#mandalorians are hunted for their armor - we see time and time again with din

[oflgtfol]

also im not convinced the beskar in the ship at the end is proof that mandalorians rescued moff gideon. we are shown time and time again that non mandalorians get their hands on beskar, particularly imperials involved with moff gifdeon. the man razed mandalore down to the ground and was responsible for genociding these people, he has buckets of beskar just lying around years later still from the aftermath of that.

im probably wrong and they are in fact mandalorians but im just saying in universe its a really huge logical leap and really shouldnt be treated as conclusive evidence of anything

[djarincore]

The Name of Love

SUMMARY: You knew him by three names: Mando, Din, and finally, riduur.

PAIRING: din djarin x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, canon typical violence, blood, hypothermia, happy ending

A/N: a repost from my previous blog! i've only written 2 full din fics so far but this is def my favorite one <3 thanks again to @xiadeptus for beta reading this

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You first knew him as the Mandalorian, the stoic and aloof bounty hunter that drifted in and out of Tatooine looking for work or ship repairs. The glinting armor was hard not to notice under the scorching twin suns, along with his infamous reputation that followed in whispers—whispers which mainly revolved around the strange, green child he carried around in a bag and the fact that he never showed his face. 

When you first got the job at Peli’s garage, thanks to the favor she owed your mother, the sight of the Mandalorian descending the ramp of his beaten-up Razor Crest had you slipping behind a couple of stacked crates with the rest of the quivering pit droids. He strode down the ramp toward your boss who was already reaching for the green child trailing after him. 

“There’s my little guy!” She exclaimed, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. The child cooed and clasped her finger in his three-fingered grasp. His keeper watched on with hands on his hips; the helmet remained solely focused on the child. 

“We need a repair,” he said, the rasp in his voice still remaining despite the modulator. 

“Sure thing but, just so you know, it’ll cost you a little extra this time. Got a new hire.” She jerked her thumb in your direction. 

You took it as your cue to reveal yourself, noting the way his helmet turned, carefully looking you up and down, and his hand slowly moved toward the blaster at his waist, like he wasn’t above shooting the harmless mechanic’s assistant and a couple of droids. You lifted both hands, stained with oil, as a show of goodwill.  

“Aw, relax, Mando,” Peli drawled, swatting the air with her nonchalant attitude. “They’re not a droid.” 

His hand slipped off the handle, but remained at his side, ready to draw if necessary. 

You sent him a friendly half-smile and his gloved fingers twitched. 

“Fine.”

The remainder of the day was spent repairing the left wing and engine of his ship, which looked like it had seen the losing side of a gunfight, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to limp down to Tatooine without crashing and burning once he broke through the atmosphere. 

The job would have been faster if you had some assistance from the droids, but Peli made it clear they weren’t allowed anywhere near the ship or the Mandalorian, making his disdain for them abundantly clear. You wondered the whole day what a droid could have done to make him hate even the smallest of droids. The theories you built in your head ran wild, ranging from a nasty betrayal by a trusted ally to tripping him in a crowded cantina, embarrassing him so badly he vowed to never show his face ever again.

You leaned against the rope of the swing suspending you off the ground, taking a break from welding metal back together, and watched the Mandalorian move below your feet. He walked with purpose, something a fearsome bounty hunter with a widespread reputation was expected to do; every step was carefully calculated like a predator hunting prey. Behind him was the child clumsily waddling, as fast as his legs could carry him, after the man. 

Your lips curved into a soft smile while observing the dichotomy of the two. It warmed your heart to see how attached the child was to his guardian. More questions formed in your mind about their relationship; the rumors didn’t contain the exact details of how the two came to be together. 

Maybe the child is his biological son and beneath all the armor is green, wrinkly skin and comically large ears tucked into the helmet, you joked to yourself. 

You pressed one of the buttons on the side of your swing to lower yourself to the ground. Your feet touched the floor, but you didn’t get up. 

“Your ship should be up and running in no time.” 

“Thank you for your help.” 

“No pro- Oh!” You exclaimed when something poked at your leg. A three-fingered hand was tapping your leg; large black eyes gazed up at you. You cooed, “Hello there, little guy.” 

He tugged at the cuff of your pants, waving his arms in the air. You waved back, fighting back the urge to smooth your fingers over his floppy ears.

“He wants you to hold him.” 

“Ah,” you chuckled, cheeks warming. You didn’t have much experience with children; in fact, you didn’t know the first thing about caring for one. They had so many needs, so many different ways of communicating them too. The pressure to mold them into upstanding beings—it was just too much. But, you could definitely hold a child, especially one as cute as him. 

You pulled him into your arms and he immediately found the strings of your shirt vastly entertaining.

“I think he likes me,” you quipped. 

The child’s babble sounded like a positive response. 

“Me too,” the Mandalorian said, leaning against a crate and watching the two of you. 

There were multiple rotations between their visits. Each visit brought a new scratch, ding, or completely wrecked engine that made you look on in disbelief, but you were eager to see the two nonetheless. They brought stories of their adventures, bounties, and new people they met. 

You would be the first to greet them, standing at the base of the ship’s ramp with a wide grin and many questions budding on the tip of your tongue. 

“Hey.” 

The modulated voice made you snap out of your thoughts. 

“Yes, sir?” 

You could hear him huff behind the modulator. He said to just call him Mando the first time you called him sir, but you never picked it up, finding it too entertaining to hear his exasperated sighs. 

“Want to get off this planet? I’ve got a job proposition.” 

Your goodbyes were easy—a hug for Peli, head pats for each droid—and suddenly, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit of the ship you had been repairing for the past few rotations. 

You quickly learned space was cold and you were not prepared. The thin clothes you were used to on Tatooine wouldn’t cut it anymore and it left you shivering in the passenger seat. 

You sunk down your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself to find a semblance of warmth. 

You weren’t sure what your purpose was in the time between ports, but even if you knew, you were frozen to your seat and unable to move without feeling stiff. 

Soon, you fell asleep, lulled by the stars and the sound of beeps and hollow groans of an old ship.

You woke to fabric being draped over your body and a glimmer of beskar. 

The hands over the fabric paused; the Mandalorian stepped back, hands returning to his side, flexing at his waist. “Should have told me you were cold.”

You gripped the fabric and realized it was one of his thick, woolen capes which smelled of caf beans and leather. You resisted the urge to nestle your cheek against the wool and savor the comfort it offered.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” 

“You’re a part of my crew now,” he said firmly. “We take care of each other.” 

Your heart stuttered, fingers curled tighter around his cape, and you muttered a pathetic, “Yeah.” 

From the kindness he offered, you made a silent promise at that moment; as long as the three of you were together, you would do anything to protect them. 

It wouldn’t be long before you realized he felt the same. 

—

Then, you learned his name, his real name—Din Djarin. It had been a while into your partnership. You learned far more about the two than your theories could have imagined—his Creed, his force-wielding child. 

The three of you had a good routine. He would scout out bounties while you either worked on the ship or found other mechanic work elsewhere if the ship was (miraculously) undamaged. Grogu would be passed between the two of you. If Mando’s bounty was too dangerous for him to follow you’d take him for the day, letting him pass you random tools and praising him for helping. And at the end of the day, the three of you reconvened with separate checks that would go toward supplies and other basic necessities. If it was a particularly rough day, you would be forcing him onto a crate and checking his wounds. 

“I’m fine,” he would insist, attempting to push your wandering hands aside. But, you could see the unsteady shake of his hand and the sliver of skin and blood showing on his waist where he was cut. 

It was a simple routine, but it worked. You had no complaints… 

…Well, just one.

“ Kriff, we’re gonna crash!” You cried, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing your imminent doom that took the form of two towering cliffs of ice far too close together for the ship to slip through. The two tailing bounty hunter ships had followed you from Nevaro, after accusing Mando of stealing a bounty from them, which he rightfully caught. 

You knew working for a bounty hunter wasn’t going to be easy, comfortable, or safe—but, you trusted him. He was good at what he did and you never doubted it. 

The ship turned on its side, jerking your entire body to the right, and left you at the mercy of the belt across your body to keep you in your seat. You could hear the scrape of ice across the bottom of the ship and cringed, knowing you’d have to repair that (if you even made it out of this alive). 

When the ship slipped free from the narrow gap and straightened. you let out a breath and opened your eyes. Snow, miles, and miles of it, touched everything your eyes could see. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder. If you could see his face, you’d guess it was smug. 

You were getting better at reading your faceless partner. He didn’t say much but his body did with every head tilt and shrug. And you would catch yourself spending a lot of time just observing him. 

“You’ve gotta stop piloting like that,” you huffed, cradling your head when you feel the slightest throb. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Don’t plan on it,” came his monotone response. 

The ship cruised, his helmet scanning the horizon, and kept low in the meantime. There was no sign of the other two ships. 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood; a wave of dizziness had you staggering. When your hand flew out to catch on to something, you found his, already reaching out to steady you in his strong grasp. The brush of his thumb over your knuckles made your breath catch.

“I have to lie down.” To stop your heart from racing at his subtle touches. 

You thought you had gotten used to it by now—the way he made you feel safe. Whether it was his hand hovering over the base of your spine as he guided you through a crowded market or how he would always position himself between you and whatever shady character he had dealings with. The small gestures piled up and toyed with your mind. You understood the signs—heart racing, nervous tension in your chest—the budding symptoms of love. 

“We’re not in the clear yet.” 

You brushed the heat crawling over your neck off and said, “Can’t we land somewhere and wait them out a while? I’m gonna be sick if you start flying upside down.”

The beginning of his argument was cut off by the cockpit door opening. You slipped out and down the ladder into the cargo hold. Some crates shifted to the right of the ship as a result of the sharp turn. You weren’t concerned with them as much as you were with your makeshift bed space, a flimsy sleeping bag and some blankets, which were also flung off to the side. One of your blankets was stuck under a crate, too heavy for you to lift by yourself. 

You groaned, weakly tugging at the fabric peeking out beneath. You were cold, tired, and sick—you already hated this planet. 

You heard a curse from above and Mando shouted, “Hold onto something!” 

You didn’t have time to react before the ship was nose-diving, throwing you against the wall. You clung to the ladder as the ship's sporadic movements jostled your entire body. It continued for a few more seconds before settling and the engines cut out. Everything was finally still, except your heart. 

You heard the creaks of ice settling beneath the ship, then cracks. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to the weight, shattering into a cavern below and dragging the ship with it. 

You don’t remember hitting your head, just the scream that came before it. But, when you finally came to, numb and confused, Mando was rattling your shoulders with a panicked voice.

“Wake up.” 

You could have sworn in your daze there was a desperate ‘please’ added at the end. 

You groaned, peeling your eyes open, “Mando?” 

He sighed like a massive weight was lifted off of him. “Yeah,” he said, there was a hint of a smile in his voice. He carefully slipped his arms behind your shoulders and knees. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

You were half aware of him lifting you, too dazed by the cold settling under your skin and making a home deep in your bones.  

The hull was dusted with snow and frost. You spotted a large hole in the side of the ship, crudely covered with a tarp and some crates. 

“Got t’ fix,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder pauldron. You didn’t even know where to start with something that large on this barren planet. If you weren’t so cold, the dread would have set in, realizing you were stranded on a barren planet with little resources to dig yourselves up from a cold grave. 

“Not right now,” he grunted, kicking your toolbox aside—the one he gifted you on Nevaro after you eyed it at a stall for too long. He approached the small corner beside his bunk, which was caved in, where there was little snow piled. He set you down, supporting the back of your head with his hand as he laid you against the wall. “I’ll be right back.” 

You could’ve protested if your mouth or eyes didn’t feel frozen shut; all you wanted to do was drift off.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He ripped a glove off and pressed his warm hand to your cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You moaned, pushing closer to the warmth, and tried to focus on his visor. 

“There you go. Good.” 

With your thoughts slowly catching up, you glanced around his shoulders, not seeing a floating pram anywhere. You wanted to get up and rush around him in search of the child, but all you could muster was a sharp turn of your head that still sent pain down your neck. “Where’s-”

Mando brought your face back to him. His steady voice pulled you out of your panic. “He’s fine. He’s up in the cockpit; I’ll bring him down after I get you some blankets.” 

“Okay.” You rested your head against the wall and watched as he untied his cape and slipped it over your shoulders, tucking it close around your body. 

He disappeared up the ladder. You heard his faint footsteps, scouring the upper level. He returned soon, a few blankets slung over his shoulder and Grogu tucked in his other arm. 

He set Grogu down and moved you forward just enough for him to sling more blankets over your shoulders.

If you could feel your face, maybe you’d laugh at how ridiculous you looked and felt, like a small child being coddled by a worried parent. But, he wasn’t a worried parent, he was your employer—your incredibly kind and caring employer, who you often dreamt of as more than an employer, more than a friend. 

“Aren’t y-you,” you chattered, “cold, too?” 

You worried about him under all that shining armor; he could be hiding an injury like he always did, pretending he was fine and limping off somewhere else to lick his wounds alone. You wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn all the time. 

Grogu crawled into your lap, playing with the tips of your frozen fingers. Mando said something about his armor keeping him warm, but you didn’t register any of it when his hands enveloped yours—calloused and warm.  

“Try to keep your arms and legs moving,” he said, massaging the palm of your hands. Then he directed his attention to Grogu. “Okay, kid, keep your buir warm. I’m going to repair the ship.” 

“Hm?” You cocked your head at the word. Sure, he liked sneaking Mando’a words into his sentences from time to time—sometimes calling you mesh’la or cyar’ika, which made you blush because of how sincere he sounded—but you just assumed they were nicknames. You assumed buir meant babysitter or something along those lines, too. “Stealing my job, Mando?” you quipped instead. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When his hands slipped from yours, your fingers twitched, almost asking him not to go. You would warm up faster if he were with you.

He slipped past the tarp, into the cavern of snow. Grogu’s babble drew your attention; his arms were raised.

You apologized, “Sorry, kid, I’d lift you up, but my arms are a bit sore right now.”

He continued to babble as he found comfort nestled in your lap instead. You rested your head against the wall and stared at the opening where Mando left, still feeling the ghost of his warmth on your hand. 

The minutes you spent slowly flexing your hands and feet paid off; your strength was slowly returning. Grogu crawled off of your lap and watched as you, with the grace of a newborn calf, pushed yourself onto unsteady feet.

“Okay, kid, let’s go help your dad.” You scooped him up and braced yourself with Mando’s cape, making sure the two of you were snug beneath the fabric before pushing aside the tarp and stepping outside into the frigid weather. 

The cold winds were the first to greet you; already, your cheeks were growing numb. Grogu let out a disapproving grunt, clearly not favoring the cold either. 

You stayed close to the side of the ship in case your legs gave out and rounded the tail end before finding Mando, with frost coating his armor and hands on his hip, staring at a jumble of wires hanging from an open panel. 

Upon seeing his father, Grogu cheered in your arms, alerting the Mandalorian whose head snapped in your direction. 

He was already approaching you before declaring, “You need to rest.” 

“I can’t cozy up in there while you’re out here all by yourself. Look at you.” You drew a line in the frost coating his chest plate. “You must be freezing under all that.” 

“I said I’m-”

“Fine,” you finished. “I know, I know—you’re always fine, Mando.” 

You were growing tired of his stubborn attitude concerning his well-being and of standing for so long. You were beginning to sway without realizing it, but Mando’s quick hand on your shoulder steadied you. 

“I got you,” he murmured. He took Grogu from you and moved to your side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, silently guiding you back into the ship’s hull and onto the spot where the blankets were piled. 

Once you were settled, you expected him to wander back out but, to your surprise, he began detaching pieces of his armor. 

You watched, mouth agape, as one by one the shining beskar revealed a dark flight suit that molded with the contours of his body. The helmet, of course, stayed.

He eased himself onto the floor beside you and wrapped the three of you beneath the blankets. Your eyes widened when his arm pressed against yours. You dared to rest your head against his shoulder; you relished in the comfort of his presence, finally feeling warmer than ever. His body began to relax gradually with your head on his shoulder and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. 

With Grogu resting in your lap it almost felt like the three of you were a family, settling in after a long day. 

“You’re always protecting everyone,” you said, exhaustion beginning to creep over you once again. “We’re a crew, right? Let me take care of you too.” 

You knew the irony in saying that while he was taking care of you, but you hoped he would remember it. 

He slipped his gloves off to flex the stiff muscles. “I’m,” he started, “just not used to this.” 

“Having a crew?” You guessed. 

“Having someone care.”

Your mouth dropped open with a response dying on your tongue. Instead, you resolved to take his hand and curl your fingers through his. They were stiff from the cold, but relaxed once your thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles. 

“You’re a good man and I trust you with my life. Don’t think for a second I don’t care about you, Mando. I-” You cut yourself off.

You what? Loved him? Kriff. He just started opening up to you. Telling him you were in love with him right after would surely make him run in the other direction. You doubted he felt the same. You could read him, but not that well. 

“Din.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, relieved he didn’t attempt to figure out what you were going to say. “What?” 

“My name’s Din.” 

He was looking at you now. Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his darkened visor, but you wouldn’t disrespect his Creed and you didn’t think you could handle seeing his strong gaze, boring into you. 

So, you turned your eyes down toward your intertwined hands; you tested his name on your tongue and smiled. 

Getting off the ice planet took work—a mix of frustration and determination—and you swore to get a nice vacation on some far, far away planet, preferably with a warm, sunny beach. 

But, the ship needed heavier repairs, forcing the three of you to find the nearest planet, Trask, for maintenance. A dock worker was quick to offer his services, charging more than necessary, once you landed. 

You frowned when Din agreed without hesitation, dropping the credits into his slimy hands. You could have rolled up your sleeves and got to work yourself with better equipment at hand, but Din insisted on the three of you getting some real rest after the stress of the past three days. 

The place was seedy, smelled of fish, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted eyes stalking the three of you as you passed through the quiet harbor. You and Din walked on either side of Grogu’s floating pram. 

You, with a scowl glued to your face, pulled your cape, one of Din’s, tighter around yourself. The toolbox Din gifted you was clasped in your hand, deemed too precious to leave behind while strangers fixed the ship. You leaned into Din and whispered, “We should just go back to Tatooine for the repairs; I can do it.”

“I know you can, but the ship’s too damaged and you know it.”

You huffed. 

Grogu mimicked your huff, putting on his best grouchy face, and your frown lightened into a smile, pointing at the boy. “See—even he agrees with me.”

Din let out an amused hum. “When did the two of you decide to team up against me?” 

“We hold secret meetings when you’re out and conspire against you.” 

“Guess I should watch my back,” he deadpanned. 

Night fell quickly on Trask and before you knew it, the streets were oddly quiet, only lit by dim street lights in rounded sections. 

Din’s stride grew cautious; his helmet subtly turned to scan the area. 

You also took caution, straining your ears for anything out of place, but all you heard was the nearby tide pulling in and out. 

There was a shift in the gravel behind you. Din’s hand shot out to shove aside Grogu’s pram, sending him off to a nearby stack of crates, and he could only brush your shoulder before turning and deflecting a blaster shot with his vambrace. The heat from the blast radiated in the air around you. 

“Run!” He barked, ripping his blaster from its holder and firing off a shot into the dark. 

Your feet hesitated and your heart stuttered when another blast hit his chest plate, forcing a grunt from him. But, the sound of worried coos snapped you out of it. You turned and ran toward Grogu who watched the fight with large eyes.  

Three figures emerged from the darkness, dressed like pirates, and armed with unrelenting blasters all aimed at Din.  

“Give up the armor, Mando.” One of them demanded.

“It’s time to hide, okay?” You said, tucking Grogu into the pram. Your thumb brushed over the mythosaur necklace he always wore like a lucky charm and you were praying it would work. You pressed the button on the outside of his pram to shut it. 

The fight was coming to a close by the time you turned back, much to your relief. Two were knocked out cold, sprawled across the floor while the remaining one continued to fight. Both of them resorted to hand-to-hand combat after they managed to disarm one another. 

Just when you thought you could relax, the remaining pirate pulled out a blade and took a swipe at Din, plunging it deep into his side and back out. Your breathing stopped when Din staggered and fell to his knees. 

The pirate grabbed him by his cowl, pressing the bloodied blade to his throat, and sneered, “Give up.” 

Your hands shook. Not like this, you thought. You couldn’t— wouldn’t —lose him. You dropped your toolbox and fell to your knees, wrenching it open to look for anything that would help. You pulled the largest item free, the hammer, and ran. Adrenaline pushed your feet toward the two and, putting all your weight into it, you swung at the pirate's head, sending him stumbling back.

Only dazed, the pirate sent you a menacing glare, lips pulled back into a snarl, and spat out curses, promising you’d regret it. 

Your hand clenched the hammer, heart racing, ready to swing again as he prepared to lunge at you. Not even fear or the promise of death would stop you from saving Din.  

Then, something ignited, cold and droning like echoes of the abyss, behind the pirate. 

You smelt the smoke before the nauseating burnt flesh. It made your stomach roll.

A haunting glow emitted from the pirate's chest before it was sliced clean through. He fell—lifeless—with a thud, crimson leaking from the gash and pooling around him. 

Din stood over him—one hand clutching his waist and the other holding the darksaber. His chest rose and fell; his helmet was fixated on the body. You could hear the leather of his gloves cry as his hand tightened around the hilt of the saber.  

You never saw him use it before. It looked more like an accessory on him rather than a weapon. He once explained its bloody history and how he came to acquire it. The weight of its importance haunted him, a burden he never wished to bear. 

“Oh, Maker,” you cried, rushing toward him. The darksaber unignighted; the heavy atmosphere disappeared along with it and time continued. You dropped the hammer and pressed your hand to his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto yours. 

He grunted, “I’m…” 

Your wavering voice saying his name made him pause. 

“Let’s get out of the street,” he said instead. He waved Grogu’s pram forward with the controls on his vambrace. It opened, revealing the whimpering child. 

The three of you limped all the way to an inn. When the innkeeper sent you a weary look, you demanded the first room available and a medical kit—whatever the price. After slapping the credits on the counter, you snatched up the kit and dragged Din toward the room, not caring about the drops of blood staining the hallway.  

The room was small and gray; a single bed set in the middle of the room, a nightstand on either side, and a fresher. You eased him onto the bed, where he slumped and groaned.

The medical kit was meager; a suture kit, antiseptic wipes, and a few bacta patches, but it would do. You dashed to the fresher to wash your hands. You scrubbed them viciously, watching his blood run down the sink. Tears blurred your vision. The red wouldn’t stop running. 

When you emerged from the fresher, his shirt was already rolled up and he was attempting to clean his wound. Grogu was asleep in his pram, wiped out from all the excitement. 

You released a tired sigh. “Let me.” 

You moved to take the cloth from him, kneeling at his feet and wiping around the area of the wound gently.

“Don’t do that again,” he rasped.

“Save your life?” The playful tone you attempted fell flat. As much as you wanted to be amused, the fear of losing him still suffocated you. He was safe, your thoughts repeated.

Once the wound was cleaned you pulled the needle from the kit. You were in over your head and a bit nauseous. Cleaning wounds was easy, but stitching them up was something else. 

You’ve seen him cauterize his own wounds and pinched your nose when the smell became too much. He didn’t deserve the scars they left behind and this was your opportunity to finally take care of him. 

You willed your hands not to tremble as you notched the needle through his skin, apologizing when he sucked in a sharp breath or flinched.

“I told you to run.”

Your voice was finally firm when you said, “I’m not going to leave you.” 

He was your partner, through and through, and you cared for him. 

When you were finished, you unwrapped a bacta patch and laid it over the suture. You smoothed over the patch and withdrew your hands. 

He was already sitting up taller, no longer hunched over or wheezing. You knew it was a good sign but you still trembled all over.

You raised your head, but your eyes were stuck on his cowl where a sliver of his blood was left from the blade. The tears were returning, flooding your bottom lashes. 

Would that pirate have killed him right there on the street, stripped him of his armor, and left him like trash? You would have had to drag his body back to the ship—would have to tell Grogu his father was dead. 

