#din djarin/original character | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

djarins-cyare · 9 months ago

Text

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

251 notes · View notes

dindjarindiaries · 1 year ago

Text

DIN DJARIN ONE-SHOTS

Each story below focuses on Din Djarin, with pairings for each story indicated along with summaries.

Stories marked with an asterisk (*) contain sexual, though not explicit/graphic, content.

My ratings are as follows: G (all ages), T (13+), M (18+)

Last updated: July 27, 2024

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

the “heat” of the moment • reader The heat goes out on the Razor Crest and you’re the only one with an electric blanket to keep yourself warm.

my cyar’ika • fem!reader You and Din find yourselves in a marketplace lush with life, and you lose yourself in the fun while Din tries to keep you safe throughout it.

just fine • reader Din comforts you after you suffer through a tumultuous nightmare.

dead to me • fem!oc On the verge of death, Twila takes off Din’s helmet, later having to face his wrath and leave his ship—even though she’s pregnant with their unborn child.

everything i wanted • reader You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

riduurok • reader This is the story of how you fall in love with the Mandalorian bounty hunter, Din Djarin.

home • reader After the child is reunited with his people, Din takes you to a place that’s unfamiliar to you but all too familiar to him: his home.

when stars align• reader You spend an affectionate morning awakening beside your Mandalorian, who you have just recently married.

more than words* • reader On the evening of your marriage, you and Din show your deep love for each other in a manner that goes beyond words.

the challenge • reader After winning a drinking challenge, Din returns to the Crest much later than expected in a state of mind much different than usual, leaving you to deal with him and whatever words spill from his mouth.

don’t blame me• reader In the weeks following your marriage, you and Din are desperate to make up for all the physical affection you’ve missed out on—leading you to do whatever you can wherever you can.

said and done • reader With Din being injured from a past fight, you’re the one in charge of the hunts for now—and Din realizes he likes having you in control.

behave* • reader After a grueling hunt, you and Din celebrate your success at a local cantina, both ending up with a little too much that leads you to do things that are a little too risky.

a warrior’s purpose • daughter oc Din returns to the planet where he’d left his riduur many years ago to find her again—but instead, he finds someone else.

nothing so perfect • fem!reader You and Din think that you’re adding on to your family, only to learn there’s been a mistake—and now you’re both left to cope with the loss you never expected.

next to you • reader It’s been long enough since Din’s promised return for you to assume that he didn’t make it, and now you yearn for the life that could’ve been.

forever and always • reader When you and Din finally find the child’s home, it’s time to say goodbye—but then Din realizes he can’t.

reverence • fem!reader Following the birth of your daughter, Din spends a night marveling at the little life and the way you provide for her.

transmissions • reader When Din’s away on a long job, he gives you a holotransceiver and sends you transmissions to keep you both at ease.

purpose • fem!reader As the daughter of an Imperial senator, the Mandalorian’s hired as your bodyguard—but with the twisted ideals of your father putting you at risk, he becomes so much more than that.

irrevocable • reader After a hunt goes wrong and Din gets captured, you go after him and save him, but you find that they’ve removed his helmet and have done him personal damage that will last for much longer.

mine* • fem!reader With tensions rising not only in the galaxy but also in your relationship, Din proves to you in a new way that he’ll take care of you.

never alone • fem!reader In the aftermath of a bad nightmare, Din receives comfort from an unexpected source: his daughter.

tresses • reader When Din’s hair becomes the object of your and the baby’s affections, he decides it’s time for a trim—although he’s hesitant for a reason you must discover.

enervation • reader Din returns home from his new job as exhausted as ever, begging you to join him in sleep—and trying to make it happen at all costs.

take care • reader After Din sustains an injury on a job, you have to help him take care of himself—something he grows more and more fond of.

affliction • fem!reader When you and Din get recognized at an Imperial gala, you’re both taken into custody, where they begin to use Din to get you to talk—and lead you to do something completely unexpected.

take it off* • reader Your new ally extends his hospitality a little too far—and now Din’s determined to remind you of what he alone can provide you with.

cozy in the cockpit • reader After the Crest suffers through an intense chase and crash, you and Din must figure out how to survive on a freezing planet—your low odds causing your mutual feelings to come to the surface.

beneath the surface • reader You and Din get double-crossed when trying to find other Mandalorians, putting all three of you in deep waters.

touch it softly • reader When you invite Din to play with your hair, you both get a little more than lost in the moment.

alleviation • reader You continue helping Din recover from the traumatizing removal of his helmet, trying to make him understand that it’s okay to not be okay. (part two of Irrevocable)

the right thing • reader Din returns to you on Nevarro after the mission on Moff Gideon’s cruiser—without the child.

ni ceta par gar (i kneel for you)* • reader When Mando needs emotional release, you seek to fulfill your pining by offering something neither one of you can resist—something that could change everything.

in my head • reader The thought of Din plagues your mind—and it won’t be long until it’s forced onto your lips.

the marshal • fem!oc Din covers his face. So does she. Shrouded in mystery and unable to admit their shared intimidation, the two must work together to save Mos Pelgo—for both their sakes.

hold me in hyperspace • reader After a long hunt, you think Mando just wants some rest—but really, he just wants you.

ner yaim (my home) • reader After a day of work, you get to come home to Din, who’s fitting into his new role well.

mureyca (kiss) • reader The story of the different ways in which you share a kiss with the Mandalorian.

aftermath • omera After his quest has been fulfilled, Din returns to Sorgan, needing the comfort and support of someone he could never forget.

stay • omera Din wrestles with his feelings for Omera and tries to tell her how she feels—but has to let her in first.

torrent • reader When one of Din’s worst fears is revealed, you’re left to do whatever you can to put him at ease.

enterprise • cassian andor, k2so When Mando’s quarry offers him a better deal, he finds himself getting involved in more than he originally bargained for.

bloom • reader With your relationship now in full blossom, a flustered Din takes you on your first date, where he does everything he can to tell you how you make him feel.

malevolence • grogu Din experiences the ghastly side effects of wielding the famed Darksaber.

before i go • reader Imperial occupation of your covert as well as your mind lead to a devastating confrontation between you and your past Mandalorian lover.

favorite crime • reader When your ex-partner-in-crime and past lover enters your life again, you find yourself looking back on fond memories with a tremendous desire to chase them again.

solace • reader Din reassures you when your perfectionist tendencies catch up to you.

foster • obi-wan kenobi Obi-Wan comes across an orphan named Din that he can’t help taking under his wing.

intemperate • reader Mando’s indulgence in liquid courage leads him to say things you never thought you’d hear—and will never forget.

scars • reader When Din shows unprecedented hatred for his battle-worn body, it’s up to you to reassure him of everything you love about it.

seeking serenity • reader Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

liberation • reader You lead a mission to free Din from an Imperial hideout, only to discover that he’s in need of you much more than you originally thought.

contrition • reader Din comforts you after you do something drastic to save his life.

bring me home • reader You reunite with your Mandalorian lover after a long separation and realize much has changed since you last him.

safety net • deaf!reader When you and Din are reunited after a hunt that goes longer than expected, your mutual feelings for each other finally bubble to the surface—regardless of the fears you’ve both buried deep within.

selfish • reader Din, who’s helplessly in love with you, is forced to watch you and your partner until he’s forced to come to terms with his feelings.

united we fall • reader Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

of bounties and bartenders • fem!reader The mysterious Din “Brown Eyes” Djarin returns to visit you after a job, but trouble is the last thing he’s left behind.

as it was • din djarin’s parents The living waters beneath Mandalore bring Din back to a place—and a people—he never thought he’d see again.

people watching • grogu Observation was a skill Din Djarin had mastered for his own safety, but now it sets the scene for his very own destruction.

astronomy • reader Crossing paths with a seriously injured Din forces the two of you to come to terms with your relationship.

stardust • reader You finally reunite with your Mandalorian lover, just to learn a devastating truth.

fine line • reader Din tries his best to comfort you in the aftermath of your torturous capture.

scarlet promise • reader Vengeance consumes you when Din’s put at risk, causing him to have to pull you back to reality.

what sits in the silence • reader Your bounty-hunting rival turns to you in his time of need and brings along more baggage than you planned on handling.

when a house becomes a home • reader A new home brings new responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can teach Din how to cook a proper meal: you.

takes one to know one • reader Bounty hunters aren’t supposed to fall in love and you were okay with that. So was the Mandalorian.

love me louder • reader Your secret romance with the Mandalorian is put at risk when you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

shattered • reader When an anxious day gets the best of you, Din seeks to comfort you.

the broken who blossom • reader At long last, Din’s returned home to the covert, but he’s brought a lot more home with him than anticipated.

in sickness & in health • reader Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.

doomsday • reader You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

i still see you • reader In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

fight for me • reader When Din starts to get harassed at a cantina, you can’t help jumping in to defend him at all costs.

right where you left me • reader Din reunites with you many years after your whirlwind romance for a mission you begrudgingly accept to help him with.

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin x omera #masterlist #masterlists #dindjarindiaries

448 notes · View notes

wrathkitty · 2 months ago

Text

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 24 Snippet

The tribe’s opinion of you generally fell into one of three categories:

Paz, who despised you.

The Armorer, who tolerated you.

And those who saw you as a harmless oddity who was welcome to stay so long as she continued minding the children — which had turned into therapy from day one, no matter how much anyone tried to pretend it was babysitting. All of the Foundlings lost family during the fall of the Empire. You weren’t encouraging them to draw pictures of their loved ones just because you couldn't come up with anything else better to do.

Problem was, if the grownups didn’t change their approach to childrearing soon (maybe let’s worry a little less about Breha perfecting her Rising Phoenix technique and focus more on managing her anger instead), in a few years’ time the Covert was going to have a passel of dysregulated adolescents on its hands, and in a few years after that, everyone in the Outer Rim would be failing to fend off an entire generation of behavior disordered Mandalorians.

These were concerns you shared with The Manda’lor (you made a point of intoning it as a proper noun whenever you both were alone, just to annoy him), who quietly arranged for D-5 to drill a small hole in the tribe’s communal barrel of fuel. It took a week to replenish the supply, giving you time to sneak in some basic coping skill lessons between Rising Phoenix 101. By week’s end, Breha failed her flight test and remembered to take three deep breaths before she started throwing blunt objects. And when those blunt objects turned out to be grav charges, everyone started taking the nanny a little more seriously.

(And if teaching Zones of Regulations to the Mandalorians was how you left your mark on the universe, then you’d die happy.)

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

@last-of-cheese

@ababysupernova

@onlydrawnbad

@myswficlist

@mariwinns16

@mandindjarin

@coffeebeforewater

@terecord

@leithatnight

@lokiofstoriesalwaysthemselves

@djarins-cyare

@shsoba05

@sleepingghoule444

@sjdraws-00

@dontletyourchildrenwatchthis

@moondirti

@teehee-47

@jbarness

@reileth

@mareebird

@essence-stealer

@itchyfly

@stagerightlauren

@jackieblogsstuff

@camishadjarin

@ellenmunn

@xoxo-lyss

@princessofclovers

@ezrasleftarm

@onlydrawnbadreads

@brighterthanlonelywords

@caffiend-queen

@dindenimchicken

@harriedandharassed

@everythingiwanttoread

@nightlore106

@senassn

@greensabereyesforcevictim

@chickenshit03

@anniet852

@dinnerisserveddjarin

@sixhours

@littlemisspascal

@din-djarins-spouse

@thedoctorknits

@smollucy18

@roughdaysandart

@breniii

@epple-benene

@feral-ferrule

@lindsaychops

@dear-ickis

@tobethlehem

@newpathwrites

@cas-readsandwrites

@littleredpandanaps

@cheekychaos28

@oscarissac2099

@purrpledesblog

@shades-side-blog

#coping skills what coping skills #social emotional learning in a galaxy far far away #it's a thing #these aren't the droids you're looking for #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x original female character #short debts make long friends #din x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #baby yoda #social emotional learning #zones of regulation

88 notes · View notes

whatsnewalycat · 3 months ago

Text

Passenger / Chapter 7

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Four)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

Chapter Summary: Our heroes fuck around and find out.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.1k+

Content / Warnings: smuuuuuuuuut, dirty talk, inner conflict, outer conflict, jealousy, dog grogu, the mandalorian au, fascist propaganda, not beta read

Notes: Ayooo! This “day” is gonna be split into 2-3 parts, which will conclude the story arc for Wyoming, then I’m taking a small pause from writing this to finish another ongoing series (Designated Person). This series is going to be ginormous in terms of longevity (I have at least 20 more chapters plotted out and fully intend on completing them) so pls don’t worry, I am not abandoning them. Also I switched the POV from 2nd to 3rd person and will be updating the backlog of chapters to this POV.

—

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din feels around blindly for the alarm clock and presses the big SNOOZE button, releasing a sigh into the sudden silence.

Someone else’s body heat sticks to the edge of him. He shifts onto his side and tugs at the warmth, huddling closer. It mumbles something into his chest, but trails off, weight going slack against him.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din unravels to turn off the alarm clock, then rolls back over, letting his arm fall loose over the lump beside him. The warmth wiggles closer with a groggy hum.

Prying open heavy lids, he blinks until his eyes start to adjust to the dark motel room. His surroundings come into focus gradually. Stiff sheets and body heat and a nest of blonde hair.

He draws back to look at her face, studying her peaceful dozing features. The curve of her lips and the dip of her Cupid’s bow. From this distance, he can map out all the tiny freckled constellations smattered across her face.

He syncs his breath to her quiet snores and absorbs the steady rhythm of her pulse.

Just for a few more seconds, or a minute.

It might be the only time he gets to see her in this way, so defenseless in such close proximity. Mona Lisa without the protective glass, she is precious and vulnerable.

If that much is true, who is he? The thief sent to rip her from her frame? The night guard posted to protect her? Or both, or neither, or does it even matter? Because here she is, a real life enigma, and all he can manage to be is the awestruck witness who stumbled upon her.

She starts to stir, burrowing into the crook of his neck. He should wake her up. Separate himself, at least.

It feels wrong to hold her this way.

It is wrong to hold her this way.

‘Unprofessional,’ he reminds himself, as if that were the only reason and not just one of many.

She stirs again.

This time, a yawn expands her rib cage and puffs hot down his collar. He pretends to sleep, closing his eyes as her lashes flutter against his thudding pulse.

Shit.

