#and grogu will say 1 word

[merrysithmas]

starting to think the whole "din trains with the darksaber" thing was purely a fan-driven idea and instead he's just gonna randomly do smth "worthy" and suddenly be good with it lol 😴

[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli, part 2

Summary: Frankie takes you on a second date. Somehow, firearms are still involved...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N:  Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡 Thank you so much for your kind response to part 1! I hope you like this part too (pun intended). And please, see the end notes 🧡

Word count: 4.1k (I managed to cram in nearly all my kinks, can I get a woot woot?)

[part 1] [blog masterlist]

Part 2: Crimson and Clover

“Isn’t it cheating, though?”

The carnival rifle looks comically small between his hands. He presses the trigger, and a fourth balloon explodes with a loud popping sound, amplified by the wooden box. You jump. He doesn’t even blink.  

“How is it cheating?” he asks, looking down at you with a cocked eyebrow as he casually reloads a tiny lead bullet into the rifle’s barrel. Wow. Competency, much?

“Well, you were in the Army. Don’t they train you to shoot at stuff?” you ask, eyes trained on the little target inked on his left hand.

He shrugs. 

“You want that teddy bear, or not?”

“I do. I do want the teddy bear. It’s– it’s a plush Grogu, but yes, I do want it.”

“The plush green alien, yea.”

You make a face, taking mock offense.

The date —he said it was a date, so you guess you can call it that, right?— has been going extremely well, so far. Conversation flowing easy, stolen glances that don't make you wanna crawl out of your skin; he’s asked you a lot of questions, but it didn’t feel forced. You’re not sure if your brain is not gonna ask for payback at 3am on a Sunday, but you're feeling relaxed and at ease. He’s paid for everything, the diner, the rides, even the cotton candy, but he didn’t make a show of it. You could get used to this. The hanging out, that is, not necessarily the paying for everything part. 

“I’m teasin’ you. I love Star Wars too.”

“You do? Wait, are you one of those fans who’s gonna tell me I am not a real fan because I haven’t read all the books and comics and I can’t speak Jawa, but really it’s because I got a vagina?”

“Do I look like the kind of man who feels threatened by a vagina?” 

Oh. Oh shit. Ok.  

“Guess not,” you whisper, ducking your head so he can’t see your cheeks, that are fucking burning up. 

“Star Wars is actually the reason I became a pilot.”

He brings the butt stock of the rifle to his shoulder, adjusting his aim, and oh boy, he’s a sight to behold. That poor t-shirt of his is pulled taut across the breadth of his shoulders, seams ready to burst. You admire the way his thick finger slides around the trigger guard, and in, before another balloon goes BOOM. 

The young man keeping the stand lets out an ostentatious sigh. He grabs a long pole with a hook at the end to get you the toy, but really, it looks more like it’s a pitchfork he’s gonna chase you away with.  

“How’s that?” you manage to articulate. 

“Han Solo is the coolest, and I wanted to be as cool as Han Solo.” 

He gives you a shy grin, setting the rifle down on the counter. 

“Shut up! I wanted to be Leia!”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking a step closer to you.

Oh. Oh. 

Oh, that’s close. He’s crowding you against the counter, towering over you, his heady scent wrapping around you and he gives you that cocky look that turns your legs into Jell-o.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trying your hardest not to stare at the dip between his collarbone, and the little freckles on the tanned skin of his neck. 

The stand employee shoves the ginormous Grogu into your back, propelling you into Frankie’s chest. The man is HOT. Like, really hot. His skin is on fire, you can feel the heat through his threadbare t-shirt.

“Can I take you and Grogu home now, or is it too fast?” he says, his breath fanning your lips. “I don’t know how these things are supposed to work.”

Oh god, his hips are pressing into yours.

“I’ve no idea either, but I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yea?”

“Mmh mmh,” is the only sound you manage to produce.

“Good. Let’s go. Gonna make you see stars,” he adds, pushing away from you, and he immediately winces at the lame joke.

“Wow. Really?” you laugh. 

He flinches, hiding his pretty face under the brim of his hat.

“Fuck…”

—

Well, he wasn’t lying. You saw stars. And then you saw stars again. And again. And then you saw some more.

But the first thing you see when you get to his place is how clean it is. Tidy, but in a lived-in way.  

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of a brick building. The kitchen sink is empty, a single plate and set of cutlery drying on the metal rack next to it. Some magnets adorn the fridge, among which you recognize a picture by Manuel Álvarez Bravo, and another by Berenice Abbott, and you try to police your expression because these are your two favorite photographers and that’s a pretty freaky coincidence, right? 

