#domestic din djarin

[ladamedusoif]

Family (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 25

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist

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Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1903

Rating: Teen

Warnings: No physical description of reader; no use of Y/N; set after S3 of The Mandalorian; references to illness

Aliit ori’shya tal’din - Family is more than blood (Mandalorian proverb)

***

Din doesn’t get sick. Injured, sure. But sick? Never.

The strange, fuzzy feeling in his head is just a headache, he reasons to himself as he potters around the house, back early from a job and waiting for you to return from collecting Grogu from school in the town. You’ve been helping them out for a few months now, taking care of housekeeping and looking after the little boy when his father is away or busy during the day. 

Din likes having you around. In the beginning, he’d leave almost as soon as you arrived at their cabin, having travelled from the nearby farm you lived on with your widower father. But now, he lingered. He was glad when you suggested coming by on days when he was there, to help show him the basics of managing the household. He would never admit it, but he missed you when you went home in the evenings.

He pours a glass of water and tries to focus, bringing his hand to his forehead and being surprised to find it cold and clammy, even though he feels like he’s on fire. 

He can’t be sick, though. Not him. He sips the water and promptly splutters it back out as his body is racked with a hacking cough.

He can hear you and Grogu chattering as you approach the house. A few deep breaths and sips of water, and his helmet is back on before you’ve even opened the door.

***

It had become a habit to stay after picking Grogu up from school, to help out with preparing the main meal for him and Din. Din appreciates your help - he tells you how much he’s learned from you, and how much he still needs to know. 

Today, you stand side by side at one of the worktops peeling vegetables and chopping them into bite-size chunks to accompany the meat that’s cooking nicely in the oven, filling the little cabin with its aroma. You look over to see how Din is getting on, and are struck by the fact that his chopping is a far cry from its usual even, meticulous standard.

More worryingly, you’re sure you can hear him wheezing through his modulator. He’s leaning heavily on the worktop, as if for fear he’ll fall. 

“Din? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”

No sooner has he resumed his work than a horrible, hacking cough has him bent double, gasping under his helmet. Even Grogu is scared - you can see it in his big dark eyes as he drops his toys and runs to comfort his beloved father.

“That’s not a headache, Din. You’re sick.”

The Mandalorian grips the edge of the counter and hauls himself up to his full, imposing height, Grogu still clinging to his leg. “I am not sick. I don’t get sick.”

You toss your knife on the chopping board. “Are Mandalorians somehow special, that they don’t get a simple cold, now and again?”

He does that exasperated sigh you’ve heard too often.

“Alright, Din. You’re not sick. But tell me how your body feels, being not-sick.”

That sigh.

“My head feels a little fuzzy. I have this slight cough. That’s it.”

“No fever?”

He shakes his head again, and you spot him tightening his grip on the counter. “I am fine. Now, can we please make some dinner?”

***

You tend to eat outside, on the veranda, if you’re eating with Din and Grogu. It means he can take off his helmet and eat comfortably, without revealing his face to someone outside his family.

You eat the last of your vegetables and survey the little garden the clan of two have cultivated, with your help. A little pond, a vegetable patch, even some desert flowers that bloom happily in the dry, sandy soil. 

A proper home for the little family, you muse. From what your father and Karga had told you about Din and Grogu’s past, you knew they deserved this little sanctuary.

Your reverie is shattered by the sound of distressed noises coming from inside the cabin - Grogu, babbling in panic and crying out with fear. You drop your bowl and are about to race inside when you stop, remembering that Din may well have his helmet off. 

“I’m coming in. Din? Just giving you fair warning.”

No answer. Just more frightened coos and what sounds like metal scraping on the floor.

“Din?”

Still nothing.

“Grogu? Is it okay for me to come in?”

The door to the cabin opens and the child races out and flings himself into your arms, pointing back into the house and babbling something in his curious mix of Basic and Mando’a about his father.

You understand as soon as you enter. 

There, on the floor of the kitchen, his helmet barely on, lies an unconscious Din Djarin.

***

With the help of Grogu’s powers, you lift Din and move him to his bed, still unresponsive. Din is definitely breathing, thankfully, but there’s a crackling wheeze in his chest that scares you as you manoeuvre his broad body onto the mattress.

If it was anyone else you’d be taking his temperature and preparing cold compresses for his brow. But this is a Mandalorian, one who takes his creed very seriously, and even the prospect of exposing Din’s chest feels like a violation.

When his body starts to tremble, despite the blankets you’ve pulled over him, you take an executive decision.

“Grogu?” He looks up at you from his spot beside his sick father on the bed. “I’m going to open up your dad’s shirt, just a little. I need to hear his breathing and try to cool him down. I’m not going to hurt him.”

With a coo and a nod he confirms that he understands. You expose just enough of Din’s broad chest to assess his temperature, the clammy, hot skin while Din continues to shiver proof of the severity of the fever. 

Grogu places his little hand on his father’s chest, eyes wide with fear and concern. He can heal many injuries, but the Force is no match for whatever virus or infection is raging through Din’s system. 

“We’re going to make your buir all better, I promise. Can you help me with that?”

He nods and hops off the bed, following you into the kitchen where you fill some bowls with cold water and find rags to make cold compresses. Grogu watches attentively as you place the damp cloths on Din’s chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath. 

“Now, you need to stay here and keep the cloths on his chest, okay? I’m going to try to make up some medicine to help make him all better.”

Before she died, your mother had taught you a few simple herbal remedies that could be easily prepared in advance, dried, and carried with you, in case of emergency. “Bacta is a wonderful thing,” she’d counseled, “until you find yourself in the middle of nowhere with a fever.”

You retrieve the little vials of dried herbs from your bag and set some water to boil, ready to make the infusion. The liquid turns an ominous purple colour as the herbs brew, and you can’t help but chuckle as you imagine how Din would react if you presented him with this in the whole of his health.

When the medicine has cooled enough to be administered, you return to Din’s simple, neat bedroom, where Grogu is dutifully pressing the cloths to his father’s chest. You praise him effusively, showing him how to wring out the cloths and make them colder again.

As you prop Din up on the pillows, you realise that you aren’t going to be able to give him the special medicine as you would anyone else. Gingerly, you push back his helmet just enough to expose his mouth.

You pause for a moment as you realise this is the most you’ve ever seen of the Mandalorian. Seeing the open expanse of his golden, battle-scarred chest and the peek of his jaw somehow seems more intimate than if Din was lying here completely naked. His mouth is pink and plush, and you are surprised to realise that Din has a moustache, as well as a patchy beard, of sorts. You push away the temptation to peek further, as well as the desire that’s rising inside you.

“Help me give your buir this medicine, Grogu. Can you keep his helmet at this angle for me?”

The little boy is only too keen to help, and you slowly, steadily, feed Din the mixture you hope will heal him.

***

Other than changing the water and the compresses, you do not move from Din’s side all night. Grogu falls asleep on his father’s chest, and you scoop him up and bring him to bed, placing a little kiss to his fuzzy scalp as you tuck him into his cot. He coos sleepily in appreciation.

You are waiting for Din’s fever to break, the turning point in any illness like this. If it doesn’t happen tonight, you’ll need to seek a medic in the morning. 

His helmet is still up slightly, and you study the line of his jaw, the little divot in his lower lip, the dark hair of his moustache. You trace the scars on his body, wondering about the stories behind each one, feeling a simultaneous sense of relief that he is still here and dread at the prospect of this man being wounded - or worse - in the future.

In the darkest hours of the night, with Din’s breathing still heavy and laboured, you find yourself reaching for his hand: running your fingertips over his broad palm and thick fingers before holding it gently, willing the herbal mixture to do its work. He is all Grogu has, after all. He is his entire family, and vice versa. 

And what are you?, asks a little voice inside you. Is this your clan, too?

You have pressed your lips to the back of his hand before you realise what you’re doing.

***

His stirring wakes you to the half-light of early morning, your hand still wrapped around his.

“Din?”

He tries to sit up, reaching in panic to adjust his helmet when he realises how much of his face is exposed.

“Din, take it easy…” You press your hand to his chest and sigh with relief as you realise his temperature is normal.

“What…why - what happened?”

“You were sick, had a bad fever - you’ve been out since yesterday afternoon.”

“I don’t get sick.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle. “Yes, you do. Hate to break it to you.”

You swear you can hear a huffed laugh from under his helmet.

“Din, I… I’m sorry for opening your shirt, lifting the helmet - I had to, it was the only way to help. I only saw part of your jaw, but… I’m so sorry.”

To your surprise, he reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m grateful. You didn’t have to stay here.”

I wanted to take care of you. I want to take care of you. I need to take care of you.

“I couldn’t have left you. Anyway, what would we - I mean, what would Grogu do without you?”

Another gentle squeeze of your hand.

“What would I do without you, cyare?” 

[joelsgirl]

My personality type is Domestic Din Djarin

[ladamedusoif]

BONE APPLE TEETH INDEED. (Because I ate this up. No crumbs.)

How beautiful this is, how lovely, how soft along with the spiciness! The way you’ve conveyed the atmosphere of quiet ease and relaxation is gorgeous. I love the idea of Din actually being able to relax for the first time in…when? Possibly since childhood? 😭

And there’s such a sense of comfort and safety for Reader too, domesticity in the best possible way. (Of *course* Grogu gets his own room in the little house!)

I could go on but the sheer hotness of sucking firewater off Din’s fingers has broken my brain. Thank you.

title: return the favor

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: M, for implied sexual content. 18+ only - you will be blocked.

summary: din and reader share a moment in their newfound quiet.

Join me. And he spreads his legs out a little wider, bending at the knees and shifting back into the backrest of his chair. An ungloved hand pats at his sturdy thigh, calling you to his lap.

warnings: season 3 spoilers, alcohol mention, alcohol use (look they had to have cracked open that bottle from Karga, right?), uhm there's horny behavior around how they drink said fancy liquor, hand k*nk...anything else i didn't add please let me know! no proof reading we die like stans

| masterlist |

Daylight is sparse and the world softens.

Soon enough it will be still outside, despite the lingering sun this time of year. The kid has settled down in his room and snores quietly into the late afternoon (gold light spilling through the crack in the curtain). 

You find Din where he’s spent most of his time in the last week. Sitting out front of the cottage, legs kicked out in front of him, long and…easy.

He’s been so…easy these days. It takes you by surprise.

Pleasantly surprised. And you’re sure you’ve heard him laugh more times in the last few days than the entire time you’ve known him.

Another surprise.

Crossing the threshold you find him extending a glass. Amber liquid that reminds you of Tatooine night skies during a shower of dying stars. Confused yet amused you think to ask what this is, but you catch sight of the bottle at his feat. You recognize it as the fine firewater from Coruscant Karga gifted him. 

Quietly (as if he fears to disrupt the growing peace), he asks you to join him. It’s not so much of a question as it is a gentle command. 

Join me.

At first, you think he means to take a seat next to him—but there is none as you stand idly by him. Then you notice the glass on the small side table next to him, identical to yours. Amber liquid and all. 

Join him for a drink.

You can’t help but chuckle before asking how he plans to drink with you and gesture with a lazy finger at his helmet. 

He merely repeats himself.

Join me.

And he spreads his legs out a little wider, bending at the knees and shifting back into the backrest of his chair. An ungloved hand pats at his sturdy thigh, calling you to his lap. Something deep within your chest glows brighter and more blinding than all the stars in hyperspace, makes you duck your head to keep from letting him pick it up on your face.

You’d never hear the end of it.

Regardless, you accept his simple invitation and gingerly lower yourself onto him and into the cradle he’s created of sturdy chest and thighs and arms. Beskar and fabric and soft skin (even if it’s just his hands).

Yes, he’s armored—but not armed. Except for his blaster which he keeps holstered at his hip. You’re mindful of that as you adjust your weight against him. Din is deconstructed down to a version of that gets as close to relax as he’ll ever be.

And you like it.

A little too much.

He picks up the glass on the side table and tips it to yours. You quickly understand and clink them quietly—and he waits for you to take a sip, feeling his watchful gaze behind the thin slit of his visor. 

It’s strong. Makes you wince and sniff after the first initial sip, before it quickly works its magic. Warm down your throat, smooth and spiced. It’s the finest thing you’ve ever tasted.

Good?

Yeah— strong.

Easy then. 

You watch as Din quietly dips two fingers into your glass. Tanned, deft fingers that make your blood rush hot in your veins—hotter still from the first sips of firewater. He coats them past the second knuckle, pulls them out dripping before pressing them to your lips. 

Blinking unfocused, breathing kicked up a notch (tight and airy in your chest) you welcome his fingers in your mouth—tasting the fine, warm liquor and the salt of his skin. 

You suck slowly, languidly along the ridge of knuckles, lap between them with your tongue. Din hums at the sight of you, hearing it crackle through his modulator. 

Better?

You nod, face warm with silly need.

He pulls his fingers out, only to dip them into your glass once more. This time you’re a little more eager, a noisy little whine catching in your throat—makes him shift under you in response.

You’re dazed when he retracts them again, leaving you slightly breathless and tight in your own skin.

Will you try some?

Din tilts his head a fraction, studying you as the sun catches on his helmet. It burns a dark, honey gold. You feel his other hand spread along the small of your back and a ripple of desire moves through you.

You’ll ask him to kiss you tonight when it’s finally dark and you’re tucked away in your room. Where his hand can cover your eyes despite the reluctant sun, and his voice is rough and unfiltered and true.

I will, he assures you dipping his fingers into the glass once more. Tonight.

Again the warmth of his skin along your tongue, a thin coat of firewater—and yet he’s the most intoxicating thing.

Tonight, when you return the favor.

credits:

@saradika for dividers and @cowboydin for gif.

[scrambledslut]

[kraftykelpie]

So..I downloaded sketchbook to my phone (thankfully I already own an art stylus, No more finger art unless it's in Google notes and I'm feeling silly goofy)

Behold them <3

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A FRESH START [22]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: panic attack, trauma reaction, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity

Word Count: 5,935

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i was forced to shorten the taglist for the sake of my sanity. tumblr won't let me post with more than certain number. I think that's why I've had the hardest time with this shit. I made it a first come, first served so if your username got dropped I am so so so sorry but that's why.]

#22: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

.

"i find my place in between your arms, in between your tender kisses and soft whispers of 'it will be alright', in between the warmth of your embrace, and the scent of your neck, and the fierceness of your touch, i find my place lost inside your soul." -Hearts and Empires

.