“Cyar’ika, look at me,” he said, finding your cheek with his palm. “Just breathe.” 

You didn’t realize you were gasping for breath, tears running down your cheeks until your eyes finally connected with his visor. 

“I just can’t lose you, Din,” you cried. “I can’t .”

There was so much you wanted to say—so much he needed to know. You were so close to losing him and losing the chance to admit how you’d grown to feel over the course of your partnership.

He guided you onto the bed and held you until the tears stopped and subsided into sniffles. Your face was buried in his cowl and your arms were thrown around his shoulder. 

“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, a waver in his voice. You were so close you could almost hear the sound of his real voice. His words were tender and sincere. 

Your breath hitched and a realization washed over you. 

He pulled back and you pulled yourself out of his neck with wide eyes. Cold metal met your forehead. 

“You mean far too much to me.” 

For a man of few words, he still said so much. Your hand brushed below the rim of his helmet. “I love you, Din,” you confessed.

Your heart pounded as you waited for his response—for even the sharpest intake of breath. But, it was silent—all but your heart remained still as he processed your words. Your hand slipped away, back to the safety of your personal bubble, which was beginning to shrink as the silence became an oppressive weight on your shoulders. 

Say something, you wanted to shout. Did you read his words wrong? Was it just appreciation for his… employee? 

“Close the curtains and turn off the light.”

Your brows furrowed and you cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Please.”

You stood with a frown and shuffled to shut the curtains, then made your way to the light switch. You took one last glance over your shoulder, before flipping the switch and submerging the room in darkness. You could hardly see his silhouette as you shuffled back to the bed with your hands out in front.

A calloused hand found your wandering ones, carefully pulling you down to sit beside him once again, not letting go. Then, you heard a click and a hiss, like he was detaching his—

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing and you tried pulling away. Even in the darkness, where shadows fell across the silhouette of his body, you couldn’t risk seeing him—no matter how curious. 

“Din, no-” 

“It’s alright,” he reassured. The low rasp of his voice was no longer modified by his helmet. He chased after you in the dark; his hand moved to the back of your neck, drawing your face closer to his. You could feel the warmth of his breath brushing across your lips. 

The smell of caf and leather drew you closer you and you fell into its embrace. It was your safety, your haven—the home you found in him, along with his son and his beaten-down ship. 

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika, ” he whispered into the darkness, gentle devotion laced in his words. “ I love you .” 

When he kissed you, it was slow, a tender meeting of lips which you both relaxed into. The weight off your shoulders disappeared and all you could do was smile against his lips and draw him closer. 

That night you traced his features in the dark, committing every outline and curve to memory, with a content smile and full heart while he held you close. You didn’t need to see his face to love him; it could wait—forever if it meant you’d still have him.

“You know,” he said in the darkness with you tucked close under his arm, “you wield a hammer well. It reminds me of someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

It was nearly a full cycle before you met the Armorer, the mysterious figure Din would mention from time to time, a woman he seemed to respect. 

You were nervous. Though he never said it directly, she was like a maternal figure and you wanted to make a good impression. 

Ever since Trask, the two of you were closer than ever. He had no reservations when it came to you. His hand would lay firmly against your lower back as he crowded around you, guiding you through busy markets, pulling you close whenever someone bumped into you. You no longer slept alone, trading out your flimsy sleeping bag for a cozy spot in his bed. At night when the lights were out, you’d finally get to kiss him and share dreams. 

The covert was located on a barren planet. You wouldn’t have guessed there was any life if it weren’t for the scattered Mandalorian sparing at the mouth of a cave. 

By the time you landed near the lake, only two Mandalorians emerged to greet you. 

“It’s been a while.” A large, blue man said upon approaching, greeting the three of you with a simple nod. He towered over everyone, a mass of muscle and armor that radiated intimidation. 

As he approached, your foot slid back as you bent your neck to meet his visor and you bumped into Din. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is Paz, my brother.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, sticking a hand out. 

The hand that takes yours is firm; he shook once and let go. The hand on your shoulder squeezed. 

“It seems your clan has grown.” The figure to Paz’s right spoke, her visor trained on the hand over your shoulder. You needed no introduction for her. It was obvious in the way she spoke, authoritative and clear, that she was the Armorer. 

Your lips quirked. A clan, huh? 

She welcomed you briefly and Din requested a private audience in her forge. When Din handed Grogu off to you, he said, “Stay with Paz, cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika?” The Armorer paused. “Have you claimed them as your riduur?”

You cast Din a curious glance. Riduur?

“I… haven’t,” he said carefully.

“I see.” She resumed her pace and disappeared into the cave.  

Din followed, not before pressing his forehead to yours. It was like a kiss, he explained once. You were fine with it. You knew as soon as the day was over, he’d make up for all the kisses you’d missed out on.

“He seems to like you.”

“I would hope so,” you quipped, turning to Paz once Din was out of sight. “He loves me, after all.”

You finally got your well-deserved vacation—on a planet called Pabu, with bright blue skies and a sparkling blue ocean—and more than you could have ever wished for. 

Gentle waves lapped at your bare feet as you leaned back against the palm of your hands to soak in the last of the dying sun. 

Relaxing like this felt rare and fleeting; part of you was worried some other danger would rear its ugly head and ruin the tranquility. But, a quick glance toward Grogu, who was splashing in the water, and Din, standing watch to make sure he didn’t snatch up any crabs as a snack, dispelled any worry and replaced it with a warmth that spread through your chest like the sun's rays. 

You cracked a smile at the Mandalorian who was barefoot as well, after you convinced him to step into the waves, with his pants rolled up to the bottom of his knees. 

“Stop that,” came Din’s chastising demand. Grogu was levitating a poor crab toward his mouth before letting it fall back into the water with a grumble, his ears pulled back as he looked up at his father with a pout. “You’ll ruin your dinner,” he reasoned, reaching down to scoop the fussing child from the water. 

You stood, wiping away sand clinging to your thighs, and walked over to the pair. Din’s helmet followed you as you approached, his shoulders were far more relaxed than you’d ever seen them. 

Even when you stood in front of them, finger brushing along Grogu’s ear as he cooed, his gaze did not stray. You just thought it was your bathing suit; it showed off more skin than usual. Which, you admit, you hoped would catch his attention.  

“Problem?” You teased, looking at him with a sly smile. 

He shook his head slowly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, more so than usual. Ever since his private chat with the Armorer, he’d been distracted. Staring more than usual—at you, the controls of the ship, the floor—like he was lost deep in thought. 

You looked out at the sunset, a wash of orange and gold against a glittering sea. You let out a wistful sigh. “I could spend forever here with you two.”

“You mean that?” 

“Nothing would make me happier.”

His hand drifted toward the pouch on his belt, fingering the hem. A nervous habit, you assumed, he picked up after visiting the Armorer. 

You rested your hand on his and asked, “Are you sure there’s no problem?” 

“Marry me.”

You froze, mouth agape.

“M-marry you?”

“I wish for more days like today, too—safe, peaceful days together with our son.” He opened his pouch and pulled out a silver ring that glittered against the setting sun, reminding you of his armor. 

Your hand slipped from his to your mouth, covering up the shock written across your face. Your watering eyes moved between the two who’ve grown so close to your heart. They were your life, your home, and you’d spend forever with them. You knew your answer—you’ve always known, ever since he asked you to join them. In your heart it was always—

“Yes,” you cried, throwing your arms around the two of them. “Yes, absolutely!” 

You stayed tucked in his arms with Grogu nestled between the two of you. And, in the foreground of a golden sky, he asked if you would cite the Mandalorian vows. 

Riduur, he said, you would be mine, and I you. Our hearts will be written together in song.

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

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.”

Finally, he was no longer just the Mandalorian or Din, he was your riduur. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Growing - A Beskar Doll Drabble

Aidla makes her case to become a bounty hunter like her parents. A Beskar Doll drabble.

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Female Reader from Beskar Doll

CW: Pregnancy. No use of Y/N. Drabble is SFW but Source fic is 18+ only, minors DNI.

Length: 700

A/N: The first chapter of Beskar Doll went live one year ago today so, in honor of that, here's a little peek at what Din and Doll are up to with their little family. This takes place about 2 years after the end of Beskar Doll and I hope you enjoy it!

Beskar Doll Master List | Full Master List

“But I’m ready, Buir!” 

Din sighed, looking over his daughter’s head to you. Grogu was on your hip, an amused smile on your face and a small fistful of hair in his little grasp. 

Aidla turned to you. Din couldn’t see her face but he was sure she was pouting. 

“Mama!” She protested. “I’m sure I can do it! Really!” 

“Patu!” Grogu said, drawing your attention. 

“OK, I don’t need the two of you teaming up on me,” you said, adjusting your hold on your son. “And no, Aidla. You’re not big enough.” 

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Din said, earning him a scowl from you. “Your mother is right, Aidla. You’re too little.” 

You insisting on coming along for every part of the bounty hunting process was a sore subject between the two of you now that you were pregnant again. 

It made Din incredibly nervous, watching you do anything dangerous in your condition. Of course, he had a whole new understanding of what dangerous was when it came to his children - and you, when you were carrying one. While you were the single most competent person he knew - a formidable adversary and the best partner he could hope for in any combat - that didn’t make what the two of you did for a living safe. Bounty skippers weren’t exactly ready to come quietly and they weren’t above using something like your pregnancy against either of you. 

You, however, were as stubbornly confident as ever. You were convinced that you could handle anything that got thrown at you as easily as you did before you were pregnant. Though, in your defense, you’d been correct when you were pregnant with Aidla. 

That didn’t make it any easier to watch you put yourself in harm’s way now. 

“Why can’t I at least try?” Aidla whined, her little beskar staff tight in her fist. “How can I become a warrior if you never let me really fight?” 

She turned to look at Din. 

“Buir, how old were you when you first fought a bad man?” 

He sighed. 

“Not much bigger than you,” he said reluctantly. 

She smiled, a little triumphant, before turning back to you.

“Mama,” she said. “I know you weren’t too much bigger than me when you and Aunt Sosha went to school. And you were fighting bad guys before that! Why can’t I do it?” 

You bounced Grogu on your hip for a moment before looking back at Din. 

“Don’t,” he said, looking between you and Aidla. 

“Patu,” Grogu said. 

“She has a point…” you said.

“She’s not old enough!” 

“Din,” you lowered your voice and moved closer to him, whispering near his ear on his helmet. “I’d been running information to the rebellion for years by the time I was her age…” 

“That doesn’t mean she’s…” 

Din didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. His leg got pulled out from below him and he went down hard, his beskar armor clattering against the floor of the Razor Crest’s hold. He was barely on the ground when he felt the small feet of his daughter clambering up his back, the end of her staff pressed firmly into the back of his neck. 

“See, Buir?” She said from her place standing on his back. “I can do it! I’m ready!” 

“Aidla!” Din could hear you straining not to laugh as you scolded her. “That is not how we spar, you know better.” 

“Mama,” she said, exasperated as she climbed off Din’s back. “I wouldn’t spar the bad guys. I’d just fight them.” 

You disguised your laugh with a cough as Din got up with a grunt and sighed. He looked into his daughter’s wide, brown eyes, not unlike his own. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “You can try. But you have to follow mine and your mother’s orders the moment we tell you, understand?” 

“I understand!” She said quickly, throwing her arms around Din’s waist and burying her face in the armor there. “I’ll do so good, Buir! I promise I will!” 

“Better go get ready,” he sighed. “Desert clothes.” 

She nodded once before taking off to get changed and Din looked to you, a small smile on your face as you came to stand beside him. 

“She gets that from you, you know,” he said. 

You looked up at him, smiling smugly. 

“Finally,” you said. “Something we can agree on.” 

[nerdieforpedro]

She made me Feel

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.8k (double the length of the original - because Din thinks a lot)

Summary: The Mandalorian constantly weighs different scenarios concerning the safety of his child and himself. Din Djarin's mind is now riddled with possible ways to interact with you. Can he figure it out?

Warnings: Din is a pile of nervous beskar, Din is also clueless, Peli is a menace to Din, awkward conversations, Din being so soft, mention of blood and injuries, first aid, HANDS, basically fluff (the fluff is back a little?)

Notes: The follow up to He Told Me His Name. Din might be a tad anxious. It's a companion piece to my other fic. I might do one where it shows where they are now. I thought Din's perspective would be good to see. The dividers are by the talented @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist/ Our Journey Across the Star Ocean Series

I wasn’t aware Peli had anyone human working with her, only those damn droids. I first saw her repairing one of them, her hands working skillfully with the wires. I wondered why she was here. Her hands could be doing much more delicate work. She finished with the droid and sent it on it’s way. I asked Peli about her and apparently she normally works with droids and I did state that I only wanted Peli and her approved droids on my ship when I first started getting repairs here.

I couldn’t say then that I didn’t mind if she joined Peli in her work on the Razor Crest. I already can’t deal with Peli’s teasing today as she asks about my interest in her assistant. Grogu has already tested my patience with his tantrums about frogs. I told the annoying woman that my curiosity extended to her because she seems much more sane than you and your army of half-functioning droids. Peli did not take that well. She hit me with one of her wrenches. That will bruise.

When the ship needs maintenance, I keep an eye out for her now and she is always repairing some droid or another. She manages her tools as well, cleaning them, polishing them. Despite the grease and grime, her hands look soft and graceful like the rest of her. I wonder if I should offer to assist her with one of the droid’s repairs? 

Dank ferrnik, Peli noticed me watching her arrange her tools. She’s begun with the comments again… I endured only because Peli agreed to have her work on the Razor Crest now. I don’t give two wookies what Peli says, I have never slobbered like a blerg over anyone. I just…respect that she’s an expert. Similar to me with weapons of my clan. 

This time I managed to say hello. Maker it’s nerve wracking. She may be equally as nervous. She only said hello back and looked at her tools. This is a complete mess. I hunt bounties for a living, talking to a woman is not impossible. Just difficult, small talk is painful. Peli has a smug look on her face. If she wasn’t so well acquainted with my ship and cheap I’d…well I’d threaten to go else where. She is here. I would rather not.

Now we exchange greetings with some pleasantries. About business and droids…the only damn thing those buckets have ever been good for. I was able to say a few sentences to her. She replied with her own. I am unexpectedly happy about this. I want to talk to her longer but not a clue what to talk about. 

Maker, why am I even trying so hard? My only focus should be on my Creed and my foundling. My eyes are always drawn to her, watching her. I thought at first it was similar to one of my bounties. Watching and waiting. I know patience and timing with my jobs as they’re for credits and when I can find it, beskar for our covert but I do not want to wait for her to come over to the Razor Crest. I want to go to her but I realize that a figure clad in armor and weapons head to toe is rather…intimidating. I think I’ll carry Grogu when I go over, that should make me seem less fearsome.

Despite napping, my foundling has proven most useful. We spoke at length about him. For almost an hour, I believe. I find myself less nervous and I believe she is as well. Peli spoke to me outside of the Razor Crest away from my dear mechanic. She’s proposing that I bring her with me. One of the few good ideas Peli has had since I started having this woman repair my ship. 

I waited until my next trip to ask her. I needed to find the right words. I thought I had them but the eluded me after I greeted her and asked how she was. She greeted me with the same smile that she’s given me that last few times I have been here. Maker I hope she’s open to the idea. Seeing her smile daily would be…should…should I be courting her? I feel this strongly about her. I may have missed a few steps in this process. No matter.

“Can I ask you something?” Din is still nervous, but he is slightly less so in the familiar space of the Razor Crest. It’s cold metal echoes his own beskar. The only source of warmth, the woman who he has an important question for. A want, he told himself but was quickly becoming a need. She nods, setting her tools down and wiping her hands on the worn apron she often wears to protect her clothes. He had her full attention. As much as he was worried to have it, he relished in it for a moment before cleaning his throat.

“Sure Mando. What is it?” Thankfully she couldn’t see his face grimace at the nickname. That was for people he wanted to keep at arm’s length, not those he wanted close. It wasn’t something he’d put much thought into as he’d been a Mandalorian since they’d taken him in and been taught their ways. He was certain that only his brothers and sisters in the coven would know his name. His son Grogu had opened his heart to truly caring for another person again. Din had wondered if he was longing for the same type of relationship with her as he saw in his coven between riduurs. Maybe down the line. I don’t even know if I want that now. I just know I’d like her to be with us on our journey wherever we go.

“Would you like to come with Grogu and I? It would be better if we had a capable mechanic with us.” Din stood quietly and waited for her answer. He held his breath and exhaled when she said she would think on it.

“Are you leaving again soon?” She asked him, the delicate hands he watched so often kept folding a corner of her work apron back and forth. He understands the feeling, it’s the same as when he inventories and cleans his weapons and especially his beskar. It’s soothing, he would have found this to be pleasant if it wasn’t his question that had made her need it. A similarity between them, other than a shared soft spot for a certain green child and a large pre-empire craft that they chatted about. “I want to give you an answer but I also want to think about it properly.”

Din nodded and let her be. “I don’t leave again for a few days. Take the time you need.” She didn’t outright say no so there was a chance. As it turned out, she later said yes the day after next. One step forward, she was joining him and Grogu on the Razor Crest. He remained quiet most of the time with her, just happy that she was here with them traveling. 

The small incidental brushes began when they would work in tandem to make repairs to the Crest. The shoulder bumps, her hip bumping his thigh when she would turn slightly to reach for a tool or to maneuver to manipulate wires. He noticed she would move away from him and he was worried that he was crowding her but she mentioned something much worse, “Sorry Mando, I take up a bit of space. I think-“

“No mesh’la you don’t. We just need to figure out a better method to complete the repairs. Please, you are…” I paused. What did I want to tell her? How can I say it? Maker I don’t even know… “You are fine as is. You take up as much space as you like.” Dank Ferrnik….what does that even mean? She turned away from me and I felt like an idiot. This would be the time I don’t bump my helmet on something while fixing this ship.

“Thanks Mando. No one’s ever quite put it like that.” He heard you laugh and his fears were quelled. Thank the Maker you were so understanding. But he worried about what you may have said about yourself. That was when he decided. I don’t think I should hope that we touch anymore. I think I can make it more purposeful. So she’ll know that I find her beautiful and that’s part of courting right? Maybe I should have asked different questions of The Armorer and Paz when I was back on Navarro. No only The Armorer, Paz pisses me off too much and I will not owe him any more than I already do.

At the market, I made sure to touch between her shoulder blades on her back to guide her as Grogu’s pram floated next to us. She didn’t flinch, and I didn’t want to touch lower back because that would be inappropriate. I do wonder…sometimes. But only wonder. 

I began picking up bounties and would need her and Grogu to stay on the Crest to be safe. That doesn’t seem fair, she said she wanted to see the galaxy. I can teach her some self-defense and how to shoot a blaster so I’ll feel slightly better about leaving them alone. Her hands are small in mine, still so gentile, except with a wrench. She was nervous but got the hang of it fairly quickly. We keep practicing until her aim improves. I encourage her every time we make a stop to shoot and she does. I’m trying to make my voice sound softer I suppose, I’m not really sure except outside of Grogu how that sounds. She responds to it and smiles more often, we’ve grown closer and I’m thankful that she’s making progress but it’s slowed some so I can continue to mentor her. 

Maker I have ulterior motives when I do. I can’t think of another good reason to touch her. 

I couldn’t help it. She was holding Grogu and trying to explain the different bolts to him. I bet he was trying to play with her tools while she was sorting them. I placed my hand on her shoulder. It felt like it should be there. She looked up at me and I nodded. I hope she took that to mean that I’m fine with her holding my son. I walked away because I didn't know what to say. She didn’t say anything either. 

I’m lying to myself. I’ve long accepted her holding my son. The Crest wouldn’t be the same without her here. Waiting for me, playing with Grogu, walking through the market, sitting in a comfortable silence in the cockpit. I even look forward to checking my weapon inventory when she’s checking her tools and at the same time. I didn’t think occupying the same space as someone would be so rewarding, well in a different way than my son. Should I tell her any of this?

No. It’s too much and I’m not even sure what this is.

Now wherever we go, I ensure I’m guiding her by her arm, back, or hand. I know I wouldn’t really lose her, she’s clever and would find Grogu and I quickly. The fear is there, I don’t want her to leave, she might want to one day. This life isn’t made for the masses. She’s voiced no complaints. What would I even say if I had to convince her to stay? 

The hunt didn’t take long and this bail jumper is annoying. The only reason I haven’t said I’m putting him on carbonite is that he finally shut up. 

We’re back to the Crest and there’s blood. Too much blood. I put him on carbonite as I spot her and Grogu. He’s a few feet from her, appears to be unarmed. I don’t detect any other life forms on the Crest. The child's scream feels like it will pierce my helmet, I can’t blame him. I too want to scream at the sight. She’s face down and her back is entirely wet with crimson. I ripped her shirt and bra to visualize the wound. It’s large, nearly the entire width of her back, part of her shirt has stuck to the wound. I’ll need to rip more to see, but then her back will be fully exposed and she’s vulnerable as is.

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” This is so much different when it’s someone you care for. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” It feels silly but I need to ask, I need to know it’s okay. I need to let her choose, I already ripped her shirt without asking.

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.” She’s worried about my son at this point?! Maker I…I need to focus for her sake. It’s been months since I took off my gloves near another person. I dabbed her back with gauze to remove the residue from what looks to be some local fauna that are quite violent. Their secretions inhibit clotting to weaken their targets and so they can gorge themselves on their blood. Next, I applied pressure to try and get the bleeding to stop enough so the bacta spray will work and won’t wash away in her blood. It appears after a few minutes the bacta spray is holding and the bleeding is slowing further so I apply pressure dressings and make them tight. It may make her a bit sore but the bleeding should stop with this. 

I need to keep watch over her. I placed her in her bunk and wrapped her up tightly. I need her to rest and recover. I want her to wake up and we have more moments, more time. I don’t want her to leave but after this…I can’t blame her. 

She woke up! “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” She shushed me before she sat up. Pulling the blanket back around her should keep her cool. Before I fell asleep beside her, I charted our course back to turn this bail jumper in. I apologized to her. She recalled her training and how she kept Grogu safe. Part of me is proud but she still was hurt badly, I could have lost her. “Mesh'la you were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” Words I won’t want to say but do anyway. I want to beg her to stay but it wouldn’t be right. She’s not a warrior like I am. She wanted to see more than the Peli’s garage. I can’t give her that without danger. 

She holds my bare hand and tells me, “I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” This isn’t the threat she may think it is. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” First my son and now… a partner. Someone who wants to be by my side. 

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” My thumb stroked her palm and she chuckled. I wonder if I can make her laugh more maybe daily. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

I told this to her three months ago. Sometimes in the cockpit when the three of us are sitting, I remove my glove and reach across where her warm hand awaits mine as I speak her name. I’m happy to hear my name from her lips when we’re alone. A glove is what I can give her now. When she smiles softly at me I want to give her more, so much more of myself but I’m not sure how. Learning more of her and loving her as the shape of our relationship changes.

I wonder where else she may allow my hand to go. How else she may say my name as we travel and see the galaxy. Will I change the way I say hers? I wonder if I can tell her that she's both my mesh'la and my cyar’ka. Is it still too soon? Maybe as we continue to explore the intimacy we now share, then I can tell her.

Our journey together continues. This is The Way.

Part One. Part Three

Space Buddies 🚀: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

[my-cowboy-hat]

Risk and Endearment

Summary: Bounty hunting with a Mandalorian is a dangerous job, but you know the risks. Don't you?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: blood, injury, near-death experience, angst, PINING, hurt/comfort, fluff, cuddly Grogu my beloved

A/N: I'm not sure where this came from or why I started it, but it got me writing again for the first time in a while so I'm not complaining. I've never posted any of my own work to this blog but I think I'd like to start.

I hope you enjoy reading this, please feel free to comment your thoughts!

The explosion comes from nowhere. 

One moment, you and Din are fighting a particularly elusive bounty, quickly gaining the upper hand, and the next, debris is flying everywhere. 