He braces for impact. Waits for her to come to her senses. To shove him away or pull back.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she nuzzles closer and yawns again. On the exhale, she relaxes into him.

Her weight and warmth melt through him, unclenching muscles he never knew he had. She curls and uncurls her fingers against his chest, a gentle affection that flickers up his spine. Her touch wanders to the elbow draped over her waist. It slowly roams up his arm, lulling him into a trance-like state as she skates along his bicep, then his tricep, rounding his shoulder to trace his collarbone.

When her fingertips graze his neck, heat swells at the very center of him and spills over the edges, reverberating through his body. A groan scrapes his vocal cords and his cock throbs against her belly.

Traitor.

Before panic can call him to action, Charlie arches towards him and releases this sweet, quiet gasp that empties his mind of reason.

He tightens his arm around her waist and rocks his hips, blood burning when she pushes back.

Rolling onto his back, he pulls her on top and they both moan at the weight of their hips settling together. She wastes no time working herself against him, huffing and whining in his open mouth.

He has enough sense not to kiss her, but not enough to keep his uncuffed hand from slipping beneath her shirt to explore her soft, warm skin.

“Oh fuuuck,“ she moans, body tensing as she speeds to a frantic pace.

His eyes roll back at the violent rush of stimulation. He finds the small of her back and pins her hips to his so all she can do is wriggle and whine with frustration.

“Slower,” he pants, grinding the damp fabric between their bodies, “Feel that? Just like that.”He softens his grip to guide her, nodding when she matches his indulgent momentum, “There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

“So fucking good, holy shit—”

Sucking in air through gritted teeth, he starts to gather her hair in his fist. Her hand follows on its short leash, clinging to his handcuffed wrist as he pulls her hair taut. She moans and melts against him, but her hips never miss a beat.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, spurring her faster when she chokes out a guttural noise.

Every time she slides up and down his swollen cock, a hunger inside him deepens.

He wants to feel the heat of her in every conceivable way, to explore the aching need simmering between them. He wants to strip her bare and count her freckles and fuck her senseless. He feels her panting breath on his and desperately wants to kiss her. How pathetic. He wants and wants and wants, and yet, he knows there’s no time for all of that.

Not with the way she starts to sputter and shake, heating his blood with second-circle hellfire. When he tightens his grip to wield her body against his, assuming control, she doesn’t resist in the slightest.

“Din—fuck, it feels sofuckinggood, don’t stop. Don’t stop—oh my god don’t stop don’t stop—”

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?”

She whines and digs her nails into his wrist, nodding frantically, “Yes yes yes yes yes—”

All her muscles go tense and gasping steals her breath. It returns to her a moment later with a choked sob and shaking limbs while his heartbeat pounds through his body, thick and hot, growing louder and louder until it consumes him completely.

He groans, hips stuttering against her as the warmth of ecstasy washes over him.

They go slack-limbed in the moments that follow, liquefying into a throbbing, panting puddle on the mattress.

It’s what heaven must feel like, he thinks. Blissed out and serene, the weight of her ironing out every adversity he’d ever faced into a single flat line leading to this. Leading to her.

The saccharine thought sours on his tongue.

What the fuck am I doing?

—

What the fuck am I doing?

Charlie pokes at her half-eaten cheese omelette a few times before wrinkling her nose and pushing the plate aside.

As she folds her legs up in the squeaky wooden booth, she allows herself to glance across the table at Din, whose aviators are fixed on her. She doesn’t know that he’s looking at her but she does all the same. No proof except whatever gnaws at her stomach lining.

“Just like that… There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

Heat rises to her face.

Averting her gaze, she searches for words to start idle chit chat, but comes up blank. Her mind keeps wandering back to the ghost of his touch.

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?”

She squirms a little, then buys herself some time by taking a slow sip of lukewarm, watered-down coffee.

This silence isn’t normal.

She needs to act normal.

Make conversation. Just don’t mention what happened, because it couldn’t have happened. There’s no way she would allow… that. This.

No. Not a chance. It didn’t happen.

It was a dream, that’s all.

A really really hot dream.

Drawing a deep breath, she tries on this new version of truth and finds enough comfort to let her shoulders fall away from her ears.

RULE #5: Live in the now.

Onward and upward.

Today I will paint the sign and play a show and take every moment as it comes.

She digs the notebook from her rucksack and pulls the pen from its spine. Flipping to a blank page, she finally breaks the silence.

“How big would you say the Giddyup sign is, ten by five?”

Din takes a sip of coffee, then shrugs, “Ten by eight.”

“Ten by eight?” She frowns, visualizing both ratios on the paper, and concedes, “Ok, yeah. That seems about right. Thanks.”

Using her thumb as a benchmark, she sections off the page in a rough 5:4 grid. While outlining her design, she watches Din at the edge of her vision, who scans the cafe between sips of coffee.

“So after this, we pickup clothes from the laundromat, pick up the pup, and head over to Paul’s?”

“Yes.”

“My first set starts at eight. Figure I can get most of this done by… pfff, I dunno, five? Maybe six, depending. I’ll have to make myself presentable, eat something, then we can head over to Outlaw.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Got any song requests for me?”

She looks up at his silence and finds his aviators fixed on something across the room. Right in his crosshairs, the waitress jots down a bald man’s order.

Of course he’s enamored with the waitress. Why wouldn’t he be?

She has a kind, gentle way about her. She’s delicate and ladylike. She has long, shiny hair and a contagious smile. She probably showers every day. She probably reads the Bible and young adult novels between assigned texts for her nursing school program. She probably has childhood friends and a five-year plan and regular communication with her family.

Most people are into that sort of thing.

So sure, it makes sense that he perks up like a dog earning table scraps every time she stops by their table.

RULE #9: Do not get attached.

It doesn’t matter that he likes the waitress. Not in the big scheme of things, anyway. She should utilize his tongue-wagging, not detest it.

The logic is sound, but the feeling inside her doesn’t change.

Cloying and desperate.

So fucking stupid.

If she were traveling with him under her own volition, she would’ve parted ways with him before this had a chance to germinate.

Yesterday, probably.

This morning at the latest.

Right after she woke to find her body curled up against him, his arm draped over her side. His skin felt so warm and good on hers. Comfortable.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Din shifts.

She looks up from her gridlocked mountain range in time to see him pull his shoulders back and puff his chest out.

Predictably, the waitress approaches their table and begins picking dirty dishes off the table, “Can I get y’all anything else?”

“Just the check is fine,” Din answers.

“Excellent.” She props the stack of plates on her hip so she can pull the bill from her apron. Placing it face down on the table, she smiles at him, “No rush, just whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

Charlie gives her a polite smile when she departs, then watches Din’s attention follow.

Red flares through her, a bull in a china shop.

Fuck. This.

She flips her notebook closed and tosses it in her rucksack, “You should invite her to the show.”

His focus snaps back to her. “Why would I do that?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs, taking out her wallet to evaluate its contents, “Seems like you’re sweet on her. Might as well give it a shot.”

He draws back and frowns, studying her too close for comfort.

She grabs the check, doing some quick math before teasing, “Wow, you’re a cheap date.”

“What are you doing?”

“Buying breakfast.“

“There’s no need—”

Waving him off, she wriggles out of the booth and swings her bag over her shoulder as she starts towards the cash register.

He catches up with enough time to hiss in her ear, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“All set?” The waitress smiles between them.

“All set.” Charlie hands her a stack of fives under the check, “The change is for you.”

“Oh, well thank you. I appreciate it,” she punches the total into the register.

“Yeah, of course. It was delicious. And the service was excellent, obviously. But, umm… Hey, you know, if you’re not busy tonight, I’m playing a few sets at Outlaw. You should come.”

Din’s glare burns a hole in the back of her head, lending her a sick sense of satisfaction.

The waitress blinks up at her, eyebrows jumping a little, “Oh, are you guys in a band?”

“No, just me and my guitar. He’s security,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder at Din, but doesn’t dare turn around. “Anyway, no pressure or anything if you have plans already. But if you don’t, it’ll be a good time.” She leans in closer and drops her volume, “Between you and me, I think he would like it if you came.”

The waitress chuckles a little, glancing at Din before tucking a wave of hair behind her ear, “I have to check to make sure I don’t have plans, but… Yeah, maybe.”

“Perfect! Oh—My name is Charlie, by the way,” she nods over her shoulder, “The big guy is Din.”

“I’m Marla.”

“Marla,” Charlie repeats, trying to regulate her manufactured enthusiasm, “We’ll see you later, then, yeah?”

A coy smile spreads across Marla’s face, eyes flicking to Din before she nods, “I’ll see what I can do.”

—

In the swollen silence of the laundromat, Charlie plucks a freshly-toasted shirt off the clean clothes pile, glancing at Din’s sharp movements beside her as he does the same.

She swallows the frantic buzzing in her chest that urges her to smooth the tension.

It was the right thing to do. There needs to be enough distance between them for her to find the escape hatch.

Discomfort is temporary. This discomfort is necessary.

She cannot let it get to her.

RULE #3: Keep your wits—

Din chucks a balled-up shirt back into the pile and spits, “Are you taking this seriously?”

“The laundry?”

“I told you we need to keep a low profile.” He He faces her, all rigid and puffed up, “First it was the show, then the sign, now you’re trying to get us in with the locals—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way. I got you a deal with Paul and a date with Marla, plus I’ll get spending cash—”

“We shouldn’t even be in public, let alone keeping a social calendar. You don’t understand how dangerous it is for us to be visible.”

“Do you really think Marla from The Pantry Cafe is going to ping my location to all your buddies?” She scoffs, trading her folded shirt for her crumpled up pair of jeans. “I highly doubt anyone here gives a shit about me.”

“That’s not—” He sighs, propping a hand on his hip, “If someone from the guild picks up your trail, they will come for you.”

She rolls her eyes and tucks the folded jeans in her knapsack, muttering, “What then, you won’t get your finder’s fee?”

“It’s not about that, it’s about your safety.”

A voice at the back of her head reminds her she’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

She almost listens to it, too. Until Din opens his trap to drive his point home further.

“I know what these people are capable of—”

“Kidnapping and murder, I assume.”

“There are worse things.”

She turns to him and blinks, “Scare tactics, Din? Really?”

“Not a scare tactic. A reality check.”

“Oh my fucking—”

“You’re being reckless and you know it.” He squares his shoulders, jabbing her chest as he grinds out, “Tighten. Up.”

Swatting his hand away, she scowls up at her reflection in his aviators. Her fingers twitch with the impulse to rip them off and stomp them to pieces.

“You know what? Fuck you.” Searching his face, she envisions barbed wire and life sentences. She hardens to stone and doesn’t dare fucking flinch as she speaks.

“You keep acting like you’re doing me some big favor because you’re not an absolute fucking ghoul to me. You fucking stand there and say it’s about my safety like you’re protecting me or something, but you’re not. You are protecting an investment. Din. The dollar sign attached to my head. You said it yourself, I am nothing to you but a payload.”

A bitter laugh escapes her, resentment bubbling up from an old crack in her heart, “You don’t give a shit about my well-being. My fucking safety? Fuck off. You’re delivering me to the same fucking slaughterhouse they would.”

Every visible sign of anger sloughs off him like dead weight, leaving him with this raw, deflated expression that undermines her certainty.

As she stares at him, bracing for a response, her own self-righteous fury withers up and dies in her chest. It turns to a plea.

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me it’s not about the money.

Taking a step back, he turns and starts shoveling clothes into his backpack. “Let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.”

It shouldn’t feel like a punch in the gut, but it does.

She nods solemnly, then falls back into place helping him clear the folding table.

—

Din crosses the vacant road from Jackalope Motel to Giddyup Auto, holding Grogu’s leash taut at his side so he can’t wander.

Dawn begins to eat away at the night sky, dusty orange fading to light blue, leaving only a tiny sliver of dark over in the west. Daylight dyes wispy eastern clouds blood red and banishes morning fog, drying up the damp that collected overnight.

Ahead of him, Charlie’s dusty green knapsack sags from her squared shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pendulum with each purposeful stride. She keeps her spine straight and her eyes forward and an invisible yardstick between them, as she has since their spat in the laundromat.

The distance is necessary, though. For both of them.

Somewhere along the way, he allowed the line drawn between them to become blurred. He lost all definition. It never should have happened in the first place.

He should be grateful she had enough sense to pull the trigger this time.

Grogu perks up and lets out a small, “Boof.”

Din tears his eyes away from Charlie’s backpack to see Paul emerge from the shop, waving at Charlie, who walks up to greet him. They both look back at Din, then Paul tells her something that makes her snort with laughter. It’s strange, he thinks, how she can flip her demeanor at the drop of the hat.

As he draws closer to the conversation, his ears attune to her voice.

“… this is the easy part, honestly. I should be able to finish up before sundown.”

Paul grins, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his coveralls, “Seems we’re runnin’ on the same timeline then.”

“Oh. You mean…?” Charlie shuts her mouth and glances at Din when he comes to a stop within their circle of conversation.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Paul teases. “I was just telling Miss Charlie here that the rig should be finished up quick, long as I don’t find any surprises.”

Din frowns, “By tonight?”

“That’s what it’s lookin’ like.”

“I thought it would take longer.”

“Made good time,” Paul shrugs. “Figured y’all would be itching to get back on the road.”

Grogu starts whining at Charlie, who crouches down to pet him. The dog heels and pins his ears back, lapping at her hands as she gives him all her attention.

Din clears his throat and gives Paul a nod of appreciation, “How much do I owe you?”

“Lookin’ at twelve hundred, give or take. We can settle up later.”

“Hey Paul, can I grab your tall ladder?” Charlie gives Grogu a pat before rising to her feet, “Oh, and do you have an extra stereo I could I borrow for the day? I don’t want the big guy to chat my ear off.”

Paul cackles while she shoots Din a teasing look that makes his blood pressure spike.

“Come on, I’ll see if I can’t find one for ya.”

—

CEO Pushes City to ‘Clear Homeless from the Streets’ in Open Letter to Portland Mayor.

Amidst recent controversy surrounding the growing homeless population in Portland, one local businessman speaks out on behalf of property owners.

In an open letter to Mayor Ed Kneeler released this morning, Tom Bucheron, CEO of Empire Property Management, LLC, calls for the Mayor Kneeler to “take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland,” which, he goes on to claim, presents undue financial burden on Portland property owners.