Din was immensely proud of your skills as a physician. However, if you didn’t get your ass out of the damn medic tent he was going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you home forcibly. More than anything, you needed rest. He wasn’t able to convince you to stop working and because the medical aid had yet to arrive no one else sided with him on these matters. Karga had the nerve to tell him to calm down. Din had nearly wrung the High Magistrate’s neck. 

He watched as you flittered around the medical tent aiding those who were injured alongside Aayla. Grogu had refused to leave your side, and that didn’t seem to bother you at all. Right now, as if you weren’t exhausted and barely standing, you had a sling wrapped around your chest which held Grogu against your back. Din could see the little boy resting his head against your back while rubbing your shoulder with his small hand. The sight warmed his heart and Din would be tempted to snap a picture to save if it weren’t for the state of your being. Your scrubs were still stained with blood and you had yet to clean your own wounds. It was stressing Din out to watch you working so hard when you were still in the state you were in.

While turning to see someone else, Din noticed you wavering on your feet. That was enough. He pushed forward and pressed through the injured crowd straight to you. “Hey.” You turned to meet his gaze. “It’s time to go home. You’re barely able to stand.”

“I can’t⏤”

“Ner kar’ta.” Din said firmly.

You sighed. “Alright. Fine.” Your shoulders sagged. “I guess I am a little tired.” Din shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips. Your small smile turned sheepish and Din dreaded whatever it was you were going to say next. “I need to make sure Nima has cleared the tarmac though so the medical team can park.”

“What?”

“We need to get⏤”

Din reached his gloved hands out to cup your face. At the contact, the rest of your words fell away. He leaned forward and spoke firmly. “We’re going home. You need to rest. Somebody⏤ Anybody else can do the rest of the work here.” He let his thumb trace your cheekbone. Din wished he could feel your skin against his. “Have you managed all the emergency cases?”

“I mean, yeah, but⏤”

“Then it’s time to take care of yourself.” Din finished.

Your lips pressed together and gave him a small nod. Din let out a breath of relief. Without wasting another moment, Din slipped his hand into yours and began to drag you away before someone could distract you with a new job. Just having your hand in his was a comfort he couldn’t even begin to describe. During his travels, he imagined what his reunion with you would look like often. Never did he imagine karking pirates would be involved, but this feeling in his chest he had anticipated. He knew being back by your side would feel like coming home. In fact, he may have underestimated how strongly the reunion would make him feel⏤ which was quite the feat considering how badly he craved it.

Din stepped into the shared home and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Frog. Frog.” Grogu chirped. He turned in time to see you untangling the boy from the sling to set on the ground. Grogu bounded further into the room probably to look for his stuffed toy. 

Din focused back on you and his heart ached at the exhaustion painted on your face. Not wasting another moment, Din ripped off his gloves, tossing them aside, and reached out to cup your face. You let out a shuddering breath when his skin came in contact with his and Din felt that last tinge of stress leave his body. You were safe. It felt more real like this. 

“Are you still allowed to take this off to kiss me?” You asked. Din couldn’t tell if your quiet voice came from a meekness or just the weariness of your last 24 hours. 

“Yes.” Din chuckled. “We just need to be more careful.”

Technically speaking, it would be best if he didn’t take his helmet off anymore. Having you close your eyes was not the most ideal of plans. Accidents could happen, and more than anything it was just a loophole in his Creed. However, Din would give up vital organs before he gave up the gift and honor that was kissing you. 

You closed your eyes and Din lifted one of his hands so he could lightly trace your bruised and dirty features. He hummed, “You’re injured and tired. We should take care of that first.”

“Literally nothing is more important to me right now than this.” You replied.

Din hardly needed further convincing. Removing his hands from your face had been painful⏤ even knowing that it was only for a moment so he could take his helmet off. Without the barrier between you and him, your injuries looked worse. The dark coloring of the bruising and the red of the blood was so much more prominent. Din could see bags under your eyes he hadn’t noticed before. With a quiet sigh, Din cupped your face once more.

“Ni ceta.” Din mumbled soft apologies. He leaned in to press his lips first against your left eyelid then your right. He continued to pepper soft kisses across your cheek until they found your lips. Din would be a liar if he said he hadn’t spent every single night while gone imagining what your lips would feel like on his return. And, just as with the reunion, his mental image did not do the moment justice. Din had pictured passion and heat, a battle between one another to devour the other first, but this kiss was not that.

This kiss was soft, tender, and patient.

Three things that Din never got to call his own, living a life of battle in armor of Beskar.

Your lower lip was slotted between both of his and as he gave it a gentle tug you released a shaky sigh. The sound struck him like a hot iron and Din couldn’t help but breathe you in. He pulled you closer so your body was flush with his, let the tip of his tongue trace the shape of your lip, as he deepened the kiss. Din allowed desperation to seep into his very touch. It couldn’t be helped. Din was desperate. He was desperate to feel your very alive heartbeat under his touch. He was desperate for the warmth you exuded. He was desperate to show you how thankful he was for your safety. He was desperate for you to know how proud he was of you. He was desperate for you to know how sorry he was for not being here. 

Din was desperate, and it was all for you. 

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta.” Din spoke directly against your lips. Nothing short of the Maker would tear him away from you. Your own hands lifted and when he felt your fingers rake against his scalp, tug on his hair, Din’s repeated apology fell out in a groan. Din dragged his lips along your jawline, taking the time to leave a kiss on every inch. Eventually, his lips found your neck and he left kisses over the darkened bruise there. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You replied in a hoarse whimper. 

Din disagreed entirely. He should’ve been here. He never should have left your side. You flinched when his lips touched a spot more tender than the rest. It was barely noticeable. In fact, he wouldn’t have realized you flinched at all if it wasn’t for your body being pressed so tightly to his. It was enough to remind him that you still needed care and rest. Din pressed one last kiss against your lips⏤ innocent and loving. When he pulled back you let out a whine of complaints. Din reached down to grasp his helmet and pulled it back on.

He leaned forward to rest the beskar against your forehead and at the touch your eyes opened once more. More than anything, Din wanted to see the color of your eyes unhindered by his visor. Even with the helmet on he found your eyes mesmerizing but the visor always muted colors. It seemed fitting if he thought about it. Even with the loophole of taking his helmet off, with your eyes closed a part of you stayed hidden to him. Just as he was hidden to you.

“Let me take a look at your wounds.”

“No.” You said and Din furrowed his brow. As if reading his displeasure at the response, you shook your head and clarified. “I meant, not now. I want to take a shower first. I need to.”

Din found it hard to argue against that. You wouldn’t be able to fully relax until the day was washed from your skin. He nodded and walked you further into the house. He kept one hand on your lower back, and Din loved that you kept pace with him. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know where the bathroom was, but the action made it feel like you were just as desperate as he was to stay in the other’s presence.

Grogu waddled out of the hall, dragging his stuffed frog behind him, just as the two of them reached the mouth of the hallway. He held his hands up, chirping out a request to be held, and Din knelt down to scoop the boy up before you could. Grogu blew a raspberry at him. “No buir. Need Ma.”

“I know, ad’ika.” Din replied. “But Ma has to take a shower.”

Grogu grumbled in protest, but when you reached out to lovingly pet the boy’s head Grogu was marginally appeased. As you drifted to the bathroom, Din gathered a fresh towel for you and he also grabbed one of his shirts for you to change into. A decision made solely to relieve the itch in his brain that needed to see you safe in his bed wearing his clothes, but you accepted both items with a tired smile. 

When the door shut and he heard the water kick on, Din blew out a breath of relief. He glanced down at Grogu who was still staring at the bathroom door. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it ad’ika?”

“Home with Ma.” Grogu nodded in agreement.

“Right.” Din chuckled. “We’re home with Ma.”

The hot water pelted your back and left your skin radiating heat. You had washed your hair, begun to wash your body, but midway through you dropped the bottle of soap. As you knelt down to pick it up, you suddenly had a flash of kneeling beside Wynn’s dead body. It sucked the air straight from your lungs and knocked you to your ass. Now you sat under the unrelenting stream of water with your legs curled up to your chest⏤ gasping in distress. Any air you did manage to fill your lungs with was uncomfortable and brought no relief. It felt like you were suffocating. 

A choked sob left your lips as you buried your face in your arms as they rested atop your knees. No matter how much you tried to turn your tired mind off, it continued to ruminate on the decisions you made. If you hadn’t forced Wynn to leave, would she still be alive? She wanted to wait for help. You felt trapped in this memory. A loop of telling Wynn she needed to run followed by watching the life leave her eyes right in front of you. You could still feel the warmth of her hot blood while holding her wound⏤ still feel the snapping of her ribs during the course of your desperate CPR. All useless. You didn’t save her. You sent her to her death. 

The sensation of having a towel thrown over your shoulders was startling. Your head snapped up to see Din knelt beside you. The shower head was off, Din’s gray pajama shirt plastered to his body on the side from water, and just behind him you could see the bathroom door hanging off it’s hinges.

“Ner kar’ta.” Din’s voice was rough. “Please talk to me.”

“Din?” You gasped. He had the large towel wrapped entirely around your body covering every inch of you. “What⏤ I don’t understand⏤”

“I heard something fall. I called out for you, over and over, but you didn’t respond.” Din replied. His voice took a sheepish tone. “I⏤I broke through the door.” He let his arms run over the towel covering your arms, giving them a squeeze. “Found you like this. Even when I turned the water off you still didn’t…”

It was the sight of your reflection in his visor and helmet that seemed to push you over your edge. Tears welled in your eyes and once the first ragged sob left your lips it was followed quickly by a string of others. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a tiled floor soaked with puddles, Din sat down right beside you and cautiously pulled you into his arms. You tucked yourself against his chest, and he fully enveloped you with his arms while resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Din murmured. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. Your sobs only interrupted by the sound of your lungs gasping for air. Din tightened his arms around you, a feat you didn’t know was possible, and you found comfort in his solid form. Din was here. Din made everything better. You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, but eventually Din mumbled softly, “We need to get you dressed. You’ll be cold soon.” You didn’t tell him that you’d never feel cold in his hold. “Need to treat your wounds too.”

Din helped you stand. He cautiously led you out of the shower, arm around your torso, and he stopped you in front of the bathroom counter. “I’m going to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. Are you going to be alright?”

You nodded. Din paused, as if hesitant, before returning the nod and moving toward the door. He mumbled a curse under his breath, you could hear it, and then he grabbed the large chunks of the door that had broken off when he rammed it to set aside where nobody would trip over them. While he was out, you grabbed his shirt and tugged it on⏤ using the damp towel to try and pat dry the dripping ends of your hair. Din returned, his visor scanning your body, before he settled beside you again.

With a focused intensity, Din applied a bit of bacta to the wound at your hairline and then rubbed some of it into the bruise around your neck as well. In the midst of his work, you whispered, “Wynn is dead.” Din’s fingers paused in their motion, surprise reading in his frame, but he was quick to return his movements and stance back to baseline. “She’s dead and I didn’t tell anybody. I forgot to tell someone.” Tears returned to your eyes. “I just left her in the street, Din. I left her like she meant nothing.”

“Hey.” Din said firmly. “This was during the firefight, was it not?” You nodded in confirmation. “You had no choice, ner kar’ta. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was.” Your words fell out a pained whisper.

Din’s hands lifted to cradle your face and you leaned into his touch. It felt like he wanted to say something, but he paused. Instead, Din tangled his hand with yours and pulled you out of the bathroom. He didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate, to pull you into his room. The moment you entered you heard Grogu’s familiar snores and it was such a comforting sound to hear after weeks sleeping in silence that you nearly cried. Din pulled back the covers and helped you slide in.

Rather than follow you into bed, he took a step back and the look on your face must have been obvious enough that he reached out to caress your face. “I’m coming back. I need to change clothes.”

Your eyes focused on the large wet stains from where you had been curled up into him. Din crossed the room and your eyes widened and bit when he began to pull his shirt off. His movements were confident and it warmed your heart that he was comfortable enough with you to reveal himself like this. Your eyes trailed over the expanse of his muscular back⏤ admiring the rugged lines of his broad shoulders and the various scars that littered his skin. Din pulled a new shirt on and you expected him to come back. Instead, Din began to pull off his sweatpants. Slowly, you sat up, pulling the sheets closer to you, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trace the shape of his lower half. You were blatantly ogling this man in his boxer briefs as he tugged on a new pair of sweats. Before turning back around, you saw him pick up his vambrace, pressing a few buttons, before setting it down once more.

Din turned around, tying the strings at his waistband, and he chuckled. His voice came out as teasing and light hearted. Clearly trying to put you at ease. “Are you checking me out, ner kar’ta?” 

“I missed you so much.” You replied. Too tired, physically and emotionally, to tease back the way that you wanted to. Instead, the truth tumbled out of your lips.

He came back around to the bed and slipped under the sheets. As Din’s arm wrapped around your waist, you let him pull you back into laying down. You shifted so your head rested on his chest and Din began to drag his knuckles up and down your spine. “I missed you too. Being away from you was unbearable for Grogu and I both.” Din hummed. “He tried to stay up for you, but passed out. Grogu didn’t sleep well last night. I think my anxiety kept him up.” Your hand was resting on his side⏤ fingers dragging up and down his ribs. You mumbled into his chest. Din’s hand, the one rubbing your back, trailed up to rake through your hair. “I want to talk.”

“About?” You mumbled.

“Ner kar’ta.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Din…”

“You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…” Din sighed, “I’d like to know. I want to help.” He massaged the back of your neck right where it met your skull and all your tension sat. A soft sigh left your body as you relaxed in his arms. “I sent Karga a message about Wynn. They’re going to find her. Put her to rest.” You buried your face down into his chest knowing your tears would dampen his new shirt all over again. “I just want to help.”

After a few moments of peaceful silence where you listened to Grogu’s snores and Din’s heartbeat, you turned so your face wasn’t pressed into his chest and you could speak. Hesitantly, you began to tell him what happened⏤ starting with the bombs that fell on Nevarro and ending with Paz leading you out of the burning city as you carried Elodie. The entire time Din didn’t speak. He’d mumble an acknowledgement or hum here and there, but he made no comment. 

When you finished, Din finally spoke up, “Tell me why you said what you did. You said what happened to Wynn was your fault.”

