that you hadn’t considered, but it made sense. 

“Well if we can avoid that, I’d like to. I don’t know how well that will work out with work and …” You gestured to the room. “Life here, but if you think it’s necessary, I won’t fight you on it. I don’t think anybody here’s going to care, but you know more about this than I do.” His hand was slowly stroking up and down your arm, eyes focused on your face. For long moments, you just looked at each other, sitting in the silence of the cozy room. But he hasn’t opened his actual present. He needs to… “Din?” There was a quiet hum in reply, Din giving you a brief smile. “You still have a present to open.” 

“I do.” He didn’t move to reach for it, though. 

Instead, Din leaned forward, lips landing against the corner of your mouth and then moving in, pressing against yours and lingering. You wondered what was going on in his mind but didn’t dare to ask, because that would have meant breaking the kiss and leaning back. It would have meant ruining the moment and forcing him to explain - and you were content. Who wouldn’t be? 

You deepened the kiss then, the fingers of one hand curled against the back of his neck while the other gripped his thigh. Even though you couldn’t see it, you felt him smile as he parted his lips, the man just as eager as you. Good. That’s good. 

He withdrew first, nipping at your lower lip as he cleared his throat, and you couldn’t stop your quiet laugh, the sound changing to a contented hum as Din stared over at you. “What?” Reaching up, you touched your cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I have something to tell you before I open this.” He took a deep breath, nodding. “It’s nothing bad it’s just…” Din’s eyes slid away from you and went to Grogu, yours following. The dog had given up on the bone - lowering his head to rest his chin atop it, eyes closed as he snoozed with it protectively between his paws. “I know that I said that we’ll see what happens in Mandalore and that I can’t promise you anything. I know that we… that you coming with me is just…to show you what my country is like, and so we’re together when Bo-Katan does whatever it is she’d going to do.” He paused, squeezing his eyes shut, and then Din opened them, looking down and reaching for your hands with both of his. This sounds serious. This sounds like … “But I really want you to want to stay.” 

His words - and the sincerity of his tone - hit you hard, your breath catching as his eyes met yours again. He looked younger and more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him, the crease between his brows deep. “I…” You squeezed his hands, thinking. “I wouldn’t have agreed to go with you if I didn’t think that staying was a possibility, Din.”

He relaxed slightly at the words, nodding once before you continued. “I understand what it means that you even invited me. I understand what it means that you’re going to … introduce me. But even if things were different and we were just going back to a normal situation? I’d still be taking it just as seriously. I’m going with you because of you and how I feel about you.” Tell him the whole truth. “And I know this is just a few days visit, but … I’ve thought about what might come next.”

“Next?” He shifted closer, keeping his fingers linked with yours. “What do you mean?”

“With my house, and my job, and figuring out what traveling between Mandalore and Mistletoe to visit friends and family might look like.” You sighed. “With what I would do in Mandalore while you did all of the leadership stuff, and if it’s legal for me to stay there as a non-resident, and -”

“Hey.” Din’s smile was wide, his cheeks round as his head moved slowly back and forth. “I’m glad to hear it, because I have, too.” He squeezed your left hand, the smile growing. “There are ways to make it all work, but we don’t have to figure that out yet, alright?” He leaned forward again, resting his forehead against yours. “This is just a visit. This is just to show you my life and to make sure I can keep you safe from whatever happens when your name and face go public.” He paused. “But I have the perfect set of rooms in the palace picked out for you, and a feeling that once you see Mandalore, you’ll love it.” 

It was your turn to laugh, eyes squeezed shut as you enjoyed his proximity. “Rooms in the palace, hmm? Is that where we’re staying when we go?” 

“No.” He sat back, easing his hold on your hands. “I’ll be splitting my time between the palace and my apartment while I get ready to take over, but for this week, it might be easier to keep under the radar by staying in my place and going there when we need to.” He said your name, his tone going serious again. “Boba and Fennec are working out logistics. I’ve gotten a couple messages from them today, so by the time we’re in the air, I’ll know more.” You nodded, still watching him, and then instead of answering, you reached for the wrapped package, handing it to the man. 