You don't remember the initial impact to your abdomen, or maybe your body just didn't register it through your shock. Time slows and the sounds around you start to echo in your ears. The first thing you notice is that your hands are wet and there is a coppery taste on your tongue. The next is a sharp, pinching pain slowly growing from your stomach.

Have you been impaled by something? You wonder why your thoughts are so calm when everything else seems everything but. A quick glance down tells you, yes, you have certainly been impaled. A long, thin metal rod protrudes from your stomach and the dusty gray shirt you wore is almost fully darkened with your blood. 

When your ears slowly stop ringing, you can hear Din cursing frustration as the explosion manages to be enough of a distraction for the bounty to escape.

"Din?" You call out with a wince. He turns to you and you see his body jolt at the state you are in, "Din, I- I think we need to get back to the ship."

You think you might be in shock.

You manage to take a few steps backward with the intention of turning toward the direction you knew the ship to be in, but suddenly the world started to spin and you can't place where you are anymore. You hear Din yell your name as you begin to fall, and a pair of armored-covered arms wrap around you before you could land.

All your senses start working overtime when your brain suddenly catches up with the series of events. You can hear fire crackling around you and you whip your head around wildly in order to get a grasp on the situation. Worst of all, you can feel the excruciating, agonizing pain from your abdomen. You cry out when you feel Din place his hand on the area next to the rod to apply pressure.

"Dank ferrik!" Din grunts, "No, no, no."

"Ship," You breathe, "We have to get back to the ship."

"The ship," he repeats, and then you're being lifted in the air. You groan with the movement but manage to hook your arm around the back of Din's neck. 

"Just hang in there. We're not far." He tries to reassure you.

The trek to the ship is difficult for you to remember. The pain searing through your body only seems to increase with every step Din takes. Your eyes flicker from the story night sky to the lip of the mandalorian helmet, trying to focus on one or the other. The rest passes in a blur.

Din says your name again and suddenly you're on the ground again. Cool metal blankets your shoulders as you're laid on your back. You shake your head as another wave of pain hits you and you slap your hand against Din's armored shoulder before gripping the cloth covering his arm. 

"You're okay," Din tells you, but you don't think you believe him.

"I'm so-sorry," You whimper, a tear falling from the corner of your eye. You feel it slip down the side of your face and it tickles your ear. "Din…"

"Don't talk," his voice is gruff as he cuts your shirt free from your bloodied skin.

You start to panic and your breathing becomes ragged. So you start speaking. You say the only things that come to your mind at that moment.

"D-din I-" You let out a harsh gasp that turns into a sob, "I'm gonna die. I'm gonna- I don't wan- wanna die."

"You're not gonna die," his voice is firm, but you think you hear his own tears in his voice. "I won't let you die. Hear me?"

Faintly, you register that his gloves are off.

"Din, I- I- I- I can't- it hurts,"

"I- I know, Cyare, I know."

You don't know what he's doing. You think your stomach might be going numb. You can't really tell in all honesty, but it's a welcomed feeling, you think as your sight begins to blur.

"Take- take care of th-the baby. He-he needs you." What's happened to your voice? It sounds muffled in your ears. You feel the tears streaming down your face freely now. The pain is unlike anything you have felt before. You knew that even if the injury doesn't kill you, surely this pain will.

"He needs you too," Din's voice sounds far away now too. Why? You don't want him to go.

"An-and care… f'yours- self t-too. I love you. Th-theres a-a bag und-er my cot. Credits, and- and- extra ration pack- ah! I love you, Din. I love you. I love you."

The edges of your vision begins to darken and it takes everything in order to keep your eyes open if only to keep looking at your Mandalorian's blurry form. But this is not your Mandalorian, is it? Your Mandalorian wears a silver helmet. This one has shades of brown.

You hear him say your name when your eyelids become too heavy. He sounds so upset and urgent but you can only hum in response, the numbing feeling slowly taking over your whole body. Maybe now... Now, it might just be okay if you rest your eyes a bit.

-

When you wake, it's to a small hand tapping on your cheek.

You let out a small grunt when you attempt to peel open your eyes. 

You hear a small, concerned coo from where something sits heavy on your chest and there's another tap on your cheek. When you finally manage to open your eyes, your vision is in hues of blue, and small black dots dance as they take in the wooden ceiling above. 

You hear another coo and you dip your chin to see your small, green child looking at you with his big dark eyes. When he sees your eyes, his ears perk up exponentially and he collapses forward with a soft squeal. His small hands hold your neck and he nuzzles his head against your chin.

You lift a heavy hand to his back gently and whisper, "Hello darling."

You can't remember much, but flashes of the explosion play like a distant nightmare in your head, along with a fear of death you didn't know you had. You remember the pain in your abdomen and the sound of a distraught mandalorian.

You were alive. You survived when you were certain you wouldn't see another day. When you were so sure you would never see Grogu or Din again.

Din.

"Darling?" You whisper, tears stinging your eyes, "Where's your father?"

You're only given another small coo in response, the baby refusing to remove himself from his hug.

With the hand not holding Grogu, you trace down the edge of your ribs and softly over your stomach. Your body jerks in the anticipation of pain rather than the pain itself and you let out a soft whimper. You take in your surroundings as a distraction and find yourself in a small room of a wooden hut. A light breeze slips through an open window on one side where a dresser stands under the seal. There's a chair to your left with a pillow and a thin blanket thrown over it.

The room seems barren otherwise, minus the bed you were occupying.

You wonder what planet you were on. How long have you been asleep? 

Your head pounds in the way it does when you wake up after sleeping for too long, or when you take a nap that just wasn’t long enough. It did not help your confusion. 

"Dank Ferrik!" You hear a curse coming from another room and Grogu quickly sits up again on your chest, ears drooping at the sound.

The door to your room is opened and your Mandalorian steps through, "Grogu, what did I tell you? We need to let her sleep. She'll wake up when she-"

He stops when your eyes flicker up to meet the T of his helmet. 

"G'morning," You greeted softly.

Din breathes your name in a way you've never heard before. Like a prayer. "You're awake."

"Where are we?" You question. He steps forward hesitantly and you watch his gaze travel over your form, landing on your stomach.

Grogu gently slips off your chest to lay at your side.

"We- we're on a planet called Sorgon. I- it was the closest one I could think of with people I trust."

"How long…?"

"Almost a week. The medic here gave you some medicine to keep you asleep for a bit longer so your body could heal easier."

You nod and try to blink away the tears threatening to fall. You never thought you'd see him again. Hear his voice.

When you sniff, that seems to snap Din to attention. He makes a move to grab the kid but you shake your head vehemently, "No, no please let him stay. I thought I'd never- I wouldn't-"

Din pauses, "I know, cyare."

Cyare. You have a faint memory of that word being said but you don't know what it means. 

"You…" He clears his throat, "You almost didn't make it."

You reach out to him with your hand and he takes it instantly. His shoulders were stiff and the edge of his helmet kept dipping forward in an almost jerky sort of nod. He takes a knee next to your bed.

"You saved me."

"Your heart stopped."

"It's okay," You tug his gloved hand over your chest, above your sternum, where he could feel your heart beating soundly. "You made it start again. Thank you, Din."

He doesn’t respond, at least, not with words. He only squeezes your hand a bit tighter and lets out a shaky breath that crackles against the modulator of his helmet. 

By your side, Grogu snuggles into the crook of your shoulder, eyes drooping.

"He hasn't slept well," Din informs you, "I… He wanted to heal you himself, but I-" he cuts himself off and looks away.

He had stopped Grogu from healing you. Good.

"It would've killed him," You say softly, "I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself, or you, for that matter."

Din only nods and his gaze falls to your hands, still laying on your chest. Your fingers graze down the side of his glove until you reach the exposed skin of his wrist, absent-mindedly swiping a thumb along the bumps of his veins and the small scar that you discover on the side, just below the joint of his thumb.

You realize, even after all this time with the Mandalorian, you've never touched his skin. You've seen him without his gloves, of course, and even occasionally a peak of his lower neck when he was bare of any armor. Now, however, you feel him for the first time, Din. His wrist is smooth under your touch, maybe a bit smoother than you'd imagine. Perhaps wearing so much gear does wonders for skin care. You smile softly at the thought.

When you see how rigid Din’s posture has gotten, you give him an apologetic smile and begin to pull away when he suddenly grips your hand firmer in his. Your breath catches in your throat when he brings it up to his helmet where his lips lay just beyond. 

And suddenly, Din is speaking again. Just one word this time, barely above a whisper, "Mesh'la."

You don't know what it means, but he says it with such sincerity and softness that your face warms under his covered gaze.

"You should rest," He continues, lowing your hand but not letting it go.

"I've rested long enough for the next month, Din."

"Are you hungry?" 

You nod and he makes a move to stand but you tug his hand, "Wait…"

He pauses at an awkward half-kneel next to your bed and tilts his head in question.

"Just…stay? Just for a little while longer?"

"You should eat, Cyare."

Cyare. He's called you that before. You hear the echo of his voice frantic, and breaking while you laid dying on the hull of his ship. You think it may be a term of endearment, just from the way it falls so kindly from his lips. It makes you hope he loves you in the same way you love him.

You'll learn what it means one day. You'll learn the words he calls you with such reverence. You'll learn the whole language for him, you decided. Maybe you'll learn the words that could express what he means to you in ways the common tongue could not. 

"I will," You promise. He doesn't know it's a promise for something else but that's okay. "Just sit with me a little longer. Please?"

Din stares at you for a moment. You wish you knew what he was thinking. Finally, he nods, "Always."

Thank you for reading!

[beskarfrog]

Din leaned against the door to the school house, his boots muddy from having walked through the streets of Sundari. The door was left open as usual to let cool air and the occasional frog in. It was officially monsoon season on their part of Mandalore and not for the first time, Din wondered why the Jedi couldn’t have built his school on ground that was a little further out of the floodplain.

Inside the little school, the Jedi was sitting on one of his weird little pillow mats with all the children crowded up around him. Grogu was sitting in Ragnar’s lap, Rey and Finn on each of his sides. Paz had been infuriated when Ragnar had first asked to go with the jett’ike for lessons after regular training. He had been won over eventually when the Armorer suggested it would be a good opportunity for Ragnar to learn how to fight against a Force-user.  

“Alright, how about a story for our history lesson today?” the Jedi asked and got a positive reaction from the kids. Din let the soft drone of his voice wash over him as he considered the scene before him.

He hadn’t expected to see the Jedi again after Grogu had come back to him. Much less had he expected the Jedi to show up two months after they’d retaken Mandalore and Din was trying to figure out how to run a planet. He’d arrived in a beat-up pre-Empire ship with a handful of children. They had all been brought before Din and his newly formed council.

“The school was attacked. The New Republic isn’t safe for us anymore. They have…expectations for how the Jedi should benefit them,” the Jedi had explained, his face impassive and cold. The children lingering in the shadow of his dark robes looked both nervous and defiant. Din wondered if that was how the Jedi felt too.

“Why come to us?” Bo-Katan asked, a few chairs down from Din.

“What is that saying you have? A Mandalorian is both hunter and prey. Your people understand what it is like to be hunted for what you are,” the Jedi said, gaining a thoughtful nod from the Armorer. He had looked at Din as he said it and Din knew that there were layers to that statement. Yes, all Mandalorians knew what it was like to be persecuted for their allegiance to a nearly dead Creed, but Din specifically understood what it was to be hunted for having a child with strange powers.

Paz and Bo-Katan had gotten into a rather vicious argument about the situation, but the Armorer had been of the same mind as Din. Children in need were children in need, even if they came with an ominous wizard attached to them. Paz had wanted to kill the Jedi and keep the children, but eventually he had been convinced that the kids would need training for their magic. Din was relieved because he was becoming concerned that, be it Bo-Katan or Paz, his council was about to become one person smaller if the argument dragged on any longer.

In the end, Din had told the Jedi, “We will let you build a school here, but you’ll live as we do. The children will be raised with the other Mandalorian ade. No one will be required to swear the Creed. That is not the Way, but we are trying to rebuild our culture.”

“I understand,” the Jedi had grimaced, “The Jedi used to live in community too. We had a similar sense of culture once from what I am told, but that was before I was born.”

“I…I will do what I can to make sure your children are safe here,” Din had said and that was the end of the matter.

The only person who was completely satisfied with the arrangement was Grogu. Din was shocked to find out how much the kid liked the Jedi - Luke, as he’d introduced himself. He had expected some animosity since Grogu had left, but Luke had been surprisingly happy to see the womp rat again. At first, Din had been reluctant to let the kid join the other little sorcerers in training, but they all seemed to like him. 

That was the real problem. The Jedi and his jett’ike liked everyone, even Paz. Luke was always willing to accept ade or even adults into his weapons training sessions at his little school. He brought homemade uj’alayi  to all the community meetings, complete with little paper wrappers the kids had decorated. His sister and her smuggler husband visited often enough that it was obvious that the Jedi cared about his family. Luke was a better Mandalorian than half the people Din had met on Mandalore and he hadn’t even sworn the Creed.

It made it incredibly hard for other Mandalorians not to like the strange little sorcerers back and there had been a lot of talk about adopting the Jedi and his children into a clan. He was a proficient warrior, good with children, and after the first month, it was clear that he cared about the community they were trying to build. He was the perfect riduur, but it made Din want to grind his teeth any time anyone talked about challenging him for his hand.

It hadn’t taken him long to figure out why. It was made all the worse when the Jedi had started to befriend him in earnest. At first, it was just mutually commiserating about the problems of raising Force-sensitive children, but it slowly became something more. Luke opened up, shedding the persona he seemed to wear like his billowing black cloak. Din caught glimpses of the darkness that lurked within him, the turmoil he went through to fight back against those impulses. Din knew how painful it was to peel off your armor in front of another, even if you wanted them to see you as you really were. 

And Luke let him see. 

So, now Din leaned against the door to the nursery as the children ran out past him to play in the yard. Grogu was too enthralled with the game Ragnar and Rey had started to even notice him in the doorway.

“Here to pick up Grogu?” Luke asked as he rose up from his mat. Din nodded but waved his hand in dismissal as Luke went to call for him.

“He can play. I don’t have anywhere to be for a while,” Din said as Luke walked over to join him in the doorway. “The story you told. It wasn’t very happy.”

“The story of the Jedi has never been a happy one,” Luke said, his smile soft and touched with sadness. His hair had a little extra wave in it due to the humidity. Din wanted to reach out and run his gloved hand through those waves, “But it is full of hope. Foundlings are the future, right?”

“This is the Way,” Din inclined his head, which pulled a more genuine smile out of Luke. Something sharp twisted in Din’s chest and he swallowed, thankful for the millionth time that his helmet obscured his face.

He needed to get this over with, to do what he actually came here to do.

“Do you…Would you want to spar? Not right now, but some time. Maybe tonight?” Din asked, tamping down the impulse to twist his hands together. He was a Mandalorain. He should be bold with his feelings, not the awkward nervous thing that Luke seemed to turn him into.

“Mand’alor,” Luke's smile turned blinding as he pressed his gloved hand to his chest, mockingly scandalized. His blue eyes were sparkling, even in the grey overcast light of the rainy day, “If I didn’t know better that sounds like a date.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Din mumbled, his heart sinking. He knew it was unlikely for Luke to reciprocate his feelings, but the Jedi’s sister had made some comments last time she visited that had given him the courage to at least find out.

“I’d like it to be, Din, if that's alright,” Luke said and gently reached out to catch Din’s hand. He threaded his fingers between Din’s, giving his hand a firm squeeze. Din returned it, a flash of hope rising back up in him. If this went well, he was going to send Senator Organa a whole case of tihaar.

“We’ll have to find someone to babysit, though,” Luke continued, tugging on Din’s hand to pull him a little closer, “You’re my go-to person for watching the kids, but you’ll be busy, obviously.”

“Paz said he would. Ragnar’s been wanting to have everyone sleep over at their house,” Din said, grateful that he’d planned ahead for that problem. 

In the yard, the kids had gotten into a mud fight next to the frog pond. Grogu was practically a brown blob while Finn was doing his best to avoid the mud that Rey and Ragnar were slinging at each other. Din knew he really ought to intervene, but if Paz was watching the kids for the night…

“The Force bless that man,” Luke shook his head, squeezing Din’s hand again.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One: The Spies

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 8K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments, character death, massive angst, PTSD, just really fucking sad and depressing

------

An evil out in the galaxy, the remnants of a destroyed empire forced to hide in the shadows slowly rebuilding until they can make their return. A man in imperial armor flanked by several soldiers wearing white armor and red sensors. He enters a laboratory full of tanks holding deformed and growing lifeforms, entering a conference chamber that was already going on via holograms.

“The New Republic is vulnerable, but we must be cautious and show no sign of our true strength.” One of the imperial officers states.

“Easy for you to say, Captain. There’s a fortune to be had plundering the hyperspace lanes,” A bald male commander disagrees as the man in the room actually watches the disagreement.

“Commander, your hit-and-run operations are gaining too much notice,” Captain Gilad Pellaeon reminds the commander, “If we are perceived as anything other than a group of unorganized remnant warlords, the New Republic will increase their efforts to hunt us down.”

���There are citizens loyal to the Empire on every planet in this galaxy,” A female officer speaks up, “They’re already getting sick of this New Republic and its rules and regulations.”

Another bearded officer nods agreeing to the woman’s statement “And if we give them a show of strength, they will rally behind us.” The woman nods but Pelleaon shakes his head

“But that strength must not be wasted. Grand Admiral Thrawn’s return will herald in the re-emergence of our military, and provide Commandant Hux enough time to deliver on Project Necromancer.” Pelleaon mentions the formidable Admiral. Hux smiles and the imperial warlord steps forward and Hux motions to speak.

“Captain Pellaeon, you always speak with much authority, and yet, I see,” He scoffs looking around, “Once again, that Grand Admiral Thrawn is missing from your delegation. Any word on when he will be able to participate in the Shadow Council?”

Pelleaon scoffs before replying, “With respect, our one hope for success relies upon the secrecy of his return.”

“Captain, secrets are my stock-in-trade,” The warlord reminds him, “I hear whispers from one end of the galaxy to another, and never a word of Thrawn. You have spoken of his imminent return…perhaps, it’s time we look to new leadership.”

“Hear, hear.” The female imperial officer agrees and Hux nods, “Project Necromancer is in place for that.” He asks the warlord.

“Yes, Commandant.” “What has become of Doctor Pershing and the research you promised us?” Hux asks and the warlord is silent, “Doctor Pershing was captured by the New Republic. His research is lost. For now, at least.” He says and Hux nods,

“I also hear whispers, Gideon. You held Pershing and were attempting your own experiments on Nevarro.” He questions the warlord, Moff Gideon. 

“The creation of clones is your obsession, not mine. I account for what goes on in my sector, no more, no less,” Gideon looks around at the council, “The same can be said of every member of this Council.”

“Yes.” “Of course.” “That’s right.” “Yes.”

“And yet, we individually scrape and claw resources awaiting the grand plan to take shape, while you and Pellaeon amass countless resources and equipment which should be shared,” Gideon observes each warlord and Hux nods holding a datapad, “Oh, we already received your request. Three Praetorian Guards,” He scoffs, “Sounds like someone is concerned about an assassination attempt.” Gideon is silently his hand scratching his chin feeling the scars that litter his face. It was more of a second chance of an assassination attempt.

“And he thinks I’m being the flashy one,” Pelleaon remarks, “But following your first attempt it’s remarkable you’re still standing today.” The news had spread quickly through the empire of Gideon’s capture before he was soon rescued. The warlord with control over Nevarro and eyes all over the Outer Rim. But he had a key asset to taking control of a vital planet that could bring the return of the empire and it was thwarted by a man in beskar armor but the scars that would stain his skin forever caused by a young girl with abilities assumed to be extinct.

You stand over him the Darksaber in hand ready to deliver the killing blow. The rage and wrath you were going to enact your revenge.

“And reinforcements for your TIE interceptor squadron,” Hux asks and Gideon lowers his hand from the scars marring his face pushing away those memories, “And… bombers.”

“Yes, I see. And what is your security concern?” Hux asks and Gideon moves towards the middle of the room, “Mandalorians.” The council is confused by this information.

“What? They continue to be an issue?” An officer asks and Gideon nods, “They do. I am increasingly confident that they are preparing to retake their home world of Mandalore. They have a Jedi among their ranks as well that is Mandalorian too.” The council knew of this Jedi girl that had been involved with Moff Gideon but the news she is Mandalorian as well the pieces connected. The name whispered in alleys, through bounty hunters, even the New Republic was looking for her, is seen as the person who took down the Warlord Moff Gideon. Of Mandalorian and Jedi blood. The granddaughter of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze and current wielder of the Darksaber.

“A resurgent Mandalore would hamper our efforts.” Pelleaon remarks and the warlords a nervous about this news.

“Which is why we need to stamp them out now.” The others agree as he meets Pelleaon’s gaze, “You’ll have your reinforcements and your guard.”

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all,” Gideon turns around looking at his fellow warlords, “Long Live the Empire!”

“Long Live the Empire!”

All repeat as Gideon leaves the council with only one thought in mind. While the Mandalorians were a threat to him only one stood out to him, a man who was willing to tear the galaxy apart for two individuals and his daughter that wouldn’t let someone stop her from finishing off the warlord. Din Djarin and Y/n Kenobi-Kryze were a threat to him but to finish this once and for all both parties need to be separated. The young princess would have wished she accepted his offer so long ago…

The planet Nevarro is serene and peaceful when the loud rumble and citizens look at the sky in shock, High Magistrate Greef Karga works in his office when he notices the tremor seeing a shadow overcast his city. “High Magistrate! High Magistrate!” The protocol droid enters the office, “An Imperial shuttle is advancing over the city.”

The Magistrate moves to the balcony viewing the large fleet over Nevarro City, “First, that’s a light cruiser. And second, it’s not Imperial.” “With apologies, sir. According to my data, it is.” The droid says from its information, and it wasn’t wrong technically.

“No, no. It was an Imperial ship. Look at the markings,” On the bottom of the light cruiser is the large design of the mythosaur, “See, those, my friend, are Mandalorian privateers. I’ll bet you, half that fleet was captured from the Empire.”

“So, they’re on our side then?” The droid asks and Greef nods, “I should hope so. They’re our welcomed guests. Come.” From the Mandalorian covert, the Armorer emerges from her tent other members of the Tribe gaze at the approaching Mandalorian fleet in wonder. On the Gauntlet the four of you fly before the fleet approaching the covert,

“I hope these two groups get along. They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.” Bo-Katan says warily, with the new fleet and the new owner of the Darksaber a lot of pressure was on her.

“They will if they wanna survive.” You say trying to soothe her worries as the Gauntlet and the rest of the fleet land. Exiting the ship Bo-Katan led followed by her followers as they move forward as the Mandalorians of the Child of the Watch stand on opposite sides.

“Take the children inside.” Paz Vizsla orders his son and the boy is leading the children away from the situation between adults. You spot amongst the tribe the copper and white armor relieved to see him again. Bo-Katan and her followers remove their helmets as silence fills the area the tension between two groups of different beliefs. You were certainly a fight was to break out when a clanging fills the air you sigh of relief as the Armorer lowers her hammer and tongs.

“Welcome, fellow Mandalorians,” She greets the newcomers, “We invite you to make camp. Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

It was uncomfortable and tense leading to the feast of the animosity between two tribes as you were pulled away, meeting the new IG-11 when Din and Grogu returned inside the droid while you were with Bo-Katan and the Armorer. You caught glances of the Mandalorian you wished to see but you were too far apart and when he left to join the hunting party for the feast you didn’t see him until night. A large bonfire was used to cook the animal but also to light the area, the two fractions divided a very awkward meal with only half eating the other not allowed to eat before others. They talk amongst their own clans before Bo-Katan rises to stand knowing she has to say something,

“Mandalorians. It is time to retake our home world. Even though the planet is not cursed, there are still dangers. Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above the atmosphere.” She explains as they all listen in, “Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore. We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others. I need volunteers from both tribes.” She says and silence fills the encampment of those averting their eyes from their technical leader’s gaze. You look around before making eye contact with Bo-Katan who tries hiding her nerves but you can feel them.