“She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay hidden and wait for help.” You closed your eyes tightly as the memory of Wynn’s lifeless eyes assaulted you once more. “If I had listened to her she might be alive. Help did come. I⏤I should have been more patient.”

“Ner kar’ta, you made that decision based on the limited information you had. You didn’t know I was coming and bringing help. Where the three of you were hidden wasn’t safe. If one of the pirates did discover you, you’d be pinned down in a hole.” Din spoke with a firmness that left no room for argument. “In that moment, you made the best decision you could. You made the right decision.” He used the arm not around you to grasp your chin and tilt your head up so you were facing his visor. “Listen to me, ner kar’ta. That was not your fault. You did not take Wynn’s life, she gave it to save Elodie. Wynn is a hero. Don’t take that from her by shouldering needless blame.”

There was something about the way Din spoke that resonated with you. His words calmed the turmoil in your soul. Din could repeat the same sentiment that anyone else would speak, but when it came from his lips it soothed your wounds like a salve. He couldn’t heal everything, there was self reflection only you could puzzle through, but he was a hand to hold as you waded through the worst of it.

“Din…” You started. Before you finished your sentence, it occurred to you that the words you wanted to say were significant. You wanted to tell Din you loved him. That’s what you felt right now. It was overwhelming. It was all encompassing. 

Din still had his hand at your chin and he let his large hand shift from your chin to your jaw. He held the side of your face and let his thumb trace patterns in your skin. “Yes, ner kar’ta?”

Saying those words felt like quite the leap. You were confident in the way you felt about him and how he felt about you, but there was a part of you that couldn’t quite push the words out. You were too mentally wiped out to process those thoughts right now. Not knowing how else to express how grateful you were for this man, you turned your face so you could press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Din let out a content sigh and he shifted his body so you could rest more comfortably against him. He hummed and you heard the rumble of it in his chest. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He went back to soothingly dragging his fingers up and down your spine. “I’ll always be here.”

You let your eyes close and took a slow breath as Din’s warmth and the comforting smell of him lulled you into the best sleep you’ve gotten since Din and Grogu left. 

Nevarro was in pieces. Rubble decorated the streets and buildings were in shambles. Despite how terrible it looked, Din couldn’t help but be proud of the citizens of the city he looked after. They were strong. Nevarro was already healing only days after the attack. Din walked down the street with Grogu in his arms. The boy was squirming, wanting to get down, but with the rubble and debris Din didn’t want him wandering around. As he walked down the street, every once in a while a person would pause to thank him for bringing help⏤ bringing the Mandalorians. Din would nod in response, but it would shoot a pang of guilt through his chest. He didn’t deserve thanks. He had left them after all.

Din’s steps slowed as he began to pass the school house. Outside of the building, a memorial had been set up for Wynn. Candles, flowers, and cards covered the front steps and Din found himself letting out a sigh. The school teacher was a hero. Din meant that seriously when he spoke to you. It hadn’t been your fault, absolutely not, and both you and Wynn were the reason Elodie was alive and well. Her and her parents were currently off world. The little girl needed more intensive care than could be provided here, but last Din heard the child was doing very well.

“Miss?” Grogu mumbled. Din recognized the title Grogu would call his teacher. 

“Yes, ad’ika.” Din confirmed. Grogu’s ears wilted as he stared at the memorial. Din rubbed Grogu’s back and began to walk again with the goal to reach the clinic. You had left home early to go to work. You’d be there for any emergencies, per the norm, but you were also using today to see many of the people who were injured the day of for follow up. To ensure everyone was healing as they should. Din was of the opinion that you needed more rest, if not physical then mental, but trying to convince you of that was a near impossibility.

When Din reached the corner, Bo Katan pushed off a wall to join his pace. Her helmet was tucked under her arm. The Armorer had announced that the Mandalorians needed to come together rather than fall apart. It was a sentiment he could understand. Mayfeld had asked him about the helmet situation. Mandalorians coming together was a good idea, Din agreed, but coming to coincide with one another didn’t change the Creed he had dedicated himself to.

“Once this place gets cleaned up, I can see it being a nice place to live. To settle.” Bo hummed. Din nodded once, and she glanced his way. “I’m glad your partner is safe.”

“Thank you.” Din replied sincerely. 

“There is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I figured.” He said. “Does this have anything to do with retaking Mandalore?”

Bo chuckled, “Good guess.”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Bo kept by his side, “Is there anything I can say that will convince you to come with me to reclaim my fleet from Axe Woves?”

Din didn’t pause even a beat when he answered. “No. There isn’t.”

Bo sighed in annoyance and Din briefly felt guilt at the waves of frustration wafting off of Bo’s tense frame. Half of him felt like it was his duty to help in any way to restore Mandalore, but the other half could not even begin to fathom leaving you again. It occurred to Din that this might be selfish of him. His people needed him, right? He locked his jaw at the thought. 

“Your help would make this all go smoother, I think. We make a good team.” Bo said.

Din chuckled, “Did that hurt you to admit?”

“It did.” Bo smirked. “Which is why you should take it seriously.”

Din paused when the clinic came into view. He turned to face Bo and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Retaking Mandalore is a noble endeavor. One I would be honored to help in.” He paused. “But my family is here. I got lucky during that attack. I... I almost lost her.”

“I understand that.” Bo replied. “I know the weight of what I’m asking you, Djarin. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

Din glanced back to the clinic and did a double take when he saw you coming out. A smile began to form on his features, but it fell when he watched Paz walk out behind her with Ragnar by his side. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were wearing your white coat, a look Din truly loved on you, and Paz was chatting with you about something. Something that made you laugh in response. Since when was Paz funny? 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous kind, Djarin.” Bo chuckled.

Din snapped a glare at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“It’s all over your face.”

“I’m wearing a helmet.”

“Yet somehow I still know it is.”

Din grunted in mild annoyance. He wasn’t jealous. Per say.  It was just like with Vanth. Din was confident enough in his relationship with you, even as undefined as it currently was, that he wasn’t worried about someone sweeping you away. Din just had a bad habit of accidentally letting his possessive nature show and there was something about seeing his brother flirt with you that stirred him into wanting to fight.

Both you and Paz glanced down at Ragnar who must have been speaking and you set a hand on the boy’s shoulder with a smile. 

“Hm. They’d make a cute family.” Bo teased.

“Stop.” Din snapped.

He was caught off guard when Grogu jumped out of his arms. Him and Bo quickly followed after the boy who was in a mad rush toward you. Din watched as his son shoved past Ragnar, making the boy stumble enough that Din had a feeling the Force was involved, before leaping into your arms. 

“Oh, hey, baby.” You cooed.

“Ma. My Ma.” Grogu cuddled into your arms while shooting Ragnar a glare. 

Bo glanced at Din. “Aw. Like father, like son.”

Din wished he could take his helmet off just so Bo could see the full weight of the glare he currently wore. He continued forward until your eyes shot to him and the bright smile that filled your features just from spotting him. 

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked.

“Just checking in on you.” Din replied. Bo cleared her throat and Din sighed before nodding his head toward the woman standing beside him. “This is Bo Katan Kryze. Bo, this is Soran.”

You held your hand out to shake Bo’s hand and the red headed woman returned the greeting. Paz let one of his large hands settle on your shoulder and Din felt himself bristle at the motion. His older brother chuckled. “No need to worry. Wero’ika is doing more than fine.”

“Yeah, Paz brought me a late breakfast.” You chirped. 

Yeah, okay, Din was going to murder him.

“Oh, hang on,” You glanced over your shoulder, “I see a problem patient walking in. I’m not gonna subject Aayla to that.”

Din nodded once and you shot Bo and Paz a smile, squeezing Ragnar’s shoulder as well despite Grogu’s complaints, and then you turned to leave. As soon as you were inside the clinic, Din turned to Paz with a grunt. “Wero’ika? What the kriff is that?”

“A nickname, Djarin.”

“Mir’sheb.” Din snarled and Paz laughed in response. Ragnar tugged on his father’s arm before pointing off to the side. Paz nodded, telling him to be cautious, before the boy ran off to play with a group of kids down the street.

Bo chuckled. “I didn’t realize this was the beginning of a love triangle. Interesting.”

“It isn’t.” Din said.

Paz tilted his head and crossed his arms. “I’m unaware of Soran being in possession of a token of intention.”

“I’m working on it.” Din said through clenched teeth.

“Perhaps, I’ll work on it faster.”

Din knew Paz was just trying to get under his skin. Part of his frustration was the fact that it was working. His hands drifted to rest on his hips as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Paz was smug. Din had known him long enough to recognize the set of his shoulders. 

“I’m⏤” Din began then cleared his throat. “I’m giving her time.”

“You’re wasting her time.” Paz argued with a chuckle. “Wero’ika⏤”

“Don’t call her that like you know her.” Din cut in. “A lot just happened. I’m not going to rush her into anything.”

He glanced from Paz to Bo then back to Paz. Din gave the man a gruff good-bye before pushing past the two of them to head into the clinic. He greeted Miriam at the front desk. Before he could cross the threshold into the main room, the young woman caught his attention and let him know that you were down the hall instead. Din furrowed his brow in confusion, but walked down to find you sitting in the break room snipping the sutures off a patient’s wound.

“Marshal.” The patient greeted with a nod that Din returned.

Grogu was playing with a latex glove on the counter while you worked. You shot him a smile before focusing back on your work. Din settled beside his son, leaning against the counter, and just admired you with a sense of calm. He wondered if Paz was right. Not a line he’d ever say out loud, but Din wondered if he was just finding another excuse to hide behind. He wasn’t sure what he was so afraid of. You’ve made your interest in him very clear, the two of you shared a bond like he’d never experienced before, but still he hesitated.

“Alright, it looks good. No need to restrict yourself, but if it starts bothering you again just let me know.” You smiled. The patient thanked you, gave him a final good-bye, then left. You wandered over to where he stood with Grogu and began to wash your hands in the sink. “Hey, so your brother seems cool.”

Din grunted. “Who Paz?”

“Yeah.” You turned the faucet off and grabbed a few paper towels. “I thought he might not like me because I yelled at him during the battle.” Din’s eyes widened. He’d have to ask about that. “But instead I think I accidentally earned his respect? Also, what does ‘wero’ika’ mean?”

Din chuckled. “Little Problem.”

Your jaw fell open. “He’s been calling me a little problem this entire time?” Din nodded. “Son of a bitch. I’m gonna need you to teach me something amusing and mildly rude to call him in return.”

“Oh, I can think of some names for him.” Din replied. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something, but don’t feel any pressure with this, alright?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. Your eyes briefly glanced at Grogu and you shot your hand out to snatch the latex glove from Grogu’s mouth and wagged a finger at him. “I left to redeem myself. To restore my Creed with the plans to…” Din shifted awkwardly. “To court you.” The corner of your lips curled up. “I know a lot has happened recently, so again there is no pressure here, but I wanted to…make my intentions known.”

You reached out and wrapped your hand above his elbow, between his armor plates, and gave it a small squeeze. “Din, I appreciate your patience and concern, but I⏤ I want this. I want you.” He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, just tell me how we do this. How does Mandalorian courting work? Do I sign on the dotted line or…?”

Din laughed, in part due to relief, “No. Nothing like that. I have…” He reached to the back of his belt to unhook the blade and sheath that was once his. Din brought it around to hold out to you and you stared at the blade curiously. “In Mandalorian custom, a token of intention is given to the person being courted and to accept it means accepting those advances.” Din cleared his throat again. Maker, his mouth was dry. “Tokens are usually a weapon with the person’s signet on it.”

He pulled the blade out of the sheath enough that you were able to see the mudhorn etched into the blade’s side. Din tucked the blade back into the sheath and gave you a small nod. With a bright smile, you took the blade from his hands and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest watching you run your finger against the mudhorn.

You held the blade against your chest and nodded. “I accept, Mandalorian.”

Grogu began to clap his hands together and you broke out into laughter that relaxed every single bone and muscle in his body. The only regret Din had was not doing this at home where he could pull his helmet off and kiss you.

mando'a translations:

ni ceta: sorry wero'ika: little problem ner kar'ta: my heart mir'sheb: smartass

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition

[thefrogdalorian]

I saw that post going around about what people have on their nightstands and it made me wonder what Din would keep by his bed in the cabin on Nevarro...

I think:

Pictures of Grogu (apparently picture frames are called holocubes in Star Wars!)

A weapon! Probably a blaster of some sort. I imagine it would take him a while to even place it there (he probably slept with it tucked into his waistband/under his pillow for a few months...)

Various empty bottles which he really needs to throw away but keeps forgetting because he's a Tired, Stressed Dad™

Maybe his helmet, just in case he quickly needs to grab it and put it on (he probably feels so naked without it)

A Mythosaur necklace. I know we never saw it in canon, but I feel like he acquired another one so him and Grogu match. He takes it off every night before he goes to sleep but it's always there, close by.

I love fantasising about the little details of his cabin... I really hope we get to see some of them in the movie!

[binkyisonline]

Thank You For Sharing by @howaboutcastiel

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Pumkins, Domestic bliss, Fluss, Traditions, Pumpkin carving, Cute Grogu|Baby Yoda, Soft Cobb Vanth, Soft Din Djarin, Established Relationship, Din and Cobb are married, Cute, Family bonding, vacation.

Summary: Cobb wants to share his seasonal traditions with his family, and there’s no better time and place to do it than on a family vacation on Lothal. Din, Cobb, and Grogu carve pumpkins. That’s it, that’s the fic.

* * * *

I'm grateful for the opportunity to have illustrated such a sweet and comforting scene from Jonah's story, who has truly written a heart-warming sweet slice of domestic intimacy of the Djarin-Vanth clan ❤

Thanks again to @staranon95 and @cryptids-and-starlight for having created this event!