You step into the living-room while he washes his hands. It’s cozy. A soft amber glow pours in from the streetlights through the three narrow windows, behind a big slouchy leather couch. There’s a plant that looks alive and well on the console next to it, and an entire wall of seemingly handmade shelves, lined with books. The TV is old, downright ancient, and there’s a turntable propped onto a vintage stereo. An opened book lies face down on the coffee table. 

You crane your neck to read the title. Engineering Circuit Analysis. Okay, so that won’t be a conversation starter. 

You don’t know if the place always looks this tidy or if he cleaned it because he thought you might be coming over, and you’re not sure if the sheer assumption shouldn’t be a red flag, given it’s only the second time you’re seeing the guy, but you find that you don’t care. You really don’t. Not in the least. 

He joins you in the living-room, but he doesn’t turn the lights on. He’s taken his hat off and he’s combing his fingers through his thick mane of curls, and that sight alone was worth driving all the way here in his truck. 

“Want something to drink?” he asks, and that’s a very good question, do you want something to drink? 

You should, probably, because your mouth is so dry you can’t even gulp, and your nerves could use some alcohol, but you just stand here, like an idiot, watching him walk slowly toward you, wondering how close he’s gonna get before he stops walking.

Very close, apparently.

He looks so fucking tall and broad, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, but then again, it’s only the second time you see him. He leans over you, you have to twist your neck up to keep your eyes on his, but really, what you want to do is chew on his lips. Or his neck. You’re not picky.

He hooks his index fingers into the belt loops of your jeans to draw you in. Fuck, now your panties are ruined.

Time goes in slow motion as he licks his lips, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Is it ok?”

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please, Jesus fucking Christ, can you get any more cringe?

“There’s a lot of things I’m wanna do to you, if I gotta be honest,” he adds.

Oh, there, you can gulp. You think people might have heard you swallow from the other side of town.

“Okay. You can… do your worst, Morales.”

“You sure? Because my worst is… You need to tell me if–”

“Yes. I’m sure. You got my consent. All of it. Please.”

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not today.

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that? I am going to ruin you.”

You hate meeting new people. Meeting guys. You hate that whole dance, when you have to pretend you don’t really wanna fuck each other, oh but really you do, you hate getting undressed in front of a literal stranger, the awkwardness of it, new skin, new touch, everything grosses you out and you feel like curling into a ball inside your own skin, waiting for it to be fucking over. 

But this, this is different. Of course, it’s different, everything has been since you’ve laid eyes on him across that aisle in the corner deli.

You want him. God, you’re practically vibrating with it. And you want him to want you, too. 

He presses his lips to yours, and it’s subtle, the delicate, albeit insistent press of it, testing but also very much signifying you he’s gonna do everything he said he would, pulling you closer with your belt loops. 

Fuck it, you think. Fuck it. You want this. All of it. The taste of him and the weight of him and his touch and his skin. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into the kiss with a quiet little moan, your hands traveling up his large back, balling his t-shirt in your fists. He doesn’t miss a beat, his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers carding through your hair and you feel the wet glide of his tongue, prompting you to open. 

You do. Oh god, you do, and you taste the cotton candy as he licks into you. There’s the little tickle from his mustache, the pressure on your waist, the sparkling tingle along your spine and everything is delicious. His other hand is kneading at the curve of your hip, sliding down to your ass and he grabs you there, strong fingers splayed right between your cheeks, it’s firm and hungry and commanding.

He pulls you flush into him, and with a gently swaying motion against your belly, he lets you feel it. Feel what you do to him. Feel how much he wants you.  

Your body goes slack and tense at the same time, loose limbs, loose chest, clenching cunt and hardening nipples. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling away just a bit, “fuck, you’re sweet.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, not that you’d know what to say, his mouth is on yours again, his plush lips a perfect fit against yours, his tongue swirling inside you. And the kiss lingers, languid, unhurried, his hands roaming your figure, strong and slow, kneading your curves and using the grip to press you closer and closer into him.

When your fingers thread through his hair, you give his locks a little tug that has him grunting into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, but his mouth remains on you, lips sucking along the edge of your jaw, teeth scraping down your throat, slick pooling sticky and wet between your hips. 

There’s the ghost of a bite over your pulse point; you moan into it and suddenly, time accelerates. His kisses get frantic, he’s devouring you, only lifting his lips off your skin to tug off your t-shirt, deft fingers unclasping your bra. You pull so hard on his shirt you might as well rip it, but he only bites you harder, pushing into you stronger. The back of your knees hit the coffee table, you fall onto the couch. 

And that’s when everything slows again.

His gaze, raking over your naked breasts as he stands before you. His tongue darting between his parted lips. His movements, as he unbuckles his belt. 

You get lost in the sight of his chest, bare, broad, golden in the orange semi-darkness. 

