#sweet din djarin

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Work song x Din (request)

Din Djarin x f!reader

work song- Hozier

ahhhh I wish I could tag the anon who requested this bc it was just too good of a song for our protective boy.

no warnings except slight cursing and minor violence

Work Song request x

Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love, I could barely eat

I had been on a bounty for two weeks now...much longer than expected. 

Any time I had to spare I stole away to my hotel room and thought of her hands on me. It was the only thing that kept me sane. 

Every day we got closer to the bounty was one more day I was away from her. 

Double edged sword. 

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

I would’ve done anything to feel her lips on mine again. 

What if she was gone when I was back? What if I couldn’t protect her like I promised because I’ve been away too long....

The work was brutal, the suns of the dessert beat down on me and there wasn’t a time that I didn’t feel sweat dripping down beneath my armor. 

I was forced to take a mission with another bounty hunter as per request of Karga. He was a bastard for that.

She thought touching me unexpectedly and calling me ‘Mando’ was cute. It wasn’t. 

She wasn’t my girl.

I couldn’t give up the bounty though because the credits were high and I wanted to be the provider I set out to be. 

I wanted to make a family. I only wanted my baby who was waiting for me alone in the razor crest. 

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

The grueling hunt began wearing on me as we hit our third week. 

Three weeks of hearing high pitched ‘Mando’s’ and another woman’s presence surrounding me. 

If I were to be shot on this god forsaken mission I swear I’d drag my fucking body to the razor crest myself. 

I’d come home to her like I promised. No matter what. 

As if something in the galaxy was listening, my fate came to me all too quickly. 

I was in the bar beneath my hotel, sitting in a dark corner where no one could see me knock back the drinks I was ordering. The burn felt good against the pain of missing her.

I was caught off guard... that never happens 

unless I’m thinking about her

I thought I was dead. I let a cold ring drag me under and gave way to unconsciousness.

Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

I felt my body being carted somewhere. 

I couldn’t open my eyes but I knew my helmet was still on. 

I didn’t even care at this point. All I cared about was getting back home to her. 

And I was burnin' up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear, I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did

I could feel everything even if I couldn’t open my eyes. 

I heard everything. 

The fucking hunter I was sent with had double crossed me. Bad mistake. 

My hands were tied against what felt like a wood beam and wherever I was smelled dark and damp. 

My eyes were slowly starting to open and I set my vision on the woman who was supposed to be my partner, circling me like a shark. 

“Let me go before this gets ugly”

She chuckled mockingly. “Please, Mando. Did you really think I’d share this bounty with you? No fucking way.”

A blaster was lifted to my neck, touching the cowl that laid on my throat.

“I won’t ask you again.” I said with a vicious tone. 

Her last laugh sent me over the edge. My hands had been freed from their weak ties full moments before. 

The thought of her made me want to act more rationally. Come home safe rather than risking my life.

In one fell swoop I was standing and held the woman’s own blaster against her head. 

“Why shouldn’t I blow your brains out right here?”

“Heeeey, mando” she chuckled nervously and raised her arms “It was just a joke, you know how it is. Working with someone as handsome as you makes it hard to control myself. “

I pulled the trigger. 

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby, and my babe would have me

She’s never once asked me what I did to come home in the shape I was usually in. 

I was grateful for that.

Speaking to her of the cruelties of the galaxy felt as though I were staining her. 

I must’ve been walking for miles, blaster hanging limply in my hand.

When the crest made its way into my sight I dropped it and used whatever strength I had left to sprint.

I made it to the door. I knew I had lost blood in the attack but I was losing adrenaline now and I could feel everything. 

It was as if an angel had opened the crest on some orphan who had been left at her door step.

Her cry and gasp were the last things I heard before succumbing to my injuries. 

When I was kissin' on my baby

And she put her love down, soft and sweet

In the low lamplight, I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

I dreamt that we had a Home. Children. Safety. 

We were older and our bodies were allowed to age rather than be brutalized by bounties and fights. 

We were happy. 

I could’ve died if it meant living in that dream.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Small, delicate, hands were tracing the outlines of my face when I finally opened my tired eyes. 

“You came back to me” she sobbed. 

“I said I would. I would’ve dragged myself back to you.”

[bon-sides-sw]

When you're littol, just swore your creed, also have a younger brother

S3 Inspired my to draw bebi Din and Paz

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Too Sweet

A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.

Word count: 1.6k+

Hours later, you’re still in shock.

Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar. 

Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face. 

It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness. 

Key word being darkness.

Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke. 

“Mesh’la.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder. 

“Din.” You returned.

He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers. 

“You know, words are- Din!”

The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years. 

But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.

He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit. 

Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright. 

The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with laces where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey. 

You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap. 

“What happened to you?”

His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”

Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.

“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”

He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”

“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply. 

If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world. 

The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear. 

“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.” 

You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more. 

“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”

Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and legs straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around. 

“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”

“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”

“What does that mean?”

Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”

You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”

“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”

Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”

Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better. 

“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”

You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”

He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.  

“I promise.”

You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you. 

*

The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you. 

It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.

You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din. 

“Damn it.” You breathe. 

“What are you damning?”

You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”

The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed. 

“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”

Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead. 

“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”

It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead. 

“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”

___________________________________________________

As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)

Masterlist | Send me ideas

[demigoddessqueens]

*me, at the Trope™️ store

The reluctant father figure who adopts a scruffy child?

Yes I would like some more please 🙏

[nhyhu]

Another @dinlukebigbang piece!

This is for the lovely @maered613's fic (Did We Build This?) Ship to Wreck which is a pirate/medieval au and its sooooo much fun and such amazing characterization of everyone <333 and you should all go read it!!!

also some sketches :)

[roughdaysandart]

ATTENTION ALL MANDALORIAN CREATORS: FREE 3D POV RAZOR CREST MODEL!!!

This is a great rescource I found for anyone who writes or makes art taking place in the ship! It has helped me write more accuratley so its more realistic, and it will greatly help me draw the comic because I can get custom shots and anggles to use as backrounds that are otherwise never shown in the show (I will include some screenshots of cool shots I will be using). And although SOME details are simplified, the main structure of the Crest is accurate and will likley be more than enough for my purposes at least as a base.

https://sketchfab.com/3d-models/the-mandalorian-razor-crest-full-interior-ee72226c953c414ca0b7ab5780fe400a

*Click Settings and click First Person mode to view it all better, Orbit mode sucks.