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 5}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian shows the considerate side of himself as he seeks shelter and a place to hide in wake of breaking the Code. You're internally battling with the implications of the kind behavior aimed at you, knowing it's all temporary until your return to a life of extreme captivity.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, light gore, canon typical gore, canon typical violence, pining, casual intimacy, the sight of din djarin's bare skin, descriptions of longing, ptsd, trauma, sa trauma, mental olympics, fighting, canon typical fighting, language

A/N: don't we all love soft! din djarin? because i sure as hell do. there are snippets of him in this chapter as things get a little more complicated between these two pining loons. SOFT DIN is here and i am thriving. i hope y'all enjoy this one, i certainly had fun writing it c: but HOLY CRAP, this chapter got away from me in the best possible way and two scenes i hadn't planned for are now some of my top five favorites i've written

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The Mandalorian just crouched there on the durasteel floor of the cockpit. Holding his hands down over the bacta patch that had quickly discolored with blood from your wounds the second it touched your soft body. There was blood stained into the skin of your stomach and ribs, some of it having trailed down to stain the waist of the pants he had allotted you. There was blood stained around your lips, trailing down your chin and had pooled in the crevices of your collarbone. It was smeared around your hands from when you had begun to cough it up down in the hold space. Prints of your hands were all over his armor, his newly minted armor, and his helmet. From desperately reaching out to him and pleading with him. He could see some of it thick and stuck to the visor he was peering at you through, you had begged for him to get to safety.

You had gone into the city to find his clan and to call on them for help on his behalf. You had been intuitive enough to know that the planet held something of importance to him and you sought it out instead of finding a way to flee. You had begged him to save himself and in turn the Child. You had done everything in your power to help ensure that he was successful with his rescue.

You had gotten hurt as a result of your efforts.

And that didn’t sit well with the Mandalorian.

The realization was heavy in his chest, as he stayed motionless on the floor beside you. Despite him taking you captive and intending to return you to your mother as the job instructed, you helped to secure his wellbeing twice now.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the deepest depths of his chest, he leaned over and carefully curled his arms around your limp form. He lifted the weight of you completely and tried not to jostle your body too much as he made his way down into the hold. There was no thought process behind placing you atop the excuse for a bed he had in the small quarters he retired to when given the chance.

He made to lay you down in a comfortable position and brought a threadbare blanket to drape over you.

Pausing for a second, contemplating something in the quiet of the traveling ship. The blood on his clothes would seep into the fabric around you. The Mandalorian brought a hand up to the side of his helmet and activated the heat sensor vision, so as to not witness anything as he removed the stained and saturated clothing from you and replaced it with a fresh pair of pants and shirt. You looked small in his bigger clothing, but he didn’t attempt to replace the belt you had been using to hold the waistband of the pants up. Once you were changed, he took a newer and cleaner cloth and wiped the blood from around your face and neck.

The faint movement of your chest rising and falling with your shallow breaths grounding him, he stood there for a time he couldn’t measure before he snapped out of it.

Only then did he place the blanket over you and leave you to rest.

The marketplace was busy, it crowded, and it was making the Mandalorian think of the two resting people he had waiting back on the Crest for his return. You were still unconscious and the Child had been put down for a nap, still tired from the whole ordeal since the compound. Since the pod had been dismantled and ruined back on Nevarro, he placed the Child in his sleeping quarters alongside you but when unhappy noises had been made. He allowed for you to both share the bed, enough space for you both to not feel crowded. The small child hadn’t liked that, the bed too open and exposed for him to get comfortable, the Mandalorian contemplated.

The Mandalorian had taken a few moments to dig up an old cape, one that didn’t have too much damage done to it, and made a small hammock in the space above the bed. The happy babbling from the Child had caused something to stir in his chest, something akin to pride at having made something that caused those small sounds. He’d rather be aboard his quiet ship than out here in the hectic atmosphere gathering supplies. The sun was hiding behind dark clouds, signaling that rain was due soon.

He found more broth packs, easy to carry and only took water to be a meal. At least, a meal for you and something he could take on longer hunts. He also got some fresh fruit, with the thought that it would be a good snack for the Kid. Along with some kebab sticks with various meats roasted and spiked on them. He folded everything carefully in his satchel, the fabric of it weighed down and tugged lightly on his pauldron as he walked along the market streets. His visor swept over the stalls further down, searching for something. One last thing…

You roused slowly, body aching in a way you were both familiar with and had come to know meant a harsh encounter with a guard or a particularly hard chase following a violent encounter. It was dark, there was no light in whatever room you lay in and that sent alarms to ring in your mind, darkness meant anything could be waiting around you, waiting for you beyond it. That worried you, sent all of your instincts into a frantic buzz that began to drown out the pain you felt simmering just beneath your skin.

There were faint footsteps you could hear somewhere close, the sound of faint breathing above you.

The clothing you were in was loose, you were glad you were clothed after whatever had happened to you had concluded but they were foreign to you. Large, baggy, men’s clothing. The waistband of the pants twisted as you shifted a bit atop the bed you realized you were on. There was the sound of water boiling in a kettle and you were worried it would soon find contact with your skin should whoever was holding you became angered or annoyed with you. The only saving grace was that you weren’t cuffed or chained to anything, something that was a foreign feeling after it had been the reality for so long.

You moved to sit up and pain flared hot and bright in your middle. You let out a stuttered, surprised shout at the sudden hit to your nerves. Your hands came to curl around your middle, carefully to try and abate the pain. Through the fabric of your borrowed shirt, you could feel bandages. That was….odd. No guard or captor had ever tended to injuries they were the cause of before.

Suddenly the door to wherever you were being held opened and it allowed for a peel of artificial light to blind you.

You blinked furiously, eyes not able to discern anything in the sudden brightness. You didn’t say anything as the silhouette of a broad, large man in armor appeared in the narrow doorway. You ducked your head down and froze with your hands holding your middle, legs splayed out atop the mattress in front of you.

You couldn’t help but cower as they approached. That gave them pause.

“You’re on my ship.”

You didn’t look up at the figure as they spoke, or when they moved about the small space of the room to press a few buttons along the wall and soft lights above the bed sprung to life. Arms curled tighter around yourself and you hunched over your knees, having curled your legs up under yourself to take up as little space as possible. Tremors settled over you, your skin feeling very flushed and overheated all of a sudden despite the goosebumps that were almost hurting as they pebbled up. You bowed your head in silence, not speaking.

“Do…you not remember?”

You shook your head fervently, worried about upsetting the man as his armor glinted out of the corner of your eye. It was silver and shiny….and faintly familiar.

“You were injured, Greef Karga had a modified blaster gun that contained metal bullets.” The man inside the armor stood at the foot of the mattress pad you were on. “Landed a hit that did a lot of damage. Broke a few ribs and landed close to your lungs.”

Flashes of bright blaster fire and steam were a mental barrage that had you gasping and leaning your forehead down to rest atop the blanket that had fallen from your form at your fidgeting. Everything that had happened since leaving the compound as a captive to the Mandalorian flooded back to you in a wave of memories and harsh feelings of realizing how injured you were. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with a burn, your ribcage aching in protest at the action. You bowed your head once again, though in pain not in submittance.

“I apologize, jatne vod. My injury must have put you behind on traveling, I-I-I’ll pay for everything you used from your medical supplies, for fuel, anything wasted on me.”

A boom of thunder had the ship rumbling, and you jumped in response to it. The sound too similar to the explosions and storming of your old temple. Triggering. A second, nearly immediate boom of thunder had your entire form shaking and you brought your hands up to cover your head in an attempt to drown out the sound. There was a scuffling sound and all of a sudden, the Child was pressed up into you. He was burying his face in the fabric of your shirt, his small hands clenching it like a lifeline.

The heavy pattering of rain started to ping off of the metal of the ship.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight didn’t soften his heart, just a smidge. He didn’t hesitate, but he did consider the move of sitting on the edge of the small bed before he did. There was a loud crackling sound as the lightning brightening the sky as if it were a sunny day landed a hit on something and your body jerked in reaction to it. The tiny claws clinging to you tore through the baggy shirt you were donning, and you let out a stuttered gasp as pain flared harshly.

The Child was suddenly being pulled from you and you heard the clatter of his nails along the cuirass of the man’s chest. There was the sound of leather ripping as another clap of thunder sounded overhead, the ship rattling in its wake.

“I ap-apol-apologize, jat-jatne vod.” You felt a warm tingle in the back of your throat and a rush of dizziness overtook you. Your head swayed with the effect of it despite your best efforts to keep it steady and the lights of the space glowed brightly in a flare against your sensitive eyes. Then a trickle of blood came out of your nose, warm on your upper lip where it collected. You went to brush it away, but something moved to do so before you could.

A bare hand was suddenly in front of your face, a washcloth held in its grip. Your head shot up at the sight of the tan skin, veins and strong muscles in a shocking display. The back of his knuckles brushed your cheek as he brought the damp washcloth underneath your nose to wipe away the thick blood that had dripped down to your upper lip. You clenched your eyes shut, suddenly worried about the meaning of such a thing. Of the exposure of his skin, visible in the light of his personal space.

“It’s okay, I’m allowing you to see.”

Words seemed to no longer exist, they were fleeting in your mind but none were solid. None of them left your lips, unable to speak. Wind whistled outside of the ship, but you were deaf to it in the wake of your heart thundering in your ears. Your mind was frozen and so was your body. Even though his reaction to your earlier offer to trade for items when first coming aboard the ship, you couldn’t help but feel like he was about to strike up one in the wake of exposing a part of himself to you, no matter how innocent. It would make sense after all, you were in his personal quarters, you were in his bed, he had tended to your injuries with time and energy that he could’ve otherwise utilized in his attempt to flee.

He must’ve sensed the direction of your thoughts, his hand stilled as he finished wiping the blood from your skin.

“I will not put a hand on you beyond tending to your injuries. You don’t want me to, and I won’t breach that. This is the Way.”

You couldn’t help the minute tilt of your head that allowed the back of his hand to brush your cheek again. You flicked your eyes up at the black of the visor in front of you. His hand was warm on your sensitive skin, and it helped to settle the chill that had settled over you from what you were sure was a fever. The visor tilted down at the split second of contact, though no words sounded from the modulator, not even a breath. When you lifted your eyes up again, you let them linger a little longer, your lips pressed together and a drop of blood he hadn’t gotten was a metallic surprise.

The pressure built up in the air from the storm seemed to occupy the room, as if it had snuck aboard the ship and was surrounding you both in the confines of the small space.

The washcloth thumped quietly to the bed and his thumb came up to gently brush against your lips.

You felt a rush of heat on your face, goosebumps sprouting on your skin at the feeling of his skin on yours. His thumb rested fully on your bottom lip, as if he was unable to pull his hand away, as if he didn’t want to. The pad of it was soft, and you wondered how soft the rest of his skin was underneath the armor if this was just his hand. The thought of loss washed over you as you thought of him taking his hand back, of taking the softness resting against your lips away. Of the glove he normally wore being put back over and hiding his skin away from you. It was foreign and you felt the burn of shame for thinking such a thing. You turned your head away as you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath that stung in your lungs, the movement causing the back of his hand to caress your cheek.

After a beat, he proceeded to place the Child atop the bed beside him, his other gloved hand on a small back to reassure him that it was all okay. Thankfully the thunder had subsided for the moment, the quell of the storm temporarily abating. You went to reach for the small figure, but that same still naked hand extended toward you again with a fresh bacta patch and a tube of some type of cream.

“It’s a topical medicine that was recommended when I asked after your type of injuries.”

“Th- thank you, jatne vod.” You spoke to the cluttered wall of the quarters, eyes taking in the things the Mandalorian deemed important enough to keep close at all times. Keeping them off of the bare hand still exposed to you, you had already been greedy with your thoughts, there was no need to stare. Despite how much you wanted to, despite how much you wanted the feeling of that hand back on your skin. Shameful, pitiful, you realized. This man was your captor, he had all the power and you felt the pull of distaste bubble up in your throat. You would never know freedom again, would never have the choice of someone’s touch. It was a bitter realization in the wake of being faced with the urge for a gentle touch after catching a glimpse of it for the first time in your life.

“The ship can’t fly in such weather, we will remain here until the storm passes.”

With that, he stood from the bed and scooped the Child up. The armored man held the small form close to his chest with a strong arm, the hand that had been touching you was hanging at his side with a ripped glove in its grip. A compartment was opened on the wall close to the door and a new shirt, one not ripped as yours was now, was placed alongside the medical supplies. His steps were quiet as he left the small space. The door was left open behind him marginally, allowing for you to take a moment to yourself should you need to.

You gathered up the items he had placed in front of you and gingerly moved to get up off the bed. It took a few moments for you to get your bearings, your entire middle from the front to the back sore. The large bacta patch already covering your injury was large, spanning the entire left side of your ribcage. It had a stain that meant it was time to be changed, the corners of lit curling and lifting up from your skin as the adhesive began to lose its potency.

When you stepped out of the personal quarters, you were faced with the scene of the Mandalorian seated at the makeshift table with an array of food items scattered about it. He was handing small bites of the various things to the Child. Seeing what was being greedily shoved into the small mouth, what was inspected, and what was spit out in dislike. You watched for a moment, holding a hand to your left side as you slowly moved over to the remaining seat, as the Child was safely nestled atop the table.

There was a small pile of clothing atop the table once again, soft looking fabric that was black and glinted with a hint of some type of metal adornment. You wondered about it as you sat.

“He doesn’t seem to like the fruit,” You stifled a small laugh at the grimace adorning the small face, the sounds of distaste too cute as he babbled away. Your hand hovered over a cannister of green cubes, some type of melon you assumed. It looked so fresh and your mouth watered, you had always loved fruit of any kind. The fresh, bright flavors one of the small pleasures you awarded yourself in your life when you had the opportunity to. “May I?”

At the nod of the helmet, you carefully picked up a piece and popped it in your mouth. The tart, tangy flavor of it was refreshing on your tongue and you quickly grabbed another without asking in a bold move. Beside it was a cannister of small purple berries that looked similar to the blackberries you would harvest back on your home planet, though the taste of them was sweeter. The berries were slightly fuzzy, and when bitten into the flesh was almost translucent. You cradled a few in your hand as you took in the way the Mandalorian carefully removed bits of cooked meat from a kebab and handed them to the Kid.

Errant thunder rumbled overhead as you enjoyed a few bites, though nothing as striking or loud as those first few booms. Seems the storm had been passing over, traveling further into the planet to pelt down in some other parts of the atmosphere.

“Those clothes there are for you. They should fit you better than mine.”

“Oh! You didn’t have to do that, jatne vod.” You dropped the piece of sliced apple you had been about to take from a cannister. It was covered in a slightly spiced syrup that smelled delicious. You licked the stickiness from your fingertips and moved your hands to rest in your lap.

“I had credits in my…other pants. They are yours, jatne vod.”

There was only a nod from the helmet as you moved to stand, taking the clothing in your arms.