“Take off the rest of your clothes, baby,” he says, and the endearment shoots right through you. 

You’re never recovering from this night, this much you can tell. You’ll want this man forever, you are so fucked. 

You manage to get rid of your shoes and your jeans, but it’s a damn miracle with how much your hands are shaking. He’s toed off his boots and unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off you even for a split second. 

There’s something carnivorous in the half-smile dancing on his lips. He’s palming the bulge tenting his black boxer briefs, and you’re about to slide off your panties without a second thought when he stops you. 

“Wait. Bedroom. C’mere.”

Yes, sir. 

You stand up on wobbly legs and his hand skims around the curve of your hip, down the swell of your ass. He takes your arm, lifts it up to wrap around his neck, and you follow, diligently, circling your other arm around his broad shoulders. 

He picks you up like you fucking weigh nothing, how strong is this guy? What do they feed them in the Army? 

He keeps you there for a moment, your legs wrapped around his tapered waist, skin on skin, his head slightly tilted up and his eyes boring into yours. His hands grasping your ass cheeks, a bruising grip, the tip of his fingers reaching into that hollow curve at the top of your thighs, under the line of your panties, where you’re soaked with want for him. 

Your heart is beating so fast, pounding so hard, it’s going to tear out of your chest. Land right into his. 

The crease in his brow deepens, his gaze on you intensifies, thoughts clouding his rich brown eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but closes it again.   

“Frankie—” you start, but he cuts you in. 

“Wait. I need to know this is not a one-time thing. I’m gonna see you again, right?”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

There are people laughing outside in the street. The sound of a police siren in the distance. A dog barking. You commit everything to memory. The amber darkness, the city noises, the hope in his eyes. The sensation of his strong hold, and that of your hardened nipples grazing his chest. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” you whisper, and he smiles, that wide dimpled smile you’d do everything for, his fingers burrowing a little deeper into your flesh. 

He carries you into the bedroom, bathed in the same orange semi-darkness, and lays you onto his bed. You sink into the fluffy cottony material of the comforter that smells like him. Leather and musk and safety. He hovers over you, eyes locked on yours. 

He rocks gently into you, just a faint press, his waist spreading your hips open, his hands roaming along the expanse of your naked skin, palming your breasts. The fabric of his tight boxers catches at your soaked panties, the button of his jeans biting into your belly. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a low husk, and for a second, you think he’s asking if he can kiss you again, but you quickly register, and your eyes grow wide. 

You nod, unable to articulate around the anticipation swelling in your throat. 

He makes a start at moving over you, but stops, and instead leans in to kiss you again. A wide, hungry kiss, licking into you avidly, pressing into you greedily, swallowing your moans as your fingernails run through his nape and into his hairline. 

He pulls away, and you all but whine, chasing his lips, rising to your elbows. Unwavering, he moves down on the bed, and there’s another flash of that carnivorous smile as he takes off his jeans, as he kneels between your legs. 

You watch, wide-eyed and ragged breath, as he brushes his knuckles along that curve at the top of your thigh, thick fingers hooking under the elastic band of your panties, pulling it to the side. He smiles at you again, before his head dips. 

His tongue parts your fold, and your head lolls back between your shoulders with a strangled cry. His hand pushing up the back of your knee, spreading you wider than you ever thought your body capable of, he licks into you with a rumbling groan. 

The curled tip of his tongue dives deep into your cunt, tasting you with thorough strokes, but he lifts his head with a pained grunt and a sliver of self-consciousness rips through your chest. 

“Fuck, baby, I think you’re going to ruin me.”

Your arms buckle, your back hitting the mattress, and he slides your panties down, twisting them around his wrist, before hooking your legs over his broad shoulders, and he buries his face into your cunt again. 

The wet glide of this tongue is hot and heavy, licking in broad stripes, sucking on your clit, thrusting into you. Arousal pools in, sticky and rich, at the base of your spine, streaming down your walls. You moan and wither against his mouth, and he chases your movements, cueing his ministrations to your reactions. 

Wet, explicit sounds fill the bedroom. He plays you like an instrument, your hips bucking against his face, wanton whimpers spilling out of you like music, fingers threading through his curls, and he brings you close, so close to your release, without ever letting you tip over the edge.

He’s taking his sweet time about it, true to his word, and you're begging now, sweet little moans you didn’t know your voice could carry, Frankie, Frankie please.

Gently, he eases your legs down, sitting back on his haunches on the bed. It’s a hitched breath, a broken little cry as cold air hits your soaked cunt but he runs a soothing hand along your inner thigh. 

“Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.”

Empty. The word flashes through your dazed brain, and you turn your head to the side to hide your face in the comforter. 