Din follows the link to a PDF of the letter, looking up from his screen to observe Charlie as it loads.

On her perch at the top of the ladder, she paints while singing along to some 80’s power ballad on the radio. The blonde bun at the crown of her head, lops from one side to the other as she bops around to the beat.

With her constant squawking and beak of a nose, she sometimes resembles an ill-tempered bird. This only solidifies the likeness in his mind. A yellow cockatiel whose domesticity never took. She screams and nips at those who dare try closing her cage door.

She glances back over her shoulder, so he drops his eyes to the screen of his tablet.

Mayor Ed Kneeler:

I call upon you today to take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland.

In recent years, we have seen a dramatic rise in homelessness, drug-related and violent crimes, and overdoses. We have also seen property values plummet as of late. I have been residential property management and real estate investment for 34 years. I’ve seen property values ebb and flow with the market, and can say with certainty that our current state is unprecedented.

Homeless encampments are epicenters for crime and disease, sprouting up through the cracks of our beautiful city and spreading at a disastrous rate. Property values suffer. As such, the real Portland citizens suffer. Those of us who have families and homes here. The real Portland citizens, we invest in our community through fellowship and commonwealth. We are the lifeblood of this city and we are suffering dearly. Dually so are Portland property owners. Our property values plummet with the blight of homelessness. Not only that, but we also foot the bill for welfare and social programs with our taxes so that the City can enable the miscreants that come in droves to suck up our resources.

In a lineup of cities comparable in size and population density, Portland stands out for all the wrong reasons: low property values, high crime rates, high taxes, and an epidemic of homelessness. Cities that rigorously enforce vagrancy laws reap the benefits of higher property values and lower crime rates.

It couldn’t be clearer. The City should strive to eradicate homelessness in Portland, not enable it. Today I ask that you enact a citywide ban on vagrancy and start disbanding encampments.

The only reason I ask this of you in such a public forum, Mayor Kneeler, is because I question your motives for not addressing this matter sooner.

Do you act on behalf of the real citizens of Portland, or in your own self-interest? If your peers in the Democratic Party frown upon law and order, does that affect your decision-making? While pondering whether or not to act on this problem, what holds more weight? Potential backlash to your career, or the burdens suffered by real citizens of Portland?

Please do not let your pursuit of legacy destroy our beloved city. Step up and do what’s right.

Sincerely,

Tom.

Din saves the PDF and checks on Grogu, still curled up in a ball beneath his chair. He looks up at Charlie, who went quiet when the radio started warbling the weekend forecast.

As she rolls green acres onto the sign with quick, short strokes, her fluffed-up bun still bops back and forth like she’s dancing with just her head. Probably singing to herself.

Did she tell him the truth about what happened in Portland?

It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Whether it’s true or not, she was right. He’s delivering her to the slaughterhouse.

Normally he finds comfort in this ambivalence. This time it settles like lead in his belly, heavy and poisonous.

He digs the phone from his pocket and dials Karga.

“Din! Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

He frowns, “Why?”

“The client is looking for an update on the asset. You still have it, correct?”

“Yes.”

“When can they expect your arrival?”

His gaze wanders to Charlie, painting away without a care in the world. Guilt twists his stomach raw.

“What do they want with her?”

A beat goes by before Karga responds.

“They didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. Neither should you, if you know what’s good for you.”

Din looks down at the gravel and nods. “I’ll have her there by Sunday at the latest.”

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #passenger

59 notes · View notes

kaysfanficcorner · 22 days ago

Text

Out of this World Chapter 9: Reunions and Revelations

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling OC/Reader

Summary: When an unexpected arrival shows up in Tatooine, the Mandalorian and the Earthling decide to delay their quest to find the Jedi for a few more days.

Author's Note: Oh boy, I can't believe it's been so long since I posted chapter 8. All I can say is that my life got a little chaotic for awhile and I had to put this story on hiatus while I figured a few things out. But I'm back in business! I always intended to ride this story out until the end, and I am finally in the headspace to be creative again! I never forgot about this story or these lovebirds! I love my Earthling OC/reader so much. That being said, I first posted this story two years ago and I felt that some of it could be approved upon. So I just finished going through the original 8 chapters and I made some edits. Nothing changed with the overall plot or themes, I just fixed a few mistakes and fleshed out a few scenes some more. Chapter 9 gave me a lot of trouble but I'm excited to get back into this story! I am so proud of it and I appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to read this. If you want to be added or removed from the taglist please let me know!

***** = A break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Mando'a: Ner - my Ad’ika - little one Burc’ya - friend Cyare - beloved Cyar'ika - darling or sweetheart Riduur - spouse (husband or wife) Riduurok - marriage bond Ni kar'taylir darasuum - I will know you forever (I love you)

Warnings: Cursing, references to past trauma, conflicted foster parents, and of course, sexual situations🌶️ Smut and Fluff abound. My Din Djarin is a sweetie and just needs to be loved.

Minors DNI, Strictly 18+

AO3

*****

"Granddad?” Your voice is so small as the word comes out, so unsure. Standing in the heat of Tatooine's twin suns, Hangar 3-5 is nearly spinning as a new sort of wooziness overcomes you. Beginning to sway, a hand reaches beside you to grip at the Mandalorian's vambrace covered forearm. Steadying yourself with the one and only person you know in this galaxy who grounds you.

The old man in the dark red engineer's jumpsuit says your name again, the cadence of it sounding so familiar to you that it spawns a small sob from your throat.

“This is marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!” He says cheerfully, moving forward. “I can't believe you're really here! Took you long enough, punk.”

Peli looks you over with a facial expression of both shock and recognition, then back to the man whom she'd referred to as her partner. “Wait a sec, you mean to tell me that's really her?”

“That's really her,” the man agrees, closing the distance between himself and the rest of the group. “It appears that fate has brought us together again after all.”

Beside you, Din's body straightens up. His voice is laced with an edge that alerts you to how skeptical he really is towards this stranger. Your Mandalorian does not trust newcomers lightly.

“I believe an explanation is in order,” he says seriously, looking between Peli's new engineer and yourself.

“Quite right,” the man agrees, looking right into your eyes. “But I think it's best that you and I speak in private.”

“I agree,” you say, more words unable to find you at this moment. The shock and anger you feel is simply too great. Beginning to step towards him, you're stopped when Din grips your wrist.

“Are you sure he is trustworthy?” He asks, voice low.

“Honestly? I don't know. He was once the most trustworthy person I knew,” your own voice feels icy as you finish with, “but clearly I have been lied to. I didn't realize that deception was one of your many talents, Grandad.”

Your grandfather, Richard, looks incredibly hurt by that. The littlest pang of guilt strikes you at the sight of his downtrodden facial expression, but you try your best to ignore it.

“That's a bit unfair, punk. But you have every right to be upset,” Richard offers lamely as he moves closer to you. His arms are reaching out to perhaps offer a hug, but you're having none of that right now.

Taking a foreboding step forward, you poke a hard finger into his chest. “You're damn right I do! What the fuck, Grandad!”

The child's ears cast downward and he makes a little upset noise in Peli's arms. That's enough to steady you, to remember that your boy is watching you. Learning life's great lessons from paying attention to how you interact with others. With a sigh and a deep breath, you stop the anger before it manifests anymore than it already has.

“I will not lose my temper in front of Green Bean,” you say to no one in particular. “Let's go somewhere to talk this through.”

“Yes, let's do just that.” The old man agrees, a weary look on his wrinkled features.

You move to pat the child on the head, and his ears shift upwards again with a chirp. “Sorry about that, buddy.” Then you turn to face Din, and his body language alone tells you all you need to know of the tense mood he's suddenly in. “I will be back when he and I have said all there is to say. I do not know if we can trust him, but you know you can trust me.”

“Keep your com link open. Just in case.”

“I will call you if I need you. Always. Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” you breathe that last part up at him, following your instinct to acknowledge your love for him regardless of those watching. It's important for you to let him know that the connection you share is still very real to you in such a surreal moment. Besides, you highly doubt your grandfather or Peli knows a lick of Mando'a.

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” he repeats, your name dancing on his tongue at the end of it as he nods once at you.

Then you turn back to your grandfather and the two of you exit Hangar 3-5 to walk the streets of the Mos Eisley Spaceport.

*****

Din Djarin’s chest seizes up and his stomach simultaneously drops to his boots as he watches you walk off with a man who is both a complete stranger to him, and a close blood relation to you. The sudden appearance of your grandfather has thrown him for such a loop that he's getting dizzy. It feels as if he’s not in reality anymore. There is a physical pain in his upper body. His brow is breaking out into a sweat beneath the beskar, a sweat that has nothing to do with the heat of this planet's twin suns.

Peli seems to tell that now is not a good time, so she takes the child off to her office without being promoted to do so. Calling over her shoulder, she says that she’ll keep him for a while and makes herself scarce as quickly as possible. Normally Din would argue against the child being taken away, but right now he can't think that straight.

Unsure of where else to go, he makes his way up the open ramp and into the empty Razor Crest. His way around the galaxy, and the home he prides himself with. It used to be a comfort to enter his ship completely alone, feeling no sign of another presence anywhere near his own. Din's perpetual solitude was never an issue before. In fact, it had been a welcomed thing after long days of dealing with tiresome social interactions or a particularly difficult hunt. The rest of the world would slip away and he would be in his safe haven once again, whirling through hyperspace. He'd liked that everything was in its proper place and he didn’t have to worry about anyone besides himself. A lonely existence to be sure, but one Din thought he was fine with until a few months ago. Aside from his life, when it came down to it he really had nothing to lose.

Now the ship is occupied by others and he feels as if he has absolutely everything to lose. It scares the living hell out of him to care for others, and Din Djarin has spent most of his adult life feeling scared of very few things. Fear is such an unnerving thing to him, but since you and the kid both fell into his lap he's felt it more and more every day. Din is just good at keeping uncomfortable feelings buried deeply within his chest.

Seven months ago the Razor Crest would have barely passed for a home in the eyes of another. Din’s life had been so simple then. No decor, no real personal items to speak of save for weaponry and clothing. His needs had been very basic and therefore his living conditions had been very basic. Jump to the present and the Razor Crest is a real home full of love. You have unwittingly changed the interior of the ship so much in the several months you’ve been living on it. The kid’s various art projects are hung up here or there. Your personal items have started showing up literally all over the place. He finds something of yours where it shouldn’t be at least once a week. It had irritated him once upon a time. Now he feels as if having to live without it would tear his heart in half right down the center.

Looking into the cot, Din really stops to soak in how much the tiny sleeping cabin has changed. The fluffy black blanket and accompanying pillow are neatly laid out in a way that makes it look almost like a real bed. A picture, the one the kid drew on Nevarro of the three squiggles together, hangs just above where his helmeted head rests each night beside yours. Together the three of you have a mixed scent that naturally hangs in the sleeping space. It comforts him every time he catches a whiff of it. The kid’s stuffed lava meerkat is in its rightful place, nestled in the tiny hammock. Din’s not ready to face the possibility that all of this could be about to change back to the way it was before. Cold and empty, just as he once was.

You've spoken so openly about feeling like Earth is no longer where you belong, but what if you had been saying that to try and convince yourself of something that was not true? To protect yourself from the pain of not being able to return to where you came from? He feels himself shake a little at the thought of it... that you could possibly look up at him with those big eyes that he loves so much and tell him you've changed your mind about staying. About being by his side.

It hurts so bad that an actual sob escapes his mouth, and he has to grip the ladder rungs to keep himself steady.

*****

“Explain yourself,” you say, arms crossed over your chest as you look your grandfather up and down with scrutiny. He’s changed so much since you last saw him. Thinner, but more fit. The facial hair is new, the deep tan is new. His eyes are the only true giveaway that this is really him. Striking and kind at the same time.

“What would you like to know?” He asks, seeming amused. He also seems to be taking in your appearance, regarding you with interest.

This only serves to irritate you. You’re frustrated, angry, and confused, in no mood to be funny whatsoever. “Everything, Grandad. Why did you leave? More importantly, why didn't you tell me? Was it an accident? Did you do it on purpose? Did you consciously abandon me?”

The amusement never leaves his wrinkled features. “Is it alright if I answer one at a time?”

Rolling your eyes, a sharp, angry noise escapes you. “Do you think this is funny? I mean, honestly? Stop and think about it for a moment. You fucked off out of the blue and left me to deal with all of them by myself. With her. You’re legally dead back home, just in case you were wondering about that. Oh, and your ex-wife took the fucking house away from me. Slapped me in the face with it, both literally and figuratively. I guess you better hope that no one else finds the lab. God! How fucking irresponsible can you be?!”

His face has been growing serious the entire time you’ve been angrily ranting at him, and now a deep frown has found its way into the depths of his beard, the lines of it creasing his forehead. All of the amusement in him is gone as he intones your name gravely. “No one will find the lab. The only other person on Earth who can get into it is you and now you’re finally here. There’s a fail safe in place. After you came here, everything in the room was to be rendered useless and all data was to be scrubbed. Essentially, if I did everything right, the lab will have self destructed in a way.”

“So you knew I would eventually come here?” You’re aware that he glossed over the comment about being left alone, abandoned, but you can’t help but focus on the way he said that you’re finally here.

“Well, I had hoped. I couldn’t be sure that you’d find the lab or the instructions I left you,” he replies plainly. “I also couldn't be sure that you would choose to come.”

Your jaw drops open at that. “Instructions?! There were no instructions!”

“What do you mean? I left you a recording in the lab. Is that not why you figured out how to get here?” He seems just as surprised as you are.

Shaking your head, you explain, “I only found the lab when I was told I had to move out and I was looking for paperwork about the house in your office. It was all completely accidental. After you left and a few years went by I got sick of living alone so I adopted an orange tabby cat. She’s named after Jupiter because her fur pattern reminded me of the planet. I took Jupiter down to the lab with me and she got herself into trouble as soon as we set foot on the ground. I didn't have time to take in my surroundings or find a recording before I was being sucked through time and space against my will.”

The old man gawks at you, openly dumbfounded. “Wait… do you mean to tell me that a god damned cat triggered the intergalactic transplant?”

“Ew, that’s a really gross name for that, Grandad,” you start to laugh, then the sudden swell of emotions crashes over you, sending you into a fit of near hysterical laughter. You're not sure if it's laughing, crying, or both. All of this is so incredibly surreal. It’s like he never left for a split second when you catch yourself talking to him in such a snarky tone, sounding like a much younger version of yourself.