“May I use the fresher?” You bowed slightly as you addressed him, habits seemingly unable to abate in the wake of your partial freedom. While you knew you were still his captive, the obvious glitch in the entire situation was that the Mandalorian no longer worked for the Guild. You had looked over your file while he had been rescuing the Child, to see the specifics of what your mother had ordered in her desperation to find you.

She had requested that the Mandalorian specifically be the one to receive your tracking fob, to return you to her directly on your home planet. That no one else was to know of your disappearance in such explicit detail. You were unclear on whether or not he would be completing the job now that he no longer worked for the Guild, but you were hesitant to ask. It would be a breach to…whatever civil atmosphere had settled over the ship. He had brought food back, though he ate alone to adhere to his creed. He had allowed you to pick through the various canisters gathered on the table, though you had not helped pay for the food. He had tended to your wounds, though he did not have to. He had allowed you to rest in his personal quarters, though he did not have to forgo his own comfort. He had gone into town with the intent to purchase clothing for you, though he did not have to when you had been dressed in his own already.

It was dizzying, the shift in treatment from being bound in shackles and forced through the desert to this…. nearly domestic setting. You weren’t sure how long it would last, or if he was already traveling toward your home planet. It was mid rim, so it would take quite a long journey and you weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious for. You were afraid to ask questions, afraid to find out the answers.

Afraid to break the fragile ground you now walked on.

At the nod to your simple question, you picked up the bundle of clothing atop the table and made your way to the refresher.

You disrobed slowly, taking a mental tally of all the aches and pains that wracked your body. It was hard to take a full breath, it stung the back of your throat to take a shallow one, a lingering metallic taste there. Your entire middle was bruised and off color, you discovered as you pried the old bacta patch from your skin. The discoloration and bruising hid a bit of swelling and you could tell that two of your ribs were broken, on either side of a dark cauterized blemish marred into you. It was healing though, you were positive of that. The bacta having made the closure a dark pink of a scar as opposed to a scabbed over spot. Your ribs too, would be worse off if not for the immediate tending to them.

You were grateful, despite being confused about the aid. Despite the niggling worry in the back of your mind that he would still ask for something in return.

The warm water of the shower was soothing to your anxious mind and aching body. The ship powered up and you felt the slight shift in gravity as it took to the air. You stood underneath the spray until your legs began to feel weak, which admittedly hadn’t been all that long.

Once dried off, you put your bindings and underwear back on. Reaching for the tube of medication, you inspected the label. It was a cooling type of gel that was supposed to help sooth your muscles and make it easier to breathe. When you opened the tube, the smell was a little strong but you kind of liked it. A small dallop was spread around your injury and the effect was immediate. It was slightly cooling in a flaring heat type of way and tingly, and it certainly did help to open up your airways. You took a test breath in and smiled as it didn’t pull on your insides as much as it had done just moments ago.

The clothing that the Mandalorian had gotten you was…something that made your heart titter as you unfolded a beautiful cloak. It was hooded and made of a lightweight, black gauzy material that would protect you from the elements but wouldn’t weigh you down. It had a clasp around the parts that come to rest over your chest, it was a lightweight metal. The clasps were small, detailed flowers and a dainty but sturdy chain with a handful of links. The quality of it was amazing and you ran your hands over the fabric in a slight daze. It was a beautiful piece of clothing and something you were sure was more expensive than anything you had ever worn in your entire life.

Underneath it had been a small pile of nondescript black clothing. A tank top, a regular shirt, a pair of trousers that were more your size and length. There was also a pair of fingerless, leather gloves that came up to cover your wrists completely to about mid forearm. It was…too much. Panic flared in your chest, and it hurt to breath for another reason altogether. No one had ever shown you this level of…consideration. Instincts telling you that something was going to be required in exchange, despite the very opposite being voiced by the Mandalorian himself.

You brought a hand up to thumb at your lower lip, recalling the way his own had felt against it and you felt your face heat up at the memory.

Opting to change back into the larger, borrowed clothing, you exited the refresher with your newly gifted clothes folded neatly in your hands.

When you came out back into the hold space, there was a cup of broth waiting for you on the crate-table, small wisps of steam rising from it. You looked at it, getting lost in watching the steam reach out into the air until it vanished. You turned toward the ladder that led up to the cockpit and was startled to see the figure of the Mandalorian standing at the base of it. He was watching you and it made your heart jump in your chest, the thought of him waiting for you setting off your instincts to run despite not being physically able to.

You felt your knees bend slightly, as if gearing up to run and you felt foolish as you consciously realized you were aboard a ship traveling through space. There was nowhere to run.

“I’m going to keep an eye on the course, you can return to the bed with the Child. He’s in the hammock above it.” With that, he turned and climbed the ladder. His own cloak swayed as he disappeared from view without so much as a sound.

You moved to sit at the table, taking up the broth in a hand while you reached for your bag stored underneath it. You carefully put the clothing inside and the sound of clinking metal caught your attention. You dug around in it as you brought it to rest in your lap. The bag of credits you had swiped from that unsuspecting person back on Nevarro surprised you. You had thought the Mandalorian had just taken them from you when he had tended to your injuries. You set it atop the table beside the canisters clustered in the middle and sipped from the mug in your hand.

With the combination of the warm broth in your belly, the clean bandages over your injuries, and the topical cream that still smelled faintly of mint that was allowing for you to take easier breaths, you found yourself slipping into an easy slumber settled into the Mandalorian’s bed.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, though it felt like a significant amount of time had passed. The medicine and the full stomach allowing you to fall into much needed healing slumber. The door to the quarters was open and you sat up and gazed out into the semi-darkness of the rest of the ship. Footsteps approached the door through the space.

“We’re going to drop out of hyperspace soon.” The Mandalorian’s voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to disturb you should your mind be in more in the state of sleep than awake. You hummed as you felt yourself wake up a little more, the shifting of your legs underneath the blankets twinging from laying for so long. “Planet will be in view.”

You just hummed again in confirmation as you began to sit up, head lolling with the lack of energy you had in your recovering state. Your arms were shaky where you held yourself up on them to try and gain some bearings. You felt worn leather cuff a shoulder and encircle an arm to help you sit up completely, warmth seeping into your skin through it. He didn’t say anything as you slowly moved your legs to dangle over the edge of the cot, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort. He waited outside of the small quarters as you dressed. You opted for the cargo style pants, the tank top, gloves, and the beautiful cloak. You also took a moment to pull the hair that normally framed your face back with two small clips from your bag, leaving the rest of it to cascade down your back but away from your face to allow you to have full range of vision.

The Mandalorian took in your change of appearance before he held a light hand to one of your arms and your lower back as you ascended to the cockpit.

Once seated, he took up his spot in the pilot’s seat, the Child resting in his lap and looking over the controls and out the panels of glass. The small being seemed to have a fascination with the streaking lights of travel. You smiled to yourself as you watched the two be causally intimate with each other in only the way a guardian and their charge could be.

The ethereal, glowing lights of hyperspace disappeared, and the expanse of the glass paneling was encompassed by green.

The planet the Mandalorian was guiding the ship towards was covered in various shades of green. There were spots of bright cerulean that dotted the planet, but it was mostly the calming and comforting color of green, of trees. You audibly gasped, the feeling of warmth blossoming in your chest at the sight. You weren’t aware of shakily getting up from your seat or setting down the small pouch of soft dried fruit you had been trying to munch on or crossing the distance to stand beside the pilot chair and lean toward the view atop the controls.

“Jatne vod…”

You turned to look at him, a grateful smile lighting up your tired features.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight hadn’t made his heart kick into a faster rhythm in his ribcage.

“Now listen. I’m gonna go out there and I’m gonna look around.”

The Mandalorian instructed once he had securely landed the ship in a clearing far from what little collections of people that had been seen as you flew through the clear sky. He gently collected the Child and set him in the seat that had just been occupied. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Now, don’t touch anything.” He spoke sternly to the small being, though not unkindly. He turned to you, where you had gone back into the seat off to the left of his own. His voice was normal when he addressed you, no stern undertones, no warnings. “I’ll find us some lodging and then I’ll come back for you both.”

He turned back around and took on that stern tone once again.

“You stay right here. Don’t move.” The finger aimed at him was a laughable display, but you refrained from indulging, not wanting to offend the armored man who was trying to set the rules out for the little one. The small grunt of acknowledgement seemed to be all he was waiting for. “Great.”

He turned away and helped you to get down back into the hold with hovering hands. You sensed the Child following suit but didn’t say anything, rather enjoying the clear defiance of the instructions the man had just set in place from the small being. He could get away with it, whereas if you disobeyed… there was no telling what the outcome would be at this point. As the door and ramp got situated you watched as the Mandalorian waited for it to completely lock into place atop the dirt of the planet, the Child’s small form standing beside him as if that was where he belonged.

At the quiet cooing sounding from him, the Mandalorian heaved a deep sigh and turned back to where you had begun to retrieve your bag.

“Oh, what the hell? Come on, both of you.”

The three of you took off into the dense collection of trees, the forest swallowing your forms as you walked away from the ship. You took as deep a breath as you could without irritating your lungs, not wanting to pull or strain them in the wake of making some healing progress. The air was fresh and crisp, the all-encompassing scent of pine and cedarwood making you feel at ease. You placed a hand out to brush the leaves hanging low beside the small path and felt the coolness of them along your exposed fingertips.

You were silent as you followed behind the armored man a few paces with the Kid beside you. You kept glancing down at him, to make sure he was walking okay and not tripping over anything too big for him to step over. His head was swiveling around as he took in the sights and sounds of the forest. He seemed to like it as much as you did. You wondered what his natural environment was, what it looked like, what type of planet he and his kind originally hailed from. You had been too preoccupied with training and memorizing everything you could get your hands on to read as a youngling at the Temple to ask the only other individual like this that you had known. Your heart panged with old feelings as you recalled those lost in the chaos of that time of your life.

Beside you, the Kid cooed rather loudly and stopped along the small path through the trees. His focus was on something in the brush, his head tilted to the side a little in the cutest way imaginable. The head of a lothcat popped up and he startled, falling back on his little rump. You stifled a quiet laugh as he huffed and collected himself enough to reach a hand out to it. The fluffy creature leaned forward and sniffed at his little hand, eyes trained on his own. The creature seemed to approve of him and nudged its head against the hand in front of it with a loud chitter.

You leaned down beside his small form to reach out a hand to the creature as well. It brushed its soft fur against your hand and a loud purr filled the space between the trees. It spooked when the Mandalorian took his steps back up and a small twig snapped. It took off down the path and away with a swift trot.

The town was small, more a small collection of businesses and then personal homes that surrounded a tavern. The buildings were comprised of thick wicker bases, wood paneling atop that to create the dome like structures. It was slightly crowded, as it was midday and time for lunch. The tavern tables nearly filled as the smell of delicious foods cooking wafted through the air. You were on high alert as you realized people were watching your trio, both of you following the Mandalorian’s sure steps.

A lothcat was settled at someone’s feet but it was more orange than white compared to the one you had just encountered in the forest. The Child didn’t see the difference and he approached the creature, only to get hissed at, a snarl sounding low in its throat. The Child yelped and you quickly scooped him up into your arms. You kept your eyes low and your head slightly ducked as you took in the rest of the scene of the bustling tavern as the Mandalorian scouted out a table. Once an unoccupied one came into view, he reached out and took the Child from you and placed him in one of the chairs around the table. He waited until you were seated as well, before he took one of his own.

“Welcome, travelers.” An older woman with short hair approached your trio as she cleaned her hands off on a rag. “Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth for the little one.”

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty.” She spoke with her hands, as she glanced around the table before speaking again. Her eyes landed on you and you tried not to appear too outwardly uneasy at the direct attention for fear of drawing more. “Can I interest you in one as well? Or you, sweet little thing, look like you could use some food.”

You shook your head as you folded your hands in your lap and aimed your eyes down at the table.

“Just the one.”

“Very well.” You felt her gaze move from you and you let out the breath you had been holding. Direct attention was always difficult for you, reading everything and the Maker into it no matter what.

You focused your attention on reaching out with the Force to get a sense of the town, of the people here, the environment. Aware of the Mandalorian speaking further with the kind lady, but not distinguishing anything specific. There were no disturbances in the Force, though there was the prickling feeling of eyes trained on you specifically. You vaguely noticed that the armored man was standing and walking away from the table in swift motions, as you tried to get a deeper read on the people surrounding you. It was a little overwhelming, being in the midst of so much going on after being held captive at the compound for so long.

The noises and hum of chatter were loud in your ears, causing a slight ache to settle as the lower base of your head that had nothing to do with your injuries. Your whole body was tense, though you were sure it was hidden in the way you held yourself, composed. To anyone watching, it would just look like a guardian and her charge enjoying a nice meal. But you were as tense as could be, wound tighter than a coil. Your body protested it, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming fear of being out in the open like this. You were injured, not at full strength and had the Kid to worry about now too. The both of you would be targets for the rest of your lives, it didn’t matter if you were back to full strength and capabilities. And that terrified you.

You snapped back to full focus, letting go of the mental tether you had reached out to connect with the Force as the Child moved to take the bowl set down in front of him and dismount his own seat. You followed him as he seemed so sure of his steps out of the open bay of the tavern’s entrance and out into the small village.

As you rounded a turn around a building, the Child stopped and took a big sip from his bowl of broth, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sprawled on his back. The helmet was tilted back as he trained the aim of a blaster on one of the people who had been tracking your movements through the tavern. It was a rather broad and muscled woman with short black hair that fell into her face in a way that made you want to brush it aside, she was adorned in travel wear, metal plates of armor over her shoulders and forearms. She was laying on her stomach along the ground, facing the upside down Mandalorian with her own blaster trained on him. They were both panting, the effects of their scuffle obvious.

They both turned in unison to take in the sight of the Child standing calmly in front of you, sipping away as his food as if this was a normal occurrence. You just bowed your head in greeting, despite only having been away from the man for a few moments. The Mandalorian spoke, breaking the tension in the air.

“You want some soup?”

“Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor. Mostly ex-Imperial warlords.” The quartet of your group was back at the original table the Mandalorian had found. A cup of broth in front of everyone who didn’t don a helmet. You had pulled out a handful of credits from your pocket to cover the new round, not wanting to be rude. The visor of the Mandalorian was trained on you through the entire exchange and the kind woman from before thanked you and offered to fill your flagon with fresh water. You shook your head in a silent denial, wary of anything you didn’t see the source of. The only reason you ate the soup was because the Mandalorian deemed it safe enough for the Child, so it should be safe enough for you as well, by default.