“I will go,” Din speaks up and Bo-Katan nods gratefully, “Y/n and Grogu as well.” He says and Grogu coos while you nod. It’s quiet once again before you see Koska Reeves grab her helmet holding it to her side as she stands.

“I will go.” She says and Bo-Katan nods now having two from each tribe, “I will go.” Woves says with a nod rising to stand.

“I will go.” Paz Vizsla states standing up as well his gaze meeting Woves as they watch each other. “I will go.” You hear Kaz’s voice and you spot him standing his gaze meets yours and he gives a small nod and you return one back. Soon others are standing volunteering themselves before the Armorer speaks up, “I will go as well.” The scouting party created the rest of the night a bit tense but lighten up.

You don’t even wait for Bo-Katan to return to your small group, you’re already up moving away from the adults towards the person you’ve been dying to see since returning to Nevarro. Din sighs watching you disappear amongst the Mandalorians seeing where that boy Kaz once was is now gone from his spot too. Bo-Katan pats his shoulder as she takes your seat, “She’s going to be alright, besides it’s good for her to be a normal teen for once well I guess adult.” It didn’t seem real that you were an adult, just yesterday Din met the girl on Arvala-7 and Bo-Katan didn’t know it was her grand-niece while helping hijack an imperial cruiser.

“I know..” Din sighs breaking apart pieces of meat for Grogu to eat who accepts it with open hands, he spots you and your Mandalorian off to the side beside the tents your hands holding the sides of Kaz’s helmet. You speak to him with a large smile across your face as he presses his helmet against your forehead. “I don’t want her to have her heartbroken…I wouldn’t know what to do. I barely got her back from Gideon.”

“Kid…hey cyar’ika..will you please look at me?”

He calls out to you, he feels like he lost two of his children, one with the Jedi that had long left and the girl in front of him but seemed to be millions of lightyears away. Moff Gideon was removed from the light cruiser going off with Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune on the Slave I. Leaving himself, you, Bo-Katan, and Reeves as they went to meet up with the other Mandalorians. The female Mandalorian that was apparently your grand-aunt had allowed you two to stay willing to bring them anywhere in the galaxy before they went off for their plans to reclaim Mandalore though without the Darksaber that was now in your possession.

Your eyes were glazed over but they seemed to be focused on an item gripped in your hand as your breathing suddenly picks up. Din looks realizing the weapon in your grasp, prying from your strong grip and throwing it off in the private room you two were given. Din still hadn’t put on his helmet there was no reason to try to hide at the moment, he had already done the worse thing any Mandalorian of his creed could do. Remove one's helmet in front of a living person and he did it for you and the child.

“It’s gone..okay it’s gone.” He whispers holding your face between his palms forcing you to look at him and you barely even register him tears welling in your eyes. The blood drips to the floor from your fingers as it freely bled, your knuckles were shattered no doubt just drenched in your blood and the Moff’s. Your clothes were bloody parts of them ripped and tattered a large open hole was at your stomach and on your back and he assumes it was from…he didn’t want to think of that. He still wasn’t sure how you were standing before him and he thanked his gods and the Force that comes from you. Blood speckles your face and your messy hair as he tries swiping at the dried blood as a tear slides down your cheek wetting some dried blood before another one and they pour down your face like a waterfall. Din felt helpless seeing your innocence completely stripped away from you. Your lip wobbles as a strained whine like a wounded animal is held in your throat as you try not to break down. Din feels his own eyes burn but forces his own sadness to be pushed down as you choke back a cry. It was repressed as you hold in your cries your shoulders shake and before Din can try comforting you hit the ground a cry of pure terror comes out. Din hits the ground with you as you frantically start rubbing at your arms tearing at your skin blood spewing from your deep scratches.

“get it off…get it off…Get it off!” You scream as you try to rid the blood that marks you and Din has to wrestle with your arms to pull them away from each other and from you to stop causing harm to yourself. “Stop it Y/n! Stop!” Din yells fearfully of you being so terrified of Moff Gideon’s blood on you that you were hurting yourself in your panic. Tears blind your vision as he looks over you forcing your hands into one of his and cups your cheek with the free one. He could only describe pure fear in your voice and your face as Moff Gideon continues to plague you despite the fact he was lightyears away from you. “He tried to…” You break down as he pulls you into his arms holding you in the crook of his neck your arms clutching his cape.

“Oh cyar’ika…I got you…you’re safe..it’s just us.” He reassures you blinking away the tears from his eyes as you sob in the safety of his arms, “Din.” You whimper as he presses a kiss to the top of your head whispering into your hair.

“You’re safe…you’re alright. I’m not leaving…I got you cyar’ika.” It was a promise…a vow to always protect you to make sure this never happens again. To never see another tear be shed, shelter you from the harshness of the world, to keep yours in his embrace safe in his arms. He would put his life on the line, let himself die, and break his creed a thousand times over to make sure you never go through this kind of pain ever.

Din watches you speak to that boy as he holds you in your embrace Bo-Katan sees the nervousness and fear coming off the bounty hunter, “She can’t go through it again. That kind of pain isn’t meant for her…this life isn’t meant for her.” He voices his worries. He would bring you away from here, hide you away from the world even if you would hate him for the rest of your life if it keeps you safe he was willing to. But he couldn’t be selfish…he couldn’t live in a world where you hated him, and they were so close to the end. Returning home to Mandalore, start anew and when that time came he would hang up his blaster and sit back and watch you grow older and be a father, not a bounty hunter. So he watches you be happy in this moment of serenity praying to the highest being to keep that boy safe for the sake of your heart.

The next morning after bidding goodbye to Magistrate Greef Karga, the fleet, and its Mandalorians depart from Nevarro to Mandalore. The Mandalorians sit in the hull for the drop while you, Grogu, Bo-Katan, and the Armorer sit in the cockpit. Both the N-1 and X-Wing left on the light cruiser and R4 sadly stays on the cruiser. He was a bit disappointed but you reassured him, he would be the first person you bring when you return from the scouting party. All the ships exit hyperspace reaching Mandalore as the Gauntlet heads towards the stormy surface, “Scouting party descending to surface. We’ll lose comms shortly.” Bo-Katan says speaking to the people in the back as the ship rattles entering the thunderstorms that surround the planet’s atmosphere. Soon you’re breaking through the storm flying over the destroyed cities of your homeworld.

The doors slide open as Din enters holding onto your seat to stabilize himself, “They’re ready.” Bo-Katan presses on a keypad, “Secure infill zone.” Soon the Mandalorians depart to the planet you remain hovering over before you hear a transmission come through, “Gauntlet, landing zone secure.” Woves announces and the ship lands the five of you disembarking. Grogu controls IG-12 as you touch the glassy surface.

“Somewhere below is where our ancient capital once stood,” Bo-Katan tells the other Mandalorians, “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers. We start scouting in that direction.” She points in the direction of the sunset.

“Form up.” Your expedition begins walking in pairs through the terrain, you walk beside Kaz in front of Din and the Armorer. A large distance is covered before you sense something. You pause and Kaz and Din look at you confused.

“Kid?” “Something’s heading towards us.” You comment to the Mandalorians sensing a large presence looking out and seeing something on the horizon, “There, on the horizon.” You point out as a large land ship with wheels approaches.

“Nite Owls.” Bo-Katan commands and the Nite Owls quickly get into position the rest of you holding your weapons ready for whoever it was. “Flanking left.” You were more surprised about the fact that people were actually here and if so how did they survive the Purge? The ship comes rumbling to a stop a distance away before a voice shouts out.

“Do you have food?” “We do.” Bo-Katan replies and another man onboard shouts, “You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

“I should hope so.” Bo-Katan says, “They’re Mandalorians.” The Armorer says.

“Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?” Your party is silent as Bo-Katan decides to confirm, “It is.” Suddenly three Mandalorians activate their jetpacks leaving their ship and landing in front of the scouting party. They remove their helmets revealing tired but hopeful faces.

“We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.” They lower their heads slightly bringing a hand to rest over their hearts. Your group found itself on the ship eating dinner only those who took off their helmets at. You sat between Din and Kaz with Bo-Katan at the head of the table.

“They intercepted any ships they saw leaving. They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice over. They punished us as a warning to the whole galaxy because we refused to surrender.” The Captain of the landship explains and Bo-Katan grows quiet.

“That’s not true….I did surrender.” She says and the Mandalorians went silent before whispering amongst each other, “After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon. The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire. In exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared. That is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber. I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people. And then he betrayed me and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.” She explains. The air is tense as the truth of the destruction of this planet is revealed.

The Captain swallows harshly turning to the still helmet Mandalorians, “How did these others survive?” “We were hidden on the moon of Concordia.” The Armorer explains.

“Are you Death Watch?” The Captain questions a bit suspicious of the terrorist group that went into known hiding on Concordia, “Death Watch exists no longer. It shattered into many warring factions.”

“Our people have suffered time and again. From division and squabbling factions,” Bo-Katan says looking over the table, “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.”

“And what does a Jedi have involved amongst our kind? The last time Jedi and Mandalorians fought side by side was the Seige of Mandalore during the Clone Wars,” The Captain says remembering fighting there as well, “I thought the Jedi were all killed off?”

“That is true…I make no sense here. To some, I am an enemy..to others a reminder of the past allies you once fought alongside,” You say holding your hands over the table, “I am here to return to my home planet and see the rise of Mandalore and its people. My father once wished for Mandalore to be a planet for all Mandalorians despite which fraction or division they came from to have a homeworld, no matter if you are Mandalorian by blood or Mandalorian by Creed.” Your gaze meets Bo-Katan's and then Din’s.

“Though I no longer wield the Darksaber….I fight alongside my grand-aunt for the chance that we and the Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy may all return home.” The table is silent surprised and shocked by the words coming from you. The diplomacy and leadership exuding from you, Bo-Katan sees her sister in you with your words.

“You’re…her grand-niece.” The Captain says shocked many of the Mandalorians stuck on this planet see the resemblance between you and the redhead. “I am Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.”

You leaned against the railing of a secluded part of the land-ship it was stationed the traveling continuing in the morning. The breeze cooling on your skin as your elbows rest on the wood looking out on the destroyed planet that was the home of your family. “That was a good speech…told you I can see a leader in you.” Kaz’s voice comes from your side as you glance over at him. You hum returning your gaze to the open space of Mandalore, you only wished you could have seen this planet in all its glory.

“Do you ever wish you were here on Mandalore when it was still standing and in all its glory,” You ask and he leans against the railing beside you as he thinks for a second, “I think it would have been nice being on a planet of our people, but I don’t think I would have survived the Purge of Mandalore.” He says honestly and you give him a look.

“That’s morbid.” You say and he chuckles slightly, “No but it also meant we wouldn’t have met. I mean if you were here you would be in the capital as a princess and me just a lowly commoner.” He says teasingly and you shove him producing a laugh from him.

“I am definitely no princess. Maker imagine me in a dress and those uncomfortable shoes!” You ramble and you notice him silent watching you, “What?” He keeps looking at you before shaking his head and looking away, “No you can’t just not tell me!” You grab his arm and he looks down at you.

“Does my princess command me?” You hear the smile on his tone and you roll your eyes, “Yes she does now tell me.” You cross your arms across your chest and he’s quiet before leaning forward and pushing a piece of hair that gets in front of your face.

“I think you would like quite pretty in a dress.” He says and your face flushes and you turn away making him laugh, “What you told me to tell you!” He says between laughter before he spins you around to look at him and he presses his forehead against yours and you close your eyes slightly.

“Naboo.” You say and he leans back looking at you confused, “What?” “I will only wear a dress on Naboo. I was told that it’s the most beautiful planet in the galaxy. And there are lakes and waterfalls and fields of flowers and plants as far as the eyes can see. So if you want me to wear a dress it has to be on Naboo.” You explain and he nods.

“With the uncomfortable shoes?” He asks and you smirk, “We’ll see.” The two of you stare at each other a silence falling over you two its two magnetics coming together. His hand covers your eyes the other pulling off his helmet then his lips meet yours. He drops his hand seeing your eyes closed his hand wraps around your waist and pulls your closer while the other holds the back of your neck. Your hand plays with the back of his hair the other holds his face as you kiss him. It’s gentle but filled with passion as you both pour in your affection for each other. There wasn’t any room left between you two as he slightly bends over and you push yourself on your toes. You both pull away holding your face against his chest trying to catch your breath and you feel the rise and fall of his own chest. A pair of lips press against your hairline and you smile into his chest before you hear the metal hiss as his helmet is put back on. You pull back staring at the copper and white beskar as you feel his gaze on you his thumb strokes your cheek.

“I should go before Din starts his own hunting party.” You say a small chuckle comes from the two of you as he nods. He leans forward his forehead meeting yours, “I’ll see you tomorrow then mesh’la.” You pull away giving one last glance at him before you head back toward the group. You spot on the second level of the ship just before the group is you see the flash of silver beskar under the moonlight. Heading up the stairs spotting the familiar armor of Din and you’re silent as you join his side. He seems to have the same idea of lean against an object and pondering.

“You alright?” You ask and you can feel his brief glance at you before you both stare forward. “That boy…Kaz, is he your partner?” He asks and you're surprised by his question and more of his phrasing.

“Kaz and I aren’t together like that! I mean I don’t think so…we haven’t really talked about it.” You ramble as he looks over at you, “But you do like him.” You’re quiet now that you think about it you two discussed what you two were. Sure he said he liked you and you liked him but did that make you two together? It was all strange new territory that you had no guide to help you.

“I do...It’s just...I’ve never had this before..people like me like that,” You felt embarrassed what if you had it all wrong and this was just a big thing you thought it was. You bury your face in your hands, “Maker I’m so stupid..” Din leans on his arms on the railing looking at you.

“Look, I have no idea what that boy’s intentions are, but…I do know that he would be lucky to have you.” Din says and you lift your head up looking at the older man, “Really?” You ask and he nods and it grows silent once more before you speak up.

“Do you feel like everything is going right that it’s meant to go wrong?” You voice your fear for only him to know, “I mean everything we’ve been through, Grogu and I get rescued by you and the Mandalorians--we get the bounty hunters to come after us, we get to meet Ahsoka and she can’t train us, we go to the seeing stone--the empire gets us, even on Tatooine we got Cobb and the people of Freetown and he almost died. Every time we get close to winning something horrible goes wrong,” Your tone gets slightly frantic all the possibilities making you more nervous.

“What if something happens to the Mandalorians, to Grogu, to Bo-Katan, or you!? I don’t know what to do if you’re gone-” “Hey calm down nothing’s going to happen,” Din grabs your shoulders making you look at him, “I promised you I was never leaving you and I’m not. Ever.” He reassures and you nod before he pulls you into his arms just holding you there. His chin rests on the top of your head nothing is said between the two of you but you could tell he meant every single one of his words.

“I love you, dad…” You say and he freezes slightly before his arms squeeze you tighter to him, “Love you too, kid.” He responds his voice thick with emotion. He was glad to have the beskar helmet on his head covering the tears in his eyes. Hearing the title you called him and the meaning of it to both you and him. Din would always be there for you, to protect you and care for you as a father would.

The following morning the landship returns to the Gauntlet so the Armorer and the weak Mandalorians can return to the fleet to be taken care of while the others lead you to where the Forge is. “Onward, Mandalorians! To the Forge!” The Captain yells to his crew as you set off. Sat on a crate beside Din you see most of the Mandalorians resting or waiting for the arrival of the forge. Two however play a game of chess. Vizsla grabs his enforcer making a flank jump and Woves sighs, “You can’t move an Enforcer like that.”

“It’s a flank jump. And you’re about to submit.” Vizsla says and Woves gives him a look, “But only the Wing Guard can flank jump.”

“The Enforcer moves like a Wing Guard when it’s flanking.” Vizsla retorts and Woves sighs shaking his head and turning to his companions with a laugh, “These primitives make up their own rules for everything.” Insulted by his accusation of cheating Vizsla draws out a vibroblade.

“Seriously?” “Submit or fight.” Vizsla demands to Woves who looks at the Mandalorian, “Can you believe this?” The two suddenly break into a brawl with their blades, punches, and kicks both getting their fair licks in.

“Should I step in?” Din questions and Bo-Katan shakes her head, “Neither side can step in. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” The two continue fighting both ready to strike each other with their blade when Grogu comes between them with IG-12 breaking up the fight as he spams the droid’s vocabulator,

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” The two men are silent before retracting and heading off to different sides of the deck, “You taught your apprentice well.” Bo-Katan comments and Din looks over at the child who is looking at the three of you,

“He didn’t learn that from me.”

A sharp whistle fills the air as the Mandalorian in the highest peak shouts down to the Captain, “There, on the starboard bow!” The ground crackles ahead of you all seeing the green glass shatter and some dragon-like monster appears from the ground its tail swinging down on all of you

“Abandon ship!” The Captain shouts and you feel arms wrap around your waist you quickly wrap your arms around their neck as you’re sent up into the air as the tail smashes into the ship it exploding in a ball of flames. Landing a distance away, Mandalorians land haphazardly around you as debris rains down on you and Din covers you with his body. He pulls back looking over you as people around you shout, “This way! This way!” “Hurry up! Faster!”

“You good?” He asks you and you nod you’re brought to slightly underneath the surface but the rocks above you shake falling around you, “We’re not far. We need to go further down.” The Captain yells and you’re all sent underground the rumbling of the creature that attacked you recedes the deeper down you went. The cave leads to a tunnel that opens up to a large open space.

“Where are we?” You ask looking at the enormous machines that lined the deep trench, “This is what’s left of the Great Forge. This was once the heart of our civilization. But the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.” Woves says as you walk alongside the small outlook showing the forge.

“You lived here?” Vizsla asks and Reeves glances at him, “We all did.”

“We never left,” The survivors’ captain adds, “Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.” The distant sound of jetpacks echoes through the cave and you see a multitude of them heading toward you all.

“Jet packs?” Din says confused, “More survivors?” Woves comments when you notice the design of the armor and a wave of panic rushes over you. That bad feeling of being close to winning and something going horribly wrong starting.

“Those aren’t Mandalorians.” You call out as they immediately take fire, ambushing you all, “They’re Imperials! Take cover.” All the Mandalorians take cover firing at them. Your saber pulls from your belt instantly deflecting blaster fire it hitting the armor in return but making no impact as they continue firing.

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” You shout as a few land before you and you dodge blaster fire spinning your blade around and aiming at spots not covered in the lightsaber-resistant metal. It’s harder combat against them, one grabs your hair pulling you towards the edge and a vibroblade is stabbed in the trooper's neck releasing you. Kaz’s hand pulls you to your side as you go back to back fighting against troopers that try to get the drop on you.

“We’re pinned down. We need backup.” Din shouts while fighting his own pair of troopers. Casualties happen on both sides as many questions run through your head through the battle. Where had they even come from?! You thought you were the only ones on Mandalore unless they were tracking you and followed.

“I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements.” Woves volunteers firing at the troopers that are up in the air raining down on you all. “No, it’s too far.” Bo-Katan disagrees not wanting to lose any more men and women.

“I can make it. It’s our only shot at taking the planet back.” Woves pushes.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there.” Vizsla points at the opening leading to the surface and moves forward with his large machine gun, “I’ll lay down cover.” Blaster bolts are fired at the troopers some getting hit fatally as Woves takes off. One tries attacking him mid-flight when its armor is crushed quite violently and send falling to the ground. Making brief eye contact with you he continues and flees to the surface. You spin around stabbing your saber between the gaps of armor your free hand pushing out Force pushing them into the cavern. The dwindling troopers against the resistance you show make them retreat into another tunnel.

“They’re retreating!” Vizsla shouts as Bo-Katan reloads her blaster before rushing forward, “Advance.”

“For Mandalore!” The Mandalorians shout as you run alongside Kaz firing after the troopers, Din reaches your side as you suddenly leave rocky terrain and enter imperial flooring and walls. That sense of nerves adds weight to your chest the deeper into their base. The troopers fly off on the jetpacks leaving you all in the base. You take in the TIEs and Bombers that wait patiently to be deployed your fear only growing stronger. The Imps didn’t follow after you…they were here on Mandalore all this time, and with how much was here they must have been here since the Purge.

“What is this place?” Bo-Katan says as you look around when a door hisses shut and you spin around seeing all of everyone minus, yourself, Kaz, Din, and one other Mandalorian on the other side of the blast door. You raise your saber to cut through the door when you hear Din shout and an alarm goes off.

“It’s an ambush!” A squadron of Imperial commandos lands on the platform firing at the four of you. Spinning your blade to deflect blaster fire but it was too many as one takes down one of the Mandalorians. Din and Kaz fire their blasters at them when a fibercord whip wraps around Din’s neck yanking him back. “Din!” You shout barely dodging a blaster fire blocking the attack as he fires another cable wrapping around his wrist and he sends a wave of flames. You thrust your hand out crushing the trooper that was choking Din, his limbs snap in a horrid position as he crumbles to the ground. A loud cry fills the air and you feel the life drain from your body. Spinning around and seeing Kaz holding his hands to his side as he crumbles to the ground, you release a yell raising your saber to attack his perpetrator when a blaster rifle slams against your temple. Stars blind you as you hit the ground your saber falling out of your hands and your quickly jumped by three troopers. Their hands grab your arms and pin them behind your back as you thrash violently.

“Let me go! Kriffing let me go! You son of a bitch!” You shout feeling cuffs being placed around your wrist and you try calling your lightsaber but it remains laying on the floor. Your shouts fill the air as you see Kaz on his side his hands pressed to his side blood quickly spilling from his side, “No! stop it. Stop it! Kaz!” You cry out struggling more and your face is slammed into the ground and blood spills from your mouth and nose.

“Don’t you touch her!” Din roars seeing three of them manhandle you to the ground. He fights against his own restraints, the cable tightly around his neck and one on each wrist forcing his arms to cross his chest so he couldn’t use them as three troopers for him bringing him to his knees. Your gaze is focused on Kaz as he bleeds out, alive but losing blood too quickly. Someone lands on the platform seeing a person in Dark Trooper armor, the Mandalorian-style helmet with spikes on the crown similar to the Armorer.

“Disarm them.” A modulated voice calls out and you struggle in your assailants’ grasp as they remove your blaster and vibroblade from your holster. The Dark Trooper motions to the troopers restraining you and you’re pulled from laying on the ground to shoved on your knees as you fight in their grasp. You watch them grab their helmet removing it and the air leaves your body and it’s silent as you stare back at the man. Who tormented you, ruined your life, kidnapped, assaulted, and tried to murder you, the man you tried to kill but failed. He wasn’t meant to be here…this wasn’t real you would open your eyes and be back on Nevarro or at the Great Forge and you never got into a fight with the Empire. He wasn’t real..this wasn’t real. But when he spoke your worst nightmare was confirmed,

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place,” He says, and you are unmoving. Moff Gideon was back. He finds delight in seeing the horror and pure terror in your expression as the Mandalorians behind the blast door has no choice but to watch. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me. Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from beskar alloy and the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it,” Gideon holds his hands out showing his suit off. If looks could kill Din would have killed Moff Gideon a billion times over, his gaze kept moving from Gideon, to Kaz who continues bleeding out, and you who was paralyzed in fear.

“You see, every society has something to offer. The cloners. The Jedi. And even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.” Gideon felt power knowing his plan had worked and he had everyone where he wanted them to be. “Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers.” He orders and Bo-Katan slams her fist against the glass.

“No!” The Klaxon alarm blares as the Interceptors and Bombers are activating, “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.” Gideon grins and a harsh cough fills the air he looks down and spots the weak Mandalorian a few feet from you still kicking. You see Gideon’s gaze on Kaz and you go feral fighting harshly against their hands.

“Don’t you kriffing touch him! Leave him out of this!” You shout blood mixing with tears and your words and emotions reveal the one weak card he was willing to fully exploit. “Strip him of his armor.” He orders and the pair of troopers keeping guard moves forward as you scream for mercy they pull up the Mandalorian to his own knees as one holds him the other being pulled off his armor.