“Open.” He took it from you, his fingers closing around the box. “The longer you put it off, the more disappointed you’re going to be when you see what it is.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. 

“I doubt that.” Din slid one finger under the taped end of the box, carefully peeling the paper away. And he got closer to having it totally open, you felt your heartbeat quicken, teeth worrying your lower lip as you waited. “When did you get this?” 

“The day before the scavenger hunt.” You clasped your hands together, gaze flicking up and then back down. “Grogu’s were the last things I picked up, but your gift was the last actual present I bought.” 

He set the paper to the side, holding the box in one hand and reaching for it with the other, pulling the lid off. Here goes nothing. In the silence that followed you prepared yourself to explain - to tell Din why you’d chosen the gift you had. But it wasn’t necessary, Din’s grip on the box tightening before he set it down on the couch and then stood, reaching for you with both hands. 

You took them, letting Din pull you into a standing position before he bent down and picked the contents of the box up, tugging on your other hand to lead you toward the tree. He’s not saying anything. He’s … He kept silent as you stepped around Grogu, the dog opening one eye and peeking up at you, though he didn’t move. “Din?” 

It was little more than a whisper, but he slipped his hand free from yours and reached for one of the branches, pointing.  “How’s right here?” The anxiety disappeared entirely when you nodded, lifting one of your hands up to meet his. 

“Looks good to me.” You held the branch in place while Din slipped the silver ribbon around it, and then let go when he did, both of you stepping back at the same time. He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer - and then for long moments, you and Din just stared at the branches, both of you eyeing the new addition. 

“It looks like our cookies.” He spoke up first, his voice thick with emotion. “But the metal also looks like beskar, and -”

“It was the closest color I could find to it.” You wet your lips, tilting your head closer to his. “I did a little more research on Mandalore while I was shopping, and I know how important beskar is to you, but I couldn’t … I couldn’t find anything made of it on short notice, and -”

“You wouldn’t, especially here.” He took a deep breath, shifting in place beside you. “It’s very rare. And with the exception of our exports to the aerospace industry, beskar has to be … earned.” He pointed with his free hand, your eyes following the motion as the tiny lights bounced off of the shiny metal. “You wouldn’t have been able to engrave it like that, either. We have special forges and people that work with them that know how to manipulate the metal. The number of people that are able to to that is very small, so finding it for something like this is … almost impossible outside of Mandalore.” 

“Good to know.” You turned to face him, Din’s arm staying in place. “When we’re in Mandalore, will you show some to me?” You frowned. “Or is it all -”

“You’ve already seen and touched beskar.” Din’s smile grew, one brow arching. “The Mythosaur on Grogu’s collar is pure. It was my pendant first, but I wanted him to wear it. The royal Armorer has another one waiting for me when I get back to Mandalore, so you can come with me when I pick it up.”

“OK.” Agreeing, you blew out a breath. “I’d like that.” After a few seconds, you gestured to the tree, saying Din’s name softly. “I wanted you to have a memory of your time here, even if it was something small.” 

You’d looked through the mall for a long time that day for Din’s gift, but nothing has seemed right until you’d passed the kiosk near the food court. And normally, it would have been something you ignored as you walked by, but one of the ornament options caught your eye. 

There were three variations of snowflakes - each of them available in a variety of colors, including a gleaming silver metal. One of them was similar to the snowflake design that you’d chosen for your cookies, and the kiosk offered engraving. 

You kept it simple - First Mistletoe Christmas and the year in the center of the ornament, and then Din and Grogu’s names on two of the bottom branches, a blank one left between them to balance things out. 

“Even if you don’t have a tree next year, you can … I don’t know, keep it on a shelf in your room, and -”

“We’ll have a tree.” He leaned over, speaking directly into your ear. “And this will be the first thing I put on it … after the lights, of course.” You both laughed then, Din spinning you to face him so that he could hug you tightly again. “Thank you. It’s almost perfect.” Almost? What could - “You should have added your name to it, too.” 