“They wanted it fast and quiet. They’d send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started.” You wanted to nod along in agreement but held the action. You were worried about drawing anymore attention than was already aimed at the table.

“We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“Let’s just call it an early retirement.” She took a sip from her bowl as a way to lull the conversation down. It was obvious she had fled, had possibly participated in or allowed the occurrence of a riot herself.

“Look, I knew you were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That’s why I came at you so hard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“You look like you’ve been through it, you alright over there? You’ve been awfully quiet, barely touched your broth and you look like you need it most out of all of us.” She turned her attention to you. The table dynamics had you settled between her and the Child, she was on your right while your back was to the internal wall of the tavern. You ducked your head at the direct questions, eyes darting over to the helmet of the Mandalorian that was facing you as well.

“Vaabir not ganar baatir par ni, cyar'ika.”

Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.

You couldn’t help the term of endearment from falling from your lips despite not even looking directly at her, eyes trained on the far wall past her. The woman was everything you once were, and it was softening your heart just the smallest bit, while simultaneously steeling it. But not enough to carry on a conversation, let alone one in Basic that could be understood by anyone or anything listening in. If she once dealt with Imperials, you didn’t need her to get to know anything about you. She would most likely know of your wanted posters from long ago, whispers of the search for you that may or may not have faded with the death of the emperor and his guard. You didn’t want her to make the connection, any connection regarding who or what you were. 

“Gar liser jorhaa'ir, meh gar copad at.”

You can speak, if you want to.

The Mandalorian took your use of his native language as a signal that you were uncomfortable, looking to connect with him in a way that didn’t allow anyone else to be privy. For that you were grateful, you…weren’t the biggest people person as a child and you certainly weren’t now. Isolation making you prefer to be alone or talk very little when faced with interaction.

“Nayc, jatne vod.” You shook you head, hoping he would drop the conversation and go back to talking with the woman. The sooner they finished, the sooner you could get away from the village.

“Well, this had been a real treat,” The woman, Cara her name was, moved to get up from her seat. She  brought the bowl up to hold it in front of her middle, as if she was using it as a shield for either physical purposes or to hold her anxiety at bay. “But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on. And I was here first.”

She took the last sip from it before setting it down atop the table and walking off.

“Well, looks like this planet’s taken.” He looked down at the Child in front of his own bowl before he rested the length of his right arm on the table and gazed around the tavern one more time. Keeping tabs even after the scuffle, on alert for another in case it arose.

It was dusk by the time you returned to the ship. You had offered to put something together for a meal, while the Mandalorian checked over everything on the ship. He only nodded, in agreement of the meal or in an acknowledgement of you being able to do so. Either way, you busied yourself in the small makeshift kitchen space of the hold.

You set a bowl of rice and leftover kebabs down beside the Mandalorian after making sure the Child was tucked into bed. It was late and his eyes had begun to droop as soon as he had been fed. The armored man was busy tinkering away with something along the side of the Crest, he had two containers of tools beside him and you set the bowl atop one as you watched him work for a moment.

“Jatne vod, may I go and sit in the trees.” The sound of the wrench he was using stopped, the grating metal and metal ceasing as he turned his helmet to observe you. There was a bowl of food in your hand as well, a utensil placed carefully in it as you stood beside his little workstation set up. The sky was dark, but the lantern that he had atop the tools and the light from his helmet allowed him to see how tired you looked. You were holding a lantern of your own, though he recognized it as one he kept stored on the ship. “I won’t go far or out of sight, I promise.”

“You don’t have to ask me to do things.”

“Of course I do, I’m in your charge.” Your appetite was waning in light of the conversation, the sinking feeling in your stomach filling you up. “Until the job is done, you are my captor, I…shouldn’t even be asking to do things…it’s an…unusual dynamic.”

“The clothes and tending to your issues were necessary for your comfort and survival, those were unusual?”

“Jatne vod….it’s as if…n-nevermind… I’ll go back inside, I’m sorry for bothering you.” Tears were welling up despite your best efforts to stave them off. The words you had been about to speak would spark a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The reality of your situation was plain, you were the Mandalorian’s quarry, no matter how he acted towards you. The tears were of anger and annoyance at yourself for beginning to feel otherwise. The facts were the facts. You turned on your heel and quickly made your way around the ship and toward the ramp.

A hand gripping around your bicep stopped you and your cloak swished with the sudden stop. You turned to face the shadowed visor of the Mandalorian. It was moving closer and closer toward you until you felt the cool metal above the visor rest against your forehead for a few seconds. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact, the metal allowing your face to cool down from getting so worked up so quickly just now. When he pulled back, he aimed the visor at your eye level, though you had yet to open yours back up.

“Though that is the case….I want you to be… comfortable.” His voice was quiet through the modulator. A careful tone you hadn’t heard from him as of yet. It was…smooth and soft just like his skin had been against yours earlier that day. You wanted more of it, more of this, more of that, more of him. And that was wrong.

Feelings of delusion overwhelmed you as you read too much into the man showing you a bit of kindness, nothing really, in wake of living your life alone and then taken prisoner for so long. That’s all it was, it was all in your head and your heart was running with any thread it could to make this something that it wasn’t. He was capable of softness, as shown by his regret at turning in the Child. But you wouldn’t be so lucky, only catching glimpses of it for the remainder of your time with him.

“As long as it doesn’t affect me or the Kid in a negative way, you can do pretty much whatever you want.”

You nodded as you kept your eyes shut, not willing to open them and come face to face with the helmet leaning down to gaze at you. This….casual touching wasn’t helping to get your mind on track. You stepped back, away from him and you felt his hand release you. Your skin burned where his touch had been and you tired to shake the feeling away. You took as deep a breath as you could muster, not wanting to irritate your ribs, and exhaled slowly. You didn’t say anything as you walked over to the edge of the clearing facing the ramp and settled with your back to a tree and began to eat.

You ignored the lingering stare of the Mandalorian until he turned back to finish his maintenance. 

“Excuse me.” A pair of figures approached from the darkness of the surrounding forest. Their voices were light and innocent as they did so, speaking with respect. “Excuse me, sir.”

“There something I can help you with?” You weren’t surprised in the slightest when the Mandalorian spoke without breaking his concentration. He was elbows deep in the paneling of the ship, making sure everything was set to travel. Still leaning back onto the trunk of a tall tree, your empty bowls had already been returned to the makeshift kitchen space. The ramp to the ship was closed and you had been out here with the man for the better part of an hour. You had heard the two men approaching, their land speeder a little wide for the trail and overhung branches and overgrown brush had whispered against the siding.

“Uh, yeah. Raiders.”

“We have money.”

“So, you think I’m some kinda mercenary?” The Mandalorian walked around from where he had been securing something around the open panel below the landing leg of the ship. He was on the other side of it now, and continued to work without so much as a glance at the two figures.

“You are a Mandalorian, right?”

“Or at least wearing Mandalorian armor. That is Mandalorian armor, right?”

“It is.”

“See? I told him. Sir, I’ve read a lot about your people…tribe. If half of what I read is true…”

“We have money.”

“How much?”

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill. We’re krill farmers.”

“We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.” The Mandalorian finally turned to face them, giving them direct attention. He took in the bag of credits held high in one of their hands and began to walk along the side of the ship away from them.

“It’s not enough.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.”

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.”

“This is everything we have. We’ll give you more after the next harvest.”

The door began to hiss as it prepared to open, steam releasing as the mechanism lowered. You stood from where you had been resting close by, back against the tree and watching the stars throughout the entire interaction. The two villagers jumped at the sound, backing away as the ramp lowered. The mechanical groan of it doing so was the only sound in the clearing.

“Come on. Let’s head back.” One whispered to the other, watching as you silently approached and moved to stand behind the Mandalorian. You nodded at them in greeting, a sympathetic downturn of your lips telling them you weren’t in agreement with the denial of help. But you had no say in the matter.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection, to the middle of nowhere.”

You watched as the armored man was nearly up to the top of the ramp and inside the ship when he turned to them, his cape swishing with the movement. His helmet picking up the whispered complaint from the villagers. You didn’t envy them, if one was seeking out aid, surely traveling was nerve wracking in combination of being away from a threatened home.

“Where do you live?”

“On a farm. Weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.”

“In the middle of nowhere?”

They paused, unsure if they were being taken seriously now that the Mandalorian seemed to be paying attention. Unsure if they were being humored for a good laugh. Your brow furrowed as you took in the almost exasperated way they were answering questions now, you felt bad for them, truly.

“…yes.”

“You have lodging?” The Mandalorian glanced at you before focusing on the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Their tone changed to hopeful, returning to what it had been when they first approached.

“Good. Come up and help.” He turned back and entered the hold space, beginning to shift through the ship for things he would need.  

All three of them worked diligently, gathering whatever things the Mandalorian pointed out to them and placing them atop the land speeder they had used to traverse through the thick forest. The Child was already nestled atop it, big eyes watching the flurry of movement. There were a few cases of things and then your bag was brought over. The medical kit that had been in his quarters. You weren’t sure what everything was, but it was obviously important and couldn’t be left on the ship. You were unsure of how long the armored man planned to stay here but….it looked like a good chunk of time if the cases were any indication. You tried not to dwell on that for too long…

“I’m gonna need one more thing. Give me those credits.”

A guiding hand was hovering close to your back as you gingerly stepped up onto the older model speeder. It was suddenly wrapping around you when your side twinged and you lost your balance mid step up, its companion coming up to rest on one of your arms to help steady you. You let out a little ‘oof’ as your weight was suddenly being supported by strong arms. Your head was turned to say something to the Mandalorian but before you could even open your mouth, you felt them tense slightly as the muscles moved to lift you completely and place you up on the speeder.

“…thank you, jatne vod.”

You wouldn’t look at him as you settled down and brought your legs up and crossed them.

“Ready for round two?”

Cara quickly holstered her gun, grabbed her pack, and situated herself across the land speeder from you.

“Hi there, cyar'ika.” She winked at you, raising two of her fingers in a mock salute once she was seated with her legs stretched out.

You felt your face warm at the term of endearment even though she didn’t know what it meant. You were sure she was only repeating it because it was what you had called her back in the tavern during the day. The land speeder began to move as the Mandalorian sat down inside as well.

“So, we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?”

“They’re quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that’s a pretty square deal for somebody in your position.” He was leaning up against the siding of the land speeder, his legs stretched out before him. He was to your left, as if he was subconsciously shielding your injured side even under the cover of night, against anything that may dare to threaten your traveling group. The Child was seated in front of your own legs, folded up and crossed underneath you as you leaned back on a folded blanket to try and relieve some of the ache in your middle beside him. “Worse case scenario you tune up your blaster. Best case, we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle.”

The Mandalorian stretched out his arms and leaned back further to rest them atop the side of the land speeder, the move drawing your eyes to him. Something flared low in your middle and you willed it to disappear as quickly as it came. There was absolutely no reason why him getting comfortable should ping your radar like that, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t. It was jarring enough that your radar was even operational, at this point, if you were blatantly honest with yourself. You had long since lost the desire to feel touch and to seek out pleasure, not that you had done much anyway. The things done to you shutting it off for good long ago.

The ease and confidence of his words paired with his smooth motions bringing an arm close to you as it rested behind your shoulders had you closing your eyes in a long blink before you focused your attention on the stars shining down on you.

“And what are you able to handle?” Cara turned back to you. “I don’t see so much as a knife on you, but you’re traveling with the armored tank over here, essentially.”

“I can handle plenty.” Your voice was slightly pinched though mostly composed, not sure how to go about this type of conversation without giving away too much. But if you were about to spend an undetermined amount of time with the woman in the middle of nowhere, it would be best to tell the truth just a little bit. “But no, I don’t carry any weapons at the moment. I’m…currently in transport due to the instructions on my own fob.”

She coughed as the drink she had just taken from a flagon went down wrong. She turned wide eyes from you to the Mandalorian, seeking out answers as she tried to get her voice back.

“You’re a quarry?!”

“…yes.”

“She is.”

“Why are you trying to hide here on Sorgan if you’ve got credits to collect from turning her in?”

“I bet the Guild wouldn’t be willing to make good on this job.”

You could sense that she wanted to ask questions, to find out the details of what exactly the dynamic was and how this unusual situation came to be. But you didn’t offer her any words and neither did the Mandalorian.

The land speeder traveled on.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

[helpinghanikan]

Domestic December: Day 30

Din Djarin: Crying

Grogu was hurt, that was all you needed to know. Something had happened on board and a scream that you’ll remember for the rest of your life rang out. It wasn’t one of his normal screams like when he’s scared, but a painful scream that can only happen when metal penetrates skin.

Din had gotten to him first. The knife that had fallen and ran through Grogu’s arm was quickly pulled off a tossed away with downright anger.

“Bacta, now!” Din yelled over his shoulder. Not that he needed to tell you, the first aid kit was already in hand.

Now, when stabbed or penetrated by a large object, you aren’t supposed to pull it out immediately. As it’s the only thing keeping the blood in. Din wasn’t thinking when he ran to help out his little boy. He just ripped the knife out same as he would do to himself.

“Din, I need you to move.” You said, trying a gentle approach over wanting to physically push him aside.

Din does as you ask. It was only with a select few that he’d be willing to give up his son this easily. You were one of those few. Standing just a few feet away while you moved Grogu’s sleeve.

Grogu was had stopped screaming but he was still sniffling as you cleaned off his wound. His big eyes looking between you, Din, and down at the wound leaking green blood. A proper doctor could probably set him up with minimal damage, but you weren’t that skilled. Little man was going to have a scar, even with the bacta and bandages you used.

“I know, buddy, it’s okay.” You said, gently lifting Grogu into your arms.

Grogu ignored your comfort. Instead reaching his arms out towards in.

Although it’s hard not to feel a bit rejected Grogu had been with Din longer than you. It’s only understandable that he’d want his daddy to hold him while hurt.

Din doesn’t say anything, but he does take Grogu from you. Holding him close in a hug that Grogu reciprocates. The two slowly rocking as Din whispers down to his son. Apologizing and telling him that everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll get some meds.” You said after a few seconds of watching them together.