“Let him go! Stop it, please! If you want your heirs you can have them! Please let him go…please!” You shout out as Kaz cries out in pain as he’s stripped of his armor leaving his helmet on Gideon strides forward kneeling before you admiring the tears in your eyes and the blood that comes from your injuries. You hear Din yelling from behind you and Bo-Katan as well. Gideon grabs your chin forcing you to look at him and you feel sick staring at the man his touch sending you into shock.

“Unfortunately that offer is now off the table,” He rises back up and you see him walk towards Kaz not before reaching down and grabbing your saber as you scream and cry out realizing what he was going to do. Grabbing the Mandalorian by the chin of his helmet he rips it off him and you’re staring back at the man you had cared for, giving your heart to. His skin was pale but not sickly, his features sharp with a few cuts littering his perfect face. He was beautiful with short straight black hair you had felt in your hands but didn’t know the color of anything and his eyes piercing and blue like the clearest waters. They were filled with pain but also sadness as he looks at you and you see the acceptance in his gaze that sends you into a panic.

“Kaz, get up. Kaz, kriffing get up and fight. Please stop! Please don’t do this…I’ll do anything please don’t. I beg you!” You shout as he takes in your features one last time though tear-filled and bloody you still look beautiful in his eyes, “Kaz, please get up!”

“I love y-” The blade cleaves through his body and a scream of anguish rips through your throat. Kaz keeps staring at you until you see the life fade before you and Gideon as the boy you loved crumples to the ground.

“Nooo!” You were dead this wasn’t real. Screams and cries tear you apart as you hunch over in the troopers’ arms sobs raking through your body as the air is ripped from your body gasping for air. The Mandalorians behind the blast door and the one behind you are silently looking in horror as Gideon kills the love of your life and worse with the saber that was the symbol of your kind. The weapon of a jedi used to slay your lover. Your gaze was focused on Kaz’s lifeless one as he stared at you with those empty eyes already glossed over. “I’ll kriffing kill you...No! No...I’ll kill you.” You shout not a threat a promise with hatred in your voice. As Gideon holds your weapon in his grasp attaching it to his person.

“Take him to the debriefing room and bring the dear princess to the command center.” Gideon orders and Din is forced to his feet struggling in their grasp seeing the lifeless look in your eyes as you scream out into the air. He failed you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’re heart would never be broken. Din had seen you lose everything important to you and he knew you had lost a part of yourself with this final strike.

You’re pulled to your feet but you can’t stand weak and nauseous as they hold up your weight, “None of this would have occurred if you had accepted. He’s dead because of your actions, princess.” Gideon mocks you as you’re sent into a spiral sobs racking your body and hyperventilating from the shock that has taken over. You’re pulled as you cry out whispering to the man you failed. “i’m sorry…i’m sorry…i’m sorry.”

You didn’t see the meaning of waking up in the morning, a reason to smile, to eat, to breathe, to live. You had lost greatly and your heart could only take so much. His love with haunt you like a phantom, his touch burns and scars your skin, his kiss a mere memory, and his death will drown you until you too leave this plane of existence. You didn’t deserve happiness…you would never love again. You had nothing left in you to love. Your happiness, your love, and yourself had died right alongside him held in his arms with dead promises to visit the far-off planets you dreamed of.

A/N: I'm sorry🫣 Also for those wondering the face claim for Kaz is Freddy Carter. I live for Kaz Brekker so just picture that gorgeous man. One more chapter left!!

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three (Book 2) Chapter Two

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Two: The Marshal

Summary: (Y/N), Mando, and the Child are on the hunt for a Mandalorian. Due to their luck, they find trouble, instead.

            Mando slowed the speeder as he, (Y/N), and the Child arrived on the outskirts of a small village, presumably what remained of Mos Pelgo, or what was recovered after the war. The people outside of the small buildings eyed the group suspiciously, unused to strangers arriving. Finally, outside of what seemed to be the bar, Mando stopped the speeder, and they dismounted. Mando patted the Child’s head, told him to stay put, and headed in with (Y/N) on his heels. (The Child, of course, didn’t listen and was right behind them, but at this point Mando expected it. He already had (Y/N) tailing him all the time, so another child wasn’t a big change).

            A lone bartender looked up from where he stood behind the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked, voice short and clipped. The villagers were clearly wary of outsiders.

            “We’re looking for a Mandalorian,” said Mando.

            “Well, we don’t get many visitors in these parts,” said the bartender. “Can you describe him?”

            (Y/N) deadpanned. They gestured to Mando’s armor. “Would probably look like him but less shiny.”

            “Hm,” the bartender considered. “You mean the Marshal?”

            “Your Marshal wears Mandalorian armor?” questioned Mando.

            “See for yourself,” said the bartender. He gestured to the entrance of the bar.

            Silhouetted against the sun stood a man wearing armor of a slight blue-green-grey tone, dirtied by sand and dirt. The man approached, and Mando stood tall, silent, and still.

            “What brings you here, strangers?” asked the Marshal.

            “I’ve been searching for you for many parsecs,” said Mando.

            “Well, now, you found me. Weequay—” the Marshal addressed the bartender “—two snorts of spotchka. Three, if the kid wants any.”

            Mando gave (Y/N) a look that even through the helmet clearly meant “You’re not drinking until I say you can.”

            “Just water,” said (Y/N).

            Weequay handed a jar of spotchka and some glasses to the Marshal and poured a glass of water for (Y/N). The Marshal picked up the glasses and jar.

            “You don’t y’all join me for a drink?” he asked, heading to a table.

            Mando went to follow but froze when the Marshal took his helmet off.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. They knew his people never took their helmets off in front of anyone. It was against their beliefs, and it would make them no longer Mandalorian, unable to be one of the Covert again.

            “I’ve never met a real Mandalorian,” said the Marshal, smiling jovially.

            So he’s not just taking off his helmet. He’s not even Mandalorian, and he’s wearing their armor. That’s worse, thought (Y/N), glancing at Mando. He was silent and still.

            “Heard stories,” chuckled the Marshal. “I know you’re good at killing. And probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardware. So…I figure only one of us walking out of here.” He glanced at (Y/N) and the Child. “But then I see the kids—” he smiled at them “—and I think, maybe I pegged you wrong.”

            I don’t think he understands that Mando has no problem fighting with kids watching. Hell, I help, thought (Y/N).

            “Who are you?” said Mando, his voice cold.

            Yeah, he’s pissed.

            “I’m Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo,” said the Marshal, introducing himself.

            “Where did you get the armor?” questioned Mando harshly.

            “Bought it off some Jawas,” said Vanth.

            At least he didn’t hurt a Mandalorian for them, thought (Y/N).

            “Hand it over,” said Mando.

            Vanth chuckled. “Look, pal, I’m sure you call all the shots where you come from, but ‘round here, I’m the one tells folks what to do.”

            Mando took a step closer. “Take it off. Or I will.”

            “We gonna do this in front of the kids?” asked Vanth.

            The Child cooed, unbothered.

            “This kid will help take that armor off of you,” said (Y/N).

            “They’ve seen worse,” said Mando cooly.

            “Right here, then?” asked Vanth.

            “Right here,” confirmed Mando.

            (Y/N) was wary as Vanth stood from behind the table. He hand was near his blaster. Mando stood perfectly still as he watched Vanth consider his options.

            A rumbling broke the tension as the building began to quiver from the force of the quaking earth. Vanth held up a finger, asking for a moment, and walked to the entrance of the bar to peer outside. The bartender ran to his back room in fear. (Y/N) glanced at the Child to make sure he was alright before heading to look out with Mando.

            An alarm blared as the ground shook and in the distance, sand was creating a cloud as something drew nearer to Mos Pelgo. Small rodents and villagers ran for cover indoors, screaming as the rumbling drew closer. The ground began to tear up as something burrowed under the ground into the streets of Mos Pelgo.

            Mando held out a hand to keep (Y/N) safe and back from the edge as a large mass below the sand dug past them. The group watched as the creature headed towards a lone bantha eating at the edge of the village. The creature dove up out of the sand, large, spiked, and with a mouth of sharp teeth, and swallowed the bantha whole. With destruction in its wake, it dove beneath the dunes again.

            “Maybe we can work something out,” remarked Vanth in the silence following the creature’s disappearance.

            He nodded to the town and began walking through it. The Child waddle behind (Y/N) and Mando as they followed. The villagers were setting up everything that had fallen and broken during the creature’s attack. Clearly, this was a regular occurrence.

            “That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established,” explained Vanth. “Thanks to this armor, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect ‘em. But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone.” He looked at Mando. “Help me kill it, I’ll give you the armor.”

            Mando considered. “Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait.”

            “Not so simple,” said Vanth. “The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground. But I know where it lives.”

            “Where?” asked (Y/N).

            “Not far,” said Vanth.

            “Let’s go,” said Mando, picking up the Child and heading to the speeder.

l

            With Mando, (Y/N) and the Child on their speeder and Vanth on his motor, they flew over the Tatooine’s endless desert to the krayt dragon’s den.

            “You don’t understand what it was like!” called Vanth over the wind and motors. “The town was on its last legs. It started after we got the news of the Death Star blowing up. The second one, that is. The Empire was pullin’ out of Tatooine. There was blaster fire over Mos Eisley. The occupation was over.”

            (Y/N) frowned, and their hand went to their Ushti markings around their eyes. The burnt orange lines furrowed as their brow did. If only Ushti had the Empire pull out, too, instead of being pillaged for resources for the remnants of the Empire’s use, perhaps they’d still have a home to return to.

            “We didn’t even have time to celebrate,” continued Vanth. “That very night, the Mining Collective moved in.”

            Once again, people taking advantage of an outer rim planet’s resources, thought (Y/N) distastefully.

            “Power hates a vacuum, and Mos Pelgo became a slave camp overnight,” said Vanth. “I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders. Grabbed a camtono. I had no idea it was full of silicax crystals. I guess every once in a while, both suns shine on the womp rat’s tail.” He chuckled before continuing.

            “I wandered for days. No food, no water. And then…I was saved. The Jawas wanted the crystals. They offered their finest in exchange,” explained Vanth. “And my treasure bought me more than a full waterskin. It bought my freedom.”

            The armor. (Y/N) had to admit, while it was disrespectful for a non-Mandalorian to wear the armor, they respected his reasons. It was not for greed like Koresh’s desire for the armor; it was to help his town. Vanth had some honor, and he had agreed to give the armor back in exchange for, again, help for the people of Mos Pelgo. (Y/N) liked him.

            Mando nodded. He still wanted the armor back, but he too saw that Vanth was not an enemy, he was an honorable man trying to do the best for his people, just like Mando was trying to protect his Clan.

            Mando’s stomach twisted. No, not his clan. They’d be leaving soon enough, no matter how the Armorer proclaimed them a Clan of Three. He needed to stop thinking of them like that.

l

            Vanth led them to a small collection of mountains that threw shade into the valleys between them. He threw a hand up suddenly and dismounted. Mando swiftly jumped from the speeder and grabbed his rifle. Vanth was armed as well and looked around carefully. (Y/N) pulled out their blaster, prepared for a fight. Before them in the valley clearing beyond the rocks, a low growl rumbled through the canyon.

            A creature, as big as perhaps the cattle (Y/N) saw other Ushti farms work with, prowled out from behind a rock. It was covered in sharp spikes and growled with a mouthful of pointed teeth. It snarled, its mouth opening wider than (Y/N) was comfortable with. Multiple others emerged from the shadows on various outcroppings, surrounding the group.

            Mando straightened and shouted. (Y/N) recognized the Tusken shouts. The creatures perked up, familiar with the sounds. Mando approached, and (Y/N) relaxed. Mando knew what he was doing.

            “What the hell you doin’?” asked Vanth, still holding his rifle tightly.

            Mando raised a hand and continued forward. He continued to speak in rough Tusken. (Y/N), unfortunately, had no idea what he was saying (they were only starting to get the basics of Tusken signing), but they recognized that the creatures clearly had experience with Tuskens and understood him. They bounded forward happily and let Mando pet them.

            Curious, (Y/N) stepped forward. They crouched and raised an arm. Another creature cocked its head and watched them cautiously. (Y/N) took a deep breath and tried to exude a calm air. As if responding to their silent request for friendship, the creature padded forward and nuzzled its head into (Y/N)’s hand.

            From behind the rocks, a few Tuskens emerged. Vanth had lowered his rifle but watched the interactions with surprised confusion. Mando began speaking Tusken and signing. (Y/N) quickly followed suit, signing “hello” and “we mean peace” to show they were not looking for a fight.

            The Tuskens signed back, and Mando began a conversation. It was clear he was discussing their plans to kill the krayt dragon. The Tuskens, at the knowledge, began quickly signing back. (Y/N) caught a few words they knew and understood that the Tuskens wanted the krayt dragon gone, too.

            “Hey, partners, you wanna tell me what’s going on?” asked Vanth.

            “They want to kill the krayt dragon, too,” said (Y/N).

            Vanth blinked in surprise.

            Mando nodded. “They invite us to their camp. We can discuss more there.” He walked back to the speeder, leaving no room for argument.

l

            In the firelight as darkness descended on Tatooine, the Tuskens continued to explain their position to Mando, Vanth, and (Y/N) (the Child was more concerned with eating at the moment). Mando and the Tuskens went back and forth for several minutes before a Tusken cracked open a small fruit that exuded a grey smoke. They offered it to Vanth as Mando and the other Tuskens continued to speak.

            “What am I supposed to do with this?” whispered Vanth to Mando, not wanting to disrespect the Tuskens.

            “You drink it,” said Mando.

            “It stinks,” said Vanth.

            “We need their help,” said (Y/N).

            “I don’t want it if I have to drink this,” said Vanth.

            Mando sighed and gestured to the Tusken speaking. “He says your people steal their water, and now you insult them by not drinking it. They know about Mos Pelgo. They know how many Sand People you killed.”

            “They raided our village. I defended the town,” said Vanth, huffing.

            “Lower your voice,” advised (Y/N). They, too, were prone to outbursts, anger at the world they felt they couldn’t control, but they were trying to improve. They wanted to subtle calmness Mando held. It helped them feel more in touch with the world and feel more secure in their own skin.

            “I knew this was a bad idea,” said Vanth venomously.

            The Tusken stood at the tone.

            “You’re agitating them,” warned Mando.

            Vanth stood angrily. “These monsters can’t be reasoned with. Sit back down before I put a hole through ya! I’m not gonna say it—!”

            (Y/N) fired their blaster into the air, cutting through the argument. Mando stood and signed to the Tusken, working on calming the situation.

            “What are you telling them?” asked Vanth.

            “Same thing he’s telling you,” said (Y/N).

            “If we fight amongst ourselves, the monster will kill us all,” said Mando.

            The Tusken and Vanth regarded each other in silence for a moment before sitting once more. They both understood the gravity of the situation and the need to work quickly to prevent any more of their respective peoples from getting harmed by the krayt dragon.

            “Now, how do we kill it?” asked Mando, signing the same thing to the Tuskens. The Tuskens signed back, and Mando nodded. “We’ll head to its den tomorrow to see our options.”

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

[spextronaut]

My thoughts on this week’s episode of the Mandalorian:

I really hope this episode is good considering it’s, yk, the last episode of the season

“Moff Gideon is alive” no shit Bo-Katan

I’d like some helmetless Din pls as payment for how shit this season has been

he’s so babygirl fr fr

oh shit he’s a badass babygirl good for him

GROGU SAVING HIS DAD!!!!!!! IM FUCKIJG CRYING

“I need you to be brave for me” BROOOOOO 😭😭

“You with me?” DIN SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

if Din doesn’t remove his helmet at all I will fucking cry Pedro said we’d get more helmetless Din content 😭

R5 you fucking icon

“I’m sorry I don’t speak binary” bro. bro. fucking he. I cry

R5 my favorite anxiety ridden droid

Mandos always slay fr

mkay well that decoy didn’t fucking work

Another death from the looks of it but at least I don’t give a shit about this dude

This is some s2 shit thank god I adore he

Omfg I adore him look at this fucker what a badass

R5 KILLED A DROID WHAT THR FUCK

goddamn rockstar slide what a slay

R5 can fly?????

Grogu my absolute beloved

why are there people in tubes that seems kinda illegal

FUCKING JUMPSCARE JESYS CHRIST

The armorer really seems sus and idk how to feel about it

I miss when Din had the Darksaber smh

I won’t complain about Bo Katan and the armorer slaying so hard tho I love that

????? What the fuck???

Grogu really shouldn’t be here ngl

Don’s getting his shit rocked that’s always fun

Oh god not these fuckers a 3v1 is far from fair

GROGU SAVE YOUR FUCKING DAD AGAIN!!!!

if they kill Grogu. I swear on my fucking life I’m not coming back

GROGU BEAT THEY FUCKIN ASSES

Din ain’t doing too hot rn that’s not great

HELL YEAH “I’ve got this. Go save your kid” IM FUCKING CRYIJG

DIN DJARIN YOU FUCKINH ICON I LOVE YOU

THEYRE FIGHTINH TOGETHER FOT THE FIRST TIME I LOVE THIS

“You did good, kid” IM NOT CRYING NO NOT AT ALL

HE BROKE THE FUCKING DARKSABER???? I DIDNT INOW THAT WAS RVEN POSSIBLE

YES DIN AND GROGU BEAT HIS ASS

if they kill these icons I’m gonna start crying

DO NOT HURT GROGU THATS ALL I WANT

GROGU OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT A FUCKING ICON I LOVE YOU THATS SO AWESOME YHIS SCRNE IS FUCKING GROGEOUS WHAT THE FUCK

OHHH HE EEPY 😭😭

if Grogu bathes in the living waters I will cry

OHHH MY FUCKING GOD HES GONNA DO IT WE FULL FUCKING CIRCLE RN

OHH MY GOF HE SO SMALL

“Apprentice” fuck off he’s your son

IF HIS PARENT GAVE PERMISSION. OH MY FUCKING GOD

OHHH MY FUCKING GOD

“I will adopt him as my own” FUCKING FINALLY THANK YOU THANK YOU THSNK YOU

DIN GROFU. DIN GROGU IH MY FUCKING GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD IM CRYING HES BIS SON NOW ITS CANON WAAAAA

AND THE MYTHOSAUR IS STILL HERE WHAT A SLAY

fuck off I don’t care about Bo Katan GROFU JS DIN’S SON FR FR

okay nevermind we relit the forge that’s fucking awesome

THE LITTLE LEGS ONFG HES SO EXCITED

WE BACK TO BOUNTY HUNTING!!!! THANK FUCKING GOD!!!!

IM SO EXCITED FOR NEXT SEASON ITS GONNA BE SO FUCKING GOOD

DIN GROGU 😭😭😭

IG-11 IS BACK OH MY FUCKING GOD IM CRYING IM SOBBING NOOOOO FUCK

remove the helmet. please. please I’m begging

HES GOT A FROG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

are you fucking. Not a single helmet removal all season. I’m insulted

But omfg this is a 10/10 episode I loved it so so much everyone was a badass this was such an improvement

I’m actually gonna come back for next season now since the set up for next season was great and I’m really excited for more bounty hunting shenanigans. And Bo Katan should be relocated to a more minor side character again, but I understand why she was more the focus of this season now it’s good setup for next season

Overall it was a really fun episode and I’m excited to see where they take it from here, even tho I’m disappointed that Din didn’t take his helmet off at all this season

[djarinsyndulla]

season 3 has definitely been the most underwhelming season for me, from start to finish, and that’s just really sad because it truly had the potential to be so grand. season 2 opened up a lot of potential for storylines that wound up being washed down the drain. like looking back, the big moments in the season 2 finale feel so pointless. din removing his helmet to look at grogu with his own eyes one last time before he goes off to train with luke? they’re reunited in a spin off show about boba fett. at the time i forgave it, because they opened up the idea of din having to go to mandalore to be redeemed, but they took care of that in episode 2 of this season with no real impact to anything. he went there and it was over. never took off his helmet again, and we never even saw him struggle or have internal conflict with that for a moment. not only that….it felt like it especially didn’t matter because the armorer suddenly decided there could be mandalorians who walk both ways in the case of bo katan uniting the tribes. i’m also really failing to see what was even the point of giving din the darksaber if it didnt do absolutely anything to further his character progression? he won it in combat against moff gideon, told everyone it’s bo katan’s now because she rescued him from robot spider, and then …. it was destroyed. LMFAOOOO. i can respect the idea of the darksaber being destroyed so future rulers can lead without it, but they didn’t bother to truly develop that concept so it just felt dumb when it happened. i just….after all this, how am i supposed to give a fuck about literally anything that happens now because they’ll throw it all out the next episode or season?

i’m glad the future is potentially just going back to din and grogu bounty hunting (specifically imperials, din in his nazi hunter era). i genuinely hope din never talks to another mandalorian again. except sabine, i’ll accept sabine. but i need it to be like season 2 where even though other characters appeared, it was always to help further din and grogu’s arc. since, you know, they’re the main characters. this season was literally about retaking mandalore, but felt like filler and a detour because the main character had no real growth. he officially adopted grogu by the end, but like basically everything this season, it felt like it just happened.

[ariainstars]

The Mandalorian Season 3 Isn’t That Bad

Yes, sigh, I know, this Season was not what we Mando fans were expecting. The pacing is slow for an action show and there are too many fillers; also, most of us were expecting Din (or Djarin, now we have learned it’s actually his first name) to become the new Mand’alor and we were let down. But thinking back about it, the Season is actually quite acceptable considering the direction the characters take.

Let me elaborate.

From the very first, Mando is always shown as someone fiercely loyal, both to his covert and to Grogu but mostly to his fellow Mandalorians. He would do anything for them, including killing on his bounty hunting to earn money for their survival: the first words we hear him say literally are “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.”

Mando has adhered to the code „This is the Way“ his entire teenage and adult life. Everything he does is by order of the Armorer, whose judgement and decisions are never remotely questioned neither by him nor by the other Mandalorians. At the end of Season 1 he accepts the role of the adopted father for Grogu and the search for “one of his kind” (a Jedi) because she tells him to do so. The first thing he does in Season 3 is to seek for atonement for his „sin“ of removing the helmet. He hardly shows a personal agenda, it is all for “the Way”; and he is not the one who decides what the Way is.

After his redemption he steps back, gets sidelined, gives Bo-Katan the Darksaber and swears loyalty to her. Why? Because he already was an apostate once. Until then he never would have dared to do anything that opposes the Armorer, even less so now that he is redeemed and after he almost drowned while seeking redemption.

The Armorer is not the most dependable narrator or leader. She does not question why Mando he removed his helmet (which was fully justified since he did it to save his foundling), but later on she says that „Bo-Katan walks both Ways“ after having known her for two weeks. Bo-Katan has blackmailed Mando twice since he met her, and knowing her past, she already proved that she is not a good leader. Mando would have every right to shout “This is not fair”, and many fans are doing it for him. But he doesn’t: he accepts everything the Armorer tells him in good faith, never questioning it. He would never do anything to challenge her and risk becoming an apostate again. (At least, not yet.)

As viewers, we immediately saw that the father-son dynamic between Mando and Grogu is heart and soul of the story and that they are meant to be together. It is different for Djarin: this fact is only slowly sinking in. In Season 1 he bonded with Grogu after their adventure with the mudhorn, which is why he rescued him instead of leaving him with the Client; and all the adventures they lived through during the first two seasons only brought them closer together. It is only at the penultimate episode of Season 2 that he removes his helmet in front of others to save the child and this is the first time ever that we see how Grogu matters more to him than the Way.

Season 3 culminates with Mando finally making a choice of his own, by adopting Grogu and living with him on his own. This time, it was his own and not the Armorer’s decision, although she did give them her blessing.

The destruction of the Darksaber, also much criticized, fits to this development. Mandalorians were until now ready to follow blindly the person who owned it: that it no longer exists could mean that the time of conflict for the planet Mandalore is over, since the object they were arguing about does no longer exist. In future, hopefully the ruler of Mandalore will be who is most worthy, not who happens to possess a particular weapon, whether it was given to them or they won it in combat.