You’re empty, and you want him to fill you up. And you don’t know what you’re hiding from, if it’s from him or the embarrassment of being so fucking needy or the magnitude of your desire, but there’s this abyss inside you only him can fill and fuck, you’ve never felt this vulnerable before. Why now? Why him?

His finger presses at your entrance and you let out a quivering breath. A shallow thrust, an easy glide, and he adds another. Your back arches with relief. A flex of his digits, and he’s stroking a soft spot inside your cunt you didn’t know existed. 

With your last shred of strength, you lift your head up. He’s watching you, his boxers pulled down, practiced fingers circling his cock, dragging slowly up and down along the length of it. The orange glow from the streetlights ripples over his skin in amber shades and dark shadows. Your eyes trace the broad span of his chest, his strong, corded neck, the dark crown of his curls. 

The man looks like a fucking god.  

“Jesus,” you whimper, and he chuckles, that wolfish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The bottom half of his face glints in the semi-darkness, shiny with your slick. Precome dribbling over his knuckles. This is fucking filthy. You revel in it.

Your head drops with a soundless laugh, hips swaying along with his stroking fingers. 

You’re going to lose your mind with how good it feels, you think, but then it gets even worse, or better, when he lowers his thumb to your clit, rubbing smooth circles over it and your chest heaves with a silent plea. 

Soon, a tremor sizzles along your thighs, your release coiling brisk and strong at the center of you. It builds up like electricity, like liquid fire, potent and fast and white-hot.

Your entire body is alight with it, it travels down every nerve-ending and you come undone, you fucking unravel, his name dragging out on your lips. 

He lowers himself to slant his mouth over your cunt and you recoil, but he’s careful, his tongue darting swiftly into you, drinking your release with greedy groans. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he moves back over you, his face out of focus through your glazed eyes, the bulk of him engulfing you, his heady scent filling your lungs. 

“Wanna taste how sweet you are?” he asks, and you nod, sprawled out, boneless, pliant. 

His hand hinges your jaw open, thumb on your bottom lip. His spit rolls down his tongue into your open mouth and his hooded eyes, black with want, flicker down to your throat as you swallow it all. 

“Oh, you’re a good girl,” he marvels, and the praise is like a shockwave, like a second high, it coats your palate and sticks to your skin. You could swear it’s fucking tangible. 

You need more, more of him, more of that, but you’re not sure what’s next. This is uncharted territory. No man has ever prioritized your pleasure over his, before. 

You lift your hips off the mattress, bucking into him, but he frowns.

“If you need time—”

“I need you inside me,” you plead. 

“It’s a lot more than two fingers, baby,” he warns and yes, you can tell, with the heavy weight of his cock thrumming hot and angry against your belly. 

“I can take it.”

He huffs a smile, but it quickly falls when you tip your chin, wrapping his thumb between your lips. Your tongue curls around the pad of it as you suck on it, and you hear him gulp. One all. 

Oh, but he was right, it’s more, much more than two fingers, and his first thrust, however gentle, however shallow, has you squirming around the stretch of him. Your fingernails digging into his arms, he grunts with the effort, pushing in slowly, pulling out, and in again, sweat beading along his spine, restraint tensing his jaw. 

You lift your head, scraping your teeth over that bare patch in his scruffy jaw. 

“I can take it,” you repeat, and he growls, head dropping into the curve of your neck, sinking his sharp teeth into the soft skin at the base of your throat. 

He shoves himself in down to the base, and you cry out, but he doesn’t stop. He moves into you. With deep thorough thrusts, fast-paced and rough, he fills you up, just like you wanted, just like you asked, skin catching around his girth at your entrance. Sucking hard on the tender skin of your neck, sharp little bruises blooming in purple flecks along the column of your throat. 

Knees hitched up high along his sides, you feel sweat breaking on your forehead as you ease into his relentless rhythm, into the impossible size of him, into the pleasure-pain, because this is what you wished for. To feel him tonight. To feel him still tomorrow. And perhaps the day that follows. 

His grunts fan the shell of your ear, sending more slick rushing down your walls. His hand squeezes your breast, his trigger finger and thumb pinching your nipple, merciless, and your cunt starts to flutter along his length, a frantic collapsing of your walls, eyes clenched shut under your pinched brow. 

“Oh god, I’m so close,” you whine, and he straightens up without breaking his rhythm. 

“I wanna see your face when you come on my cock”, he growls, hooking his elbow under your knee, using it for leverage to bear you down on his cock as he picks up the fucking pace. 

His broad hand splayed reverently over your belly, the heel of it is a steady pressure over your clit, and when you come, your whole body quaking with the force of your second relief, he quickly follows, pulling out just in time to spurt thick pearly ropes over your quivering skin. 