You backed away from him immediately, eyes wild. “What? Why would… Din, that’s … we’re not … we weren’t…” But we are now. And we spent this whole Christmas season together, and … “It was for you and Grogu, and I thought … I didn’t know if …” 

“We can still add it.” He smiled, reaching forward to stroke his fingers over your cheek. “You gave me Christmas in the first place, Wero.” You wrinkled your nose at his use of your nickname, but nodded in agreement. If that’s what you want, ok. “I know that you said you needed to go home tonight, but … could I convince you to stay?” He tilted your head back, the frown reappearing. “You can leave early tomorrow morning to pack, but I’d really like it if you stayed here.” Din took a breath, his eyes on your face. “With us.”

The simple phrasing floored you, because you knew that with him, it was purposeful. He’d already included you in his unit with Grogu, even if at first it had just been a reflex. His invitation to Mandalore spoke volumes as to the fact that he wanted you in his life, but the use of us as a group that had previously only included him and the dog was telling. What did he called it? A clan of two? 

The decision wasn’t hard. 

“I want to stay.” You looked down, gesturing to your outfit. “I’ll have to go home tomorrow in this, because I didn’t bring anything, though. And this won’t exactly be comfortable to sleep in, but -”

“I think we can figure something out for you to sleep in.” He winked, a lopsided smile crawling up one cheek. “Or not.” You laughed loudly enough at that that Grogu’s head popped up, the dog looking between you and Din for a few seconds before he laid back down. 

“And you call me trouble, Din? I could say the same thing about you.” 

— 

On the morning of December 27th, you locked the door of your house behind you, one carry-on bag slung over your shoulder along with your purse. 

Din carried your other bag, his fingers tight around the straps. It was snowing again, the flakes light as they fell around you, and even though you were on a tight schedule, you took a few seconds to stop and glance up, smiling as the cool air kissed your cheeks. 

The closing of the SUV’s trunk drew your attention, and you watched as Din rounded the car, heading back for you. Wait, it’s not his. Why? “New car? Where’s the truck?”

“I didn’t have much choice.” He opened the door for you, shaking his head. “We’ve got a driver.” Oh. You climbed in, turning your head toward the back row of seats at the sound of Grogu’s tail thumping against them - and then slid over so that Din could get in next to you. “We’re going to that private airfield just outside of town, and I didn’t want to leave my truck there, so …” He shrugged. “A driver.” 

You leaned back against the comfortable seat just as Din’s arm slid around your shoulders, and as you backed out of the driveway, the reality of the situation set in. I’m going to Mandalore. I’m spending a week with him in his home, and I’m… You closed your eyes, turning your head toward his body. “How long is this flight anyway? I’ve been so busy packing, all I want to do is go back to sleep.” 

“Hours. Close to ten, I think. Plenty of time for you to nap.” He leaned closer, mouth moving over your ear. “There’s a bed on board.” You perked up at that, inhaling sharply. He wouldn’t have said anything unless… “You’ll be comfortable.” 

Neither of you talked much until you turned down the road to the airport, the tower and some of the planes coming into view. “I’ve never been on a private plane.” You leaned closer to the window, Din’s hand on your back. “Does Grogu get to ride with us, or does he have to be in a different area?” 

“With us. He’s got a crate that he has to be in for takeoff and landing, but he gets to roam if he wants.” Din sat straight up, too, clearing his throat. “As much as I’m not sure I want all of this, there are definitely some perks.” 

And you found that to be true only a few minutes later when the three of you made your way across the freshly cleared and salted tarmac toward the steps that led into the plane. Grogu ran up first, Din urging you to go next - and the second you stepped on board, you couldn’t hold back your response. 