As viewers, this development may be difficult to stomach; but we are not in Djarin’s shoes. We were not raised from childhood in an absolutist cult that would leave us to die on our own for an understandable transgression. Let’s face it: “This is the Way” is brainwashing. Rules are good and well but when you realize that you can never question or break them, even if by all logic you have good reason to do so, something is wrong. But if your very survival depends on your belonging to the sect that raised you and taught you everything you know, you will not dare to think outside of the box.

I am not happy with Bo-Katan governing Mandalore instead of Djarin: the way we got to know him I daresay he would be an excellent leader. He puts foundlings first, he is fiercely loyal, he is selfless, he is protective, he is a good negotiator. Bo-Katan is way less mature and strong than he is. On the other hand, she already did wrong to her people, which we also learn in this Season: she dealt with Gideon believing he would spare her people, which was naïve at best. I don’t dislike the idea that she gets a chance to amend for what she did and maybe to grow and mature into a better ruler.

I agree that much about this season was disappointing and that the plot could probably have been told in half the time, but I disagree that it makes no sense. Not only Grogu is growing and maturing, so is his father. I don’t know where they mean to lead this to, but I think it’s interesting to watch.

Besides, I was very happy to see Ahmed Best again and to see him play the Jedi who had rescued Grogu from the Jedi temple, all of those years earlier.

[weird-writes]

Five Runs: Run 1 - Doors (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Five Runs: Run 1 - Doors

Series: Part three of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction. 

Description: A series of drabbles all sharing one theme: you've decided to run away from your Mandalorian. On purpose. For his birthday. Listen, everyone's got their kinks, and his is bounty hunting (sort of. Mostly, it's you.)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

It's his brash attitude that makes you decide to push your luck just a little more. You love it when Din gets like this; it feels like an invitation to misbehave in ways only the two of you know how. "You liked the idea--" you make a show of checking the timer on your wrist, "-- thirty four hours ago."

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical violence, object insertion but probably not in the way you think, oral sex, manual sex, implied penetrative sex, brief mention of somnophilia, canon what canon, no betas we die like men [warnings are for all drabbles.]

Tropes: established relationship, the helmet comes off, hurt/comfort, fluff, adventure

Author's note: Tumblr for some reason really hates this series - I don't mean y'all, I mean the website itself lmao. Let's see if this one actually shows up!

***

RUN 1: DOORS

The first time it's a surprise:

“When I said run, I didn’t mean from me!"

You slam awake with a start, your adrenaline catapulting you out of bed and halfway toward your blaster before you realize the exasperated voice is familiar. You'd know that intimidating shadow anywhere, and one pale finger of moonlight reaches through the patchy roof to run itself along his armor. Your heart rate drops immediately, soothed by the silvery shine of beskar: no threat here.

You collapse back on the narrow cot you'd rented for the night, brain churning into gear. Din had found you, as you'd known he would. The only question now is if he’s really as annoyed as he sounds.

"In my defense, you were non-specific," you retort. You take a moment to scan the door and windows of your dingy little room. All closed - and not just closed, but locked. How the kriff did he get in here so quietly? Trust your Mandalorian not to leave you an easy exit; he clearly checked the escape routes before waking you. Next time you'll have to rig some sort of alarm.

"Yes, because when someone says run they obviously mean run away, change all your clothes, and hide in the back room of a scrapyard." The helmet renders his tone unreadable but you can't see any sign of anger in Din's broad shoulders. It's hard to tell in the dark but his body language seems relaxed, halfway to cocky even, like when he’s dragging a particularly tough bounty through an admiring cantina crowd. Your pulse picks up again, thrumming with interest, but for a very different reason than when you'd thought there was a stranger in the room.

"I sent a message," you shoot back. "I didn't have to. I could have just vanished instead." You would never just vanish on Din, and you both know it, but you also know exactly how to bait his ego.

He scoffs outright at that. "No you couldn't. No one can just vanish. Not from me, and especially not you." You were right, he's wearing his presumed victory over you the same way he wears the prospect of a tricky blaster shot or a fight against improbable odds. His confidence goes straight to your head like spice, and you feel the slumbering heat between your legs sit up and take notice.

It's his brash attitude that makes you decide to push your luck just a little more. You love it when Din gets like this; it feels like an invitation to misbehave in ways only the two of you know how. "You liked the idea--" you make a show of checking the timer on your wrist, "-- thirty four hours ago." He'd found you with a full day and more to spare, of course, but the timer is still nestled in its strap and if you play this right maybe you can -

One big gloved hand clamps over your arm. You can feel the heat of him even through the leather. "Time's up."

***

You'd been waiting for the perfect opportunity, the right alignment of distraction and circumstance to take off without Din noticing. It needed to be on a job, his awareness of you too great at other times, whether you were doing something as civilized as drinking spotchka or as crude as wading through a swamp, Din hoisting the Child's carry sack overhead to keep him out of the mud. Din's right about that much: when you run with a bounty hunter there's no such thing as slipping away.

There had been a few times when you'd thought you might try for it, credits already tucked in your bag, blaster on your hip. But each time you'd found a reason not to leave him: the situation was too chaotic and he'd worry you'd been hurt; you didn't like the town, too many inquisitive strangers; you didn't want him to hunt you with the kiddo in tow. The excuses were reasonable but eventually you were forced to admit to yourself that your delay was simply because you didn't want to leave him. You'd been traveling together for so long you weren't sure you remembered how the galaxy felt without his solid bulk at your back or his dry, modulated humor in your ear.

Today, though, was too good to pass up, the slap of blaster fire from around the corner announcing that Din had found his quarry at the same time his quarry's hired muscle had found him. You had planned this part out in advance together, leaning conspiratorially over schematics in the cargo bay, his helmet bumping affectionately against the crown of your head as you showed him how to use what you'd made. You may not share his Creed but you speak the same reverential language when it comes to certain things... like explosives.

You know your own role too, which is why you pop up from the stack of crates you've been waiting behind and shove your fingers in your mouth to give a piercing whistle. Your other hand drops to your holster. You draw and fire in quick succession, sending a bolt ricocheting over the heads of the contract guards. Two of them whip around, surprised by the noise and incoming fire from another direction, which buys Din enough time to slap the little ball against the blast door blocking his way. He must have hit the primer button at the same time because you hear his shout even through the helmet: "Got it - run!"

You take off down the alley, jinking around one corner and then another, putting as many walls between yourself and your latest experiment as you can. Din will be fine, the Rising Phoenix on his back doubtless already taking him out of harm's way, but lesser mortals like you have to rely on brick and steel and meters and meters of distance. You're lucky this district is mostly abandoned, full of empty warehouses and docking bays. It's the perfect testing ground for your latest experiment.

You're halfway down the next street when there's a sound from behind you that makes your eardrums pop like you've been plunged into deep water. It's less a noise than a sudden sharp pull against the air, jolting you as the ground lurches sickeningly. It's followed by another sound, this one like a shuttle crashing into a brass band. You can't help your grin as you slow your steps toward the intersection to avoid attracting attention and join the stream of traffic headed toward the market. It worked. That blast door won't be giving your Mandalorian any more trouble, and if you're lucky the shock wave will have cleared out the security-for-hire too.

There's a tavern ahead with an open space in front of it roofed with leafy vines for shade. You pull over into the pleasant coolness and stop, rummaging in your pack for the comm link you always carry planetside. You'd spend all last night thinking about what to say when this moment came. Your message has to make it clear you're not being kidnapped or under duress. It has to be obvious that it's an invitation that he can say no to if he wants. It has to be intriguing.

Oh, and of course, it can't interrupt him while he's killing people.

You dictate what you want Din to read into the little microphone, using the careful wording you'd finally settled on this morning. The ship is parked only a few klicks away and is well within short-distance meshnet range, so you bounce your message through the navcomp’s HoloNet connection as opposed to direct, flagging the data priority level as low. This means it will show on Din's display as text rather than a missed connection attempt, and he will also know that whatever you’re trying to tell him can wait until he's done with the bounty. When he finally has breathing room to check his comm, you know what will blink out in blocky letters on his screen:

Got away from them, and now I’m getting away from you too. Find me? 72 standard hrs, Motok only, no beacon. Happy birthday.

Your interface beeps a notification. Message successfully relayed. It makes you feel better to know it's waiting for him, your words a thread tethering you together even as you spool its length away from him across the city. It's only three days at most, and you have a suspicion the reunion will be worth it.

You tuck the comm back into your bag and get moving, sliding through the crowd toward one of the larger booths. You’re going to need a cloak or a change of clothes if you don’t want him to catch you immediately. Something that will alter your silhouette and cover your hair. Probably a change of shoes to fool his tracking algorithm. Hell, maybe you should buy a new perfume, too - you still have no idea what the helmet of his is really capable of. You spot a stall selling thick bolts of local fabric; surely the garment district must be this direction. You steer your steps towards it, and it's not until you're halfway there that you realize you're absently and happily humming to yourself.

***

It’s less than an hour later when your comm chimes again. You've already bought your disguise, swathed in the long hooded cloak that is common for locals in this sector. It takes you a moment to reach your bag under the yards of lightweight synthsilk that now shield you from prying eyes. You have a missed message, high priority.

Are you serious?

You send back, Yes.

A few minutes after that there’s an insistent buzz from the inner pocket of your bag. Din isn’t bothering to relay messages through the HoloNet anymore - he’s comming you directly.

You pull it out and thumb the button on the side of the unit. “Mando?”

“What is this?” There’s no sound of blaster fire in the background, so however the situation you’d run out on resolved, it’s clearly over. And Din sounds curious rather than concerned, which is a relief. You'd been almost sure your gambit would play well, but there was no way to be certain - any game like this would run the risk of miscommunication, of hurting rather than delighting him. You couldn't know in advance if he'd like the idea, but you do know that if you'd misjudged, your partnership is now strong enough to withstand it. Coming to that realization, finally acknowledging that your connection with Din is secure enough to gamble a little for both your enjoyment, had filled you with an emotion you couldn't quite describe.

Though whatever it was, it had led to some spectacular sex.

You've waited too long to answer him. "Mesh'la?"

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “When you put my tracking chip in, you said you missed stalking me.”

A chuckle. Another good sign. “That wasn’t a hint.”

“No, but I thought it’d be fun. Like old times. And if we need to find each other in a hurry for some reason you can always use the beacon.”

“Three days.” Din’s tone is even more thoughtful. "I did say I wanted to spend some time in Motok. Although I was hoping it would be with you."

“Three days, and you did,” you confirm. “And it can be with me. If you're as good as they say. There’s a timer unit on a cord on my wrist. Get it before then and you win." He won't be able to resist a challenge like that, not from you.

“And what do I get if I win?” His voice through the modulator has dropped, far too dark and intimate for your public surroundings. He must be able to hear the crowd noise through the comm interface. He just doesn’t care.

You're grateful that the hood you're wearing will cover your expression from anyone passing by. You’re suddenly a little lightheaded, adrenaline from the impending chase mixed with a giddy excitement at what you might be asked to give up if you lose. You do your best to sound innocent when you answer. “What do you win? Why, Mando, anything you want. Anything at all.”

Your meaning is clear despite your casual tone. A growl comes through the comm link, then: “Don’t tire yourself out, cyar'ika. You’ll need your strength. See you in forty-eight hours - maybe sooner.”

And the comm goes dead in your hands.

run 2 | series masterlist

[chalterdh22]

Chapter 52: What Did You Decide?

After getting myself washed up, Din came walking in without Grogu.  “Hey,” I said softly.

“Hey.” He went and sat down in one of the chairs, and I did as well.  I leaned in to put a hand on his knee covered in beskar. 

“The Armorer came and visited me.  She told me she talked to you already.”  He nodded and looked up at me finally.  There was silence still, but I could feel such sadness and confusion from him.  I really felt bad.  I knew he didn’t like any of the decisions, and the roadblock was solely me.  That made me feel even worse.

I just sat and waited for him to say anything.  Right now, any reaction is better than none at all.  The silence was killing me!  I so wanted to break this uncomfortable moment with some kind of quip, jab, or joke, but I knew the timing wasn’t right.  I pulled my hand off his leg, crossed my arms, and leaned back in the chair, looking straight at him.

“What would you have me do?” He asked me.

“No, no, no!  I’m not making this decision Din!  This is your life!  You need to do what’s best for you and the kid!”  He then scooted his chair closer to me and put his hands on my leg. 

“I want all three of us.” 

“But….?”

“But I’m not so sure I’m ready to give up this life……”  He put his head down sighing.

“Can we talk, without your helmet, please?  I think we’ve earned the right to discuss this face to face.  No offense.”  He shook his head and removed his helmet, so I now could look into his dark brown eyes and see him, not who he has been made out to be.

“Thank you.”  He smiled softly and nodded.  “Look, you still need to make the decision on Grogu and what’s best for him too.  You have to think of him, not just us.  You are his father!  He will do what you want him too.”  He smirked at that last sentence.  “You know what I mean.  If you want to train him to be a Mandalorian, he will.  He you want to keep him back on Mandalore and train him to be something else, that’s what he’ll do.”

He was nodding the entire time, and didn’t take his eyes off of me, as if he was replaying each scenario in his head as I talked.

“What would you do if you were me?”

I chuckled and he looked confused.  “Sorry, that’s the same question I asked the Armorer.”

“What did she say?”  I repeated what she had told me, about the relationship she gave up for her clan, for her decision.  “That doesn’t help much.”

“No, but it made me understand her more.”  I sat quietly again.  “Maybe we let Grogu decide?  Do you think he’s mature enough?”

“Sometimes I think he’s well beyond his years.  Because of his extraordinary powers and understanding of the force.”  He paused and scratched his chin and grinned.  “Then, the little child comes out and I remember he’s nothing more than a toddler.”  I giggled at that thought.

“So, true.”  I agreed.  We just sat there and smiled at each other for a moment. 

“The big question for you, Suri, is do you want to live here?  Because if you don’t, I think we have our answer.”

“It would be safer here for all of us.  And I could still come and go.  But what would I be doing?  I know I won’t be a Mandalorian, so what would be the purpose?  And what do you want?  Do you want to give up bounty hunting, training the kid, that sort of adventure?  Or do you want a completely different type of adventure here?”

“Both sound good.  But I can’t have both.”  He leaned back in his chair and put his hands on his temples.  It’s still very new to me to see expressions in his face.  I always just looked at a blank helmet staring back at me.  I also got very good at reading his internal emotions and some of his thoughts, although I didn’t want to do that unless I had to.

“I know I want you in my life.  I want you more than a friend in my life.”  He leaned forward again in his chair, the features on his face had softened.  I forget sometimes that he is just a man underneath all that armor. 

“You do understand that you have two options then.  One, you keep working as a hunter and doing what you need to do for your clan, and I will remain here, but we won’t be together all the time.  Or, second, you give that up, have another purpose on Mandalore and we would be a family.”

“Either decision, you will remain here.  Is that what you really want?  I thought you wanted adventure, to travel, take risks…..” 

“I want you more than all those things!  And it’s not like we couldn’t ever do anything.  We’re not prisoners here.  This is where our home would be is all.”  He was smiling now.

“I don’t want you to remain here by yourself while I travel around and work.  That’s not fair to you.”  We were both silent for a minute or two.

“So, it sounds like you made your decision then…”

He stood up and lifted my arms up to stand with him.  Pulling me in closer to him, he said “I want to have a family with you.  I want to stay here and work with the apprentices, training the next generation.”

“Are you sure?”  I asked as he leaned in and kissed me softly.

“Yes.”  I couldn’t stop grinning and he picked me up in his arms to hug me and swung me in a circle before setting me down gently. 

“We need to go tell the Armorer!”  I turned to start putting shoes on.  “I need to find out what I can do around here, where we are going to live, what’s going to happen with Grogu!  Do you think he’ll be excited for us or upset?  What if he’s mad at our decision?  What if he wants to leave us?”  My brain now was going one hundred miles a minute.  He just stood there smiling at my crazy antics, shaking his head.

“Are you done?”

“Not even close!”  I walked back over to him and gave him another kiss.  “I’ll have to get used to seeing your expressions though.  Sometimes the helmet might be easier, but now you can choose whether you wear it or not.”

“Yeah, that’s going to get some getting used to.  There’s a small handful of people who have actually seen me.  The Armorer hasn’t even seen my face.”

“What if she does, and she sees how hideous it is and asks you to never remove it again?”  With a smirk on my face, taking a few steps back from him as he eyed me.

He didn’t say anything, just started to take a few steps towards me, grabbing me, pulling me into him and kissing my neck roughly with his scratchy facial hair making me laugh at how much it tickled me!  I pulled away quickly from him.

“Ok, ok!  Geesh.  I’d be more worried she take you away from me!”

“Yeah, ok.”  He reached to put his helmet back on as we walked out the door, hand in hand.  This in itself will be our next adventure.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 34: Jedi

Instead of taking on a puck, you and the Mandalorian continue your mission to find a Jedi to train the child. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-33 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 3K

“Mando!” Karga greeted Din with open arms. You were never quite sure how much of it was genuine and how much of it was for show. He gripped the Mandalorian’s hand and bracer in a firm shake before he directed his attention at you. “And Essa! Always such a welcome visitor…” 

He stepped in to embrace you but Din stepped half in front of you, looking at Karga, all but daring him. Karga gave him a knowing half smile and gestured inside. 

“Come in, let’s get down to business…” 

You followed Karga inside, the baby securely on your hip, using his newfound ability to throw his feelings at you to let you know that he was, in fact, starving and desperately wanted a snack even though he’d just eaten before leaving the Crest. 

“Now,” Karga said, settling in behind his desk and holding his arms out. “Let me see my favorite kid!” 

You set the child in front of him and watched him toddle toward him with an excited squeal. 

“If you really want to buy his love, give him a snack,” you said. “He’s particularly hungry today.” 

“I keep cookies around for just such an occasion,” he opened a drawer and pulled out a package. The baby happily plopped down nearby and held his little hands out. Karga was more than happy to oblige, putting a cookie in the child’s open palms. He watched as the kid devoured the first cookie and reached for a second before looking back to you and the Mandalorian. “I take it the hunts went well? With two of you, I expect you made quick work of them.” 

You felt Din glance at you through the armor and you gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. 

It was almost odd. Since your time together on Tatooine, you were able to read the Mandalorian much better. Openly admitting how you felt about him and knowing how he felt about you made it easier to interpret smaller things. It no longer seemed like you were trying to navigate around the intensity of your feelings - feelings you’d never really experienced before and didn’t have a good handle on - while trying to interpret how he felt about you. You understood it now. You knew that Din wouldn’t reveal something that made you vulnerable without your consent. You knew he wouldn’t even try to bring it up to someone that wasn’t trustworthy. He knew you understood what he was asking with a glance of his eyes below his helmet, a glance you knew you’d feel whether he was beside you or across a room. 

“We had some challenges on Tatooine,” he said. “We were able to complete the job, but there were… significant additional casualties.” 

“What kind of casualties?” Karga frowned. 

“The Hakki Syndicate is no longer a concern,” Din said simply. Karga raised his brow. “I put some of their major players into carbonite, in case there were open bounties. But they’re all cold, so they may not be worth as much.” 

“What happened?” Karga asked, eyes wide. 

“They hurt Essa,” Din said simply, a dark edge to his voice. Karga looked at you. You shrugged. “I made sure they couldn’t again.” 

“The others?” He asked. 

“Simple enough,” Din said. 

It was true. Once you’d recovered on Tatooine, you picked up the kid from Peli and headed to Yavin 4. The baby clung to you the whole trip. For the first few hours, if you dared look away from him for even a second, he’d throw his feelings at you. The immense relief, the want for attention, the love. You were happy to hold him for the entire flight. 

The hunt itself on Yavin 4 had been simple. You were surprised that Din still let you take the lead after Tatooine but he must have sensed the ease of the bounty based on the puck. It only took three days to find the quarry and that was after he caught wind of the Mandalorian being on world and looking for him. It had been your idea, after asking around, to wait him out at the cantina closest to the part of the jungle he was last seen going into. Given what you knew of him based on the information provided, he wouldn’t last too long without coming in for a drink. You’d been right. Two days later, he showed up and the two of you easily took custody. 

“I do have some more jobs for you,” Karga said, voice hesitant. “But there is one that I’d like to inform you of first.” 

You frowned. Karga seemed ill at ease. That you weren’t a fan of. 

“What is it.” The Mandalorian asked without asking, his voice firm. 

“Are you still looking for a Jedi to train your…” he looked down at the baby, who was onto his third cookie. “Ward?” 

Din stiffened beside you and you looked down at the child. 

Yes, you’d discussed bringing him to a Jedi, you both knew he needed training. But part of you had hoped that you’d never find another like him. At least, not for a long time. Then you wouldn’t need to leave him. 

“Yes,” Din said after a moment. Karga pulled out a puck. 

“Not something I’d normally offer you, Mando,” he said. “I know how you feel about Imperial remnants. But this,” he set out a puck. There was no image, only a description of the person who was being hunted as well as details. “Is a unique situation.

“This is a bounty for a Jedi, brought in cold,” he said. “Imperial Magistrate Elsbeth is having some… pest control problems. Looking for someone willing to kill a Jedi. Given that I know you wouldn’t be looking to kill them, I can’t really offer you the bounty. I can, however, tell you exactly where to go and who to meet with to find them.” 

Din looked at you, more than a glance this time. You met his gaze. 

“We have to,” you said softly. He nodded once. 

“We’ll come back after to pick up more work,” he said. 

The baby looked between you and the Mandalorian, sensing the change in mood. 

“Patu.” 

You hardly paid attention to the remainder of the meeting with Karga. Instead, you were watching the baby. He was still feasting on cookies. You didn’t have the heart to stop him. If you’d be leaving him soon, you wanted to give him anything and everything he ever wanted. Maybe he’d remember you that way. 

The walk back to the Crest was slow. Din took the child this time, tucked against his side, the kid looking up at the shining helmet with aw and love on his tiny face. How would you ever get by without him? 

“Are we sure this is the right thing?” Din asked that night. The three of you were in his bunk. He’d changed into some of the pajamas he’d loaned you over and over again in your time on the ship. You’d never actually seen him use them. You supposed you technically still hadn’t, since he’d changed in total darkness, but the intimacy was there. He’d even taken off his helmet in the pitch blackness of his quarters. The child was between the two if you, his ears both squished a little by your chests as you lay almost nose to nose with Din. 

“We need to at least talk to them,” you said softly, trying to be sure to not disturb the child as he slept. Din’s fingers trailed gently through your hair. “It doesn’t mean we have to leave him. They might tell us no, they might be able to tell us ways to help him…” 

“You love him, too,” he said. You swallowed the tears that were threatening to spill over. 

“Of course I do,” you sounded choked up all the same. Din sighed, kissing your forehead. 

“It’ll be alright, Cyare,” he said softly “It’ll be alright.” 

The next day, Din set the Crest down outside the walls of the city. 

“Stay here, aboard the ship,” he ordered, getting ready to leave the Crest. “I’d rather the Imperials not know who we have with us. I’ll be back shortly.” 

The baby watched as the Mandalorian left, a concerned coo leaving his tiny mouth. You looked down and he lifted his eyes to you. He was anxious. You scooped him up. 

“Let’s make a game of it,” you said with a small smile. “We’ll both think of what your dad might be up to and picture it in the other person’s head. See if you can get my thoughts and I can get yours, OK?” 

“Patu.” 

You sat closer to him now than you usually did with exercises like this. You put his tiny body directly in front of yours, close enough that he could wrap his little hands around your fingers if you put your hands in front of you. You tried to relax your mind so he could access it, trying to project your mind a bit. You felt some success - the odd feeling of draining consciousness, like your thoughts were leaking out of you - just as the ramp to the Crest lowered and the Mandaloran came aboard the ship. 

“What’s the deal?” You asked, looking away from the child for the first time since Din had left the ship. 

“We’re going hunting in the forest,” he said, going to gather up supplies. 

“Hunting,” you frowned, getting up and trailing behind him, picking up the baby on your way and popping him on your hip. 