[pedro-pedrito-pascalito]

His freaking patchy beard is so damn cute but so sexy at the same time.

[dindjarindiaries]

When a House Becomes a Home

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

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

contains: food, domesticity, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.833k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Din sighs as he looks over your shoulder at the datapad in your hand. “I didn’t realize cooking would take as much effort as a job,” he confesses, his modulated voice laced with amusement. He points at the vidscreen. “That’s a long list.”

“What you put into it is what you get out of it,” you insist. You gesture to the cabin from where you stand in the threshold. “I’m not letting our first meal in this home be mediocre.” You give his armored shoulder a playful nudge. “And I know you love a good side quest.”

Din tilts his helmet at you. “Only with a good partner by my side.” He sets a gloved hand upon your back. “Come on, riduur. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back.”

Grogu’s pod floats at Din’s other side as he starts to lead the way into town. You glance at him with an eyebrow raised. “Are you becoming a homebody already?”

Din shrugs, his fingers giving your back a thoughtful tap. “We’ve been traveling the galaxy for many years.” He swings his helmet to look at you. “A night of rest sounds pretty tempting after that.”

“Well, this shouldn’t take too long.” You look over the list of ingredients on your datapad again. “You’re a bounty hunter, after all. Just pretend everything on this list is a quarry you have to find.”

Din huffs at your words. “Like I said before.” He gestures with his helmet to your datapad. “It’s a job.”

You lean close to his visor. “With a delicious payout.” You tuck your datapad on your belt and take his hand from your back, lacing his gloved fingers with yours. “If you cook as well as you make an argument, this will be the best meal of your life.”

Din chuckles at that and gives your arms an embarrassed swing. You laugh and bring yourself closer to his side as you continue closing the distance towards the heart of Nevarro.

It’s easy for Din to navigate the bazaar, even after all this time. He’d spent many years on planet before your travels together began, and despite how much it’s changed since then, Din seems confident in the way he strides towards the merchant’s booths. You release his hand to take the empty knapsack off your shoulder and hold it towards him. “Do you mind helping me collect our items?”

“Sure.” Din nods and takes the knapsack from you, holding it between his gloved hands as you reach for your datapad and reference your list. “Where are we headed first?”

You show him the list and let him glance over it. “We’ll need to find a butcher, a flora stand, and…” you hesitate as you see more of the random ingredients, “I guess we just need to look everywhere.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” Din tightens his grasp on the knapsack and gives his helmet a quick tilt. “I like it.” He pats your shoulder and looks to the way ahead. “Let’s do it.”

You and Din work together to make your way through the booths and collect the freshest versions of everything you need. The hardest challenge is keeping Grogu from eating both your product and the merchants’, one that Din handles for the most part while he lets you make the selections. For once, credits are easy to come by, thanks to Greef Karga’s generosity. The gratitude of the Nevarro citizens helps when they recognize Din and the role he had to play in saving their city.

The walk back to your cabin is even quicker than before. Din keeps the knapsack slung over one of his shoulders and his hand has found its way into yours again. There’s almost a skip in his step that you can’t help smiling at.

“Someone’s excited to get in the kitchen,” you observe, your fond grin only growing.

“I’m holding on to a bag full of food.” Din lifts his elbow to lightly jostle the knapsack. “I’m just ready to have something other than rations.”

You chuckle and wait for Din to take the keycard from his belt. He unlocks the cabin door and pushes the button to open it for you. With a nod, you thank him and walk inside first, taking a deep breath as you look around the space that’s set to become your home. The door slides closed after Din enters with Grogu’s pod and he stands just behind your shoulder, as if he’s also taking in your surroundings. You look at him and watch as he lifts both hands to remove his helmet, his brown gaze shining as the corners of his lips gently tug up in a small smile.

“I’m… still not used to it,” Din confesses, his natural voice always a welcome surprise. “It’s much different than the tunnels and the Crest.”

You turn to face him and ease the knapsack from his shoulder. “Then let’s start to make it feel more like home.” You press a hand upon Din’s cuirass. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get everything prepped. Okay?”

Din nods, his gaze full of wonder as his eyes search yours for a long moment. Your hand rises to the side of his face as you press a kiss upon his cheek, sending him off with a gentle tap against his skin. You hoist the knapsack onto your shoulder and take Grogu out of the pod, setting him down in the living area with the shift knob from the Crest to keep him busy. He coos with delight and begins to entertain himself, allowing you to focus on preparing the kitchen.

Greef had been kind enough to make sure the cabin was fully furnished, and that included supplies for cooking. You smile to yourself in gratitude as you set the recipe on the datapad in front of you and take out whatever you need. The ingredients are arranged in a way that makes sense, especially for someone as organizational as Din. You pause to check on Grogu every once in a while, watching as he plays catch with himself using his powers.

Din catches you in the midst of one of these moments, his presence adding an even warmer glow to the room as you turn your head to look at him. He’s reduced himself to his pants and the black tunic he wears underneath his flight suit, his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides. His attention is focused on Grogu’s play even as he continues making his way towards you.

“It’s good that he knows how to keep himself busy,” Din states, setting his weight on one hip as he reaches your side. You nod, unable to speak thanks to the overwhelming flutters within your chest. He turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow at your silence. “What is it?”

You beam and shake your head. “Nothing.” You focus back on the preparations in front of you. “Okay, the first thing we should do is roast the flora.” You take the bunches of the flora and offer a few to Din. “Can you help me cut these?”

Din nods, though he hesitates before he accepts them. “Wait.” He goes to the water pump and washes off his hands, making you bite back a smile. Din’s always been adamant about his cleanliness, that of himself as well as his weapons and armor. He returns and gently takes the flora from you. Once he sets it down, you offer him a small knife. “How should I cut it?”

“Into small pieces.” You demonstrate a few for him, pausing to make sure he’s gotten it.

Din copies your work and lifts the small piece in his hand for you to see. “Like this?”

You grin and nod at him. “Perfect.” You turn your focus back to the flora and speak as you work. “You’re well on your way to becoming an expert.”

Din scoffs. “This is just the first step, cyar’ika.” He adds his pieces to the place where you’ve been setting your own. “You’re being too kind.”

You release a soft laugh. “All I’m saying is that a lot of cooking is cutting things.” You gesture with your knife to his work. “And you’ve got that down pat.”

“With all of my vibroblade training, you’d hope I would.”