“You know, that is a gross name for it,” the old man laughs along with you, wiping tears from his eyes. Then his tears seem to become real for a moment as well. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky you weren’t split in half. God," he says your name in a pained voice, "I’m so very stupid and selfish. Forgive me. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I told myself that not a single person could know.”

“But why?”

“So that there was no way for the government to find out about it and put an end to it. If they'd caught on to what I was up to I would have either been thrown in jail for conducting illegal experiments, or the loony bin. Once my clearances were revoked I was forbidden from practicing that kind of science. But I wanted you to be involved. I wanted to teach you about what I was doing. I was just so terrified. A part of me was afraid that I really was just a crazy old man who’d read too many science fiction novels as a boy. What if after all this time, after all I had given up, I really was wrong?”

He stops walking to grab both of your hands in his, looking deeply into your eyes as he continues on, “My ego got the better of me, just as it always has. I couldn’t risk letting anyone find out about it and so I convinced myself that I couldn’t risk you being involved either. So, yes, I made the hard decision to keep you in the dark. But I felt so guilty that I decided to leave you that recording before I left. I wanted to give you the choice to either destroy everything and forget about it or to follow me here.”

“It would have been nice to just have that choice up front, you know. Not because you changed your mind at the last minute.” You cannot hide the hurt in your tone, nor do you try to.

Richard's voice is solemn, “There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by since I left that I haven’t regretted my decision not to tell you.”

Fresh tears of your own begin to fall freely as you speak from the heart. “You have no idea what I’ve dealt with in the last five years. It’s been fucking hell, Grandad. Dealing with the family was like dealing with a pack of rabid, feral dogs. The head bitch was the worst I’ve ever seen her. Pure evil. The house upkeep was stressful when I had no idea what I was doing. The government did investigate your disappearance but that didn't last long. People thought I was either nuts or sad or both for believing that you were still alive. But I had to. I had to hold onto the thought that you would never abandon me, at least not on purpose. They only declared you dead recently, so as soon as she could your ex wife was trying to get her hands on anything of yours that she felt she had a claim to. She was ready to take the house from me and leave me on the street without a care in the world. Mom and Dad certainly wouldn't have taken me in. They haven't spoken to me in a long time.”

Richard hangs his head, avoiding the intensity of your gaze. “I’m sorry all of that was so hard on you. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions and that’s on me.”

“Yeah, you really didn’t. I missed you so much, but deep down I was also so angry with you that I wanted to find you just so I could rip you to shreds myself.” That intensity isn’t going to leave your eyes anytime soon. This is all just far too much. You're so overwhelmed. “And while you’ve been gallivanting on your grand space adventures, I’ve been trying to stay sane picking up the pieces of what you left behind. If I hadn't ended up here when I did, who knows what my life would look like right now.”

His voice wavers slightly, “Not all of this has been an adventure. I’ve had a couple of pretty close calls. Ended up in a prison camp at one point. Got picked up by slavers and only barely escaped. You won’t believe the kinds of awful things going on in this galaxy. Wasn’t until I met Peli that things started to feel right, like I was finally home.”

You scoff a little, “Oh I believe it. I’ve just spent the last seven months traveling the outer rim on that Razor Crest with the Mandalorian and the kid. I’ve nearly been killed. I’ve killed. I’ve seen some weird ass shit… but honestly, Grandad? I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I feel like this is where I was always meant to be. Weirdly enough, life here has started to make sense in a way that it never did on Earth.” As the words leave your lips, you realize just how true that statement really is. This galaxy really feels like home now. Earth doesn't even feel like an option anymore.

Richard’s eyes hold the smile that graces his lips long after they return to a neutral state. “Well you fit in with this part of the universe beautifully. I didn’t recognize you at first, and I mean that as a very large compliment. This feels like the most authentic version of you, punk. And it's a good thing, too. In the recording I left you, I told you not to make the decision to come lightly because if you did, then you could never go back to Earth again. So I hope you're fine with sticking around.”

You can't help but agree, “Same goes for you, old man. I barely knew it was you at first when you came out from behind the Crest. But this suits you. You fit here. And at first I wanted to go back to Earth because I was terrified and confused, but now I can't imagine what the point of going back there would be at all. I've changed so much. And even with danger around every corner, this galaxy is so much better than Earth. I've been to so many planets and moons, met so many different species.”

“Seems as if we’ve both changed for the better," he muses.

You regard him seriously then, continuing to walk down the sandy streets of the desert city. “I need to understand everything. Please, I’ll listen as long as I need to but I have to know. How did you even figure out how to get here? Did you know where you were going to end up when you did it?”

Richard chuckles at your rapid fire questioning, musing, "Some things about you haven't changed at all. That’s a lot of ground to cover, but I promise to tell you everything. Can you convince your Mandalorian friend to stay for a few days? We’ve got so much catching up to do.”

Just thinking of Din brings a happy smile to your lips, feeling excited to share the tale of the love you’ve found with your only father figure. “I think he understands the gravity of the situation. He probably already knows I’ll want to stay on Tatooine for a few days, even though we are on a mission of sorts. The Mandalorian and I are… close.”

With a knowing glint in his eye, he smiles at you fondly. “I thought I suspected a certain intimacy between you.”

You can’t help it, gushing a little as you reply. “I’ve never felt love like this, Grandad. He’s my best friend. He’s becoming everything to me. So is the child under our care. They're my family.”

“Then I must know everything about him. How the two of you came to be.”

“You’re not getting off that easy. You first.”

“Alright. I suppose it's best to start at the beginning. What do you know of the phenomenon the locals refer to as The Force?”

*****

“Where’s Mando?” You ask Peli as you re-enter the hanger a long while later, eyes on the lookout for your cosmic companion and your would-be foster child.

The twin suns are nearly set when you and your grandfather return from the long walk on the hot sands. Being reunited with him is both a thrill, and a drain. You're exhausted after talking for so long, listening to him talk, and feeling through so many complicated emotions in one afternoon. You desperately want to be surrounded by your little family and take comfort in the solace of your mobile home. After the conversation with your grandfather, you're filled with a new confidence about your feelings for both Din and the child. The closeness with them is somehow more real than it was before.

The eccentric little woman is currently using the flames from an engine to cook the hunk of krayt dragon meat on a makeshift spit. Noticing this, you finally spot one of your boys. The kid is standing a little too close to the flames in your opinion, so on instinct you move him about a foot backwards. When he pouts up at you, you wink down at him. “Gotta stay safe, Green Bean. It’s only because I love you.”

Peli shrugs, looking as if she’s genuinely concerned in spite of the fact that she’s trying to play it off. “He’s on the ship. Been up there since you two walked off. Seems moodier than usual if ya ask me.”

With a soft roll of the eyes you shake your head, having a good notion as to why Din may be acting moody. After seeing how stiff he was acting before you'd left, it makes sense. Crouching down in front of the kid to pat lovingly at his little head, you ask him, “Can you do me a favor, kiddo? Please stay down here with Peli and Gramps while I go see what’s going on with your dad, okay?” The child nods up at you in response, and you thank him as you look back at the two elder adults. “Do you guys mind watching him for me?”

Richard shakes his head, “Of course not. Go ahead, punk.”

Making your way up and into the ship, you hesitantly call out for Din. He doesn’t respond, so you go looking for him. Not in the cot, the fresher, the galley, or the cargo hold. Upstairs is the only next logical option so you climb the ladder's rungs, growing increasingly more worried the closer you ascend to the top. The cockpit door stands motionless before you, so you take a deep breath and shake out your arms a little before you press the button to open it.

Din is seated on the floor, his back up against the pilot's seat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other laid out straight. He’s facing your direction, so when the door opens with a loud swoosh, his silver head immediately snaps up to look at you. Jupiter is in his lap, a bare hand nestled in her fur as he strokes her back softly.

You come to sit down on the floor in front of him, legs crossed in front of you. You wish briefly that you could take the helmet off. Not to see him, but to comfort him by touching his face. He’s sniffling slightly, and you can't help wondering if he’s been weeping.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him genuinely, reaching forward to touch his helmet with gentle fingers. The cat chooses this moment to leap from his lap and leave her two humans to seek out something only a cat could want.

His breath hitches, coming out with a hiss in the speakers of the modulator. You're surprised when he turns his head from you as he speaks, clearly avoiding your gaze. “You can leave now. Go back to Earth. If you ever decide that this isn’t what you want, you can just leave and then I’d never see you again. When I realized that, ner cyare, it frightened me more than anything in a very long time.”

Part of you is floored by this for a moment, shocked that he would think that you would even consider going back to Earth after all that the two of you have been through together. But a part of you also knew that this was how he may react to the sudden appearance of your long lost grandfather. The entire situation is jarring, so you don't really blame him for having anxiety about it.

“You’ll be thrilled to know that Grandad hasn’t created a way to go back and he doesn't plan to. He came here with the intention of spending the rest of his life here. According to him the device back home has been rendered useless. But more importantly, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. With you. You’re my family, Din Djarin. You and our Green Bean.” Whispering this last sentence, you realize that this is the first time you’ve declared him to be your family to, for lack of a better term, his face. The feeling of fullness in your emotional center warms you, spreading throughout your body in little waves.

Din counters, “Technically he has the ability to build another device if you really change your mind. If he could build it once he could theoretically do it again. And he has access to much more advanced technology here.”

A little noise of frustration erupts from your throat, your hands balling up into fists as you speak, “Oh my god, Din! What in the hell do I have to do to convince you that I’m not going anywhere? Marry you?!” You freeze up as you say this, having not realized the gravity of your words before letting them leave your mouth. A hand flies to your lips, but it's too late to contain what you've already said.

He says nothing at first, only stares at you for a long moment. Then he tilts his head, almost in a foreboding way. His voice sounds dead serious, “Do not make light of that, please.”

“I’m not making light of that. I’m being very serious," you plea.

“I wouldn’t want you to marry me out of some sort of obligation to make me feel more secure,” he replies, the slightest bit of bitterness in his tone with a taste of fear at the edge of it.

“That’s not-,” you start to get fired up again but you quickly stop yourself with closed eyes, taking a deep breath as you adjust your posture. “You misunderstood me. What I was trying to say is that I want to be with you for as long as humanly possible. So if that means eventually marrying you and making this a true life-long bond, then I would do so without hesitation. It wouldn’t be out of obligation in the slightest, it would be out of love.”

Din's shoulders relax a little, voice relaxing as well, "I would like to be with you as long as possible too, but right now I do not know what that entails. We need to figure out what's going to happen with the kid before anything else."

"I know that. I was just trying to make a point." As you try to reassure him, suddenly an embarrassed little feeling stirs in you for having steered the conversation in this direction by accident. The newness of the relationship and the subject of marriage being brought up so early into it, twice in the same week, makes you feel anxious as a silence befalls you both.

“That Tusken was right, though. You’d make a fine wife,” Din says after a moment, his voice sounding significantly better as he sits up. The anxiety laced within his tone is melting away.

Your heart soars at that, your own anxiety subsiding a little. Grinning, you lean forward and kiss the helmet where his cheek lies beneath the beskar, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the mark your lips leave behind. “Sounds like you’re smiling again under there, Chrome Dome.”

He stiffens slightly. “How do you know that?”

You give a knowing smile of your own, grasping for his gloved hand. “I can hear it in your voice when you smile sometimes. It’s only something I’ve picked up on recently. I like to feel your mouth when I’m blindfolded, and I’ve started to realize what your voice sounds like when those lips of yours are turned upwards at me.”

Din makes an indistinguishable noise. “Come here, ner burc’ya.” He pulls you to him then, holding you in a firm embrace as he rests his helmeted head on your shoulder. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

“I love you too, my sweet warrior.” Cradling the beskar, you hold him against you for a long while. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum. I told you I would know you forever. I wouldn't say it the Mandalorian way if I didn't mean it. Please trust that I'm not going to leave so long as we continue to be good for each other."

"I will," he breathes, "I will trust you."

“You’d make a great husband, you know,” you say after the silence which befalls you both no longer feels comfortable. Now that it’s out on the table you might as well talk about it. If he's going to trust you, then you're going to have to trust him in return. Trust that he will handle your feelings with the care and respect of a true partner.

He lifts up to look at you. “You think so?”

“Duh," you exaggerate the word, "I can’t imagine a better man to spend my life with. It would be an honor to introduce you to others as my husband, and to grow old by your side.”

Din sighs, avoiding your gaze again for a moment. “Occasionally I worry that the affection you have for me is misplaced.”

“Why?” You ask, urging him to look at you with a gentle hand to the base of the beskar.

Din shrugs, shaking his helmeted head before the visor looks you dead on again. “I cannot provide you with a normal life. I can only offer you what I know, and I only know the life of a Mandalorian.”

You scoff, “I’ve never once said that I want a normal life.”

“What if you decide that you do one day?”

With a roll of the eyes you squeeze his bare hand, then bring the knuckles to your lips and kiss the ridges with several small pecks. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We can figure out what our normal looks like. My poor shiny friend, you worry far too much. Learn to live in the moment, to enjoy your present life before it passes you by. I'm finally learning to do that myself.”

Din's head tilts slightly. He doesn't break the contact between your hands though, running his thumb over yours. “I’m a trained Mandalorian warrior. Planning for multiple outcomes and thinking tactically is how I was raised.”

You frown, “This isn’t battle, though.”

His tone shifts to a vulnerable one, his head shifting again with it. “In a way it is. In a way, a life long bond between two individuals is just as much a strategic thing as planning a siege. You have to map out the right time to bring up something uncomfortable, just as you would map out the right time to blockade all entry points of an enemy’s base. You must devise when it’s appropriate to trust another with your most sacred and private feelings, just as you must devise when it's appropriate to offer a bargain for the enemy’s surrender. You have to think every choice over carefully when your heart is entangled with the heart of another, or you could strangle both hearts entirely and kill whatever it is that binds them together in the first place.”

You stare at him for a long moment, taking in everything that he just expressed as your eyes scan over the beskar. For a man who barely spoke when you first met, he’s gotten much more comfortable with long and eloquent ways to articulate his thoughts. Hearing him describe what he shares with you from his viewpoint is incredibly powerful, helping you to better understand the man you care for so dearly.

“Thank you for explaining your perspective. I feel like I just got to know a much deeper level of how you see the world. That means a lot to me,” the words flow from your lips earnestly.