“Oh shit, look at you,” he pants, before he collapses on the bed next to you, chest heaving. 

You lie there side by side for a beat, the room around you slowly coming back into focus. That damn dog is still barking, the night traffic a low and distant hum. 

Would it… would it be okay, acceptable, if you gathered his come with your fingers and licked them clean? Could you ask him to fuck your mouth, next? Or should you scamper off the bed to gather your clothes and leave? What’s the common protocol here? No one has ever turned you into this feral, greedy little monster before.  

He clears his throat. Oh fuck, that’s it. He’s gonna politely hint that you should now be leaving the premises. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A hindered little sob rattles inside your chest. You address a heartfelt thank you to your lucky star for the midnight cravings that placed you in that corner deli the same night as him. Fuck, you’ll throw one in for that armed robber too.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He turns to his side to face you, folding his arm and propping his chin in his hand. His soft brown eyes meet yours. And there’s that gentle smile that swells up your heart three sizes.

“Yes, please.”

****

End note: the opening scene is very much inspired by one of the fair scenes in Anchor Stitch, on Ao3. Not for every one, but one of my all-time favourites. Also, this is fanfiction, so I wasn't going to bother with a fucking condom, but I know you're smarter than that.

[dindjarindiaries]

Bear My Burdens

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "I knew you'd feel guilty; You do understand that I'd take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don't you?” “​​Why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected?” and “I’m going to protect you, now. Because that’s what we do for the ones we love. We keep them safe.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Two knocks is all you’re able to offer before you slump against the side of the cabin’s entryway. The blood on your face has crusted over by now, but the bruises and aches have started to settle within your ribs and your limbs, making the simple task of standing too difficult. You’re surprised you made it to Nevarro in this shape, your ship on the opposite side of the cabin from the N-1.

You’ve fully sunken to the ground with your back resting against the cabin as the door slides open. Din stands in the threshold fully armored, both his blasters drawn as he looks around. His visor snaps in your direction, his helmet tilting as he tucks his blasters back into his belt. Din curses as he kneels down to pick you up.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize through gritted teeth, groaning as you get jostled against his armor. Your cheek presses against his pauldron as he takes you inside.

Din doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on getting you settled as he lays you down on the couch and disappears into the bedroom. Grogu emerges from his own room, his ears lowering at the sight of you as he coos.

“Hey, little guy,” you greet, trying your best to perk up as you give him a small wave. “I’m all right. Promise.”

Grogu tilts his head and snorts, catching your bluff just as effectively as his father always does. He starts to approach you, but Din’s quicker, emerging with his medpac and kneeling down next to your place on the couch. Din begins his work on you once he silently gains your consent to be touched, his gloves removed and his hands tending to the dry blood on your face. He still hasn’t spoken since his curse earlier, worsening the dark pit that festers inside your stomach.

You speak up when the silence starts to drive you mad. “Din,” you begin, your voice soft and wary. He doesn’t stop his work, and if you didn’t already know him so well, you would’ve assumed he wasn’t listening at all. “Are you upset with me?”

Din’s actions slow at that, his cuirass rising and falling in a visible deep breath. He offers his response in a single decisive and telling word. “No.”

That’s all you get. He returns to his usual speed, leaving you to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m not gonna bother asking if you’re upset with the people who did this, then, because I know you are.”

Din huffs, though the sound isn’t amused. You watch him pull one of his hands into a fist when he exchanges one cloth for another.

You sigh before going on. “But you shouldn’t be upset with yourself.”

Din goes still at your words. His hands remain near your face, but his helmet looks away from you, his chin tucking closer to his cuirass as if he’s trying to hide himself from you. You give him time; It’s the least he deserves after you’ve returned in this condition. His voice is so low you almost miss it. “I could’ve stopped them.”

You tilt your head at him, propping yourself up as best as you can and instantly releasing a tight growl at the pain it causes. Din faces you to urge you back to where you were before. “I was the one who kept you from coming,” you remind him. “I wasn’t taking the chance of you getting hurt for something I did.”

Din doesn’t respond to that. He still doesn’t move, either, his visor instead considering the blood-stained rag that sits at his side. The tension in his armored shoulders tells you everything he doesn’t say.

“I knew you'd feel guilty.” You lift a hand to the side of his helmet, brushing your thumb over the ridge in the metal. “You do understand that I'd take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don't you?”

Din’s visor meets your gaze, his hand rising to cover yours. “As would I.” He takes a grasp on your wrist, lowering it and watching as his thumb brushes over the skin there. He passes over the dark marking of Crimson Dawn you’ve never been able to escape from, despite their destruction at the hands of the Empire. Your debts need to be paid, and Din deserves better than to be the one who pays them.