You give his shoulder a gentle nudge and giggle when he gives you one in return. You finish right before Din does, though he takes his last piece and walks away with it. Your brow furrows as you watch Din bring it over to Grogu, offering it to the little one with a small smile. Grogu coos in gratitude and eats it as if he’s never had a meal before. Din stands from where he’d been kneeling and returns to you.

“The flora has been Grogu approved.” Din brushes his hands together and sets them on his hips. “What’s next?”

You turn to the datapad with an amused smile. “An efficient and eager learner.” You steal a quick look at him. “Your metrics in the kitchen are panning out to be quite high.”

Din’s face turns the slightest shade of pink and he shrugs. You take a vial of oil and offer it to him. He accepts it, though his gaze never leaves you as he awaits his instructions.

“Drizzle this over the flora.” Din nods and opens the vial. “It’ll be ready to roast once we toss it.”

Din pours some of the oil out and stops abruptly. He turns to look at you. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head. “No, no. That’s fine.”

Din closes the vial and sets it down. “It came out faster than I expected.”

“That can tend to happen.” You reach your hands forward to toss the flora in the oil. Once it’s all covered, you gesture to the fireplace and spit. “Can you get a fire going so we can roast it while I wash my hands off?”

Din nods and disappears from the kitchen for a moment. You watch in confusion until he returns with his vambrace on. You can’t help chuckling when he bends down to the tinder and gently engages his flamethrower, getting the small fire started in no time. He stops as he walks by you washing your hands off. “Is ‘use what you’ve got’ a rule of the kitchen?” He gestures to the vambrace on his arm.

You grin at him. “It absolutely is.”

Din returns your smile before he leaves to set his vambrace back in the bedroom. He comes back and exhales, rolling up his sleeves. “The warmth of that fire works quickly.”

“That’s why we’ve got to do the same.” You take a protective glove and use it to set the flora and its container on top of the spit. “The flora will roast fast, and when it’s halfway done, we’ve got to add this tip-yip.”

“Understood.” Din gestures to the meat you’ve already set out. “What can I do?”

You take one of the two pieces of tip-yip and hand it to him. “Can you guess?”

Din chuckles and raises his knife. “Cut it into small pieces?”

You nod and lean closer to him. “You’re catching on.” You give his cheek a kiss and watch as it burns a deeper red this time. “They don’t have to be too small, though.” You demonstrate one strip for him. “Like this.”

Din nods and once again tries to mirror your work. “Is there something else to do with it after?” Din steals a quick glance at you. “At the covert, we just used to throw it on a spit and call it a day.”

“I figured as much, and that’s okay, too.” You point with your knife to a collection of herbs. “Your covert eats for health and nourishment, but we’re cooking mostly for flavor. We’re gonna use that to season it.”

“That sounds nice.” Din’s voice is only slightly strained as he goes on. “I think… my parents used to do that, too.”

You stop what you’re doing and set your full attention on him. His brow is slightly knit as he continues cutting the tip-yip, though he’s quick to finish and return your gaze. He catches your concern and offers a reassuring nod as he sits his hand over one of yours.

“Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.”

You smile and return his nod, exhaling a soft breath as you finish with your piece. You reach for the herbs and other seasonings and set them between you and Din. “All it needs is a few sprinkles of all of these.”

As you finish each one, you hand it off to Din, letting him do the same to his share. Once it’s all distributed, you toss it just as you had with the flora. You take a moment to look at Grogu as you work, though he’s still busying himself with the shifter knob that he tosses into the air over and over again.

“Now that it’s all combined,” you start, taking both your share as well as Din’s and adding it to a transfer plate, “we can add it to the flora. But first…” You trail off, lifting your season-covered hands for Din to see.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Din smiles and races you to the water pump. You laugh as you try to push him aside and he chuckles as he does the same to you. He ends up taking your hands and washing them for you, letting you dry them off while he does the same for himself. Din takes the initiative under your lead in wearing the protective glove and transferring the tip-yip over to the roasting flora. “It already smells good.”

You raise your brow as he sets down the plate and the glove. “How good?”

Din tilts his head at you as if he’s still wearing his helmet. “Really good.”

“Well, you know what?” You step towards him and set your hand on his chest. “It’s gonna taste even better.” You keep your hand where it is as the other reaches around Din and finds the long, metal tongs. “We ought it to keep it from burning, though.” Din huffs and nods in agreement. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Din takes the tongs from you. “I’d be honored.”

You walk with him over to the fire and watch as he gently tosses the roasting food around. “That makes sense for a man as honorable as yourself.”

Din looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “That’s a lot of ‘honors.’”

You chuckle and shrug at him before you cross your arms over your chest. “I mean, I did ask if that was what you wanted.”

Din’s lips start to curl up in a smile as his gaze returns to the food. “I’m trying to focus, cyar’ika.”

“That’s just another rule of cooking.” You come closer to him, hooking a finger on the collar of his tunic to press a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “Multitasking.”

Din’s head whips around to face you, his brown gaze a sweet warning. “I can multitask.” He gives you a once-over. “What you’re trying to do is kill me.”

You laugh, not expecting him to say such a thing. “Din!” You brace yourself against his shoulder. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Din gestures with his head to the roasting food. “I’m tending to food on an open fire and you’re over here doing…” he hesitates, glancing in Grogu’s direction, “that.” He turns his attention back to the tip-yip and flora. “You know you’re my biggest threat.”

You smile at him. “Sure.” You step away to begin setting the table while Din finishes cooking the food. Grogu jumps up from where he’s been playing and coos with interest. You give his head a gentle pat. “Would you like to help, Grogu?”

Grogu nods and babbles. You hand him three utensils.

“Set one of these next to every plate.” Grogu nods and follows you around the table. You’ll set down a plate and he’ll put a utensil next to it. Once you’ve both finished, you brush your hand over his head. “Very good. You made it look so nice.”

Grogu lifts his ears in joy at your praise. You leave him to return to Din in the kitchen. He gives you a quick glance. “I think it’s ready,” he informs you.

You observe the tray and nod. “I think you’re right.” You hand him the protective glove. “Can you distribute it to the plates?”

Din nods and slides the glove on. “I’ve got it.” He gestures with his head to the table. “You and Grogu just lay low.”

You beam at him before you obey his soft request. When you reach the table, Grogu points to a specific plate, making you giggle as you sit there. “Thanks for helping me choose.”