“I appreciate that you listen,” he says softly, “that you always strive to understand me.”

“Of course,” you reply, hand trailing over his chest plate, “but, admittedly, I’ve never had to try very hard. You make it incredibly easy to love you, Din.”

“I feel the same way about you,” he says even softer, melting your heart a little more. “Parts of this are still uncomfortable for me but loving you, knowing you, comes so naturally. I used to try so hard to fight it in those early months but it was no use.”

“What are the odds that Greef's business proposition would lead to this?” You muse idly.

“I think that very same thing all the time,” Din’s voice is almost full of wonder.

Seeing a window of opportunity, you bring up what you came to talk to him about, “Speaking of which, I actually have a proposition of my own.”

“I’m listening,” he urges you on, sitting up more.

“Since our one and only lead turned out to be a bust and we have no idea where to go next, is it okay if we delay for a couple of days? I’d like to spend time with Grandad before we carry on with the mission.”

“This is not something I would consider a delay, cyar’ika. You thought that he was gone forever, and now he’s back in your life. That is not an insignificant thing. I’ll give you as much time as you need.”

“You’re the best,” you grin, butting your forehead into his metal clad one.

“So you love to tell me,” Din chuckles.

“I do have one complaint about you though,” you say with a cheeky little smirk.

“And that is?” He sounds as if he's raised an eyebrow, head tilting.

“You're still covered in krayt dragon, and I'm pretty sure we both stink.”

*****

Nightfall comes and Din finds himself seated by the flames of a small fire in Hangar 3-5, with you seated in a way so that you are next to but also leaning on him. One arm is wrapped around your waist and the other is draped along the piece of spare equipment he’s leaning against. You feel so right pressed to him like this, and the word riduur continues to float around in his mind. He must be going mad for thinking about marriage this much and so soon. Yes, the two of you have been close friends for several months but you’ve been lovers for a much shorter amount of time. Perhaps he’s so lost in the throws of love that he cannot think clearly anymore. Or perhaps the idea of marrying you is the clearest he’s ever thought about anything in his entire life.

Either way, he pulls you close and savors how perfect your weight feels against him. The way you convulse into him as you laugh at something your grandfather says. The scent of your freshly clean body, faint as it is within the helmet. Din’s chest swells at the sensation of spousal yearning, arm squeezing you the littlest bit tighter. You seem to respond to this, pressing your hand into his inner thigh and glancing back at him with a knowing little smile. He can see the love in your eyes, and briefly wishes that you could see it being returned in his own. A wish that he quickly pushes away, ashamed slightly.

Peli and Richard have provided the group with two bottles of wine. One for the two of them and one for Din and yourself. Not usually one to drink, Din hasn’t had much of it. You’ve had one cup and your body seems to have relaxed into the feeling of it, though your mind remains sharp as you discuss the things you miss about Earth with your grandfather.

“Okay,” you giggle, a sound Din has cherished for months, “what are the top five Earth foods you miss eating? For me it's pizza with pineapples and peppers, cheeseburgers with mushrooms, any kind of sushi, cheesy mashed potatoes, and spaghetti. Angel hair pasta of course.”

Din has no idea what any of that food is. You've spoken about some of these things before, so he's vaguely familiar with the terminology you use but when it comes down to truly understanding, he's at a loss as to what constitutes as a cheeseburger. He'd be interested to know what it tastes like, if only to understand why you speak of it with such reverence.

Richard hums as he considers this, a look of concentration on his brow. “That's a good one. I think mine are going to have to be BLTs, crab cakes, French onion soup, beef stroganoff, and spaghetti for me as well. You used to make great spaghetti.”

“Oh my god I would die for a bowl of it right now,” you lament. “With extra Parmesan cheese. And garlic bread.”

“Does any of that sound good to you, Mando?” Peli asks with a scrunched expression. “These Earthlings are weird-ooohs if you ask me.”

“I'd have to see it to know, but it all certainly sounds bizarre.” Din replies honestly.

You look up at him with a wide grin, “I think a good slice of pizza would change your life, Mando.”

Just then a piece of metal whizzes past his head, nearly dinging the beskar. The kid is in your lap playing with some spare parts down by Din's feet, using his ability to make them float around in front of his face as if he is playing with toy starships. One of the 'ships' must have had a great victory over the one that flew past him, if he had to guess.

“That child is something else,” Richard remarks from the other side of the fire where he’s laying down with his head in Peli’s lap.

Din must admit, seeing Peli in a romantic relationship is very odd. He’s sure that seeing them like that is strange for you as well. Richard himself eludes Din for a multitude of reasons. The Mandalorian is skeptical of this stranger, regardless of who he is to you. When Din had asked you to tell him your grandfather's explanation for why any of this happened to the two of you in the first place, you told Din that you would talk to him about it when you've had more time to process everything. He wants to know for himself if this man can be trusted after keeping something so monumental from you, but for now he will trust you and hope that's enough.

The old man then adds, “I've heard so much about The Force but I've never seen it used before.”

You chuckle, your body rumbling into Din's as you stroke one of the child's long ears. “You haven’t seen the half of it with our little green bean, old man. He’s the most remarkable little kid in the galaxy.” The child smiles up at you when you say this, so naturally you lean forward to kiss his wispy haired little head. Din's chest swells with love at the sight of it.

“She’s not just saying that. It’s a special little critter,” Peli agrees, one hand stroking the wild gray hair of her companion. Then she looks directly at Din. “Why don’t you let us care for him tonight so that the two of you may find proper rest.”

Din begins to argue, “We sleep just fine with him.”

She counters again, “Yes but this can give you a chance to really sleep through the night. Just for tonight. I mean no offense, Mando, but you both look like you could use it.”

Din wants desperately to retort with a snarky inquiry as to how she knows what he looks like, but he holds his tongue and instead waits for you to answer. To see what your opinion is, and listen to it with respect. Almost like real parents. Like a husband and wife, he thinks against his will.

After mulling this over for a moment, you finally respond with your thoughts. “I think it should be up to the kid where he wants to sleep. If he’s excited about a sleepover then sure, but if he seems uncomfortable it’s probably best he stay home with us.”

“Well, little guy, what do ya say? You wanna camp out with your old auntie Peli and, well gee, I dunno what we should call Richard.” Peli looks at her companion curiously.

“You can just call me 'old man', kiddo. That’s what your mama always called me.” Richard offers a little chuckle along with this.

“I'm not his mama,” you blurt rather sharply, mood shifting to a saddened tone, "but what I wouldn't give to be."

Din notices how tense you get when you say that, hearing the pain in your voice. He feels a little guilty then, knowing that you're denying the title mostly to appease him and his creed. The arm he has around you tightens, and he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Cyar’ika, you don’t have to-”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Peli interjects with an almost dismissive wave of the hand, “the two of you are more like parents to him than anyone else in the galaxy. Who else provides him with a home? Feeds him? Loves him? Knows him?”

Din's heart feels strangled at that last word. Know. What a significance that word has in his culture. Love is one thing. Love is so intense and passionate and can, unfortunately, be sometimes fleeting. But to know someone is another thing entirely. The love is there of course, but the knowing is what makes that love last forever. That is why a Mandalorians says 'ni kar'taylir darasuum' in lieu of 'I love you'. Because it is so much more than that. There's no way that Peli could have known how much that phrase would impact him, could she? It feels so directed at him. But perhaps Din is feeling sensitive around the subject of the child to begin with.

Richard nods in agreement with Peli, getting up to come squat down and speak directly to the child in your lap, the fire a backdrop to his image. “I was adopted,” he tells the green baby, “and I know that the love I felt from my parents was more real to me than any sort of biological connection I have with the ones who made me. They provided a home where I was loved, respected, and nurtured. A home where I was allowed to grow and be myself. You see, I never felt like I fit in very much on Earth. Which is why I found a way to come here. But when I was a little one like you, my parents made me feel like I could fit in anywhere.”

The kid seems to be soaking in this information, looking up at the old man with wide eyes and little babbles.

You make a choked little sound and grab around for Din’s gloved hand, squeezing once you take hold. He knows then that you’re not really okay and you’re hiding it very well.

“We are his caretakers,” Din starts with the same speech he’s been giving to everyone for months, a very small sliver of him hating himself for saying it, “and should he choose to stay with us we would gladly become his parents. But it is my duty to find his people and bring him to his own kind. He must decide for himself what path he wishes to take. By creed, so it must be.”

“He’s just a baby though,” your grandfather argues, brow furrowed. "He can't possibly understand your creed. All that he understands is that you are the ones who love him right now."

Din starts to get a little defensive at that. “He’s fifty years old. He’s completely aware of what's going on around him and he’s very smart. Technically yes, he’s a baby, but he’s also more capable than the average infant.”

“You haven’t seen what he can do, Grandad,” you agree, adding, “Mando's creed is a sacred thing that none of us are equipped to understand. He's doing what is right by the kid in the best way he knows how, and that's enough.”

Although it must pain you to defend something Din knows you do not wish to be a reality, he's very thankful that you choose to back him up in this moment. You really are his partner. Wife, his mind repeats against his will.

Richard nods to Din, seeming to back off after you've put your foot down. “Well I’m sure the two of you know what you’re doing. But we’d love to watch the little one for you both tonight.”

“What do you say? You wanna have a sleepover with them, love bug?” You ask down to the kid, smile warming when he looks up at you wide-eyed. “Mando and I are fine with it, sweetheart. Might be fun to break up the routine a little.”

The kid seems to think this over before looking up at you with a little nod, squeezing your fingers with a tiny hand as he makes affirmative noises.

Conversation and drinks carry on for a while longer. After an hour the kid is just about tuckered out completely, snuggled up to Din’s left inside of the pram. He’s wrapped in his small blanket with the lava meerkat plush, eyes fighting desperately to stay open so he can be part of the fun. Din chuckles, reaching his free hand out to stroke the kid’s ear with a gloved finger. He feels endeared, recalling how it felt to be a child wanting to be included in the confusing but exciting world of the adults around him. “I know you want to stay up and see what the grown ups are doing but it’s okay to go to sleep, ad’ika. Rest. There will be plenty for you to learn tomorrow.”

As if this truly gives the child permission to fall asleep, his huge eyes slip closed and his breathing begins to deepen after a content little sigh escapes from his tiny mouth.

The adults bid each other a good night, and suddenly Din is completely alone on the Razor Crest with you. Well, alone save for the cat. It feels odd to be without the child, an awkward bashfulness he's not used to is rising in him. He feels a little nervous about what he wants to do next, but every instance when he has acted on an impulse with you thus far has been met favorably. So he decides to just go for it.

"I would like to speak to you about something," he says, knowing he sounds a little awkward.

You've begun pulling out the light clothing you like to sleep in from the compartment you took over all those months ago, but you turn to give him your full attention. "What's up?"

"I would like to understand you better," he says simply.

You grin a little, "How so?"

"If you truly will never return to Earth, then I would like to ensure that you do not forget about it. It is where you came from, and that has value. I know that a part of you does miss things about it. I do not want your home world to only be a place full of bad memories, and I feel that deep down you do not want that either."

Your grin widens as you cross the room to touch a hand to his chest plate, eyes casting upward. "I like how you say you want to understand me better, but you can read me better than anyone."

Din shrugs, "Not always. Tell me what a couple would do together on Earth if they were granted a night's respite from being foster parents. How does courtship work on your world?"

You grin as you mull this over for a long moment. "Well, it all depends on the couple. There are countless ways that romantic partners can enjoy time together on Earth, so it's really about what both people are interested in. We call the act of setting aside a special time just for the two of you a 'date'. Earth couples do all kinds of things together that may constitute a date. Walks, games, dancing. But one of the most common things is probably what we call dinner and a movie, which was always my personal favorite. Usually a couple will go out to eat somewhere nice and dress up to impress each other in their nicest clothes. Then they go to a movie theater to see whatever is out that they both would like to see."

Din nods in understanding. You told him once that the 'movie theater' was your favorite place to go on Earth. The place where you could slip away from your family's emotional abuse and escape into another world entirely for a few hours. He has only a vague understanding of what a place like that would be like, but he has a complete understanding of what it once meant to you.

"The ones you have on your personal device? Would they be sufficient for this?"

"Din Djarin, are you asking me out on a date?"

"If that is really what it is called, then yes. We've already had dinner, so I suppose we can skip to the movie part."

“Well, we are kind of limited in the selection. Back home I had hundreds of movies in my physical collection. I only have a small handful on that thing. I try not to watch them very often because it drains the battery, and I'm afraid I'll get sick of them too soon.”

“I would like for you to show me whichever one is your favorite of those options. We can get comfortable in the cot, if that sounds agreeable to you.”

“Ha,” you laugh a bit, “that's a no-brainier. I've got the perfect choice. But before we get started I'm going to have to explain a few Earth things just to catch you up to speed. Starting with a little place we like to call Ancient Egypt.”

Curled up in the cot with you pressed to his side, Din enjoys watching the tale of treasure-seeking adventurers uncovering ancient curses, while also uncovering a romance, far more than he'd realized was possible. After first it is a little difficult to understand but eventually he allows himself to get fully engrossed in the story playing on the small screen, even with the differences in speech and culture. It's easy enough to piece things together when he needs to, and the visible emotions of the characters are able to surpass any language barriers.

Afterwards he's full of questions.

“This Brendan Fraiser, he must be one of the most important- what did you call them? Actors? He must be very important.”

You chuckle, a fondness in your eyes as they meet his beneath the beskar. “He is to me and some other nerds who love his movies but unfortunately not as popular as you would think.”

“And how did they create that face in the sand? Was that real?”

“No, they used computers to create that. The technology is called CGI, or computer-generated imagery.”

“Interesting. It looked real. Odd that your culture uses computers for that and not more useful things,” Din says thoughtfully.

You scoff, “That's not the only thing we use computers for. But yes, we tend to use our technology for more frivolous endeavors. That doesn't mean that it's easy. I certainly don't have the skills for something like that. It takes a long time and a lot of people to make it look that good.”

“Very strange,” he muses.

The grin that spreads across the bottom half of your face is lovely as you say, “Well, Din Djarin, this was your first experience watching an Earth movie from beginning to end. I have to ask, what was your favorite part?”

“Mm,” he hums as he ponders, and then says almost bashfully, “I think my favorite part was the romance. I very much enjoyed watching the two characters fall in love. The way that they would look at each other with admiration was very believable. It... it reminded me of us.”