“I know you would.” Din releases your wrist to continue his work, with Grogu now trying to help him by handing him various bacta remedies and bandages. “But I can’t let you.”

Din finishes with the cuts on your face and sighs, the sound as heavy as the burden upon his shoulders. He all but tosses the cloth in his hand aside and takes a tight grasp on his armored thighs, his visor watching them as he shakes his helmet. “No.”

You raise your brow at him again. “No?”

Din’s visor snaps up at you. “I’m not letting this happen again.”

You frown at his words. “Din…”

“​​Why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected?”

Your gaze can’t meet his visor any longer. Now you’re the one who’s avoiding him, your eyes darting all around the room. “It’s not your burden to bear.”

Din lifts a hand to the lip of his helmet, removing the beskar in one swift move. He sets it aside and takes your face between his hands, keeping his grasp gentle in light of your recent wounds. His brown eyes, dull in their concern, never once leave your gaze as he repeats the vow you both exchanged long ago. “Mhi me'dinui an.” We share all.

You try to come up with a rebuttal, but you can’t. Din is a man of honor, and trying to talk him out of upholding the vow he’d sworn to you is an impossible task.

“I’m going to protect you, now.” Din rests his forehead against your own. “Because that’s what we do for the ones we love. We keep them safe.”

You lift a hand to the side of his face, your thumb brushing over a scar he’d gotten once on your behalf as your vision starts to blur with sheer gratitude and affection. “I love you, too.” You repeat the first words you said to him when you first got back home. “I’m sorry.”

Din shakes his head, the corners of his lips pulling into a small smile as he leans even closer to you. “You did nothing wrong.” The gentle reassurance melts against your lips along with his own in a meaningful kiss that becomes the seal of his promise to uphold his word of protecting you, and your agreement to finally letting him.

[djarinterstellar]

Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

*

*

It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Chapter summary: Din returns to town with Grogu, meeting with you to get custom clothes. Getting acquainted with the pair, you strike up an offer that could bring you and Din even closer. Will Din accept?

Chapter warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, dad!Din, flirting, one (1) use of the word “daddy” in a nonsexual way, reader refers to Din as ‘Mando’ (for now 🤭), POV switching, inaccurate star wars info, liberties taken with the Creed, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, none really mostly just pining and fluff

A/N: hi everybody!!! tank you for sticking with me, life has been so hectic lately to say the least 🙃 but these two are finally acquainted with one another! the smut will happen eventually so bear with me y’all! i will throw y’all a bone occasionally, but the freak narsty smut happens all at the end. gotta let these two babies pine and let that slow burn burnnnn! can y’all sense i’m a sucker for the buildup? hehehe anyway i hope y’all enjoy! 🩵 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

Stirring in the plush, handsewn sheets, Din’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the beaming sunlight. Groaning, he huffs as he rubs the shadow of stubble growing on his face, as he recalls what he did last night before falling asleep. Dread washes over him as he thinks of how he has to face you at the market later.

With a deep sigh, he rises from the bed and tidily makes his bed before padding into Grogu’s room. Thankfully, he’s still sleeping, still cuddled up with the stuffed bantha you gave to him.

You are everywhere he looks. How have you infiltrated his mind so quickly?

Din heads down the hall and into the refresher, opting to take a long shower while Grogu still sleeps. The scalding water soothes the dull aches that still linger in his body from years of battling. He scrubs hard, attempting to wash away what he did last night, the guilt and shame.

He shuts the water off and dries off before trudging back down the hall and into his room. As he slips on his flight suit, soft coos make his ears perk up. He smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt as he goes to peer into Grogu’s room. The child now wide awake and still gripping onto the bantha. He squeals at the sight of his father, hands up and stretched forward. 

Din cradles him in one arm as he walks out into the kitchen, starting their daily routine. One that consists of breakfast for Grogu, and sometimes Din. If he’s not eating breakfast with his son, he’s usually doing some work - whether that be house work or having comm link meetings with Teva or Karga.

Today, it’s just breakfast for the two of them. Grogu brushes the stubble on his father’s face while he prepares their meal. In the past, he’d tell Grogu to stop touching his helmet. Things have changed.

Din no longer wears his helmet around Grogu so long as they’re alone in their home. He’s part of his clan now, having adopted him. Seeing that Bo-Katan and a few others who’ve walked both worlds, and being exposed to different Mandalorians who practice the culture differently, he’s decided to take some liberties with the Creed. He wants his son to see him, all of him after losing him once. Also, Grogu is still far too young to partake in the Creed, so he should be allowed to see his father.

He prepares breakfast for the both of them, sitting Grogu down in his chair as he serves them both. His son squeals as his father serves him and sits beside him. Mirroring each other, the clan eats in silence. Grogu busies himself with his meal, completely oblivious to his spiraling father.