Grogu nods and sits by another plate. He leaves one in between you two for Din, a thought that only makes your smile grow. Din remains careful when he joins you and distributes the meal as evenly as he can, knowing full well that Grogu can eat just as much as the two of you—if not more. Once he’s finished, Din sets his supplies down in the kitchen and joins you and Grogu at the table. He glances at his plate in hunger, yet he still nods at you. “It’s time for you to do the honors,” Din insists.

You know better than to argue with him. You take the first bite and smile in pure content. From the flavors to the memory of its preparation, everything about this first meal in your new home is perfect. “I think you’re gonna like it,” you say, gesturing to Din’s plate with your utensil.

Both he and Grogu try it for themselves. Grogu’s ears rise on his head as he goes on to start devouring it while Din gives you an impressed raise of his brow. “Riduur.” He points at his plate. “You were on to something with this.”

“I told you,” you remind him with a smile. “What you put into it is what you get out of it.”

Din takes another bite and returns your smile. “Then this was a job well done.” He enjoys more of his meal before he goes on. “You were right. The payout is delicious.” Din turns his attention to Grogu. “Isn’t it, buddy?”

Grogu offers a sleepy coo from where he sits with his plate already empty. You laugh as you and Din take your time finishing up your own meals. By the time you’re all set, Grogu’s completely asleep, satisfied with a full stomach and the warmth of the cabin. “I’ll get him to bed,” you assure him as you stand from your seat. “We’ll clean up when I’m done.”

Din nods, giving Grogu’s sleeping head a gentle tap before you carry the little one away to his own room. You tuck him into his pod and give his wrinkly head a soft kiss, imagining the day when you’ve finally gotten him a more comfortable bed of his own to have apart from his pod. You close his door and heave a soft breath as you make your way back to the living area and the kitchen.

You stop short when you see Din’s already cleared the table and is cleaning up on his own.

“Din Djarin,” you scold him, though your lips have already started curling up into yet another grin. Din’s brow furrows as he watches you approach. “I thought I said we’d clean up when I was done!”

“I’ve got it,” Din insists, stepping between you and the dirty dishes. “You planned all of this out and did most of the heavy lifting.” He nods at you. “Let me clean it.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Fine.” Din slowly turns back to what he was doing, giving you the window to reach for a cloth and try to make a dash for the table. Din’s Mandalorian reflexes are too quick and he captures your waist before you can get anywhere. You squeal with laughter and shock as he pulls you away.

“Come on, Din!” you plead, still laughing as he wrestles with you. “Just let me wipe down the table!”

“No.” Din lifts you and sets you upon the nearest countertop. He lifts a finger to point at you like he often does with Grogu. “Stay here and rest until I’m done.” Still, his chivalry can’t allow him to stop there. “Please.”

You let out a dramatic exhale, despite the way you’re beaming at him. “All right.” You take the cloth and set it over his shoulder. “But only just this once.”

Din starts to smile as he nods at you. “Understood.” He goes back to the washing he was doing and you watch him with fond eyes. He’s already put out the fire, but the ghost of its warm glow remains. This night is just the first of many, whenever you and Din aren’t on a job. It’s a safe place where you can come back to time and time again instead of finding whatever’s available. There’s no need for blasters, armor, or any kind of self-defense. It’s something of your own creation, and tonight, you’ve already started a perfect ritual.

This house has finally become a home.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you keep watching Din move around your home. He takes the cloth from his shoulder and wipes down the table. It’s so inefficient for you to be sitting here, but that’s not the point. Things don’t have to be rushed anymore. They can be comfortable and caring, which is exactly what Din is doing for you.

You lose yourself in these thoughts until Din finishes and approaches you again. His brow is slightly furrowed as he unravels your arms and sets his hands upon your waist. “Are you okay?”

You rest your arms on his shoulders, letting your fingers hang loosely behind his neck. “I’m the best I’ve ever been.”

Din starts to smile at that. “Good.” He leans his forehead against yours, taking a moment to breathe in the moment before he goes on. “Well, we’ve made our meal and we’ve enjoyed it.” He circles his jaw with a raise of his eyebrow. “Do you know what that means?”

You don’t speak, instead letting Din answer his question for himself.

“It’s time for dessert.”

You laugh and Din absorbs it with a long-awaited kiss, one that prepares you for something much more sweet and indulgent than anything you could’ve ever dreamed of whipping up in the kitchen.

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​↳ add yourself to a taglist here!

[hinderr]

Happy Birthday

[joelsbloodyhands]

I TAKE MY WHISKEY NEEEEAAAT

MY COFFEE BLACK

AND MY BED AT THREE

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

I would love it if Din always finds the kid significantly heavier after leaving the Armourer to babysit him

[roughdaysandart]

Rough Day Comic 0-1 "Other Talents"

💗PLEASE REBLOG TO SUPPORT!💗

SERIES MASTERLIST

Based on Rough Day by @no-droids

SERIES GEN WARNINGS: non-canon typical gore/blood, violence, light language, implied nudity, implied trauma (Blood, depression, anxiety, bullying, sexual), typos and general lore errors possible (plz lmk if you find any I enjoy accuracy)

See end for bonus content and credits.

LISTEN TO THE ACCOMPANYING MUSIC FOR A CINEMATIC EXPERIENCE! (LINKED AS YOU GO)

TRACK 1: REPROGRAM (only track til end credits)

END CREDITS TRACK: A FRIEND -GUITAR COVER

Up Next: CH 0-2: "Rules and Habits"

"And yet, only when she was absolutely certain he wouldn't see ...shed let that nagging curiosity get the better of her, make an exception...and-"

AUTHORS NOTE:

Well, this is the moment we've all been waiting for, sickos! I'm so proud of what Ive learned and been to accomplish these past few weeks (digital-art and writing in general), and have so much gratitude for all of the wonderful people who have followed along and encouraged me thus far. Most of all, thank you to the wonderful @no-droids for creating the fic in the first place. I cant wait to continue posting what's in store these next few (probably) years.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you'll consider checking out my homepage for updates, sneek peeks, more depravity, the star wars mega-pinterest boards, and the unofficial soundtrack! 💗

Next chapter coming.....whenever its ready...in-person school is aboutta start and im going to pace myself and figure out how to balance going in person for the first time in a year...workin' and well...life, which includes this depravity and you all 💗!!!

Cheers, Sweet Girls. 💗

-M (@roughdaysandart)

CREATOR CREDITS

Credit to @saradika-graphics for the amazing dividers!

Credit to all of the talented artists making covers of the songs I link!