You can't help but grin lovingly at him, chest swelling. “That's my favorite part as well. I used to watch that movie as a little girl and yearn for a romance like that. I always wanted to go on an adventure and find the love of my life.”

“Do you feel like I am the love of your life?” He asks then, voice soft and hopeful in the modulated tone of his helmet. He finds himself wishing again that you could see his eyes again, see the sincerity there. Thoughts like that are worrisome if they do not go unchecked.

“I do,” you say honestly, “and this has certainly been an adventure.”

Din doesn't say more, simply nuzzling his beskar covered head into the side of your bare one.

“You know,” you say when a moment of silence goes by, “after a date it's usually customary to have sex.”

“Oh it is, is it?” Din's grin is hopefully obvious in his voice, a bare hand already snaking it's way up under the hem of your shirt.

*****

The handful of times you've had sex with your cosmic companion, you've never categorized what the two of you do together as making love. In fact, you're certain that you've never “made love” with anybody. The phrase always felt so corny on your tongue. It would make you cringe to hear it said in a film or read the phrase in a book. The concept seemed entirely fictional, like something sad women fantasize about in romance novels when in reality they have to go to bed each night with men who can barely make them cum let alone have emotionally compelling sex.

But on this night, you and Din make love in every imaginable sense of the phrase. Every touch is soft and deliberate, fueled by the pure emotion the two of you feel for one another. As if the connection between you is the realest it's ever been up to this point. It's pure bliss. Taking your time undressing one another, admiring each other's bodies as slowly as possible. He doesn't remove the helmet tonight, and it feels as if you're able to make eye contact with him even through the visor. Perhaps it's all in your head but each time your eyes meet the black T in the center of his metal clad face, you know you've locked eyes with him. The two of you move so carefully, treating each other's forms with the utmost respect.

With you on top and his nimble fingers playing with your clit, you're able to easily reach an orgasm in record time. Marveling at the realization that cumming with Din has become the easiest thing in the world. That woman from Earth who couldn't cum with a partner to save her life? Who's she? You don't know her anymore, that part of you is so distantly in the past.

His own orgasm arrives shortly after and you happily lap up the small puddle of him from his toned belly before your tongue trails all the way up his torso. Kissing and licking every salty ounce of tan skin that you have access to. As much as you long to kiss his lips, you find yourself pleased that he hasn't removed the helmet tonight. You get to actually look at his naked body in all it's glory for once, not just in passing. Usually you're blindfolded when he's this exposed.

“You have so many scars,” you muse, idly running a finger along a diagonal one that starts just below his right nipple, slanting down towards the center of his sternum. “You told me once that you have so many that you lose track, but that can't be true for all of them. Some must have a story.”

“They do,” he agrees softly, his own fingers lost in your hair. “Not all of them are stories I'd like to remember.”

“I guess that's fair. But I'd love to hear more about your past. What was your life really like before the kid and I came along?”

“Lonely,” he whispers.

“Always? There wasn't anyone?”

“I was a different man then, but there was someone a very long time ago. I was young and foolish.”

“So you have an ex you regret?”

“I do not understand the question.”

“An ex-girlfriend or lover? As in no longer a thing but once was? You said you hadn't slept with anyone in nearly ten years. Who was she? Or he?”

Din's head tilts up thoughtfully. “I suppose Xi'an counts as that, but I never loved Xi'an. Not in the way that I love you. I cared about her, but I couldn't be what she needed. She and I ran together on the same crew. We worked as hired guns, long before I was a bounty hunter. The things we did back then... I am not very proud of them. As I said, I was young and foolish. I was also very angry. Angry still for what happened to my family and my home world. I took out a lot of that anger on those jobs, and I enjoyed the pain I inflicted. It felt good to make others suffer because I had suffered. So with Xi'an it was a constant cycle of fighting, drinking, and fucking. There was plenty of lust, but never real love between us. When I decided that I'd finally had enough of that life, I left and she didn't take it well.”

“Wow, I was not expecting that. Thank you for sharing.”

“You're welcome,” he nods, gesturing towards his head. “My helmet was also a constant source of contention. She was offended that I would not take it off for her. She mocked my creed on a regular basis, and I did not take kindly to that after awhile.”

A small pang of jealous worry strikes your heart, but you push through it with hope that you're right about the answer to your next question. “So you never did the blindfold thing with her?”

Din looks at you sharply, causing a shiver to run the length of your spine as his voice becomes deadly serious. “Never. You are the only person I have ever done that with. What we have is different. You are the only woman I have ever called my cyar'ika. Ner cyare.”

Snuggling into him, your heart soars a little. You'd hoped that was the case, but until now it's never been brought up. “I don't ever want the helmet to be a source of contention for us. I would never mock your creed, Din. That's so cruel.”

Din releases a breath, sighing happily. “And that is why what we have is unique. I don't know why you respect my way of life so much, but I am thankful that you do.”

A shrug finds your shoulders. “I just think it's silly to shame others for being themselves. If this is how you choose to live and you do not force your way of thinking onto me, then I have no right to judge you or try to steer you away from it. This is part of what makes you you, and I cannot say that I love you if I do not love all of you.”

“I do not know what I've done to deserve you, but I thank whatever deity is listening that I have.”

His arms tighten around you, and soon after the two of you drift off to a peaceful sleep.

*****

“So I have to ask you, Mando. What are your intentions with my granddaughter?” Richard asks Din a few days later when the two of them are alone in Hangar 3-5. The women have taken the child into the town of Mos Eisley to pick up more food, and the men opted to stay behind.

“I'm not sure I understand.” Din says honestly, confused a little by his Earth phrasing.

“I know that she loves you a great deal, Mandalorian. I have never seen her like this before. She's happy with you. Happier than I think she's ever been.” Richard's voice grows incredibly serious, the old man regarding Din with piercing eyes. “I would like to know if you intend for things to remain that way.”

Din is taken aback by this sudden line of questioning, but he tries his best to answer honestly, “I cannot control her happiness. No one can or should control the will of another. But I do intend to be by her side for a long as she will have me. I will provide her with anything that is within my ability to do so. She means more to me than I believe I could describe.”

Richard mulls over this response, seeming pleased with it but not entirely. “What of marriage?”

Kriffing Hell, why is this at the forefront of everyone's minds as of late? “I believe it is too early for that,” Din offers, weary of where this is going.

“But have you considered it?”

Almost every day. “It is something I have contemplated, yes.”

“Well, what's holding you back?”

“As I said, I believe it to be too soon.”

Richard scoffs, “Oh nonsense. The two of you are more in love than I think I've ever seen before. People on Earth get married for far less.”

Din doesn't know how to respond to that at first, feeling both awkward at this sudden grilling and slightly defensive. “Mandalorians do not wed for far less,” he says with a pointed tone. “The bond of riduurok is sacred. Not meant to be taken lightly. She and I must arrive at that conclusion as partners if that is indeed the path our lives are to take. I love your granddaughter. She is a remarkable woman. I may not be ready to ask her that question now, but I would be honored if she were to accept my proposal when the time comes.”

Richard looks him up and down for a long moment before nodding once and holding out his hand. Din takes it as an offer of handshake so he reaches a gloved hand out to accept.

With a grin crawling out from his beard, the old man declares, “That was a test, and you passed.”

“Thank you, I think?” Din says, still half confused.

“You see, I wanted to make sure that she's traveling around with someone who respects her. Thank you for being good to her, and good for her. I've known that girl since the day she was born. She's had a lot of pain in her life and she doesn't need more if it can be helped.”

Din thinks over his next impulse for a moment, seeing an opportunity to ask Richard something that he hasn't felt comfortable bringing up to you. “Since we are already talking about this, I do have a few questions for you about the marriage customs of Earth.”

*****

“You are so good with him,” Peli says as the three of you are making your way back to Hangar 3-5, a droid rolling beside her carrying the food and supplies gathered at the market.

Currently, the kid in question is in your arms and you've been pretending he's a little starship as you mock flying him around in the air. Ever since Din did that with him back on Nevarro, it's become one of the kid's favorite things in the world. Bringing him in for a landing on your hip, you squint over to the older woman through the harsh rays of the binary suns. “I appreciate that,” you say softly, a sadness to your tone that doesn't go unnoticed.

“Have you tried to convince Mando to just keep him? Raise him as your own? The two of you could settle down somewhere and have a nice life with this little boy.” Peli sounds so genuine right now, which throws you off a little. Normally the woman is all quips, now she's speaking so freely of your heart's true desire.

“I'm not going to try and convince Mando of anything. He's aware of my feelings on the subject. I would become this child's mother right now if I had the option. But we agreed to see this through to the end, whatever that end that may be.” At your hip, the kid makes a noise that sounds sad, long ears casting downward. It's obvious that he understands everything that the adults are saying, and your heart sinks. “I'm sorry to talk about you like you're not here, buddy. This is just so complicated. I wish I could make it easier to understand.”

“That's right, tell your mama you want to stay with her and Mando, little fella.” Peli says with a wink down at the kid. “If they're going to leave the choice up to you, then you're going to have to chose one way or the other. What would make you happy, little one?”

The kid's ears perk back up, mouth opening as a little look of realization comes over his face. He says, “patu,” and reaches out for Peli. You hand him over, and she begins playing starship with him the way you had a minute ago.

“And believe me I am not just advocating for this so I can have a sweet little great-grandson like you, but it would definitely be a huge win for me.” She says, swooping him up and down with mouth noises to simulate torpedoes.

“Do you have any children?” You ask tentatively, aware that a subject like this can be touchy.

Peli stops walking all together, a sad look crossing her features. She keeps looking down at Green Bean, never once looking back up at you while she speaks. “I did. A son. He was a X-Wing pilot for the rebellion. I did all the upgrades and tune ups on that thing myself, but it didn't help much. He was lost in the war.”

“I'm sorry Peli. Truly,” your chest tightens, empathy for her loss overcoming you.

“I wasn't sure I'd ever feel alive again after he died. It got a little easier to live each cycle, but I never felt alive. I moved here and opened my hangar to try a fresh start. Then your grandfather stumbled into the cantina asking if anyone needed the work of a good engineer, and life found its way back into my bones after all. Still hurts every damn day, though.” She throws a mournful smile your way, handing the kid back to you. “So take my advice. If you love him, do everything in your power to keep him. And if that doesn't work, just make sure he knows how much you love him while you still have time together.”

“I will heed your advice as much as I can,” you say lamely, unsure of how to feel after such a heavy revelation about your new friend. You instead change focus to the fact that she had referred to herself as a possible great-grandmother to the kid, insinuating the seriousness of her relationship with your grandfather. “So I take it you and my grandfather are happy together?”

Peli's sad facial expression then morphs to one of joy, “I thank The Force every day for bringing us together.”

That answer is enough for you, nodding to the woman. “I am glad he finally found that with someone. My grandmother was not a very good wife to him.”

“She sounds like a real bitch if you ask me,” she laughs, sounding more like the woman you've gotten to know over the last couple of days. The kind of woman you wish had been your grandmother. You're happy to have her in the family now, even if it is unofficial.

You can't help but laugh as well, taking the child back from her. “You don't know the half of it, Peli. You don't know the half of it.”

Then as your own laugh dies down, you can hear the laughter of your two favorite men in this universe up ahead at Hangar 3-5. As your party makes way into the circular docking bay, you see the two of them tinkering with something over at one of the many work benches. Sparks are flying up around them, illuminating their figures with little cascades of dancing light. The golden colors bounce off of Din's armor and your grandfather's safety goggles, and when Din says something indistinguishable Richard claps a hand on his shoulder with another bout of uproarious laughter.

The sight of it fills your heart with so much love, but the emotion is so much more complicated than that. Seeing your family, all of it, together like this is something you never thought you'd get a chance to see. Family was so far removed from your life back on Earth. Here it's beginning to flourish in the way you'd always wished for. As Peli rushes over to greet Richard with a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of his ass (that part you could have seriously done without), Din looks over to you with a little wave and quickly covers up whatever he'd been working on with a sheet. Looking down at the child in your arms, you can't help but mull over Peli Motto's words of wisdom and hope that whatever comes next will ultimately work out for the best.

“I love you, Green Bean. I really would be your mama if you decide that's what you want, but it's your choice to make. I promise that I would never try to sway you. I'll love you no matter what path you choose. Always.”

*****

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

38 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 2 years ago

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

-OR-

the dark sider/mandalorian au no one knew they needed

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Graphic depictions of violence; Canon divergence; Themes of redemption; And forgiveness; THE RAZOR CREST LIVES BITCH!!!!; Soft!Dom Din Djarin; Protective behavior; Possessive behavior; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Breeding kink; Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Spanking; Overstimulation; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin; Angst with a happy ending; Hurt/comfort; Fluff and smut; Inappropriate Use Of the Force; Discussions of infertility; References to Greek Mythology; Past abuse; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Violence as a metaphor for desire and intimacy; Other additional tags to be added

Read on AO3

PART I :

Chapter I: Apollo

Chapter II: Prometheus

Chapter III: Psyche

Chapter IV: Aite

Chapter V: Morpheus

Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Chapter VII : Hysminai

Chapter VIII : Melpomene

Interlude : Tartarus

PART II :

Chapter IX : Persephone

Chapter X: Geryon

Chapter XI: Lethe

Chapter XII: Venus

Chapter XIII: Eros

Chapter XIV: Dionysus

Chapter XV:

⚡️Din and Sithy art by the wonderfully talented @dirtysouvenir

⚡️Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing!

717 notes · View notes

skiitter · 2 years ago

Photo

Chapter Four! Our time on Yavin-4 comes to a close with a firefight and a friendly face. Din makes a navigational decision and Nine flexes her skills as a linguist.

#skitterfics #din djarin/ofc #din djarin/original character #the mandalorian/original character #the mandalorian/ofc #din djarin #the mandalorian #like ghosts #a day early cause i'm on vacation tomorrow #shout out to the like five of you reading this i love u very much<3 #(esp riot shhh)

4 notes · View notes

lhumminglbird · 2 months ago

Text

Dincember- day 18: home🏡

'Tis often the feeling one gets when being around certain people. Not a place you've grown familiar with, nor a house you call your own.

Home can be anything.

To Din, it was the people that he met along the way. The ones that felt helpless, lost and alone; just like he did in a way.

He never saw such an outcome for himself, always imagined him to continue the grind until his last breath. Maybe even die as a warrior on the battlefield...but to be a husband and father?