“Holy shit, Din. This is …” You looked around, eyes traveling over the oversized, plush seats, small tables and screens that adorned the walls between the windows. Soft leather, thick carpet and tasteful decorations filled the plane, and at a second glance, you saw that both of your names were on the screens along with a welcome message. “Oh, man, Din. This … this is incredible. It’s beautiful, what is -”

“Good morning.” A young man stepped into the cabin from near the front of the plane, his outfit - a clean, black shirt with the Mythosaur logo on one shoulder and dark pants - standing out against the light colored interior of the plane. “If you could please stow any bags in the side drawers or in the sleeping quarters and then take your seats to prepare for takeoff, we can get underway.” He paused, holding up one finger. “I do need your passports, though, just to fill in the paperwork.”

You nodded immediately, reaching into your purse for your document before you handed it over, Din doing the same, though he handed over two booklets. Grogu’s got one too? Din tugged on your arm, urging you deeper into the plane, and as you walked through the cabin, your head was on a swivel, trying to take everything in.

There’s no way I’m going to be comfortable on a regular flight ever again. This is insane. Din shut the door behind you as you entered the bedroom, and another gasp left your lips. “This is ridiculous. A bed? A full bathroom? Din, there’s a damn shower on this -” 

He stepped forward, hands going to your waist. “I should have warned you. I’m sorry. This is …” 

“Din.” You reached up, holding a finger to his lips. “It’s going to take me a little while to process this. But.” You used your free hand to gesture around the bedroom. “It’ll be fine. Nothing you could have said would have prepared me for any of this, so don’t worry about that.” You wet your lips. “I still can’t believe I’m here, or that I get to spend a week with you there, and -”

“I can’t either.” He curled his fingers, pulling you closer. “But I’m happy.” He was dressed down - the man wearing a pair of thick sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, his hair air dried and curling over his ears. But he looked right at home in his surroundings, despite the fact that you’d never seen him in anything similar before. And Din was grinning, his excitement palpable. “And I hope you are, too.” 

“I am.” You let out a deep breath, squeezing his arms. “So kiss me, and then let’s go and sit down so we can take off, yeah?” Din contemplated your words for a few seconds and then leaned in, pulling you closer. 

“I can do that.” 

— 

He gripped your hips, staring up at you, and after only a few seconds, a smile crept over Din’s face. “You taking a break?” He dragged his thumbs slowly over your skin, his head moving to the side without him lifting it from the pillow. “Need me to -”

“Be quiet.” Circling your hips, you felt Din’s body stiffen beneath you, his stomach muscles tightening. “Just give me a second.” You took a breath and trailed your fingers up the center of his chest. “This is the first time I’ve ever had sex on a plane Din, so -”

“Me too.” You didn’t know why you’d assumed otherwise, but your eyes widened at his admission, the tips of your fingers curling inward and scraping against the skin beneath them. “But I think I like it.” He raised his hips off of the mattress, pushing deeper into you and you couldn’t bite back your moan, the sound loud, even over the quiet hum of the engines. “We should do it more often.” 

You began to rock your hips in earnest again, increasing your speed as you moved your hands into place so that you could brace yourself on his chest. Din’s legs were bent, supporting a little of your weight as you leaned back - and within seconds, you found your rhythm, Din’s hands gliding up your body and settling over your chest, fingers squeezing the muscle there. 

Watching him though hooded eyelids, you reached behind you to grip his legs, slowing your lower body down. The angle allowed him to go deep, Din sliding in and out of you with each roll of your hips. But it wasn’t until you shifted your angle again and lowered your body to take him all the way that you really began to appreciate the position, your mouth falling open in a surprised whimper. “Oh my… dank farrik, Din, you -” 

That did it - Din dropped his hands from your body and pushed into a sitting position before he reached for you again, one arm winding around your upper back, the other hand cradling the back of your skull and urging you into a deep kiss. You scrambled to wind your arms around him, too, wanting nothing more than to keep him close.

What did I do?