Credit to Brittany Broski for introducing me to RD/Ao3 this late in my life

Credit to...anyone else my mushy brain forgot (lmk ya'll)

credit to my drug-induced psychosis?

ERRORS/DISCREPENCIES/INNACURACIES (feel free to add)

Sweet Girl was drawn on the cover before her design was finalized, and so her clothing as well as her body are not exactly the same as how she appears in the series.

On page 5, Din is supposed to be laying in the cockpit's main compartment listening to the closed door, not in the mini hall where the ladder resides.

on page 9, there is a spelling error (talens--> talents)

On page 12, the rendering of the Crest's hull is a bit too wide (most dramatically apparent by the fresher door's length), the hull should be a tad more narrow. In addition, the flooring coloring is somewhat inaccurate, needing to appear more metallic instead of similar to the roofing textures and colorings

On page 12, the handle of the fresher door is supposed to be on the left side, not the right.

Speaking of the handle: I understand that manual doors are somewhat uncommon in the SWU, and it would be inconsistent for the Crest to have one when the cockpit and cot doors are auto, but I wanted to stay consistent with the descriptions in the original fic. In chapter 2, SG is described to slide open the door with her hand as she sees Mando standing outside. But I didint want to just purley stick to the fic's details and ignore in-universe discrepancies, so i thought of how this somewhat odd/niche detail could still make sense in this setting. I figured that with the inclusion of a control panel within the fresher (seen in later chapters) in addition to the one bewteen it and the cot, the option of an automatic function would presumably still be available aside from the manual one (which could be there for the purpose of giving the user a speed or distance preference or to avoid pinching etc.)

on the page beginning with "to say the least", the mini-halls' roof is suppposed to have a window. Therefore, the lighting of the space is somewhat innacurate.

[dindjarindiaries]

Shattered

summary: When an anxious day gets the best of you, Din seeks to comfort you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: depictions of anxiety, injuries (incl. blood), hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.087k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You ran to the viewport when you heard the roaring of the N-1’s engines above the cabin. The familiar starfighter was landing in its usual zone, not far from your isolated home. You exhaled in relief, though your heart continued to pound even as you made your way back to the kitchen.

The meal that was only halfway prepared remained abandoned on the counter, and your shaking hand took up a utensil to continue its half-hearted work. You forced yourself to blink a few times to refocus, but all you could see was the haunting image of the beady eyes you’d been trying to escape all day. You took another glance over your shoulder.

The door to the cabin opened and your head snapped up from the slice you were about to make. Din stepped inside with Grogu’s pod trailing behind him, his helmet tilting as he let the door slide closed behind him. “Hey, cyar’ika. Sorry if we scared you.” Din pointed towards the viewport you ran to before. “I was hoping you’d hear our approach in the N-1.”

“Oh!” You forced out a laugh from your tightened chest. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I just…” you lifted the knife in your hand, “you know, instincts.”

Din chuckled before he lifted his hands to his helmet to remove it. He set it on the table as he made his way over to you, though your gaze was fixed on the food you were preparing. “How was work?”

“It was good.” The lie slipped off your tongue easily, but there was no faking the smile you earned when Din set a hand on your back and kissed your head. “How was your galactic exploration?”

“Great. Grogu did well.” Din brushed his hand over your back as he answered. “We only went one system over.” He gestured to the closed-up pod. “He fell asleep on the way back.”

You gave your hands a rest and hoped Din wouldn’t notice the way they shook. Your gaze found his as you managed your best smile for him. “Sounds like a success.”

“It was.” Din returned a soft smile of his own. “But you were missed.” He took a deep yet gentle breath and glanced at Grogu’s pod. “I’m gonna take him to his room to rest, then I’ll get washed up for dinner.” Din’s thumb ran over your back. “Thank you.”

You nodded, unable to say anything else. Now that Din was at your side, you didn’t want him to leave. He made the move to step away and you grabbed his arm without thinking. Din’s head whipped towards you with his brow knit together in concern.

Before he could ask any questions, you lifted yourself high enough to kiss him, one of your trembling hands pressing against his cuirass for stability. When you pulled away, Din took your hand from his beskar and gave it a squeeze, smiling as he walked off with Grogu to bring him to his room.

You exhaled a shaky breath and set both hands on the counter. Your head hung low as you tried to catch up with your racing thoughts. You wished so badly that man had never shown up at the hangar, if only for your own peace of mind. Even if he hadn’t done anything other than watch you work on his ship, the grime of his stare was like a stain on your spirit.

You managed to compose yourself enough to continue making dinner, even giving Din another quick smile as he walked from Grogu’s bedroom to the one you two shared. Your thoughts, however, were as relentless as the movements of the blade in your hand. Each cut was a memory and a what-if tearing across your mind and threatening to leave you in merciless shreds.

It was getting harder to breathe at the idea of Din coming home to you missing, or even worse, him coming out of your bedroom to the sight of you injured or apprehended by the very same man who had been haunting you all day.

You finished your chopping and took a step away from the counter. Your trembling hand felt as if it was burning in the place where the man’s fingers had brushed your glove while he handed you his credits. You lifted it and saw nothing left behind, making you huff as you forced yourself to take a deep breath. You gave your hand a shake and reached for a plate to transfer the cut food.

That’s when you felt the phantom touch on your shoulder. It had caught you off guard, and your shaking hands were no help in trying to grab onto the plate that flew from your hands when you whipped your head around. You could only close your eyes and cringe when you heard the sound of the plate shattering on the counter, the broken shards scattering around you.

It was your own breaking point. The tears that welled up in your eyes were more from embarrassment than anything else. You bent down to collect the pieces from the floor first, keeping your back turned to your bedroom door.

Din’s footsteps were behind you in mere moments. “Are you okay?” His voice was strained with concern.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor and somehow gained the faith to speak. “I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, but you kept it as strong as you could. “I just…”

Out of habit, you tightened your fist to gain more resolve. The broken shards still in your hand cut your palm, causing you to gasp as you dropped them and stood back to your full height. Din set a hand on your shoulder to turn you towards him and used the other to take a gentle grasp on your hand, exposing your now-bleeding palm to him. You watched as his gaze rose from your wounded hand to your eyes, a knit forming in his brow as his hand rose to the side of your face.

After a moment of studying you and the tears in your eyes, Din set his hand on your back and eased you away from the kitchen. You passed the half-made meal and Din’s blaster still on the counter as Din took you inside your bedroom. He urged you to sit on the edge of your bed while he found his medpac.