You leave them alone for a few seconds. Just long enough to find some syrup pain relief. Although Grogu hates the taste, it ‘t the only thing that was safe for him to take. Even then he would pass out in a few minutes after taking it.

Grogu immediately starts blinking slow after making a face at the meds. Leaning his head onto Din’s shoulder. As if the metal plating was the comfiest thing in this galaxy.

“First battle scar for the little guy.” You said, laying him down and shutting the door.

Din doesn’t respond. The only thing you see is his back as he steps off the ship. Wind from the grassy planes send his cloak floating behind him. A very dramatic scene that you walk up to.

“It’s not your fault…” You start but are quickly interrupted.

“Yes it is.” Din States firmly. “I left the knife there. I didn’t secure it. I hurt him.”

It’s a line your rarely cross but you feel like there is no other choice. Stepping up to Din side, reaching for his face and gently taking hold of his helmet.

He doesn’t stop you from lifting the helm. Out in the middle of nowhere Din felt safer.

His cheeks are wet from tears. Eyes red and only getting worse as time goes on. His lip quivers and you step close. Letting his helmet fall to the ground with as much care as you had for the stupid thing.

“It’s not your fault.” You repeat, holding his face with both hands. “No matter how many times you claim that it is. Grogu knows this, I know this, and the only one who doesn’t is you. Okay?”

Din doesn’t really reply. Instead he places his hands over yours. Turning his head into your hands and kissing the palm.

“That’s not an answer.” You say, stepping closer. “You understand this isn’t your fault, right?”

Din swallows hard. “I understand.” He says, leaning forward and placing his head on your shoulder.

[omaano]

On the Job Together - or make sure your toothsy boyfriend companion is properly covered up in the sun, before even more of his kind come looking for that pilfered armor. (Space vampires on Tatooine sounds like a Really Bad Idea, but noone's informed this one about that...)

[darlin-djarin]

how does grogu poop? i assume it’s not diapers (though din changing diapers would be SO entertaining. grogu would smear shit all over his armor), and i know damn well grogu ain’t going to the toilet. bro would fall in. i propose the idea of practice potties. din just sets out those little potties all over the floor of the crest and whenever grogu needs to go he just toddles over like a rat going into a trap set in the corner and just shits there. din would be on a holo call with boba or something and behind him in the corner would be grogu grunting and straining on one of the many potties on the crest, shitting to his heart’s content. like a cat with a litter box. din cleans them out but grogu shits fucking everywhere bc baby eats everything he sets his eyes on. still better than a diaper.

[sinfulskywalker]

Din: What can I do to make my date with Luke more special?

Han: Try being mysterious.

Later that evening....

Luke: Din where are we going?

Din: I have no idea.

Luke, worried: Oh my Force, are we lost?!

Din, faking a yawn and stretching his arm around Luke's shoulders: I don't know.

[crusadingcookie]

losing the razor crest was definitely a hit to the Mando fanfics but…can we all agree the potential the little cabin now has?

I’m talking domestic Din, actual proper house and bed fics, fluffy peaceful sunrises with this man, maybe even sprinkle some cottagecore vibes in there…

The options are endless my friends

[screamingendlesslyintospace]

Thinking about how as Din ages he would start to notice some physical limitations. Maybe he’d ache for longer after fights; an injured shoulder taking a few extra days to feel normal again, a bruised collarbone healing slower than it used to.

When he looks at his reflection he notices new lines around his eyes, more grey in his beard. Aging never particularly bothered him, it was just part of life’s natural cycle. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn’t take notice of the differing rates that him and Grogu aged.

He had always known that Grogu would live much longer than he, therefore aging much slower. And he knew all he could do was prepare the kid for the world in the best way he could, teaching him to survive by himself in the large, unforgiving galaxy.

And he genuinely couldn’t ask for a better kid. Grogu proved time and time again that he would grow to be quite a formidable warrior. But some nights, when his baby climbed into bed with him and snuggled close to his side, he found himself unable to ignore the dull, aching feeling creeping up in his chest.

…

Din laid in the dark and listened to Grogu sleep, his small coos and snores filling the air around them. He pulled him closer. Din knew he wouldnt always be here to guide him, but he hoped for the short time they knew each other that he could show grogu exactly what it was to feel safe and loved.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [18]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety, angst

Word Count: 5,514

Updates every Thursday!

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

#18: TALK ABOUT A POWER COUPLE

.

"the feeling of being curled up in your arms with our fingers intertwined and the soft feel of your breath on my neck can never be put into words, I can, however, tell you that it is where I belong and it is in those arms that I feel at home." -B.R.K.

.

Grogu bounced on your bed happily as you tucked your scrub shirt into the matching bottoms. “Ma!” You grabbed your white coat. “Ma! Ma! Watch!” Grogu continued to bounce. You turned while pulling your hair out of your face and grinned as he jumped high enough to flip over and land on his back with a laugh. “You now!”

“Silly boy.” You held your arms out and he didn’t hesitate to crawl to his feet then jump into your arms. “Ma has to go to work and you have to get to school. No time for jumping.” Grogu whined in your arms until you began to tickle him. “Where’s your buir?”

“Ih.” Grogu pointed out your door.

You hummed and walked out still holding him. “No, no. Where is he? What do we say?”

Grogu babbled a bit before pushing out half the word, “Chen.”

“Mhmm. Kitchen.” You put emphasis on every bit of the word. “Kitchen.”

“Kitchen.”

You cooed and cheered the little victory and Grogu beamed at the praise. Din stood by the island counter doing something on his communicator. Without looking up, he asked, “What’re we so happy about?”

“Grogu, what room are we in?” You prodded. “Tell buir.”

Din immediately looked up from his communicator⏤ focus solely on his son. The little boy grinned, “Kitchen. Buir, ma, Grogu, in kitchen.”

“Ad’ika, that’s incredible!” Din praised. He held his arms out and you let Grogu crawl over to him. Din held him to his chest and continued to rain more words of love and encouragement on his son. You adored that every milestone, no matter how tiny, Din always got excited. He never held back any amount of affection from the child. Before meeting Din, you would’ve guessed that Mandalorians were distant and cold like their armor, but you had never met a parent so warm and involved. “Did ma teach you that?”

“Lek.” Grogu chirped.

Din tapped his forehead against Grogu’s briefly before setting the boy down. “Now, go get your bag. That’s what I sent you back there to begin with.”

You watched the boy waddle away and when he disappeared through the kitchen arch you turned back to have Din standing right in front of you. Your lips curled up into a grin as you stared up at him. “Well, hi there, Marshal.”

“Doc.” Din greeted in return. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your elbow so he could pull you toward him. Without further prompting, you closed your eyes. Din chuckled in response and you heard a quiet hiss before his lips pressed against yours. The Mandalorian was a very quick learner. His first kiss was supposedly with you three days ago, but the way he kissed you made you doubt if you had really been his first. Din’s tongue traced your lower lip, a warm rush shooting down your spine, and you parted your lips to give him room to explore. Maker, you could spend an eternity just like this. 

Ever since that first kiss, Din had been insatiable. If there were a spare moment of the day where he could be kissing you he was. You felt like he was one day away from asking you to walk around blindfolded so he wouldn’t have to waste time with his helmet, and you were so drunk on his lips that if he did ask you wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Din shifted so he could leave open mouth kisses along your jawline to the shell of your ear then down your throat. You reached up to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck⏤ you were growing obsessed with the soft curls.

Too soon, Din pulled back and you sighed. He pressed a chaste, simple kiss to your lips before leaving your space. You kept your eyes closed until his heavy helmet pressed against your forehead. A silent way of telling you it was safe to open your eyes. Grogu’s voice called out from behind the two of you and you pulled apart. 

“Come on, you little womp rat. Before you’re late for school.” Din scooped Grogu up. You followed the boys out of the house, and the three of you made your way down the street in the early morning air. It was a cozy existence as long as you ignored the ticking time bomb that was their departure. Next week. Din said next week. You had pushed that information aside to emotionally deal with another day. Right now, you only wanted to soak in how perfectly domestic your life felt right now.

There was just one problem.

Din would not fuck you.

Spice never appealed to him. Din didn’t fully understand the concept of becoming so addicted to something that it was all one ever craved. However, if consuming spice had even a fraction of the high Din felt when he was kissing you then he grasped the addiction mindset entirely. Maker. He didn’t know if it was the act of kissing itself that was overwhelming him or if it was just the act of kissing you specifically, but if Din were a betting man he’d know where he’d set his credits. 

Din knew you wanted more. If he thought it had been hard to resist pinning you against the wall before it was damn near impossible now with the way you looked at him. The longing he saw in your eyes after he returned his helmet to its rightful place was powerful enough to send him to his knees if he allowed it. The only reason he didn’t, the only reason he was stupid enough to not cross that line, was because of how badly he wanted to do this right. Having you be his first kiss had proven that further to him.

You owned so much of him without even fully realizing it. Din may have had sex before, but you were the first person he had truly been intimate with. In his mind, he couldn’t even consider sex as something intimate. It had always been so focused, impersonal, and goal oriented. Din never shed his armor to have someone see his skin or trace his scars with their lips. Din had never risked putting all his trust in a person to keep their eyes closed so he could remove his helmet and experience a kiss. Din had never been a courting Mandalorian exploring the body of his lover for the sole purpose of memorizing the way his partner’s skin felt against his and the sounds that would leave them. Din Djarin had never made love, and that’s what he wanted with you.

In his eyes, he was looking ahead. Din was building a future with you, and the foundation would be started once he went to Mandalore.

“Okay, but, what happens if you get there and there are no ‘living waters’?” Mayfeld asked from his desk.

Vanth, who was throwing darts at the board on the wall, spoke without looking up, “I think he comes back and kicks your ass for jinxing him, deputy.” Vanth glanced over with a shrug. “Just guessing.”

“It’s Mayfeld.” He corrected and narrowed his eyes.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Vanth smirked.

Din wondered if the city would be left standing when he returned. He ignored the two men who were now distracted with trying to out jab one another. It would be a lie to say Din wasn’t concerned about Mandalore. The stories he heard growing up in the covert described a glassed world of ruin and poison. The fact that this was his introduction to Mandalore was rather sad. Din wasn’t the kind to linger on this kind of line of thinking though. He needed to bathe in the living waters so that’s exactly what he was going to do. End of story.

You motioned to the three jars in the middle of the row, “These?”

Aayla thought for only a second before nodding with a smile, “Cymbopogan, Echinops, and Panicum. Ingredients for anti-pyretics.”

“Good.” You praised. “And⏤”

“Doctor?” You and Aayla both turned at the sound of Miriam’s voice. She had poked her head into the room. “Your, uh, cousin is here?”

You chuckled at the confusion in her voice and let her know Nima could come back. Aayla turned to the supply shelf and said she’d do quick inventory with restock. You thanked her and began to leave when Nima came storming in.

“Alright, so I def saw Mando walking you into work this morning, and you guys are literally the cutest.” Nima said. She jumped onto a cot and crossed her legs. “I mean, talk about a power couple. The marshal and the medic of Nevarro.”

“We’re technically not a couple.” You chuckled.

“You’re saying that to the person who already declared you two married.” Nima shook her head. “This is a losing argument on your part.”

“Fine. What do you need?” You asked. Nima pointed to her arm and you shook your head. “No. I told you. Weeks, not hours. You are not getting this damn brace⏤”

“Maker, will you chill??” Nima groaned. “I just want you to clear me for light duty.” You opened your mouth to scold her again, and Nima quickly cut in. “And by light duty I mean walking around the garage and organizing tools or something.”

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Nima, can you seriously be in a garage and keep yourself from working? You’re healing so well, but if you slip up and injure yourself⏤”

“I know. I swear I’ll be good.” Nima replied. “But, I am dying at home without something to do. Please. Peli said she’d be okay with me doing light work, and she was super serious about keeping me from the real stuff.”

You did trust Peli to keep Nima from getting too crazy. The only person in this city who may be more protective over the Twi’lek than you was the mechanic. Besides, you knew how much of a busy body Nima was. She was constantly on the move, and the fact that she had managed to be good for this long was basically a miracle. Especially considering the recent loss of love with Cara. You offered her a soft smile and stepped forward to examine her arm.

“Alright,” You made sure each of the brace’s locks were tight and in place, “You can do light work, but I’m serious about staying away from anything other than organizing.” Nima bounced in place with a wide grin. “No heavy lifting. Literally none. If it weighs more than ten pounds, you get someone else to pick it up.”

“Deal!” Nima squealed and threw her arms around you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Mhmm.”

“So,” She drew the word out while pulling away to sit back on the cot, “How are you feeling?” You raised an eyebrow and shook your head. Nima rolled her eyes. “About Mando leaving, dummy.” You winced at the painful reminder and Nima noticed. “Sorry.”

You forced a smile. “It’s fine. I just… I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Not to make you think about it more by asking, but… do you know how long he’ll be gone?”

“Nope.” You answered quickly, and it wasn’t a lie.

It wasn’t that Din was trying to withhold that truth from you. He had been sincere when he told you that he truly didn’t know. He hoped it’d be two weeks at the most, but he couldn’t guarantee it. That terrified you to your core. Maker forbid anything happen to Din or Grogu. You didn’t think you could survive that.

“They’re going to be okay.” Nima set her arm on your shoulder. “Mando is such a badass. He’s⏤ He’s invincible with all that beskar, you know?”

You chuckled. “Of course.”

But you knew that was far from the truth. 

Kurt never expected to lose Soran so suddenly and violently, but the world still took her. She was gone in a blink of an eye, and she hadn’t even been throwing herself head first toward a poisoned and maybe cursed planet.

In your eyes, you needed to take advantage of every moment⏤ cherish it⏤ as nobody ever knew how many moments they had left. It all just started with you taking that terrifying leap of putting yourself out there. A plan settled in your mind.

“I think I found someone with an interest to come work here in medicine.” Karga said. Din sat comfortably in the chair placed in front of Karga’s desk while the High Magistrate paced behind the desk. He had been called here for a meeting, but it seemed Karga just wanted a sounding board of some kind. “But we need another deputy, I think. Don’t know if two is enough while you’re gone, and I’m still not so sure about Mayfeld and this Vanth fella working together.”

“They’ll be fine.” Din replied. If it came down to it, Din trusted both men in a fight and had no doubt they’d be able to set aside any differences for the safety of all. Probably. “Just focus on getting that second physician. That should be your priority.”