He licked into your mouth without restraint - fingers tightening as his tongue met yours, Din not breaking the kiss even as he eased you both back down so that his back was flat on the mattress, your upper-body weight settled against his chest. When he did eventually pull back for air, he groaned, the vibration traveling the length of his body. 

“I need to teach you more Mando’a.” So that was it. That makes sense. He kissed you again, his mouth leaving yours and then moving over to your ear before he sucked the lobe between his lips, holding it there. “Lay down. Gedet'ye. Please.” He spoke so quietly that you barely heard him, but with a quick nod, you agreed. 

Din reached between you to hold the end of the condom in place as you pulled off of him and then laid down next to the man, head turned to the right. Ok, I did what he asked… now he can… Din moved gracefully - rolling toward you and then hooking his leg over one of yours, both hands pulling you back to the center of the bed as he knelt above you.

Without speaking, he used one hand to urge the knee he wasn’t straddling into a bent position, his palm dragging over your thigh before he reached forward and grabbed a pillow with his other hand. “Lift.” You did, giving him room to slide the pillow beneath you - and once it was settled, your hips elevated, Din inched forward, moving one knee so that he was between both of your legs again. 

He lined himself up as your entrance as he laid a hand on your bent kneecap. You nodded and then dropped your gaze, watching as he slid back in - but Din didn’t give you a chance to get used to the feeling. 

Instead, he immediately picked up the pace, one hand on your hip, the other still on your knee - and when you cried out at a particularly deep thrust, he moaned, bending over and adjusting his hands so that he could take yours without stopping the motion of his hips. Holy shit. Holy shit this is … fuck. 

He slid your joined hands up the mattress and crushed his mouth to yours again, the kiss messy and almost desperate - but no less passionate. 

You hadn’t been with him more than a handful of times, but you felt as he got closer to the edge, Din’s thrusts changing in intensity so that he was almost stroking into you, and when you widened the spread of your bent legs, you gasped into his mouth, the sound turning into his name, though he swallowed it quickly, never faltering in his movement. 

The changed position meant that with each motion, he was dragging the dampened curls at his base and on his lower belly over your sensitive skin, the heat from your bodies radiating between you. I’m going to come like this. I’m going to … he’s… 

You were determined to get Din off before yourself, though, and after another low moan, you broke the kiss, turning your head to the side so that you could whisper into his ear, the man’s roots damp when you moved one hand up and tangled your fingers into his hair. “Right there, Din. Yes. Please.” You sighed, racking your brain, and then you hummed. “Gedet’ye.” 

He cried out - the sound louder than any that you’d previously made, and when his hips stuttered, you weren’t surprised. Din came with a series of quick, powerful thrusts of his hips, emptying inside of you as he mouthed along the top of your shoulder and the curve where your neck met your collarbone, the edges of his teeth scraping over the thin skin. 

You felt his teeth - but weren’t worried that he’d leave marks or actually hurt you, especially when Din pulled his mouth away and mumbled your name, releasing his hold on one hand to put it back between your bodies. What is he… 

That question was answered only moments later, when he backed his hips off enough so that he was still inside of you, but there was room for his hand between your bodies, fingers working deftly to pull you past the point of no return, too. “Din.”

You rocked your hips upward, seeking more friction and pressure from his hand, and when you got it, you nodded, the fabric of the pillowcase crinkling beneath your head as you turned it to the side, eyes squeezed shut. 

“No, come on. Look at me.” He sighed, thumb continuing to circle over your skin. “Let me see you.” You made eye contact with him, Din’s expression in the low light of the bedroom cabin easy to read. He looked satisfied and content, the spark of desire in his eyes turning your core into liquid metal, and that was all it took. 

You came hard around him, your knees locking into place against his hips as your back arched off of the bed, one hand fisting the blankets and the other curled tight against the top of Din’s thigh. You held his gaze for as long as you could, wanting to give him what he���d asked for, but when he didn’t stop the motion of his fingers, you had to close your eyes, mouth falling open as your muscles tightened a second time - surprising both of you. 