You focused on Din to keep yourself from shattering more, noticing that he had since removed his beskar and part of his flight suit. It left him in his black tunic and his pants, with his suspenders still hanging at his sides. The sight was an endearing comfort to the storm within your mind and the stinging on your hand.

Din sat beside you and set the medpac on the bed. He held your hand and started his work on it, each movement as gentle as he could manage. He didn’t say a word and he didn’t have to. His silence was the only invitation you needed.

“There was a man at work,” you began, your voice quiet for fear of loosening the knots in your chest and throat. Din gave your hand a soft squeeze as both acknowledgement and encouragement. “A customer. He must’ve been looking for a layover or something, because all he wanted was work on his ship.”

Din’s voice mirrored your quieter tone in a soft rasp. “Did he go into town?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Din gave you a careful glance. “Did he stay on the ship?”

You shook your head again. You couldn’t speak anymore, and your silence prompted Din to halt his work on your hand as his eyes found yours. His jaw tightened before he spoke again.

“What did he do?”

You lowered your gaze to your hand in his. It wasn’t your fault, but the grime of what the man had done stuck to you in the worst way. “He watched me. The entire time I worked on the ship, he just… stared at me.”

Your lips trembled as you found the faith to look at Din again. His gaze was soft for you, but the fire that raged within its brown depths was evident.

“I didn’t know what to do.” You started to break, the knot coming loose and your breaths coming heavy. “I just, I kept thinking about the people who used to stare at us when we were on the run. I didn’t know if he just wanted to make sure I didn’t mess up or if he knew something more about me and about us. I was worried he would do something to me and you… you wouldn’t even know what happened.”

By the time you finished rambling, your tears had spilled over, leaving just a few trailing down your cheek. Din lifted the hand not holding your wounded one to brush them away with his fingertips. He remained almost achingly gentle, despite the anger he undoubtedly held within him.

“I really was just worried for nothing.” You huffed and used the sleeve of your tunic to blot your eyes. “I thought he was gonna follow me home or something, even though I saw him leave in his ship.” You shrugged, watching Din’s brow relax as he gave you a once-over. “I just got anxious.”

You exhaled a breath and waited for Din to respond. His thumb was absentmindedly running over the non-injured part of your hand as he composed his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was calculated. “I can make sure you never have to see that man again. You give me his name and I’ll take it to Greef. He’ll never step foot on this planet or anywhere near you again.”

You started to tear up again, but this time in guilt. “But he didn’t do anything wrong.”

Din softened, trading his anger for comfort as he lifted his free hand to the side of your face. “He made you uncomfortable, cyar’ika.” Din added a nod for further reassurance. “That’s enough.”

You searched his gaze, and all you could see was honesty and sweet concern.

“If he made you uncomfortable, then it’s more than likely he’s done it before.” Din offered a small smile. “Your bravery in speaking up will help others.”

You returned his smile, the weight of the day finally starting to fall from your shoulders even as your tears remained. Your smile disappeared when you freed one more confession from your chest. “It made me feel so filthy, Din.”

Din wrapped his hand around the back of your head and urged it to rest upon his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He kept you there for a long moment, his fingers brushing over your head to soothe you. When he spoke again, his head resting against your own, his words were even softer than before. “Would it help for you to wash up with me?”

You nodded, though you looked up at him from your place on his shoulder. “What about dinner?”

Din chuckled and ran his thumb over your hand. “I can finish making it once we’re done.”

You smiled and cupped the side of his face with your non-injured hand. “Thank you.” You pulled him towards you for a quick kiss.

When you pulled away, Din raised his brow. “Just one more thing.”

You raised your brow, an invitation for him to go on. Din faced you with severity, though he also maintained his softness.

“I’ll never let anything like that happen to you, no matter how far I am.” You already started to smile before Din went on. “And on the off chance it ever did, I would find out what happened, and I would bring you home safe and sound.” He nodded at you. “That’s a promise.”

Your smile widened. “I believe you.”

“Good.” Din had given you another kiss. “I love you too much to let anything happen to you.”

“I love you, too.” You lifted your head from Din’s shoulder and gestured to the refresher. “Now, about that shower…”

Din laughed and lifted your injured hand. “Once I finish with this, cyar’ika.”

You laughed with him, your shoulders lighter than ever before as Din once again proved just how well he can take care of you.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

[theartsalsa]

I think Din gets his eyes from his Mother

IT'S THE BEGINNING OF STAR WARS SEPTEMBERRRR

Being hosted by @savvyyart on instagram!

[draculasfavoritewife]

Was Blind, But Now I See

Summary: An eventful night planetside turns into something far deeper than your usual passionate embrace.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual tension in every direction. Much angst. Possessive! Din. Reader might have a bit of a gambling problem. I use several long paragraphs to describe how beautiful I find Din Djarin. Religious trauma, Din being a bit of a soft dom here and there, implied smut at the end.

Din Djarin is truly at his best when he has someone to claim as HIS, and I really think we need to see more of that *I have spoken* Also, although my fics are not necessarily fully canon-compliant, this piece does take place pre-season-3 because he is still an apostate, for anyone who was wondering :)

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You idly swirl your half-empty glass and wonder if it would be worth the pointed glare from your partner to ask him again if he wants a taste.

"I know what you're thinking," he grumbles from his seat beside you.

Immediately you affect a pose of dramatic injury. "You can't possibly accuse me of --"

"And no, I don't want a taste of your drink," he steamrolls over your protest. "I'm no closer to betraying my creed than I was an hour ago."

"Lucky guess," you smirk.

He snorts, a faint crackling of his vocal modulator. "Hardly."

You swivel around on the bar stool with a stifled groan, gaze flitting over the diverse crowd in the cantina. "Where's your contact?"

"They'll get here when they get here." His voice is even, nearly a drawl. You're not fooled by his apparent relaxed demeanor, though; long hours spent together in silence in the cockpit have clued you in to his minuscule tells. The alert focus of his helmet's visor, the tautness in his spine that means he could spring to his feet in an instant, the way his right hand almost absently brushes past his holster. Tiny things that would escape the eye of most, but you see, and know that he's ready for anything.

He's always ready for anything.

You wish, as you so often do, that there was somewhere he could truly drop his eternal vigilance and be free of his shadows for a time.

"Don't you give me that look."

You shake out of your reverie. "I wasn't even looking at you!"