“Best way to approach it,” he said. “The Jedi is hiding in the forest. They’ve been picking off Imperial troops and making regular demands…” 

“How many troops?” You asked. “A Magistrate would have access to…” 

“It’s been a lot,” he said quickly, packing rations and holding the kid’s backpack out to you. You frowned and took it. “I’m lead.” 

“Why do you get to make a unilateral decision on that?” You demanded, your fear about the idea of leaving the child taking over. 

“Need you to focus on protecting the kid,” he said, tone calm. “And I have beskar. It’s a lot harder for the Jedi to use their swords to cut through beskar armor.” 

He turned back toward you and put his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours. 

“You can pick next hunts,” he said. “Promise, Cyare.” 

You sighed. It was the best you could hope for, you knew that. 

While Din went through his usual preparations, you went to look at the options for something you thought would be useful against a Jedi and their mystical laser swords your mother had told you about as a girl. 

Something drew you to the electrostaff. You weren’t sure if the weapon could survive a Jedi’s weapon but it seemed like the best chance you’d have based on what you remembered from your mother’s stories. Jedi were formidable warriors, with the power of the Force on their side. It would be a miracle if you made it out alive. You grabbed the Naboo blaster, too, strapping both to you and putting the child on your back. 

“Be on guard,” the Mandalorian said early. “The Jedi has been under siege for a while. They will likely try to kill on sight…” 

You had been walking the better part of the day and the child was getting cranky on your back. You’d seen no sign of the Jedi. Part of this, Din explained early in the hunt, was that the Imperials kept sending whole companies of troopers after them. Their footprints ruined any hope he had of tracking only the Jedi, at least with no indication of which footprints were theirs to begin with. 

“Should we take a break like this?” You asked quietly. The forest you’d been sent into was smoky and dark. The vantage points were terrible. 

“No,” Din said. His whole body seemed tense. “Not safe, have to keep moving.” 

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. You reached behind you to try to give the baby some attention when you saw it at first. Out of the corner of your eye, a blur of movement. You stopped, reaching out and touching Din’s arm, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. You jerked your head in the direction of the blur. A cluster of trees, no sign of movement. 

“Stay close,” he said quietly. You nodded and took the electrostaff from your belt without igniting it. You kept walking. The next blur, you knew the Mandalorian saw too. He threw his arm out and tucked you to the side behind him. You heard him take a breath, like he was getting ready to say something, when he flew backwards, so close to you the rush of air caught your clothes, making the fabric ripple over you. 

“Mando!” You barely had a chance to get the word out. 

It took you half a second to register what was happening when the dim smoke in front of you lit up with bright, almost blazing white, thin blades of it glowing in the haze. 

You moved quickly, gripping your staff and opening it, quickly igniting it just in time to catch the blades as they came swinging for you. 

You shoved them back and swung the staff forward, relieved that - at least the electrified portions of the staff - were capable of stopping the sword. 

“Hey!” You tried to yell, but the Jedi was swinging again. 

All you could really do was react. You didn’t want to hurt them. You weren’t even sure you COULD hurt them, they moved so fast you could barely keep up. A saber came down from above and you swung up to catch it, throwing it up again just in time to twist the staff down low to block the blow that was going for your stomach. You twisted back from the secondary strike coming from above again. 

“We’re not here to hurt you!” You tried to yell but the Jedi wasn’t listening. They swung for you again but deflected at the last second, the Mandalorian back up with his blaster out. He fired and the Jedi shifted focus, deflecting blaster shots with deft ease, sending them back to Din where they pinged off his beskar as he tried to push forward. 

The Jedi’s hood fell back and you realized that they were a woman, a Togruta woman. The Mandalorian pressed forward, firing and the Jedi ran for him. He dodged the first two strikes  but the third caught him across the torso and she threw him back before changing her focus back to you, charging forward with the blades flying again. 

Keeping up with her movements was all but impossible, the second you seemed to think about it, you’d slip up. A blade caught your shoulder - thankfully just a glancing blow but it was almost shocking in the pain of it - when you tried to plan beyond your next two moves. Staff overhead, block, swing low to intercept, adjust to catch the blow coming for your torso and swing the staff back up by twisting it to catch the high strike again. The Jedi bared her teeth at you in a snarl. 

Din shot at her again, the Jedi adjusting one of her swords to intercept the shot before bringing it back down to swing at you. 

“We’re looking for a Jedi!” Din was yelling. “We are not your enemy!” She ignored him, blocking his other shots and swinging her other sword toward you. 

But while she was somewhat distracted blocking the Mandalorian’s blaster bolts, you saw an opening. You no longer needed to defend against all angles. You could change tactics. 

You caught the next strike that was headed for your arm by sidestepping and bringing up the staff but, instead of stopping to block the next shot, you swung the other side of the staff forward and down, glancing it off her leg. 

She yelled and snarled, turning her attention back to you. 

“We’re not here to hurt you!” You tried to yell but it fell on deaf ears. She pressed forward with both blades quickly then. It was almost impossible to intercept everything. You managed to limit what blows struck you to glancing shots. The Mandalorian fired for her again, her stepping to the side to dodge it entirely, still coming for you with the blades. 

But, eventually, she seemed to get frustrated. She let out a snarling sound and you felt it happen. Your body was flowing with an energy - similar to what you felt when the child projected his thoughts into you but more corporeal - and it had nowhere to go but outward. You lifted off the ground and flew backwards. You scrambled to twist yourself. You couldn’t just land on the child, he was so small, he was just a child… 

But you couldn’t twist. You couldn’t seem to get your body to cooperate with you, you couldn’t move any part of you. 

“Din!” You screamed for him, as though he could get to you and save the baby. But he was the Mandalorinan, there had to be something he could do. 

But just as you were expecting to hit the ground, you froze. 

No part of you was on the ground, you were suspended in midair. It was like floating the most comfortable bed. There was no strain anywhere on your body, no singular place that was holding onto your weight. 

The Jedi’s face snarled in anger for a moment, trying to put it together. So it wasn’t her doing this. 

“Stop!” You took advantage of her confusion. “We’re not here to hurt you!” 

She walked over to your body, hanging midair and everything feeling like it was frozen in time. She was panting for breath, looking for something familiar. She shut off the swords, looking down at your suspended body. 

“Who the hell are you?”

[ravenalla]

I’ve said my complaints a lot without saying what I liked or what I would have done to improve it so I’ll do that now. This isn’t completely changing the events but rather what I would do to reorder them! Particularly switching up the ending and the beginning.

First, like always the concept art looks really cool! When you have these ideas displayed in a still 2d image it shows a lot of potential and creativity, but then when it comes to the actual execution not so much. To make the episode’s writing flow better with these concepts I would take out the covert stuff at the beginning, Din’s new quest was already established in tbobf you could’ve just included it in the recap at least and it wouldn’t leave us questioning how much time has passed for all these new mandos to be here. Have Din first be on the hunt for Bo-Katan, maybe a quick line to explain how he got a lead on finding her so we actually know why he knew where to go. Hell, you could’ve included a scene where we see Din actually finding the crystallized Mandalorian relic and he learns from the jawas or someone else in a market about information on Bo-Katan. Her scene plays out normally, you could have it cut to the title screen with that ominous ending line from her or him finding out where she is. 

Then we get the Nevarro stuff, it makes more sense why he would want a droid as a precaution after Bo insists it is impossible to go there now. Cute Din and Grogu moments are still perfect. The space pirates could still happen but extended with the extra time, have Greef tell Mando he’s been having problems with them and warn him about the captain and his crew lurking. Same with the stand-off, make it more intense and less random. Then after we could go ahead and learn Din is on his way to Tatooine next to get the droid part when the pirate captain intervenes and we end with the two getting away from that space battle. Maybe some extra dialogue from Din talking to Grogu and explaining why being a Mandalorian makes you hunter and prey like the Armorer did after that narrow escape. We could really take in a quiet moment dealing with how much he loves Grogu’s back with him. You could have him subtly reflect on how he’s longing to become one with the group again and feeling like he must make up for his dishonor, ending firm on what Din’s mindset and goal are at this start without having to add in a random repetitive covert scene. It would end kind of like The Sin, a hopeful yet dangerous path laid out for the two in a new adventure that we are about to experience.

Maybe later on in another episode he could learn about where his covert is and revisit them to tell them he is positively going to Mandalore for an attempt at redemption and be shocked to see all the Mandalorians there, fueling his need to belong again. Add in some quick dialogue where the Armorer mentions that Grogu has returned to Din (seriously why didn’t she question that)? You could have Din once again do the “it’s complicated” line so when he does eventually say “it’s because he is my son” it’ll hit so hard. You could also have him mention Bo to cause even bigger tension between him and the Armorer! We know they both would have negative opinions of one another. Then when she decides to trust him that he can pull it off, it holds way more weight that she is actively choosing to put her faith in Din when not only is he an apostate in her eyes but also because he is working with people she doesn’t deem worthy. This wouldn’t fix everything of course, but it’s my best attempt to reimagine a better and more cohesive premier. 

[oscarseyebrow]

Enkindle

gif by the wonderful @nowritingonthewall 💖

Pairings: din djarin x female reader  Rating: explicit. 18+ Word count: 8k Warnings: explicit smut, fingering, unprotected p-in-v, dirty talk, friends to lovers, one bed, cursing, slight hint of din not being an experienced kisser.  Masterlist | Taglist

“What do you mean you only have one room left?” 

Din is not impressed, and despite the modulated tone of his voice, his frustration is as clear as the thawing snow trickling over his armor. He has been tested more than enough today, and you’re starting to fear that this could be the straw to break the bantha’s back.

The owner of the room in question–an elderly Lasat with half an ear missing–sighs out her annoyance at having to repeat herself again. Clearly Din had heard her the first time. 

Her gritty voice holds a tone that is almost less impressed than Din’s when she gives him her final reply: “One room. Take it or leave it, big guy.” 

A silence stretches in the dimly-lit reception area. The towering Mandalorin and broad-yet-stubby Lasat share a stubborn glare across the small desk, neither of them willing to look away first. Not many people would attempt to stare down a man dressed in full beskar, but it’s clear that she will not be intimidated by the armor. You’re sure a somewhat disgruntled Mandalorian isn’t the worst customer she’s ever had the displeasure of dealing with in this shady area of town. 

You stand to the side, dithering silently while rubbing at the arm of your damp jacket. It makes no difference at all to the wet fabric, the chill had settled into your bones hours ago while you trudged through the snow after a failed hunt.  

One room. It would be fine. Maker, at this point, you would take the damn barn if it meant not having to go back out into the cold again. 

Very slowly, Din’s head turns until he is able to see you. 

The look on your face says it all: you don’t care about the room. You’re too cold to give a shit. The only thing you want is to get out of your wet clothes and step into a hot shower. 

“Fine,” your hunting partner finally grumbles. “We’ll take it.” 

One room doesn’t necessarily mean one bed. You had stayed in plenty of dives where more than one bed was available in a shared room. Sometimes, places like this would often cram in as many bunks as possible to make money. 

This would most likely be a similar kind of set-up.

Not even a second after the door to the room slides open, you realise how wrong you are. 

This is not similar. It’s not similar at all. 

There is only one bed. 

One small, not-so-big, unable to comfortably share, tiny bed.

Fuck. 

“It’s okay,” you lie through your chattering teeth. “You take the bed. I’ll take a…” 

There’s no shower. There’s no fucking shower. 

One bed is something you could come around to, maybe, but the thought of not being able to step into the warmth of a shower and feel the water cascading over your frozen skin causes a disappointment to sit heavily in your stomach. It had been the only thing getting you through the miles of trudging across the snow with Din: cold, hungry, pissed off. 

“We can work the job together,” he had said before leaving Nevaro. “It will be quicker that way.” 

If it wouldn’t inflict too much pain on your cold hands, you would smack him right here and now for thinking anything involving this planet would be quick and simple. 

“You’re having the bed,” Din’s voice scrapes with a firm edge, the exhaustion notable as he begins the process of removing his weapons. 

“No, you take it. It’s fine.” 

“I’m not taking the bed.” 

“You’ve been complaining for hours about being tired,” you shoot back and prepare to continue, but Din cuts you off. 

“And you’ve been whining for hours about being cold, so take the bed, warm up and get some damn sleep.” 

A long silence follows Din’s words. His helmet fixes you in place, unmoving, unrelenting in his stubborn stand. It’s almost identical to the one you had seen him take up with the Lasat out front, and as a show of your own stubbornness, you fold your arms across your chest and tighten your jaw to fight your chattering teeth. 

“Don’t start,” Din warns you. 

You know each other well, having worked for Greef Karga for longer than either of you would care to admit. Din was always a lone hunter, much like yourself, but somehow a friendship had developed between the two of you a couple of years back. You liked to think that you had both come to a point in your lives where a little company wasn’t so bad. One hunt had turned into two, two into three, and before either of you had realised, you had spent more hunts together than apart. 

So yes, Din knew that you were standing your ground with him, just as he was with you. 

“You need it more…you’re older. Your back isn’t what it used to be.”

Din tilts his helmet slowly: “I’m going to let that one go.” 

“Like you let our bounty go?” 

“Hey,” his tone lacks any sort of playful edge now. “I said I would let that one comment go, don’t push it.” 

With a huff, you turn your back on him and walk across to what you assume is supposed to be the refresher. The door barely closes, and even when it does finally click into place, you’re able to touch each wall without fully extending your arms. 

“Wonderful,” you mutter under your breath. “Absolutely love this for me.” 

The light above the sink flickers and temporarily illuminates names that have been etched into the wall over the years: some have hearts around them, memories of nights spent in a cheap room together while others have dates and other little messages to accompany them. It holds your attention for longer than it should as you stand there, dripping and cold, wondering what their stories are.

Were they partners? Lovers? Had they come here for a secret affair? How many others had stood in front of this mirror reading those names, wondering the same thing? 

You make quick work of splashing water on your face—you’re not sure why you hoped it would be anything more than freezing cold—then groan when you realise there’s nothing that comes close to resembling a towel.

Of course. Of fucking course. 

You’re still grumbling to yourself when you slide out of the fresher, then pause to look at Din. His armor is gone, now set out neatly beside the bed where it glints in the limited light from the dusty window. It’s a strange thing to see in a place like this: something beautiful, laid out with precision on a carpet blotched with stains of varying colour and size. He has shown so much care toward something when nothing else in the room has ever been treated with that level of dignity and respect. 

But that’s not all he has removed. 

The thick, woven fabric of his flak vest is gone, laid out to dry alongside his cape and gloves. Din is clearly removing his cold, wet layers and you beg yourself to divert your eyes, offer him the same respect he often does for you. It’s almost impossible, though. 

“I had an idea,” Din breaks the silence in the room as he turns to face you. 

You want to listen to him, really, you do. But you’re distracted by the way the wet material of his black undershirt sticks to his body. He reaches to slide down the suspenders from his shoulders and you swallow thickly, now forcing your eyes to focus elsewhere in the room. 

This is Din. You should not be looking at him this way. Sure, you had often wondered what sex with him would be like—you were only human, after all. You had taken the risky glance here and there while travelling together, but only when you knew he was too busy to catch you staring. He was your hunting partner, your friend. There had never been any reason to complicate that and try to make it into something more. 

You both met your needs elsewhere, with other people. Din had never wanted that from you. There had been plenty of opportunities, moments where you found yourselves just a little too close, lingering touches and hands accidentally brushing while reaching for the same tool or controls on the ship. But nothing more. Never anything more. Din simply isn’t interested in you like that. 

“We can share.”

It seems like a perfectly acceptable solution to share a bed with a friend…just one night, sleeping back-to-back. 

When he gets no reply from you, he tries to bring you around to the idea: “And considering there’s no heating in this place, it would probably be beneficial to share. The temperature outside is going to drop further tonight and we need to try and stay warm.” 

His tone is so matter of fact. It’s clear that Din has thought this through. 

How does he make it sound so casual? 

You attempt to inhale slowly but all you can manage is another shiver as your teeth start chattering again. Din is right; there’s no heating in this room, and you need to warm up. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to spend the night freezing cold and wet. It was important to rest up and prepare to make another attempt at tracking the bounty in the morning.  

“F—fine,” you agree. “I’ll take that side.” 

You motion to the left side of the bed and watch as his helmet follows, taking note of your preference. Din doesn’t argue, he simply nods and accepts your terms. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” you repeat and turn your attention to the bed again. 

Neither of you move. 

The whole situation suddenly feels awkward, as though you’re both reconsidering Din’s great idea and desperately trying to think of a better solution. It comes down to very simple facts: you suck it up and share a bed, or you freeze. 

“I’ll turn around,” Din offers after a moment. “You need to get those wet clothes off before you get in bed, so…just tell me when you’re ready.” 

True to his word, Din turns himself around so that his back is to you, giving you as much privacy as he can. You watch him for a moment and let a hint of a smile settle on your lips. How could you not? Din is caring and polite. He’d always done everything he could to ensure you were comfortable in his presence, especially when spending extended periods of time together in what little space the Crest had to offer.

You trust him not to look. You know that he won’t. His word is his promise, so you slowly peel the wet layers from your skin and hiss as the cold air causes another involuntary shiver to pass through your muscles. 

Nothing is dry. Every item of clothing you have is soaked through: your socks and pants, your jacket, shirt and tank top. There’s absolutely nothing left to salvage, nothing that you can sleep in…aside from your underwear. 

You have to warn him. 

“Din…” you murmur and look up just in time to see him starting to turn around. “No! Don’t look!” you shriek and throw your arms over yourself to cover your exposed body. 

That’s not why you called his name. It wasn’t confirmation that it was safe for him to turn around. You just wanted to tell him you were going to have to sleep in your underwear. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought—shit,” Din’s helmet whips around quicker than you’ve ever seen him move before. “I didn’t…I didn’t see anything, I promise.” 

He sounds truly mortified, and before you can stop yourself, you laugh. This whole situation is one long, hilarious fuck-up: losing the bounty, being too far away from the ship to make it back in one night, the shitty excuse of a room. One bed. It’s all fucked. 

“I’m sorry,” you laugh. “I just…I have nothing to wear and I didn’t want to surprise you by only wearing underwear so I wanted to warn you but then you started turning around and I panicked and…yeah.” 

There’s another long silence while you watch Din’s shoulders rise and fall with his steady breaths. Your eyes wander further, exploring the broadness of his back, the way his damp shirt defines the shape of his muscles and the softness of his body beneath the thin fabric. 

“Are all of your clothes wet?” Din asks after a moment. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” 

The silence returns. 

This time, he shifts his weight to his other foot and lowers his helmet slightly. Is this a bad idea? Should you put your wet clothes back on and insist that you’re fine with not having the bed? 

You shiver again, your body’s attempt to warm itself. 

“Okay,” he finally sighs. 

“Okay?” 

“Get under the blankets. You need to warm up. I can hear your teeth chattering from over here…just tell me when it’s actually safe to look,” Din explains with full sincerity. 

Your teeth find your bottom lip as you try to carry out the impossible task of suppressing your smile. He’s doing his best to make this situation as comfortable as possible. There’s very little dignity to be had in this dingy little room, but he’s trying to save yours. 

The bed creaks and groans in protest the second you lift a leg onto it. It whines as you shuffle down beneath the scratchy blankets. There are chings and clangs while you turn onto your side and scoot as close to the edge of the bed as you possibly can without falling out of it. 

Then finally, when you settle, you give Din the confirmation he has been waiting for: “It’s safe to look at me now.” 

You don’t know if he does look at you. Why would he? What you meant was that it was now safe for him to look around the room, not specifically at you. Should you correct what you meant by that? No…no, you just need to not say anything else. 

You shake your head to yourself and close your eyes, willing yourself to fall asleep quickly. You’re too cold. Your fingers and toes are still tingling, your muscles too tense, and the voices next door are much too loud through the thin walls. 

Eventually, the room plummets into darkness, and a few seconds later, the bed shifts under Din’s weight. You can tell he’s moving with caution, taking care not to disturb you as he attempts to fit himself into what little space is left. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs when his elbow accidentally catches you. 

You open your mouth to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to apologise, but you’re suddenly distracted by the warmth of a brief touch. It’s Din’s skin, meaning the black undershirt you were admiring is now gone. He’s shirtless. Din Djarin, intimidating Mandalorian, feared bounty hunter, shirtless, in bed with you. 

Okay, you need to think sensibly and logically about this. You have seen Din’s skin plenty of times before: you have patched him up countless times, unintentionally bumped into him while he has been changing. Maker, you have even accidentally walked in on him fucking someone on more than one occasion. His skin is nothing new—you have seen it and felt it before. 

But never in the same bed. Never anything more than what is necessary. No, this is necessary. This is your only option. Din suggested this because you need the warmth and he needs a place to sleep. 

That’s it. That’s all there is to it. 

So why does your mind keep coming back to the image of him standing before you, his wet long-sleeve sticking to his body… 

Before you can stop them, your teeth begin to chatter again and another shiver takes over your body. The blankets aren’t helping. The chill has settled deep within your bones and isn’t letting up. The hours of being out in the snow are taking their toll, and you already know that come morning, your clothes will still be damp and uncomfortable to put back on. 

The thought of dragging cold fabric over your skin has you shivering again. 

Din moves a little behind you, no doubt trying to get himself into more of a comfortable position, and you think he may have found one when you hear him sigh. 

“Come here,” he murmurs. 

The words are almost as unsure as you are—did you hear him correctly? Had he told you to go closer to him? 

“Excuse me?” 

“Look,” Din starts and then pauses with another small sigh. He’s trying to find the right words. “You’re freezing cold. You’re keeping us both awake. The quickest way you’re going to warm up is if you share some of my body heat.” 

A long silence falls between you. 

Again, he somehow manages to make it sound so normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. The words roll out like he’s explaining a hunting plan to you or giving you some information regarding the planet you’re going to be landing on. Despite the way your heart races and uncertainty sits heavily in your thoughts, Din makes a fair point. 

Should you ask if he’s sure? No, he wouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t sure. 

It’s strange, unfamiliar territory as you shuffle back a little on the bed until you’re met with the warmth of Din’s chest. Stars, he’s carrying enough heat to warm up the whole damn room. 

You find a comfortable position and then close your eyes when his arm rests against your side. He’s respectful in where he lays his hand: it doesn’t venture anywhere it’s not supposed to. He crosses no lines, and after a moment, you feel the front of his helmet touch the back of your head. 

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly. “It’s easier to sleep at this angle, but I can move if y—”

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. 

With Din’s head resting against yours, you listen to the rhythm of his soft breaths: slow and controlled, barely audible through the modulator if it wasn’t for him being so close behind you. There’s a comfortable warmth that radiates from him and easily seeps into your limbs. It cocoons you, thaws the deep chill that had latched onto your bones. 

It may have been the smallest bed, but you had never felt so settled. With each breath he takes, his chest brushes against your back and offers gentle encouragement to release some of the tension you’re still holding in your muscles. 

This doesn’t have to be anything more than what this moment is: two friends huddling together to share some warmth. The tightness in your shoulders begins to ease, allowing you to mould yourself more comfortably against Din. Eventually, your breathing finds a similar rhythm; slow, steady, relaxed. 

Until you reposition your legs and hear Din’s breath involuntarily hitch. 

Your eyes snap open in the darkness. During your adjustment, your hips press back a little too far, causing your ass to come into contact with Din’s crotch. There’s no mistaking the feeling of his hard cock pressing against you, restrained only by the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. 

Okay, you need to return to some sensible, logical thinking about the given situation and not react impulsively. 

Din has never been interested in you like that…has he? No, no. This is simply a natural reaction to being pressed close to someone after such a long time between intimate contact. This is nothing more than two friends sharing a bed, staying warm on a cold evening after a long day of hard work.

You’re suddenly aware of the deafening silence: not even your breathing helps to ease it as you hold it in your chest, unsure of what you’re supposed to do or say. You remain frozen, in all sense of the word, and acknowledge the building desire to grind back against Din in the darkness, to feel him take hold of you and fuck you open and—

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I can’t really—fuck. I didn’t mean…” Din’s frantic apology begins to tumble from him before he can fully form a coherent sentence. 