How is he supposed to face you again today? Why did he do that last night? Maker, he needs to regain his sense of self control. He knew domestic life was going to be an adjustment, but he didn’t think he’d let himself slip up so easily, so quickly. For stars sake, he’s already thinking about sharing a life with someone, with you. He has other things to take care of before he can even give that a second thought. Like settling in, helping Grogu adjust to this new life, prioritizing his contract work with Teva, and the occasional tasks from Karga. He hopes he can act normally today. You caught him off guard yesterday, but hopefully he can prepare himself to see your beautiful face.

A whine pulls him from his thoughts. Grogu has crawled into his lap, pouting up at him with those big brown eyes, meaning he’s still hungry. Din hands him his spoon, and turns him around to face the table. Grogu squeals with delight as he rapidly devours the rest of his father’s food. 

With a tiny burp, Grogu plops down into Din’s lap and sinks into the warmth of his chest. Din rises to his feet and pads into his son’s room, cleaning him up and changing him into a spare tunic. He settles Grogu in his pram, nuzzling the new stuffed bantha that he’s quickly attached to next to him, and walks across the hall to put on his armor.

As he reaches for his helmet, he calls out for Grogu before placing it on his head. “Come on, Grogu, let’s go.” A hissing sound erupts as he slips his helmet on, and he rushes back into the living room, slinging the sack over his shoulder while Grogu plays in the pram with his bantha. Another reminder of you, he exhales a deep modulated sigh as he braces himself for a day at the plaza. Embarrassment coursing through him as he and Grogu head out the door and off on their journey for today.

Maker give him strength.

The town bustles as the sweltering sun beams down onto the plaza. Setting up the last display at your textile stall, you wipe the bead of sweat that’s formed at your brow. Mando is supposed to return with Grogu today, making you feel particularly giddy about seeing the mandalorian again. You’ve heard tales about mandalorians your whole life, and have even seen some in passing having lived on Nevarro for a few years now. However, something about him was so enthralling.

You couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was the way he was so caring and gentle with his son, or perhaps it was his demeanor which was surprisingly a lot more open than you had expected. Most encounters with mandalorians are short, as they are not people of many words - but not with him. Something about the man in beskar has captivated you, unable to shake him from your head since meeting him yesterday.

Subconsciously, you’ve never taken this much interest in a commission before. You’d even selected an array of fabrics for him to choose from for Grogu. You tell yourself it’s because of the unorthodox, sweet duo. The green baby having captured your heart the second you laid eyes on him, his curious eyes wandering and babbles that escaped him having tugged at your heart strings. You wondered how he ended up with his father, the resemblance between them obviously nonexistent, but you didn’t ask. It’s not your place to know, let alone judge, unless Mando feels comfortable telling you.

You should know better than anyone how complicated familial relationships can be. That family does not always correlate to blood relation, being adopted since birth after your biological parents had given you up to your mother and father. You believe that the stars lead you to people. They lead you to your family - your parents, your brother, your sisters. You are their daughter, their sister despite what biology may say.

Oh how you miss them all so much. What you’d give to see them again. You hope they’re alright, that the krayt dragon hasn’t reached them despite all the time that has passed.

Biting back tears, you shake your head and pack the selected textiles into a box and place them in your home-turned-shop. Working out of your home has its perks - never having to leave. It’s also got its downsides with the lack of space. It can get crammed sometimes, and it’s hard to not bring work home with you - literally and figuratively. Big commissions can be stressful, and dealing with a particularly aggravating vendor neighbor doesn’t help.

Recounting your last encounter with him, it was thankfully diffused quickly by your other neighbors. He’d yelled at some innocent kids who were eyeing the fruits he sells, calling them thieves and accusing everyone of being one after he’d had a few pieces of fruit stolen from his stand. You’d intervened first, scolded him for yelling at children and consoling them by offering them some candy from your stash. Thankfully the other neighbors despised him as well and jumped into your’s and the children’s defenses. He backed off and hasn’t said anything since. Hopefully it stays that way. 

Thank the Maker he doesn’t actually live next to you.

The sound of your name pulls you from your recollection and back into reality. You rush outside and your breath hitches in your throat. There he is, in all his shiny glory. If he’s this captivating with his helmet on, you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it.

You wave at them, beaming as Grogu returns a wave with his tiny hand as he holds the stuffed bantha you gifted him just yesterday. Din desperately tries to keep his composure as he approaches you, trying not to think of what he’d done last night. His hands having grown clammy under his gloves, his helmet suddenly feeling hotter as the sight of you sends his head spinning.

You’re radiant, as if you belong in the stars in the evening skies - outshining every galaxy he’s ever seen. Your energy is infectious, making his heartbeat stutter. 