And something happened along that same way that he would never want to change ever again.

#artists on tumblr #digital art #fanart #sketch #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanart #grogu #baby yoda #star wars oc #star wars fanart #dincember 2024 #din grogu #original character #oc art #din djarin x oc #found family

36 notes · View notes

idonotenjoyourcompany · 17 days ago

Text

Kissing in Mando'a 💖

#star wars #star wars oc #oc x canon #the mandalorian #oc art #din djarin #cute #ship art #original character #GADsart

33 notes · View notes

djarins-cyare · 9 months ago

Text

Never Look Down

✮ MINISERIES MASTERLIST ✮

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (part 1 - his POV) / Din Djarin x Reader (part 2 - her POV)

Word Count: 13,160

PART 1 - DIN’S EVENING

PART 2 - MAIA’S (YOUR) MORNING

➤ MAIN MASTERLIST

252 notes · View notes

lokischocolatefountain · 1 year ago

Text

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

Summary: A game of guessing goes right in every way for you and Din, your kind of friend, sort of boss.

A/N: Day 1 of my fic advent calendar and my first Din Djarin fic on here! Credits to my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie for co-creating the reader character and for our long conversations about her and Din. Keep checking the advent calendar Masterlist for more fics dropping this month. And leave me a little comment to encourage me to keep the fics going 💜💜💜

“Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” he lied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral even though he was surprised that she knew he was scowling. Lucky guess, he told himself. But how many lucky guesses could one person have about his facial expressions?

“You so were!” She insisted, sinking further back into the novelty ‘chair’ she bought on their last stop. It was a sphere half filled with tiny soft particles that molded itself to the user’s shape. She slouched on it as she continued watching one of her holodramas, something with a murder or speeders (or both) at the heart of the story.

“I was not.”

“If you say so, Din Can,” she said, using her nickname for him. He chuckled reflexively, unable to control his responses to her. Thankfully, his helmet filtered the sound out, saving him the embarrassment of finding humor in the humiliating nickname. He smiled, glad she didn’t know just how many times she’d made him laugh whether by mocking him or making clever remarks in general.

“I do say so.”

She was beautiful. Taking up the creed meant hiding one’s own face from others. To hide what would serve as the basis of others’ first impression of you so that your valor and your character would serve as your defining features. Vanity was not something he was raised with. Yet he knew beauty when it stared him in the eye and called him Din Can everyday. Or Tin Djarin. Buckethead when he really pissed her off.

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

Blood rushed to his cheek when he thought of the last time she did that. She’d gotten very comfortable around him in the months they’d been crew mates. All her initial jitters and jumpiness around him had gone and been replaced with her stubbornness, strange sense of humour, and a level of confidence she didn’t have with him before.

He had to chase her down to even get her to accept the job he was offering her as a travelling mechanic. He’d never heard of one before. And she was quite frightened of him after the kind of interaction they had at Peli’s shop. But he needed a mechanic on board. With the kid in his hands now, it became hard to juggle a failing ship with hunting bounties and caring for a mischievous kid who waited for the moment he took his eyes off him to cause chaos.

It helped to have a mechanic on board at all times. She was wonderful and came approved by Peli. Over time, she became more than his mechanic. A friend, he would be brave enough to say. If he were braver with women, he would say that he’s caught her sneaking glances at him. That he felt her twinkling eyes rove over his armor every now and then. Sometimes he was confident of it. At others, he convinced himself that his mind was clouded by his desire for her. By his desire for her to desire him too.

The matter of his expressions came up once again later after dinner.

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

He grunted, turning away from her to focus on the controls. They were on hyperspeed. There was nothing he needed to do with the controls. But to come face to face with her when she told him exactly what he did underneath his helmet was…too much.

“Heyy! Let’s play a game?” She asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Play with Grogu.”

“He’s asleep. And this is not a game for little potatoes.”

He chuckled softly at the nickname and looked up at her again, awaiting her proposal. “What would that be?” He asked.

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

“Dank farrik! I missed when you used to be quiet. Just listen to me. I’ll guess what your face looks like under your helmet and if I get it right, you should take a sip of your drink. And if I get it wrong, I take a sip. Let’s do it with the Silver Elixir,” she said, getting up from her seat to fetch the bottle from their liquor cabinet they kept locked to keep away from wandering little womp rats.

She returned with the bottle, two glasses and straws. They’d recently taken to drinking together. She bought him a straw a begged him to join her, using her sweet eyes and her adorable pout to convince him. She said she only had drinks with friends and that drinking alone on the razor crest made her feel lonely.

He gave in to her, just like he gave in to their little green crewmate.

She didn’t need to use a straw, of course. Yet she did. When he asked, she said it was so that he didn’t feel lonely drinking through a straw like a kid. Even in her insults, she managed to be sweet.

“Start guessing,” he said impatiently as she sat next to him and looked intently at their glasses to see if they were filled equally.

“Sure, sure… You have dark hair,” she said, passing his drink to him. “Dark brown.”

“A little too obvious, isn’t it?” He asked, knowing she had definitely seen his hair in the trash after he gave himself haircuts and shaved his facial hair.

“Drink up, old man!” She said, lips wide in a grin as she knew already that she was right.

He snorted, but followed through, taking a sip of the strong liquor. “Alright. Next.”

“You have….big green ears.”

“Wrong,” he huffed, smiling nevertheless at her sense of humour.

“Damn it! I should’ve known they wouldn’t fit inside the helmet,” she said, taking a sip. She was smiling too, and unlike his, it was out in the open and as bright as the stars around them.

“Those were two descriptors. Big and green. Take one more sip,” he argued. He didn’t particularly want to get her drunk, but he liked how adorable she was when intoxicated. One of their drinking sessions ended with her snuggling up to him because she couldn’t find the kid to snuggle like a children’s stuffed animal.

“What? No! It was one guess, so it’s one sip.”

“Again, you guessed the size and color of my ears and they were both wrong. Take a sip.”

She rolled her eyes, but complained, taking another sip. She leaned close and narrowed her eyes at him, as though focusing on his helmet would reveal what was underneath. He smiled unconsciously, taking in the beauty of her from up close. The light in her eyes, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was in deep thought, lips that impressed him with the wittiest remarks… Lips he wanted desperately to pull to his, to devour and make moan his name.

“No moustache.”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, thinking of how he could sort the point for this. He *did* have a moustache, but that was only now. There were times when he shaved it off completely. “It’s complicated. I have a moustache now, but I change it quite frequently. So, half a sip.”

“If I have to take half a sip, so should you.”

“No, I don’t,” he scoffed at her warped logic. Here he was, being nice and giving her some credit even though she was wrong. But she was trying to take advantage of it.

“Yeah you should. If I’m taking half a sip because I was half right and half wrong, you should also take a sip because you’re half right and half wrong.”

“No. That’s not how it works. I have facial hair now, which means you are wrong. I should’ve made you take a full sip, but I decided to make a concession because I am sometimes fully shaven.”

“Dank Farrik! You’re such a lightweight. Just say you can’t handle your liquor and I’ll let you go,” she taunted, a smirk plying at her lips.

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor much better than you can. Here,” he said, drinking the strong undiluted alcohol like it was water in a few big sips. He slammed the glass against the control panel surface and shrugged. “See, I’m good. You are the one who gets drunk after one portion of the Silver Elixir and terrorizes the kid.”

She gasped, as though he made a much bigger accusation. “I don’t terrorize the kid! I just give him extra cuddles and kisses. He enjoys them very much. It’s called affection, Tin Can. Ever heard of it?”

He tilted his head at her in the way that sometimes made her swallow audibly. “So you think that because of my way of life, I have never experienced affection?”

She opened and closed her mouth quickly, as though her mind and lips were in disagreement about whether or not what they were about to say was appropriate. He smiled under his helmet, proud of himself for stumping her. She talked a lot. Since he was a quiet man, everyone else was talkative in comparison. But she was the voice he heard the most as they lived together on the Razor Crest and their other occupant communicated mostly in coos and squeals.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Say what. Since the drinking thing was already disproportionate anyway because I’m not guessing your features and I can handle my liquor much better than you do….lets change the rules.” He took a deep breath, afraid of the consequences of his words but unable to miss this opportunity. “For each correct guess you make, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, the things she did without even knowing! He thought he could die from the anticipation of hearing her next guess. Would she guess something ridiculous like big green ears to make sure she doesn’t have to kiss him? Or would she make a very obviously correct guess?

“You have…” she trailed in a softer voice, looking at him almost coyly. “…pink lips.”

Not the most obvious guess. Not all humans had pink lips. And he could easily not be human. He didn’t remember telling her he was… But if she was going for something for a higher likelihood of being correct… Kriff he hoped she was. “Do you want me to turn the lights off or blindfold you?” He asked, conveying indirectly that she was right.

“Wh-whaaat? Why?” She sputtered, looking at him with those pretty eyes, vulnerability brimming in her expressions.

Did he get the wrong idea? Maybe her obvious guesses weren’t because she wanted to be right so she could kiss him… Maybe it was just the product of her usual playful nature.

“Because I will have to take my helmet off when I kiss you,” he proceeded to say, even as his heart beat faster with the anxiety of how this could go. They were adults. It it was a misunderstanding, he would simply get over it and do his best to not make it awkward between them. “And you cannot see me.”

“I…” she trailed off before letting out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Again. Not known for my humor,” he said, letting a smile seep into his words. She was so kriffing adorable, looking all nervous like a blurrg stuck in a doorway. “You don’t have to, of course. I can give you something else. Ten credits, perhaps?”

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

“Then tell me, my dear mechanic. Lights out or blindfold?”

“Lights out.”

Pity. He was hoping to see her pretty face when he kissed her. Not moving from where he was, he pressed the buttons on the control panel, turning all the lights out. In the pitch black of outer space, he could see nothing. Perfect.

“What can you see?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing,” she said, in her voice so low and soft that it was swallowed up by the darkness. What entity wouldn’t want to swallow up something his pretty mechanic put out? Every word she said, every touch of her fingers against the trees and rocks and flowers. If he were air, he would luxuriate in her scent. If he were water, he would caress her skin and play with her hair as he cleansed her. If he were fire, he would creep into her skin, warm her up when she needed. But he was nothing but man. So, he would have to satisfy himself with a kiss from her lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked as he stepped forward to her.

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

There was silent for a moment before she said, “Yes. Kiss me.”

Needing nothing else, he took his helmet off and placed it carefully on his seat. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths grew labored. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In all his years, he had never kissed anyone. It was not part of the culture of his people what with the metal barriers that kept them from it. He remembered the sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks from before he took the creed. But that was not what his heart desired. He wanted the kind of thing she watched on her holopad, all the holodramas with characters who showed their desire through an intense kiss that left their partner speechless.

He reached forward and found her hand. She gasped softly, the quietness of the ship letting him in on her soft sounds. He caressed up her arm, enjoying the slight tremble of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He stopped at her neck and allowed himself to cradle it in his hand. He felt her lean closer and he reciprocated, taking the final step. He tilted his head to his right feeling that she tilted to her right.

As he closed the gap between them, he felt her warm breath on his skin. He swallowed, his lips parting from how nervous he was. What if he was no good? What if he didn’t have good breath? What if he’s such a bad kisser that she— he gasped softly as she pressed her lips against his. In an instant, she quietened the sounds his head. The fast beating of his heart, he realized was now from the effect of proximity to her more than his insecurities.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He let out a shaky breath at the intimacy of their contact and let his other hand trail down her back. She pressed herself closer against his beskar clad chest, making him wish he had the forethought to toss that bit of his armor too. He wanted to feel her. Every bit of her that she was offering up to him like she truly believed he was deserving.

Her lips were soft, just as he’d dreamt them to be. He’d never kissed before. It was an act saved for married couples in the covert, as only your spouse could see you with your helmet off. He had married friends who waxed poetry about the magic of kissing. How they felt like nothing and nobody mattered other than your partner. How it turned you into putty in their hands. He thought it was exaggerated… Until now.

He cupped her cheek, her face fitting in his hand and making him feel a new sense of protectiveness towards her. He’d protected her before, sure, but this felt different. This was something to do with a need to be gentle with her. To cherish her and treasure her. She licked his lips and he parted them instinctively, letting her tongue between his lips. He shuddered as her fingers threaded through his hair. He whimpered and pulled her closer to himself in the moment of vulnerability, using her as a crutch to support him. He’d never been touched like that before…

Her fingers explored his hair and he allowed himself to relax in his arms, even letting himself give her comforting caresses of her back. He felt her melt into his arms as their kiss deepened. She tasted of the silver elixir first, but when they were both a little along the way, he began to taste something that was distinctly her. Something sweet, mixing with the fragrance of her citrusy perfume to further dull his senses.

It was soft, but electrifying. He poured his passions into the kiss, exploring her with his tongue and luxuriating in the sweet little whimpers she let out. The technicalities stopped mattering. He was here, holding the girl he’d been pining for, lips connected as the unlikely result of a stupid game. That moment was all that mattered and her sounds of satisfaction told him that he wasn’t doing so bad after all.

She pulled back in a while and they let out the breaths they’d be holding. She let out a laugh and he smiled, comforted by her job. He didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath. He’d forgetting the necessity for breathing as he found her lips.

“You have…a big nose,” she said, confusing him.

“Huh?” He asked, his mind still clouded from her kiss.

“I get another kiss if I’m right, Dim Djarin,” she teased, pointing to his obliviousness when it came to things of this nature.

“Right,” he said, grinning as he kissed her again. He needed to play games with her more often.

306 notes · View notes

crumbledcastle28 · 2 years ago

Text

Din Djarin: You, Me, and the Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Excerpt: “You leaned up onto your elbows to look down at him, the both of you knowing what came next. Dribbles of rain became more and more frequent upon your head, beginning to soak into your scalp, but you couldn’t feel anything else besides the excitement in your chest and the metal of your husband against your warm body. Drops of rain began to hit his helmet as well, sliding down the sides and collecting within his visor.

How long had it been since he felt a drop of rain on his skin?

He had to have noticed the desire in your eyes to complete what you had started as he covered your hands with his and pulled them up to the sharp edge of his helmet. ‘Go on, riduur,’ he whispered, ‘I’m not afraid anymore.’”