"You were in your head, and that's worse," he observes matter-of-factly. "This is not the time, nor the place. Go play a round of sabacc if you need a way to pass the time." He jabs a nod in the direction of the corner table, where a motley group is arguing loudly over house rules.

It's very tempting. You haven't hustled a game table in a long time, and you might even come away with a handsome win, if you remember to quit while you're ahead.

"Come watch me?" You lean closer to him. "I promise you a good time, it looks like a real group of nerf herders over there."

"Pass." There's finally a note of something like annoyance in his tone. "We can't both be distracted."

"Alright! I can take a hint." You drain your glass and rise, sauntering away to the table. "I'm not responsible for any brawls, though."

"Sure. Feel like I've heard that one before." The Mandalorian tears his gaze away from your retreating figure and turns his attention back to scanning the crowd. Normally you're as patient as he is, and normally he wouldn't encourage you to indulge your recovering sabacc habit, but whether it's the fault of a recent hunt that ran longer than expected or the rough flight to reach this system, he knows you're both on edge.

After all, whether on the job or with the both of you taking shifts in the pilot's chair through a particularly harrowing debris field, little time has been left for the pair of you to spend together recently.

Though he may not be well-versed in the ways of your adopted culture's kinetic communication, he definitely recognized that look in your eyes. It's the look when you start fantasizing about finally getting him out of all that beskar and into a much more...personal setting.

And he can't have you keep staring at him like that, or he starts thinking about it too.

"It's better this way," he mutters under his breath, consciously avoiding the game table with his searching gaze.

His man had better show up soon.

The group at the card table is finally starting to catch on that you just might know a bit more about sabacc than you said earlier. The heap of credits in front of you has grown substantially in the hour since you joined their circle, and the Nikto across from you is beginning to get agitated.

Still, that's preferable to the Zabrak next to you, who's been making increasingly obvious passes at you with each win you take.

"Come on, Boys, one more round," you urge as you sweep more credits into your pile and begin stacking them neatly. "I swear, it's beginner's luck, I can't possibly keep winning forever."

There's a general grumbling as some leave the table, having had enough for the night.

The Nikto asks in Huttese what could possibly sweeten the deal.

So, high on the rush of winning, you make the ill-advised decision to throw your Corellian Jiang necklace into the pot, and end up somehow losing to the protocol droid.

"That's not possible!" you protest, throwing down your cards. "I had full sabacc! The odds of an Idiot's Array are astronomically low! Something's not adding up."

But the droid adamantly defends itself, so you leave in a huff, more torn up about the loss of the necklace than you'd care to admit. It was the only thing you had left of an old friend during a stint on Corellia a long time ago, and meant a good deal more to you than just its rarity and value.

You find your way back to your seat next to Din and bark at the bartender for a hot caf.

"Kriff. That bad?" he asks, and you could swear you hear the hint of a grin teasing at the edges of his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You always get a Fire Dancer when you win," he observes. "Caf is your sad drink."

"I've made some bad choices," you lament over the edge of the steaming mug. "But I'll live."

"Glad to hear it." He falls silent again as the Zabrak from the game table approaches to sit on your other side. You strike up a polite conversation, more as something to distract you from your recent losses than anything else. You certainly have no intention of entertaining any extra notions he might have.

Din's already possessive instincts, however, are quickly ratcheting up into overdrive, and it takes you by surprise when his gloved hand suddenly appears on your upper thigh. It's a bold move for him, in public at least, and you can't deny that a slight shiver runs through your entire body at your armored warrior staking his claim in front of another man like this.

The Zabrak, to his credit, looks put off for a brief moment and then tries one last tactic. "What do you say to getting out of this place for a bit, huh? I can always bring you back before it gets too late. The city's beautiful this time of evening."

The hand on your thigh tightens its grip, making your own fingers convulsively curl around the edge of the bar as his dig into your soft flesh. His mere touch is driving you wild; it hits with sudden weight just how long it's been since he's touched you like this.

How utterly unfair that gleaming beskar helmet seems now.

At least HE can hide whatever is going on in his head.

When you gather yourself enough to reply, your voice, thank the Maker, is under control if nothing else. "You'd have to ask my escort," you hum, indicating the Mandalorian, whose focus is now trained on the unwelcome interloper with all the disintegrating intensity of his pulse rifle.

"I don't. Share."

It's his "Try me, pal, I know twenty different ways to kill you" voice, and the crazy part of you wants nothing more than for him to throw you down on this counter and --

Well, better stop that thought quick before it leaves your tongue.

The Zabrak gets the message and sulks away, leaving the pair of you in a tense, brittle quiet spell. His hand is still resting on you, fingers thoughtfully rubbing the crease where your thigh joins your hip.

"This is getting old," he mutters.

You roll your eyes. "Guys like him come to the cantinas to pick up ladies, Mando. It's not personal."

"They should know better."

"They're all dumb as shaaks, Cyare." You toss back the rest of your caf, grimacing now that it's gone cold. "It's not like I walk around wearing a sign that says 'Back off, I'm with Shiny'."

He doesn't answer, but is on his feet now, reaching for your hand. "Come on."

You frown. "Your contact?"

"Can wait. They've kept me waiting too long already. Outside. Now."

Dusk has fallen outside the cantina. The suns have disappeared and the breeze is starting to grow chilly. Shadows lay thick and indigo in the narrow alleyways, and you unconsciously rub your arms against the cooling air, wondering what could possibly have driven your partner to drag you out here.

"Can you see?" he questions.

You scoff. "Maybe. If I squint real hard."

"Good." There's a sharp metallic sound in the gloom, and then suddenly his mouth is attacking your neck, right underneath your jaw, and all your breath comes out in a low whine.

He's merciless, and you're defenseless in his grasp, only the fact that you're biting your tongue keeping you from gasping his real name out loud.

Finally he lets you breathe again, resting his forehead against yours so your noses touch.

"Jate, Mesh'la. You've never stayed so quiet before," he teases softly.

"You've never done that just outside a crowded cantina before!" you huff.

He kisses you, far too briefly, and replaces the helmet. "Think that'll do the trick?" he growls, running his thumb over the love bite he left behind.

It must be a good one, for how thorough he was.

"I imagine the message is clear." You lean into him, pretending for a moment that the hard edges of his beskar are gone and all you can feel is him.

"I'll finish the transaction as quickly as possible," he promises in your ear.

"Good. I might do something desperate if we're stuck in this scughole much longer." You pull away from his embrace.