“Fine.” Karga grumbled. “Looking out for your woman. Respectable.” Din sighed and kept his body still enough to convey annoyance to the High Magistrate, but his lips still curled up into a small smile. His. You were his. Technically, Din should ask you how you felt on that topic, but he personally liked that most of the city considered you taken by him The possessive side of him preened at that notion. “While you’re out, you planning on saying hello to Daelar?”

“If I have the time.” Absolutely. The answer was absolutely. It was going to be the first stop he made, and as if fate was on his side the world Daelar was hiding on was on the way to Mandalore anyways. Din would keep it quiet though.

“Technically, the bounty is for him to be brought in alive.” Karga added.

“I know.” Din replied. He just didn’t care.

“Well, we need⏤” Karga began, but Din’s communicator began to beep. He glanced down at his vambrace to see who was reaching out to him, and when he realized it was your frequency number he connected the call to his helmet. Din called out your nickname, and Karga threw his hands up. “Really, Mando, I⏤”

Din held a hand up to keep the Magistrate from talking any further. Your voice greeted him, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“Of course not. I can speak.” Din said as Karga set his hands on his hips. “Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing. I, um, Grogu is going over to a friend’s house after school. I spoke to their parents and they said they’d walk Grogu home around dinner time.” You replied. Din glanced at the clock in Karga’s office. It was about half an hour until the normal pick up time.

Din nodded. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“And, I was thinking,” You began and Din noted a nervous energy in your voice, but it also held excitement so he wasn’t too concerned, “If you’re not busy maybe you could meet me at home? Kind of a mid-day break?”

“Alright.” Din chuckled and pushed to stand. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yes! See you soon!”

Din hung up and gave Karga his attention once more. He shrugged, “I have to go.”

“Is this work related or personal?” Karga questioned. “Because I will remind you that I am your employer.”

“I’m aware. Call Vanth if you need anything.” Din gave the man a small wave before walking out.

With his departure date quickly arriving, Din wanted to spend any spare moment he could with you. This would be the first time he left a place behind and craved to go back to this degree. Even back during his main bounty hunting years, he always had Grogu with him. Din traveled with his family so there was no sense of longing. He actually felt guilt as well. As much as Din loved having Grogu around, he never loved how easily the boy could fall into danger, and Din was fully aware of how dangerous this upcoming trip could be. With you, he finally had a safe place to leave Grogu, but Din hated the idea of leaving you on a world to be a single parent while also trying to juggle a new job that asked so much of you. 

His best bet was to just be back as soon as possible. Unless things went wildly out of control, Din was guessing he could be back in a little over two weeks. That was two weeks too many, but he knew how to be efficient. Plus, having you at home waiting for him would be the best kind of motivation to hurry.

When his home came into view, Din’s pace increased. He expected to be greeted by you when he stepped in, but was instead met by an empty kitchen and living room. Had he beaten you here? Din called out and was quickly met with your faint reply.

“I’m back here!”

Curious, Din entered the back hall and followed your voice. Din realized your voice was coming from his room, but he didn’t think anything of it until he stepped into the doorway. You were sitting on the edge of his made bed wearing nothing but undergarments and one of his shirts. Din stiffened and the sudden but immediate hunger he had for you slammed into him like a racing landspeeder. 

“Hey there, Marshal.” You greeted.

Din felt the air leave him. As if an airlock had been opened and sucked the oxygen right out of his lungs. In his mind, he could already feel your warm skin under his bare hands⏤ could feel your soft lips between his. Din wanted to peel off the remaining clothes you had on, and explore every inch of you with his mouth alone. He wanted to take the memory of you moaning beneath him to Mandalore.

“You just gonna stand there all day?” You asked.

Maker, you were perfect.

Anticipation mingled with desperation and desire as Din began to cross the room to you. He tore off his gloves, tossing them aside, and you straightened your spine⏤ eager. Din was only a few steps away when he came to an abrupt stop. You frowned watching as his hands clenched and unclenched. There was tension in his entire frame.

“Din?” You questioned.

“I⏤ We⏤” Din cleared his throat and shook his head. “Uh, no.”

It was almost funny how a single word composed of only two little letters could turn every ounce of want into shame. You could feel every inch of your skin burn in embarrassment. “Right.” You quickly shoved yourself to stand. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I⏤ Sorry.”

You tried to rush away, but Din caught you by your arms and held you in front of him. He shook his head, but you tried to avoid letting your eyes land on his dark visor. “No, I didn’t mean⏤ Ner kar’ta, please let me explain.” You pressed your lips together and Din didn’t speak again until you focused your gaze back on him. “Can you⏤ Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.” You mumbled.

Din let his hands leave you hesitantly and you watched him dig through his drawers until he found what he was looking for. He returned with a long sleeve shirt, folding it up, and he brought it toward you to hold it up in front of you. Understanding what he wanted, you gave him a small nod. Din softly set the folded portion against your eyes and used the sleeves to tie it behind your head. 

With your vision gone, you felt a whole new sense of vulnerability added into the mix. 

The sound of Din’s helmet being removed⏤ the familiar hissing sound you were growing to adore⏤ filled the air. Seconds later, Din’s hands were cupping your face and you felt his forehead against yours. “Din…” He took in a shaky breath, and you raised your own hands to cover his. “Din, you said no. I’m… I’m okay with that. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want⏤”

“Don’t want?” Din let out a low chuckle that gave you goosebumps. “Ner kar’ta, I have never wanted something⏤ someone⏤ more in my entire life.” His words re-ignited the spark you had lost in fear. Din let his hands trail down your body until they reached your hips and he pulled you tight against him. His own hips pressed against yours and the hardness you felt made a hot pool of desire curl in your belly. You let out a soft gasp. Din kept one hand on your hips, squeezing his fingers into your skin, while his other traveled back up to cup your neck. His thumb traced your jawline. “Listen to me ner kar’ta, every single day it takes all my self control to not tear your clothes off and fuck you against the closest piece of furniture.” 

Maker, you were dizzy with want. Any self doubt or embarrassment you had felt was gone. There was no room for anything other than desire. Din peppered soft kisses along the side of your face until he found your lips. His tongue darted out to brush against your lower lip. You parted them, wanting to feel him closer, but rather than exploring your mouth further Din instead took your lower lip between his and sucked. You moaned and he released your lip.

He stayed in your space, his hot breath against your mouth, and when he spoke his lips brushed against yours. “Then, you call me in here, sit on my bed, in my shirt, so pretty, and tempt me even further? Ner mesh’la kar’ta. I am not that strong.”

Din went back to lazily pressing his lips along your jaw to the shell of your ear. You tilted your head up and he continued down your neck. Slowly, lingering inch by inch, Din would alternate between letting his teeth graze your skin followed by his tongue. 

“In case⏤” You sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth found a sensitive spot. “In case it isn’t blatantly clear, I am very much okay with you losing a little self control, Din.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating against you, and he pulled your collar aside just so he could press one more kiss to your collarbone. “I’m picking up on that. But…” Maker, you’ve never hated a word so much before, “I… I⏤ Dank farrik, this is going to sound so stupid.”

There was a nervous, almost embarrassed tone, in his voice that gave you pause. Din began to pull back, but you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him in place. “Hey, no it isn’t. Talk to me, Din.”

He sighed. “Sex has always been…impersonal to me. If I’m being honest, I probably couldn’t tell you half the names of the people I've slept with and I⏤ I’ve never been with the same woman twice.” To be honest, you hadn’t given his previous romantic life much thought at all. “It was just always clinical. A means to an end. And you’re the… you’re the first person I want more with.”

“Din…” Your lips curled into a smile.

“And I get that waiting until I’m Mandalorian once more, and properly courting you, is a nuance if anything but⏤”

“But you want that.” You finished for him softly.

“I’m sorry.” Din sighed.

“No, don’t.” You pushed yourself up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t apologize for that. I get it, Din.” You beamed at him in reassurance. “I kind of feel special now.”

Din let out a quiet scoff. “You are special, and if you’re only feeling that way now then I haven’t done a good enough job making it known.” He squeezed your hips. “I’m curious what brought this on though. In the middle of the day, no less.” You hesitated, hoping he didn’t catch on, but Din was painfully observant at times. He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey. Your turn. Talk to me.”

You chuckled. “I… I was scared.”

“You wanted me to fuck you because you were scared?”

A laugh left your lips and you wrapped your arms around him tighter. You rested your head against his shoulder. “Things can go wrong so fast.” Your smile faltered. “You never know how long you have until time runs out.” You could feel Din stiffen. He slowly untangled himself from your arms. “Din?”

“Don’t move.” He mumbled.

You felt him step away and you nervously played with your hands. Din was moving about and it only took a couple minutes before you could feel him approaching you once more. Arms scooped you right off the floor and you yelped in surprise⏤ your arms winding around his neck as Din held you bridal style. He had removed his armor and the upper half of his flight suit from what you could tell.

Din knelt on the bed, laying you down before half settling over you. He was pressed against your side, and from what you could tell he was caging you in with his arms. Din leaned in and pulled you into a kiss. He immediately deepened it with his hand cupping under your neck to tilt your head up to him. You lost yourself in him⏤ drunk on the sensation of his tongue against yours. When he finally pulled back, you were breathless and panting. He shifted and pressed his lips against your ear.

“Ner kar’ta.” His voice, low and hoarse with desire, filled your chest with warmth. “I will return to you. There is nothing in this galaxy that could keep me from you.” You released a shuddering breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “And when I return, I plan to make you mine in every definition of the word. I swear this to you.”

Tears welled up and you were glad to have his t-shirt there to soak them up before they could be seen. Nothing could stop the shaky gasp that left you. Din rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and he wrapped his arms around you while you laid against him. Your head resting on his chest. Din turned his own head so he could whisper loving words in Basic and Mando’a while pressing kisses to where he could reach between each phrase.

His hand dragged up and down your spine, and you found comfort in the motion. You had sought intimacy with Din and you had found it. Perhaps, it wasn’t in the way you initially planned or thought it would be, but never had you felt closer to another human soul than right now.

You told yourself you weren’t going to cry, and it was taking every bit of strength you had to follow through on that. Saying good-bye to Grogu had been the moment to nearly push you over the edge. You knew you loved the little boy, knew he had crawled into you very heart and soul and nestled in there, but trying to say good-bye had solidified that knowledge. So, you kept it brief. Hugged and kissed him and now you watched as Peli bounced the chipper little boy in her arms.

“We’ll be back soon.” Din murmured. You turned to face your Mandalorian and another wave of sadness and fear slammed into you. Worst case scenarios were swirling in your head and left you breathless. Din reached out and set his hands on your arms. “I gave you my word.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed it down.

Din pulled you closer, resting his hands on your lower back, while he softly set his forehead against yours. The two of you had said a more intimate good-bye this morning before Grogu awoke. Like days before, you had just laid in his arms. The two of you switching from sharing whispered reassurances and tender kisses. You didn’t think Din would want to show any sign of PDA out in the open, but he didn’t seem to care with the way he bunched you into his arms.

“Please be careful.” You pleaded. “Both of you.”

“We will.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath, and just focused on the metal pressing against your forehead and the weight of his leather gloved hands on your back. Your own hands had wrapped around his neck, and the tips of your fingers found the hidden, bare skin of his neck between his helmet and shirt.

“Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar, ner kar’ta.” Din whispered.

You recognized the words, he had mumbled them to you a number of times, but it was a phrase he had never translated for you. You lightly squeezed the back of his neck, “Can I know now? You said you’d tell me one day.”

Din chuckled, “I did, didn’t I?” You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod, making sure to keep your head in contact with his. Din released a breathy sigh and repeated himself, “Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.” He paused. “I feel at home with you.” At his translation, you took in a sharp breath of surprise. The first time he whispered that to you had been ages ago, on the first night he had to leave for work and you slept in his bed. That long ago, he had known enough to make that claim. “Ner kar’ta.” Your lower lip quivered and you bit down on it to keep from tearing up. Din finished his translation in a soft voice, and you could hear the smile he wore. “My heart.”

Tears filled your eyes and you let out a laugh. You pulled yourself tighter to him so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck and hug him tightly. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a grip that could bruise your rib cage. You didn't care. If you could somehow be closer to him you’d do it.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Din.” You kept your words as quiet as possible, whispering his name, and Din squeezed you again. 

He shifted and you forced yourself to untangle yourself from him. Din settled a hand on the side of your face, thumb swiping away a tear that had managed to slip out. He gave you a firm nod. “I’ll call you, every chance I get, but if you need anything⏤ if anything happens⏤”

“I’ll call you.” You nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry about me. Just keep Grogu and yourself safe, alright?”

“Of course.” Din softly tapped his forehead against yours once more before taking a large step back. You didn’t blame him. If he stayed within your reach any longer you didn’t think you’d ever let him go. Din would be fine. Grogu would be fine. They’d be back before you even knew it. 

At least, that’s what you repeatedly told yourself.

Din knew leaving you behind was going to be tough, but seeing you yards away standing next to Nima as you waved was devastating. He’d have to leave quickly or he’d end up changing his mind. Peli came up beside the N-1 and handed Grogu over.

“You two be safe out there!” She commanded. “And bring back this ship in one piece or I swear⏤”

“We will, Peli.” Din settled Grogu on his lap. “Keep an eye on her for me?”

Peli gave him a nod. “You know we all will. Just get your kriffing ass back soon. We’re all gonna miss little bright eyes here so much.”

Din chuckled as the mechanic backpedaled away. This was almost just like old times, but it felt so different. Grogu shifted on his lap, as if looking for something, and then he pointed out of the ship, “Ma, sit where?” Din stiffened. He had wondered why the kid handled this situation so well and cheery, and now it made sense why. Grogu just assumed you’d be with them⏤ unable to fathom anything different. Grogu, getting more riled up, began to pout. “Ma, sit where??”

Panicked, Din closed the cockpit’s glass and began lift off before Grogu could start his full meltdown.

Maker, this was going to be the longest trip of his life.

a/n: i know y'all are probs dying for the eventual smut i promised, and i swear it is coming. in my defense, i did warn you this was going to be a painfully long slow burn. it's my go-to move. more so though, the intimacy i really REALLY wanted to explore in this story is emotional intimacy b/c I feel like (my own personal headcanon) is that Din Djarin has been with people in the past, but he'd never been emotionally intimate with someone like the reader in this story. so i promise that smut is coming, but this is the kind of stuff i really love writing.

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