Warnings: This isn’t all SMUT, but there is a little. Reader and Din get married. Kissing, lovemaking, references to past sex, insecurities, swearing, crying, so much yearning, definitely incorrect Mandalorian marriage customs, Din gets shy when you compliment him.

A/N: This is one of my favorite fic genres for Din, I have wanted to write it for years, and many authors have done their own versions of it. I am not attempting to plagiarize or copy any of their amazing work. This is purely me wanting to do my own version on an already incredible idea.

A/N 2: Episode 1: The Apostate are we fucking kidding.

Word Count: 3k

Pedro Masterlist

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(gif from pinterest)

His gloved hand had made its way to rest against your bare hip bone, twitching every few seconds in his sleep, effectively sending chills down your spine every time. This kept you from having any sleep of your own.

You didn’t mind, not with the expanse of your Mandalorian in bed next to you, who was nothing short of breathtaking.

The lamplight washed over the metal, soaking him in a wave of sun and fire. His body facing yours gave the lighting all the more canvas to paint, stretching over the deep black of his visor, the brown of his cape, and the orange of his gloves. His body was glowing--basking-- in that cheap lamp you bartered for on Nevarro. He had rolled his eyes underneath all that glistening glory, you could tell by the way his head tilted back ever so slightly, and muttered to himself about its uselessness, thinking you didn’t notice.

But you did.

You noticed everything about him--how he moves intentionally, watches carefully, talks authoritatively...

...and groans uncontrollably when he sinks his gloved fingers inside of you.

Besides, you didn’t get the shitty lamp to see the Crest’s controls better, or find Grogu better in the dark, or even find a snack in the middle of the night. You got it for this--this post-sex euphoric haze that came over you every time he made you finish, the need to drink him up with your eyes, to observe him in is most untaught state, to witness as much of him as you possibly could, while truly seeing nothing at all.

It was right then, only for a few sinful, pathetic moments, that for the first time, the desire to see him--truly look at him--overpowered any and all of your rational thoughts. The left side of your brain was crying out at you to stop, remember his Creed, remember how much you respect it, while the right side of your brain took the opportunity to pummel your brain with everything you had been depriving yourself of for months.

How would it feel to wake up to his face every morning, see his eyes crinkle from a smile, his teeth peek out of his lips, his scruff beginning to grow in. How would he look, exactly--brown eyes or blue, or green, or hazel? Darkened skin or light, full lips or thin, thick hair or thin.

It scared you how little it mattered, but how badly you wanted to know.

How would his eyebrows squeeze together when he focused, his tongue pop out from his lips as he was thinking, or his laugh--one of his true laughs--sound without that fucking modulator. Would it be as dry as it always sounded, or would the extra oxygen in his lungs breathe life into it. Would he have dimples? Wrinkles? Endless freckles, or only a few. You hoped he had enough for you to memorize.

Would his skin be soft or rough? How calloused would his diligent hands be, or would your theory that he had a soft spot for hand lotion finally be proven true. How much did his muscles flex underneath all that armor? How sculped would he be, after carrying all that weight for all that time?

Would he let you be the first to find out?

Your free hand began moving on its own accord, slowly bringing itself up to trace a line down the front of its vizor, trying to convince itself that yes, that was skin you were feeling. That was body heat, and pores, and scruff, and lips, and a pulse underneath all that muscle. You traced his helmet so gently and so quickly that it was mere seconds before you were pulling away, feeling the exhaustion from the night’s previous activities beginning to hit you all at once. Your eyes were fluttering shut, and with one last kiss to his metallic, bitter-tasting shoulder, you were out. Out quickly enough and deep enough for you to miss Din’s whisper in reply, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead.

“One day, mesh’la. One day.”

~*~

That day had finally come.

Din’s gloved hand in yours was the only thing keeping your mind tied down to the forests of Sorgan. You were finally--finally--going to swear to the man you loved that you would love him forever, and he would to you, for all his days.

Luckily for you, Peli was kind enough to keep the kid safe on Tattooine while you and Din headed off. Din was adamant that the ceremony be special, not some random day on the Razor Crest, but on a star-filled night on Sorgan.

“That’s how I want it,” he had told you after days of pestering him, “just you, me, and the stars.”

Frankly, you just wanted him.

He led you up a small hill that led to a cleared-out field, stretching farther than you could see, and your pulse beat louder and louder as you took each step. You could only imagine how he was feeling underneath all that armor, what shade his eyes turned when he was nervous, and how you would react when you finally knew the answer.

The night air cooled you as you made your way to the top of the hill, Din guiding you to the flattest and clearest spot. He was a quiet man--always listening, always watching--but he was being abnormally quiet as you made your way to the designated spot. The creatures in the trees chirping and buzzing filled the anxious air for you.

Finally, Din stopped and faced you, taking both of your hands into his own. He gazed at you intensely, and you met it straight on. “You’re sure about this?”

You smiled softly, letting the love shine through in your eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”

He exhaled a sigh with undertones of emotions that you couldn’t quite place, and immediately started peeling the weapons off his body, one by one, placing them gently in the grass. He started with his spear, pulling it from its carrier with a familiar shling. He traced it with his palm before setting it down, and moving to his weapons belt, removing every artillery he had. Dispensing his whistling birds into the dirt, delicately. He stripped himself of any and every bit of his arsenal.

“This is the first step,” he said as he worked, “to prove that you can trust me, and to deny any ill-intent on my part.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he had already done this step in your shared bedroom. Every night. Without fail.

Once he finished, he took his hands in yours again, pulling you near. His hands had a slight shake to them, so you squeezed them tighter.

“Are you afraid, Din?” you whispered over the buzzing insects.

He said nothing as he squeezed your hands back, only breathed slowly as he looked into your eyes. You brought his hands up to your mouth and pecked his leathered knuckles, looking into his star-glazed helmet. “It’s just me and you.”

He exhaled again, but this time, you knew it was out of relief, and maybe even...excitement.

“Okay,” he whispered, his forehead inches from your own now. “Then let’s do this.”

You smiled so wide your cheeks ached. “Okay.”

Din chuckled slightly before looking down and widening his feet to match up with the length of his shoulders. He straightened up to his fullest height, allowing the stars to shimmer on his beskar that much more, causing the pounding of your heart to echo louder and louder in your skull.

You were really fucking doing this.

“Now we say the vows,” Din said, sounding out of breath. “I know you know them, but for a Mandalorian and a...non-Mandalorian...it’s tradition for the latter to repeat them back to the Mandalorian. It symbolizes your full understanding of the Creed, as well as your full acceptance of it.”

You nodded, gulping, and mimicked his stanse--strong, confident, ready. The trees around you swayed in the wind as Din gathered his breath.

“Repeat after me,” he began, taking a second to rub his thumb over your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Din’s voice steadied as he said, “Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhu me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me'dinui an.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi bar’juri verde.”

With a newfound shakiness in his voice, Din continued, stating them in your familiar tongue, “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

“We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

The birds chirped, the insects buzzed, and one drop of rain landed on the top of Din’s helmet as he said, “We’re married.”

You didn’t hesitate to immediately jump into his arms, effectively bringing the most feared bounty hunter to the ground with you.

Tears lined your eyes as you laughed in pure ecstasy, your brain unable to process that the man in your arms was finally your riduur. Not your partner, not your boyfriend, not just your husband, your riduur. He was yours now, infinitely, endlessly, above space and time, and you were his. Din laughed loudly in your arms, just as filled with joy as you were, and you could have sworn that noise filled the hole in your heart that had been sore and empty all your life.

You leaned up onto your elbows to look down at him, the both of you knowing what came next. Dribbles of rain became more and more frequent upon your head, beginning to soak into your scalp, but you couldn’t feel anything else besides the excitement in your chest and the metal of your husband against your warm body. Drops of rain began to hit his helmet as well, sliding down the sides and collecting within his visor.

How long had it been since he felt a drop of rain on his skin?

He had to have noticed the desire in your eyes to complete what you had started as he covered your hands with his and pulled them up to the sharp edge of his helmet. “Go on, riduur,” he whispered, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

And with that, you lifted the visor from his face, carefully, using all your willpower to not shut your eyes at even a peak at his skin. Your hands shook as you lifted and your heart clogged your throat as the man you had sworn to protect, kissed until you were dizzy, and shared the darkest, most shameful parts of your being with finally hit your eyes.

Your first thought when your eyes ultimately discovered their deepest desire was that you had married the most beautiful man alive.

A blanket of thick, dark brown curls covered the top of his head, framing his face. His skin was a golden tan, highlighting his cheekbones and pink, plump lips that you had kissed so many times. His face was further framed by dark eyebrows and sculpted facial hair, as well as a prominent, strong nose. It was counteracted by a soft jawline and big, brown eyes. They were darker than you expected, an almost black, but slightly glazed by surrealness of this moment. Raindrops began to soak the curls atop his head and drip into his slightly opened mouth, drawing your attention to the one thing you were most excited about.

A small freckle, right below his chin. One of your favorite spots to kiss in the darkness of your bunk. It was just sitting there, waiting for you to memorize.

You realized soon after that the raindrops dribbling onto his cheeks weren’t rain at all, but a mixture of both his tears and yours. You let out a chuckle of disbelief. He was right here, right in front of you. Just how you had always wanted him to be.

You brushed his tears away as you whispered, “Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la.”

It turns out his eyes do crinkle when he smiles.

“That’s what you were practicing the other night?” he asked, his voice dripping with honey free from the modulator. You nodded.

He smiled wider, brushing your soaked hair from your forehead, “Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la bat brilliant.”

You couldn’t help the giggle you released at his words, nor could you prevent your lips colliding with his own. It was better than any kiss you had ever shared before.

He sighed into it as he kissed you back, the most relaxed and full of life as you had ever felt him kiss you, yet he exuded passion. His tongue caressed yours within seconds, bringing you as close to him as he possibly could. You ran your hands everywhere you possibly could--through his hair, down his neck, under his chest piece, over his cheeks. He groaned when you discovered how easy it was to scratch your nails into his hair and his scruff without the fear of opening your eyes, and you had to pull away to smile.

“I can’t stop looking at you,” you whispered, moving your kisses to the column down his neck. You felt it heat up with a blush.

“Neither can I,” he whispered, and maker his voice. His throat vibrated against your lips as he spoke. “I knew you’d be beautiful without my sensors, but I wasn’t ready for how beautiful.”

He pushed you closer to his neck as you hit his favorite spot, nibbling down just how he liked. His large hands were suddenly off of you, and a rustle of leather later, they were back on your body, gloveless. You whined into his ear when you finally felt that yes, he was obsessed with hand lotion, and his soft hands massaged into your scalp.

The rain poured harder and harder in the darkness as you and Din kissed and stroked and loved on each other. You eventually reached down to his pants, sliding your fingers down underneath. In previous years, he would fuck you, but the armor stayed on. The most skin you got to feel was his dick and his face, but both were a rarity. His goal was always to make you scream and come all over him, but now you wanted more. You wanted to drown him in your mouth and body.

“I’m on a drink,” you whispered into his mouth, feeling his happy trail against the pads of your fingers, “if you want.”

His skin and hair were soaked, but his eyes and muscles were suddenly awake, widening in excitement. “Yes,” he nodded, almost profusely, “yes.”

You pulled back and traced a line down his face, just like you did that fateful night in your bunk, only this time, you didn’t have to imagine the heat of his skin, or the look in his eyes as you pulled his pants down and yours to the side.

“Look at me,” he whispered suddenly as you lined yourself up, and you obliged. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. More than my Creed, more than my life.”

You smiled, and kissed him. “I know.”

And you slid him inside of you.

You and Din had done this before, but never enough times for you to remember what it felt like. It was a surprise to you every time, without fail, how perfectly his curve fit into you, like you were molded and crafted for one another. His girth filled you fully, threatening to flutter your eyes shut, but you kept them open. You wanted to see his face as he entered you, see his eyebrows etch together, his mouth pop open, and his Adam’s apple bob.

He really was beautiful.

The rain soaked through your clothes as you moved, keeping your mouth either on his or on his face the entire time, listening to his groans and whines for more.

“Just like that riduur fuck yeah,” he got louder and louder as he spoke, “that’s it. You’re perfect at this. At everything.”

You grinned, whispering, “you look so fucking good right now,” and proceeded to suck a hickey onto his neck.

“Stop,” he said with a chuckle, and you laughed back, marking him as yours. He sucked a few onto your collarbone soon after.

You rocked and rocked and squeezed onto him just the way he liked, getting lost in the feeling of the cool rain, his warm dick, his glorious face, and the stars in the sky, that you nearly missed his squeezes on your arm.

“I’m close,” he whispered, suddenly creeping his hand up your thigh, “I’m so close.”

“Fill me up, riduur,” you whispered, “I want to feel you for days dripping out of--”

Your breath caught as his soft finger rubbed on your clit just right, causing you to squeeze on him so deliciously. He went, and you went seconds after at the feeling of his warmth inside of you. He had never gone this far. Not once.

You practically collapsed on top of him, letting him massage your hair and rub your back as you both came down, down, down. You pressed your nose into his neck, smelling his skin. The rain made his usual lemon scented three-in-one that much more pungent.

The both of you sat in silence for a few moments, letting the last of the rain dribble down on you, your heartrates steady, and your brain process the fact that everything about that moment was pure and real and just an inkling of the rest of your lives. The rain slowly came to a stop, and Din chuckled, making you chuckle.

“So now it stops,” he laughed, and you sat up to meet his eyes.

“I liked it. You look hot in the rain.”

He looked down with a blush on his face, “Good, because you look freezing.”

You hadn’t noticed your teeth beginning to chatter. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head and lifted you off of him, your mewl at his exit from your body borderline pathetic, and kept you lifted with one arm while he pulled up his pants with the other. He helped you pull up yours before positioning you bridal style in his arms as he began the walk back to the Crest.

“Din, your helmet, and your things--”

“Don’t need them,” he whispered as he walked, holding you close to his chest. “Not around you. Not anymore.”

Mando’a Translations:

“Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la.” -- My riduur is beautiful.

“Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la bat brilliant.” -- My riduur is beautiful and brilliant.

Taglist: (I apologize if your tag is not present/not working. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @cityofidek @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel l @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 1 @petals-opento-the-moon @just-a-sewer-goblin @em---r @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darthvadersource -voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatte

@miss-goldenweek @darlingmurdock @1deadpool26 @queen-nothing @burnt-dorito @untitledarea @julialoopeezz @aninnai

1K notes · View notes