"If you need something to take your mind off of...us, for a bit, go get your necklace back," he suggests. "That piece of scrap and the Nikto hut'uun were cheating. Slipped the droid a card under the table."

You bang your fist into the wall. "I knew it!"

"I know I technically got thrown out on my ass, but you gotta admit, it was a good end to that disaster." You sweep your hair out of the way and fasten your Jiang pendant around your throat again with satisfaction. Smacking the full bag of credits at your belt, you add, "And I brought income! I'm gonna buy some quality seafood at the next market we hit. The Kid will appreciate that, I'm sure."

Aside from noncommittal grunts of acknowledgement, Din is strangely quiet as you board the ship and prepare everything to take off in the morning. You're not sure exactly what's bothering him -- his deal went through and all seemed well, so it must be an internal problem he's solving. Determined not to let his change in attitude get to you, and knowing you'd ask too much of him for now if you hung around him, you escape to the cockpit and lounge in his chair, staring out at the thousands of stars that are beginning to glow in the darkness beyond.

What killed the mood?

You hear him approach eventually, hauling himself up the ladder behind you. Heavy footsteps ring through the small space as he arrives beside the chair, where he pauses.

"You should have at least turned around to check that it was me." Even the stern reproach sounds halfhearted. Something's eating at him.

"Who else would it have been, Din? The Kid wearing your armor?"

You take his silence as a concession of your point.

When it stretches on, however, you decide to try and make some conversation. Maker knows how long he'll just stand there staring out at the view otherwise. "She look good for takeoff tomorrow? Or do I need to give anything a once-over?" Maybe he's just waiting for his chair back and being too polite about it.

You rise and make to slip past him.

"How long have we been doing this?" he suddenly asks, a solid wall of beskar preventing you from getting anywhere.

"Hell, Din, I don't know. What even is 'this'?" You don't know where the sudden impatience has come from, aren't even sure if you and he are referring to the same thing.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," he murmurs, one of those multi-talented hands rising to tip your chin up towards his helmet. "That's all I know, ner'kar'ta. Whatever we are...I know that I love you. And have for however long we've been traveling this lonely way together."

You soften, letting him pull you to his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "I love you, Din Djarin. Have for a very long time. And will continue to do so for however long we are given."

There's a slight quiver to his hand now, betrayed as he presses his palm flat against your back. "I was...thinking, tonight."

You remain silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You know most of the story, Cyar'ika. How the Armorer told me I am dar'manda. Grogu has seen...has looked upon my face. Because I wanted him to know that we are...aliit."

"I know." Those had been long nights, the first few after your reunion, when the pain of excommunication was still a freshly bleeding wound. Those nights, kisses tasted like the salt of his silent tears, and more often than not he simply desired to be held by you, for someone who understood to remind him that all was not over. You will always remember those nights, when you wondered in terror if he would finally, truly fall apart if you ever let go.

"I am not bound by the creed until I am redeemed," he muses softly. "And I realized tonight...we are committed to each other. There is no reason for me to wonder if you will leave anymore, is there?"

You shake your head. "I've told you, my love. Even the stars themselves couldn't keep me from finding my way back to you."

He releases a long breath.

"Would you want to see me, if I were to show you?"

Your own breath seems to have met a hitch.

"Din...it's a dream of mine. I've always wanted to see all of you." You tentatively rest your fingertips against the cool surface of the helmet. "But only if you truly want to show me."

"I do, Mesh'la. I want us to finally see each other eye-to-eye. Even for just a moment."

You can only nod in answer. This moment is all at once too sacred and too sacrilegious for anything you could possibly think to say. So instead you draw back, waiting for him to move when he's ready.

His hand slowly pushes the helmet up and back, and for the very first time, you are actually gazing into the face of the man who captured your heart.

Finally, all of the small details you have discovered over time in the dark tie together. The rugged facial hair framing a broad jawline, the slope of his regal nose and the artful curves of his full lips. His hair, thick and tousled by the helmet, is a rich brown, streaked here and there with a strand of silver.

He's beautiful.

But those eyes.

His eyes are the one feature you've never been able to guess at. You have imagined them sparking with anger or softening with affection, but nothing could have prepared you for what lovely eyes they are. Darkest brown, endlessly deep, the eyes of a world-weary and yet somehow still hopeful man. Eyes that overflow with sensitivity and uncertainty, eyes that have unerringly marked a thousand targets for death.

Sharp, sad eyes, that now stare into yours as if seeking out a hidden truth that only you can give him.

He's beautiful.

"You're...crying," he notes with curiosity, a gentle gloved hand brushing the tears from your cheek.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din Djarin," you whisper, unable to look away from those spellbinding eyes. "Thank you, for letting me finally see you. I love you."

He kisses you, first your lips, then the shining tracks of your tears, ending on the same dark smudge where he marked you as his earlier.

"I've been wanting to, for a long time," he confesses quietly. "You have no idea how much I've struggled with it."

You stretch up to kiss his forehead, reveling in the fact that you have finally done so in the light. "I don't think I've ever loved you more."

He reaches around you, dims the lights in the cockpit until you're both shrouded in shadows again. "Well, I have an idea of how I can make it even better."

You smirk, pushing him down into the pilot's seat. "Oh? Do tell."

He pulls you forward so you're suddenly in his lap. "I haven't forgotten the way you were devouring me with your eyes back there, Mesh'la. I think you and I are long overdue for this."

"So long," you agree, settling into a comfortable position on top of him so you can begin the lengthy process of lovingly divesting him of his armor. Your yearning from earlier has returned in full force, coupled with the glowing intimacy of finally having set eyes on your lover's face.

"I need you, Din. And I'm going to make you pay for not letting me reciprocate in the alley."

"You still mad at me over that?" His raspy chuckle sounds close to your ear as his deft fingers undo the fastenings of your jacket.

"You know me, my hunter." You work his undershirt off, letting your hands trail down his chest and grinning at the startled catch in his throat. "I hold a grudge."

His hand snakes around to rest at the back of your neck, a tender gesture that also swiftly reminds you of his possessiveness and makes your heart skip.

"Well, then," and his voice goes smooth, "allow me to amend for my earlier actions."

You can almost imagine his eyes -- those dark, dark eyes -- sparkling with heated mischief.

"After all, you did behave so nicely for me. I think someone deserves a reward."

Jate = Good

Hut'uun = Coward

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian

Aliit = Family/Clan

[cobbssecondbelt]

Do we realize that we just saw Din Djarin riding a droid into battle against bigger droids?