He’s panicking. He’s embarrassed and attempting to put some space between you but you quickly grab hold of his forearm to keep him in place. You don’t want him to go. You don’t want space. 

You want him to stay. 

“Are you attracted to me, Din?” The question is out before you can talk yourself down. You have to know. 

It takes a moment for any sort of response to arise, but you finally hear it, quiet yet confident as it scrapes through his modulator: “Yes.” 

Maybe, just like you, Din has never wanted to complicate things. The friendship and connection that you have works well as it is. There has never been any reason to change that or risk the embarrassment of finding out if any mutual feelings were shared. 

Until now. 

You swallow thickly, all too aware of the heat from his forearm radiating against your palm. His cock, thick and heavy, presses against the curve of your ass as you both take a moment to process the reality of the situation. Perhaps trying to process this isn’t the best thing to do. You know that you’ll end up overthinking everything, just as Din will, so before either of you have a chance to reason yourselves out of this, you slide your hand down over his arm and lace your fingers through his. 

“Have you ever thought about fucking me?” 

“All the time,” Din confesses without hesitation. 

With your hand closed over the top of his, you guide it up over your side so that he can feel your skin. You hear a noticeable change in his breathing: it becomes more shallow, a little heavier, while you take your time with smoothing his hand across your body. 

“What do you think about?” 

Din’s response is instant this time, a sense of relief evident in the one word he speaks: “Everything.”

You slide his hand up to cup your breast through your bra and squeeze, then with a somewhat innocent tone to your voice, you ask: “Why don’t you share some of those thoughts with me?”

Maybe this is simply a case of wanting what you’ve never been able to have: these unexpected circumstances have offered you both an opportunity you would have otherwise never taken. In the morning, it may be the worst decision either of you could have made…but for tonight, all you’re able to think about is the way his large hand squeezes at the supple flesh of your breast again.  

“I think about fucking that smart, pretty mouth of yours,” his tone is suddenly sinful, and gods, it catches you completely off guard as you exhale shakily. “I think about how good it would feel to fuck you right after a hunt while you’re all worked up and disheveled.” 

You’ve thought about that, too. On the nights you’ve spent with your fingers deep inside of your cunt, hips rolling while chasing your release to the thought of how Din would tear your pants down over your legs and sink his fingers into you. You’ve always imagined they would stretch you open and fill you perfectly, curl in just the right way until you were begging him to fuck you. 

“Keep going,” you urge him. 

“Sometimes, I think about how wet you would feel around my cock while you ride me in the pilot’s chair.”

Din’s hand releases your breast and slides upwards across your chest. You know he can feel the way your heart pounds with excitement beneath his touch, the way your body warms against him, flushed with desire. 

“I think about holding you while you tremble and cum around me, how beautiful you would look. I think about how you would moan my name, how good it would sound coming from you. Not Mando, not baby…you would moan my name.” 

“Din…” you speak it in a way that you never have before. It’s something so personal; breathier, softer. 

His hand smooths back down over your chest, pausing only to hook the tips of his fingers into the cup of your bra and tug it down to expose your breast completely. For a bounty hunter, you note how soft Din’s hands are. There’s no callouses as he traps your nipple between two fingers, no rough skin when he pinches the sensitive bud and tugs just enough to cause a spark of pleasure to pulse straight down to your core. 

“How long have you wanted me to touch you like this?” he asks. 

Despite the modulated tone of his voice, the sultry edge still washes over you like an exquisite silk, and you feel the effects of it everywhere. 

“For so long.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

It’s hard to focus when he squeezes your nipple again. You try to form the sentence in your head while his hand follows the curve of your ribs and you attempt to respond just as his fingers inch lower until they meet the edge of your underwear.

“I… I didn’t think you were interested,” you confess in a voice that’s barely louder than a whisper. 

“Weren’t you curious to find out?” 

“I didn’t want to look like an idiot if you weren’t attracted to me…” 

Din’s fingers dip beneath the thin fabric, but instead of settling where you ache for his touch, he traces them lightly over the curve of your hip. It causes the smallest shiver to dance through your muscles, and this time, it has nothing to do with the lingering chill from the snow. 

There’s a patience to Din’s touch, a restraint that you see him carry out on every hunt. He knows exactly how he wants to do this. He has thought about it, plotted his next steps while mapping out your skin with his hand. Stars, you can’t help but admire the way he controls his urges: he wants to take his time with this. He wants to show you that the attraction is mutual. 

“Do you want to find out now?” 

You nod eagerly. Maker, you want to find out more than anything in the galaxy. 

“Let me hear you say it,” Din encourages you. 

“Yes,” you nod again, still as eager as the first time. “I do.” 

Din readjusts behind you: only enough for his hand to slide down and take hold of your inner thigh before guiding your top leg over his own. Now that you’re adequately spread for him, his fingers smoothover the thin piece of fabric keeping him separated from you. 

You hear Din’s breath catch when his fingers discover the wetness that is entirely his doing. For a moment, he’s difficult to read. He lingers there, fingers flexing slowly against the damp material as though he’s admiring what he has done to you from a few confessions and light touches. 

“Fuck,” he hisses slowly while his fingers ease your underwear aside. “You’re so wet.” 

And before you can stop yourself, words come tumbling out of your mouth: “I always am when I think about you touching me.” 

You don’t need to see or hear Din to know that he’s smirking. You can sense  how smug he is to have this newfound knowledge of one of your best kept secrets. 

He traces the tip of one finger through the drenched slit of your cunt, collecting your arousal before drawing slow circles around your clit. Your whole body momentarily jerks and tenses at the sudden pleasure but his other arm slides beneath you and holds you tight to his broad chest. 

You’re trapped against him in the best possible way: leg hitched over his to spread you open, his hand pressing your upper body back against him. Your movement is limited when you attempt to roll your hips and moan in desperation when his finger stills against your clit with a lingering pressure. 

“Tell me how you imagine it,” Din encourages. 

Lust sears through your whole body, molten and unyielding. Of all the ways you have imagined confessing this in your fantasies, none of them come close to the real thing. The electrical flutter of excitement is ever present in your stomach, and it spurs you on to reach down and cover Din’s hand with your own, taking control of the pace. 

He’s just as surprised as you are when you press against his finger and cause it to flex slowly against your clit. You have the upper hand—quite literally—and Din is more than willing to see this play out. 

“Sometimes, I think about us not being able to make it back to the ship before you have me pressed up against something, out of view of any passers-by but still close enough that I would have to keep my moans quiet.” You fight to keep your voice steady while Din’s finger continues to rub slowly against you. “You’d barely get my pants down all the way, but it would be enough for you to bury your fingers into me.” 

“How many?” 

“One to begin with…but this is after a hunt and all of your patience has been spent. All of that composure and restraint would be at breaking point so you would waste little time before sinking a second finger in and moaning about how good it feels.” 

Din’s next breath falls unevenly through his modulator, creating a momentary crackle of static before he groans: “Go on…tell me what I’d do next.” 

“I’d ask for a third one,” you continue. 

“Do you think you could take it?” 

You’re already smirking to yourself as you nod and give him a simple response: “Yes.”

Your words have Din shifting behind you, and you know that he’s close to snapping. He’s strong and resilient, but he’s only human, and it’s clear that his needs are starting to cause cracks in his composure. You can hear it in his laboured breathing, in the strain in his voice.

“It would feel amazing…that stretch. It would be enough to open me up and prepare me for your big cock, but when—” you stumble and pause on your words when Din seeks out your opening. 

Fucking stars, you hear the obscene sounds of your drenched cunt when his finger presses into you: one to begin with, just as you had described. 

“You feel amazing,” Din groans out his praise. “What would happen next?” 

You moan at the feel of his finger pressing deeply into you, at the thought of him wanting to hear you describe your fantasy to him. Din is enjoying this: his neglected cock twitches against you in anticipation while he hangs on your every word. 

You draw in a breath, attempting to continue while a warmth radiates throughout your body, right from your core. Then right on cue, Din adds a second finger. He works them slowly to begin with, enjoying the feel of you opening up and welcoming him into your tight heat. 

“I’d try so hard to keep…to keep,” your words bleed into a loud moan when Din adjusts his hand and strokes his fingers up against a spot that has you trembling. Fuck. You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to continue. “To—to keep my composure,” you finally manage to rush through your words and then smile at Din’s breathy laugh. 

“More than you are now?” 

“I said I’d try,” you remind him. “Never said I’d do it successfully.” 

At this, you both laugh, his a lower rumble in comparison to the breatheir tone that passes through your lips. Any lingering nervousness or doubt seems to melt away in the moment: there’s something surreal about laughing at the easy banter you share while Din has two fingers buried inside of you. 

There’s an undeniable charge in the air, a shift in the connection you share. You think it’s the excitement and fear of the unknown that comes with crossing the line from friends and into something more. Is this something more? You don’t want to get ahead of yourself here, but it already feels different to so many others you’ve been with. 

There’s a mutual trust that you share with Din, an understanding of each other that nobody else has. You’ve given up your years of travelling alone and traded them in for his companionship. It has always felt so right to be with Din, despite the fleeting doubts in the beginning. There’s been hours spent talking and laughing in the cockpit, learning who he is beneath his armor and allowing an authentic friendship to blossom. Maybe that’s why even now, while stuck in a freezing-cold room, there’s nowhere else you would rather be if it means being there without him.

Much to your disappointment, his fingers withdraw. Din makes no big adjustments to his position, reluctant to put any space between your bodies. At first, you’re unsure of his intentions, unable to work out what he’s doing, until he draws his other arm from under you. 

A few seconds later, there’s a familiar hiss, one you have only ever heard from behind closed doors. Then, a thud. The unmistakable sound of beskar hitting carpet: Din’s helmet, dropping with much less care than he had taken when setting out the rest of his armor. 

A sudden excitement bubbles up from deep within your stomach at the realisation: he’s helmetless, for you. You know this isn’t his usual method of fucking people—you have witnessed that yourself. Din rarely removes any pieces of armor when seeing to his needs with another. But not with you. 

When his hands return to your body, you feel a new sensation; his breath, hot and steady against the back of your neck. Every fine hair rises to the caress of his exhales, and when his nose traces over the skin behind your ear, the weakest gasp escapes you. Din has facial hair. It tickles against your skin right before his lips find the sensitive spot below your earlobe. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice enchantingly smooth without the distortion of the helmet. 

“Y—yes,” you gasp. 

This is more than okay. You tilt your head in silent encouragement for him to continue, willing those lips to explore more of your neck.

“I know this wasn’t part of your fantasy…but I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to kiss your skin.” 

Stars, you have thought about this often; how could you not? You have always found yourself wondering how Din’s lips would feel–would they be chapped and rough? Does he chew on his lower one when tense or nervous? Does he know how it feels to brush them gently against another’s or feel someone smile into a kiss? Knowing how little he removes his helmet, you doubt he does. 

He takes his time exploring your skin with his mouth: nose brushing against the curve of your breast, lips sealing around the sensitive bud of your nipple while guiding you onto your back. You move with him easily, as though this is a well rehearsed dance that has been practised over many weeks together: it comes with knowing each other, working together, learning how the other moves and thinks. 

One of Din’s large hands glides over the curve of your thigh when you arch against him and bury your fingers into his hair without thinking. The action is rewarded with a surprised moan that gets caught in Din’s throat. He likes it. He enjoys the feel of your fingers tangling into the thick strands while you use them to hold his face close to yours. 

The warmth of Din’s breath caresses your cheek with a delicate intimacy. He’s close enough to kiss, if only you were to turn your head slightly to seek out his lips. 

Has he ever kissed anyone before? From his hesitation, you assume not. 

You want to ask him. You want to check if this is okay, if he’s comfortable with how quickly this is moving for him…but you don’t know how. This affection is beyond what you’re used to, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn your head just enough to find his eyes in the darkness—the years of staring into a visor have taught you how to hold his gaze without seeing him—and slowly, a soft smile curls onto your lips. 

“I think… I think I was better at this while we were doing all the dirty talk,” you admit with a soft laugh. 

When you hear Din’s chuckle accompany it, your smile grows a little more. He’s still at ease, and that settles you—until he leans in to kiss you while you’re still smiling, resulting in him awkwardly catching more of your teeth than your lips. 

“Shit,” he half laughs, a little embarrassed. “I thought your lips were there.” 

Clearly he’s not as well-trained without his helmet.

“Come here,” you whisper through your smile and guide him in again until your lips press gently to his. 

The kisses are slow to begin with: each one lingers as you take in the feel of his lips, the softness of them, the way his moustache unintentionally tickles your upper lip and nose while you melt into him. Eventually, your lips part against Din’s to take the lead. He follows, learning from your knowledge and experience in the same way you so often learn from his. 

It takes him no time at all to deepen it, and much to your surprise, his tongue licks confidently into your mouth. Maker, you could kiss him for hours, just like this. His warmth and taste are better than you could have ever imagined, and as each kiss becomes more assured than the last, you’re lost to him. 

Din devours you, kissing you like a man starved of affection, and when he reaches down to ease your underwear aside again, your moan muffles against his mouth. He starts slowly, sliding in one finger while kissing down your neck. He adds a second when his teeth graze over your collar bone, and just as his fingers curl inside of you, the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple. 

You arch into the pleasure while his name slips from your mouth in a desperate whine. You like the way it sounds, and from Din’s groan of approval, you know he likes it, too. 

He takes his time pleasuring you, working you open with his fingers until he finally gives you what you want and adds a third. Stars, you feel yourself stretch around him in the most satisfying way. 

“Is that what you needed?” Din almost purrs against your ear. 

His unmodulated voice should be illegal in this situation: he shouldn’t be allowed to use it so casually—at the very least, it should come with some sort of warning. 

“Yes,” you manage, your breaths short and shallow while your hips rock against his fingers, enjoying the way those strong, thick digits feel inside of you. 

His mouth does nothing short of worshipping your body; the kisses are feather-light brushes before switching to something more calculated: mouth open, his teeth and tongue teasing and exploring in a way that has you arching against him. 

Your whole body feels ignited by his touch: a heat radiates slowly from somewhere deep within your lower stomach and spreads through each limb as Din’s fingers withdraw from the wet heat of your cunt and move to focus on your clit again. 

Coated generously in your arousal, the pad of Din’s finger moves with ease in slow, circular motions. He’s enjoying this. He’s taking his time, savouring the sounds you make as your own fingers grip at the sheet when the heat begins to lick up your lower spine. 

“Din—” you breathe out his name while he breathes you in, mouth at the base of your neck again. 

There’s an unexpected intimacy to the way his lips map out your skin, exploring, learning. He memorises you, the way you feel and sound as his fingers continue to pleasure you. You don’t need to say a single word to him; it’s almost as though he feels the molten desire pulsing through your veins, burning with enough fever to thaw the snow in a six mile radius of the bed.

You turn your head to seek him out and sigh softly when your lips find his temple. His hair is soft against your nose and holds the lingering scent of the soap on the Crest: it smells so perfectly Din. You can’t help but wonder if he has found an intimacy like this with anyone before, if he has been touched with a tenderness that comes from knowing him, caring for him. It’s easy to assume that he hasn’t from the way he exhales when you kiss his temple and then brush the tip of your nose against the side of his cheek. 

Din leans into you, as though he finally has a touch that he has craved for longer than he’s willing to admit, and you’re more than happy to give him as much as he needs. Your lips drag slowly over the side of his face, dropping lingering kisses and breaking them up with small nudges of your nose. These needs, these soft displays of affection, are some that Din was unable to satisfy with the simple pleasure he found in a stranger’s body.

Together, you remove the final items of clothing–your underwear, Din’s boxers–before you’re captured by his lips again and lost to the welcoming heat of his mouth. It’s only when you feel the head of his cock teasing at your entrance that you stop him: one hand against his warm chest, the other holding his shoulder as you pull back just enough from the kiss. 

“Wait,” you whisper against his lips. “I want to be on top.” 

There’s a pause, seconds of Din holding himself still while considering your words. 

“Yeah?” he finally asks, unable to mask the interest at the edge of his tone. 

“Yeah,” you smile and then nip his lower lip lightly. 

Who knows if there will be another time after this, so if this is your only night with Din, you want to fulfil the fantasy of being the one in control. And to your delight, Din is not opposed to the idea. 

With some manoeuvring–and some very close calls with the edge of the bed–you find yourself braced on top of him: knees pressed into the uncomfortable springs of the mattress which pop and groan beneath you both while you sit back on his hips. 

You can barely see him. The limited moonlight from the window offers a sliver of illumination across his chest which rises in a steady rhythm. Maker, it’s broad. He’s broad. On his back, you note that he fills most of the small bed. The sight has your cunt throbbing with need.  

Din’s hands find their way to your thighs, smoothing over your skin and touching whatever part of you he can reach. His palms are still warm, a stark contrast to the cold bite of the room as you lift your hips just enough to nestle his thick cock inside the soaked slit of your cunt. 

The sound you’re rewarded with is unexpected, yet not unwelcome. It seems to take Din by surprise when he gasps and moans: his fingers unintentionally gripping at your skin at the pleasure you offer. It’s a sound you feel in the depths of your core, a sound that’s so personal, just for you. 

You know that his eyes are glued to your form in the darkness, watching you with a lustful gaze as you rub yourself against the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Din praises in the softest tone. “You’re soaked.”  

This time, it’s you who finds yourself moaning out louder than intended at the praise he gives you. 

His hands roam upwards over your body, exploring every dip and curve while you sufficiently coat him in your arousal. You know that you should guide him into you—it’s what you both want, but it feels so good to grind against him as his hands find your breasts. There’s no hesitation when his fingers find the stiff peak of your nipple and squeeze: the boardline roughness creates a delicious jolt of pleasure through your body as you moan again, encouraging him to repeat the action. 

Din is more than happy to comply. He moves his attention to your other nipple, offering the same rough treatment as you roll your hips. Lost in the moment, it’s easy to forget where you are and just how thin the walls are between the rooms. 

You’re flying too close to the sun. The coiling heat ignites in warning, pulling tight in your lower stomach as you force yourself to stop and catch a breath. 

“You’re incredible,” Din compliments from the safety of the darkness. 

He has never been forthcoming with compliments: everything is usually ‘good’, or ‘okay’ to him. Maybe that’s why they drive you wild, offering a taste of how it sounds to hear him enjoy something—that something being you. 

With a coy smile, you lower yourself over his body to seek out his lips again and murmur, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

Leaned over and spread open for him, you grant him the opportunity to guide himself to your entrance. Din takes his cue as his lips meet yours for a kiss: it’s not as controlled as the last—he’s distracted, lost to the sensation of his cock slowly stretching you open. 

Stars, he’s thick. 

His free hand moves to the back of your head when you press your forehead gently against his cheek and close your eyes. Your body is quick to adjust to him, your inner muscles sheathing him inside of your heat until he stills and lets out a heavy breath. 

That’s when you clench teasingly around him and smirk to yourself. 

“Don’t do that,” he warns you in a murmur. “It’s already difficult enough to fight this urge to fuck you senseless right now.” 

“Yeah?” you ask as you do it again. 

“Yeah.”

Din’s fingers tighten their grip on you: his composure is close to snapping. You’ve worked him hard enough with your teasing so you finally give him what he wants. 

You begin slowly, drawing your hips up and sliding yourself down over his cock again in a steady rhythm. It’s not a pace that lasts for long, though. You move to sit back up on Din’s hips, hands bracing against his chest to give yourself some leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. 

A slur of incoherent curses fall from your lips when Din’s thighs tense to thrust up and meet your hips. He learns your movements quickly, finds your rhythm and compliments it with his own. The bed protests with its squeaks and groans, but you’re sure it’s barely audible over the way you moan for the man beneath you. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp when Din grabs handfuls of the flesh on your ass. 

He guides you up and pulls you back down, creating the most delicious sounds of skin against skin as you lean back even further. The change in position has Din’s cock rubbing up against just the right spot as you gasp. You repeat the action, switching to rock your hips as you control the pace and moan at the way tingles of electrical pleasure pulse across your body.

Maker, it’s amazing, albeit borderline overwhelming.

“I don’t–I don’t want to cum,” you whine breathlessly. “Don’t want this…to end.” 

“Sweetheart, this is just getting started,” Din assures you. 

Your eyes snap open to catch sight of a grin on his full lips—stars, that does nothing to help you hold onto what little composure you have left. It’s already slipping through your fingers when you drop a hand to rub at your clit. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he confirms. 

Din makes it sound like a promise. The simplicity of knowing he wants more serves as the assurance you need: you feel wanted, but not by just anyone. You feel wanted by Din. The thought of that has everything beginning to pull tighter and tighter until finally, something snaps. You descend into the pleasure of your climax with a loud moan of his name as your body switches to autopilot, hips rocking to ride out your orgasm.

There’s barely time for you to fully comprehend what’s going on when Din tenses with a groan and urges you to move. His thick cock is gone, no longer filling you as he quickly reaches down to wrap a hand around his glistening length while he spills his release against your thigh with a moan. 

A moment of stillness fills the room as you keep yourself propped up with your hands against Din’s firm chest. His heart thunders beneath your palm, just as your own does: you hear the rhythmic thumps of it,  loud in your ears against the silence. 

Din hands find their way to your body again, smoothing affectionately over your skin before he pulls you down and wraps an arm around you. With barely any room on the bed, you find yourself settling onto the side of his chest with a small, lazy smile. 

“I’d say we should get cleaned up,” Din mumbles quietly now that he has caught his breath. “But there’s no shower.” 

“There’s no shower,” you remember with a quiet laugh. 

“And I’d prefer to keep you right where you are…” 

The way Din trails off leaves it open for you to decline: he’s unsure if you want to stay here with him. You get the feeling he’s offering you a chance to leave, if this isn’t what you want. 

“I’d prefer to stay right where I am,” you reassure him as you tilt your head a little to brush the tip of your nose against his jaw. “Besides, I’m interested to see what you have planned for the rest of the night.” 

Din huffs a small laugh at your recall of his words, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

—-----

The small, not-so-big, unable-to-comfortably-share, tiny bed proved useful for many things…but sleep wasn’t one of them. 

You fasten your damp jacket, standing in front of the window, noting the fresh layer of snow that had settled overnight. You already know how cold it is out there, how wet your clothes are going to get while you freeze down to your bones. 

The thought of that brings a hint of a smile to your lips as you look over your shoulder to see Din fixing the last of his weapons back into place. To look at him, nothing seems different this morning as he goes about his normal routine, yet, everything has changed overnight. 

Daylight had crept into the room far too soon this morning after hours of losing yourself in the pleasure Din could offer. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were both on a job, you would have insisted on staying longer so that you could fall back down onto the bed again and have him bury his face between your thighs to worship your taste. 

You blink yourself out of your thoughts and notice that he’s watching you, helmet tilted slightly to the side. You can’t be certain, but you like to think he’s smiling under his helmet, having caught you staring at him now that you no longer have to hide it. 

“You ready?” he asks as he motions to the door. 

“Actually…give me a second,” you quickly request and make your way into the fresher. 

The light above the mirror continues to flicker, and with an amused grin, you pull the small blade from your jacket. It seems only right to add your initials to the wall after spending a night here with Din. The sound isn’t a pleasant one as the blade scrapes over the metal, and within seconds, you feel his presence in the doorway. 

“Should I ask?” 

“Nope,” you reply and take a small step back to admire your work. 

No date, no full names, simply your and Din’s initials etched into the wall. Just like all the other names on there, you have plenty of stories to tell about your time spent in this room. 

But they would have to wait for another time. 

You turn to look at him, doing your utmost not to beam as you offer him a small smile. 

“Okay, let’s get going, big guy,” you tease him, using the Lasat’s words from the night before. 

“Don’t,” he sighs, still annoyed about that. 

You step out of the fresher and reach to touch the edge of his helmet with your finger, as if it were his chin: “Don’t forget to thank her on the way out. Seems like one bed wasn’t so bad, after all.”