“Fuck, Din.” When you were finally able to speak, your voice was shaky, both eyes cracking open as he eased away from you, his hand the last thing to leave your body almost as though he was unwilling to stop touching you. “How am I supposed to get up after that?”

“Not sure.” He stretched out next to you, one arm rising to cover his eyes as he pushed his shoulders back and resettled his hips, causing the mattress to shift. “But I don’t know that I can get out of bed, either.” 

You both needed to - you needed to clean yourselves up and then get dressed, to make yourselves presentable for landing, to have a final conversation about what was expected of you once you were on the ground. But I don’t want to. I just want to…

Instead of climbing out of the bed, you rolled toward Din, draping your arm across his chest and nuzzling against the side of his neck. “Well then let’s stay here for a few minutes, alright?” 

He mumbled something that you couldn’t make out, and as your breathing calmed, his did, too - Din’s chest rising and falling, his head turning toward yours so that his chin rested against your forehead. Just a few minutes, and then we’ll get dressed and go back out into the main section of the plane. 

— 

But you woke hours later, the lights in the room dimmed, and Din still sleeping next to you. Whoops. 

With one final deep breath, you rolled away from him and toward the edge of the bed, swinging your feet onto the floor. There was a throw blanket on the ground and you reached for it, holding it up to cover your chest before reaching out to push the blinds up, not knowing what to expect. 

It wasn’t just clouds that you could see - there were lights, too, pinpricks of gold and silver far below you. It wasn’t like flying over the United States, where everything looked like a grid, cities and towns connected by winding highways and arranged in haphazard patterns until you got close to the big ones. 

What was beneath you were multiple brightly light places, each of them arranged into neat, well-illuminated circles. There were smaller bursts of color between them, your eyes moving between the geometric shapes and the scattered lights, lips parted. It’s beautiful. There’s so much open space, I wonder where we are. I - 

You felt him moving before he said anything to you. Din wrapped himself around you from behind, the skin of his broad chest warm against your back. “We fell asleep.” He spoke as he settled his chin on your shoulder, arms tight around your body. “And we…” He trailed off, and when he continued his sentence, you understood why. “There it is.” 

He tilted his chin down and kissed your shoulder again, one hand slipping beneath the blanket to splay his fingers across your abdomen, the man’s hold almost possessive. You knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Din? Is that …” 

“That’s Mandalore. You’ll be able to see Sundari in a few minutes. We’re home.” 

— 

Gedet'ye = please

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Tag list coming soon!

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Thank yous: 

When I started this story thanks to a reader vote last year, I thought I’d be able to wrap it up pretty quickly - but as is the case with most of my stuff, that turned out to be untrue, and here we are 8 months later and finally getting a true ending. 

I’m going to miss these two (three, because I cannot forget about Grogu) - but I’m definitely open to revisiting them in the future, so if you have questions or thoughts or ideas, please feel free to send them over! 

I want to thank everyone that took the time to read, comment, reblog or message me about this story. It was so much fun to talk with you about it, and I hope you’re satisfied with this ending - and that you all feel that it’s ‘right’ for them. 

Thank you to the people that let me bounce plot points and ideas off of them - especially @the-blind-assassin-12, who was INSTRUMENTAL in many BKK decisions and choices for Grogu. 

Thank you to the people that made artwork for this - @valkblue​ and @guiltypleasure-art​ specifically, because those pieces were perfect. 

I don’t know that I can top this one with the 2023 Christmas story on this blog - but I’ll definitely try. Thank all of you endlessly for the support throughout this story and all of my others. I love you all very much. 

[mjpens]

Summer shade convos 💞

[darlin-djarin]

“omg i love the teacher!luke and single dad!din au!!”

but like. isn’t that what they are. like in canon.

[marcomarumaru]

老dinluke

[noramsblog]

Pick up

[bon-sides-sw]

Happy Valentine's Day!

Luke just gets really excited, Din just woke up.

Here a quick thing that can be taken as @dinlukeweek valentine's special. Run by @stardads