“Hi, baby! I see you brought your new toy with you! Do you like it?” You ask, voice full of glee. Grogu happily garbles an incomprehensible response, but you take it as a ‘yes’ and burst into a fit of giggles. Your laugh like music to his ears, he bites back a groan under his helmet. 

Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?

“Hi, Mando,” you giggle. It sucks the air out of his lungs hearing your breathy laugh and his name from your lips. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe it away. He fidgets with his holster, giving you a nod. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he nervously stammers, the affectionate name having escaped his mouth without thinking. Your brow quirks as your lips pull into a grin. “I’ve never heard that before. Is that your native tongue?” You inquire, fully intrigued by the name.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let the name slip.

“It is. It’s Mando’a, the language of my people.” Your smile grows larger, making Din’s heart beat faster and body grow hotter. “It sounds lovely! What does that word mean? Should I be insulted?” You playfully tease him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes bug out of his head as his cheeks grow red. “What? No, it was not an insult, I promise. It means, uh… it means ‘friend,’” he lies. You nod, narrowing your eyes at him as if you don’t believe him.

“Okay. If you say so, Mando,” you tell him, coyly winking at him. He clears his throat as awkward tension fills the silence between you two.

Grogu’s squealing breaks the tension, making you laugh. “You ready for some new clothes, baby?!” You ask him, scooping him up from his pram, eliciting a giggle from the baby. 

His heart feels like it’s going to burst through the beskar.

Tickling the child, he laughs excitedly as you set him on one of the tables at your stall. “Wait here,” you tell the clan as you disappear into your studio. You return with a box containing something. You place the box on the table, Grogu cooing in curiosity. Din tilts his head to the side. 

“What’s this?” He asks, making you beam. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I selected some fabrics for you to choose from based on what he was wearing yesterday! But also, please feel free to browse around the other selections,” you explain with a sparkle in your eyes as you smile at him, laughing as Grogu grabs one of your fingers to balance himself as he wobbles to the box.

He’s undeserving of your kindness, unable to fathom what he’s done to be on the receiving end of it.

“You didn’t have to do that, cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. Your face is beginning to ache with the amount you’ve been smiling since he arrived. “It was no problem, Mando. I hope you like some of the selections. You can tell me if you don’t, you can be honest with me. Trust me, I can take it,” you tell him with a coy smile and a wink, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Keep it together, Din.

“Th-they’re lovely, cyar’ika. Thank you very much, I’m perfectly happy with any of the fabrics you’ve chosen,” he tells you. “Are you sure? Because I-I can pick out some more,” you say timidly.

Is he making you flustered? No. There’s no way.

“No need. They’re perfect.” You give him a nod and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “How about we let Grogu choose his favorites from the pile?” He says, subconsciously inching closer to you. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You bend down to meet Grogu’s height. “Grogu! Which one do you like, baby?” You gently ask him as you hold up two pieces of fabric for him to choose from. He points to one in your left hand with a grunt. You repeat the process two more times, the smile never leaving yours or Din’s faces.

He watches quietly as you swipe your measuring tape from your apron, wrapping it around Grogu who garbles in confusion as he wonders what’s going on. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes, tiny teeth peeking out from his mouth. You smile and scrunch your nose at him, speaking to him about different things like toys, candy, animals, anything a child would like. You intently listen to every garble that streams from Grogu as if you can understand him, showing him enthusiasm as he babbles. 

Din can feel his body heating up, his chest feeling fuzzy as he watches you interact with his son.

Grogu goes for something in one of your pockets - the pin cushion. You and Din panic, you get to him before he pricks himself on a needle. “No no, baby! Those are sharp, they can hurt you. Here, you can play with this instead,” you say, handing him a spare one sans pins. You remove the one from your apron and toss it onto a table behind you, probably to ensure he doesn’t reach it at all.

How are you so maternal? Is it instinctual or do you have children of your own?

“You’re really good with him,” he says, moreso to himself rather than you. “Hmm?” You say, lifting your head and eyes wide as you meet his gaze. His heart feels like it’s going to combust every time you look at him. 

“What?” He asks. A smile splays on your face, teeth poking through your lips. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” you explain.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re really good with him. Most people can’t keep up with his hyperness, but you can.” He sees something flash across your eyes.

Bashfulness?

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind,” you say, voice hushed and shy. “Do, um, do you have any children of your own, if you don’t mind me asking?” He can’t help, but ask - curious as to how you’re so good with his son, curious if you’ve got a riduur at home.

“No! No children, just me at home. I did have a little sister and have just always had a soft spot for kids, but no… no children,” you tell him, a noticeable deflation in your voice as you bring up your sister.

Did. He catches that, unable to miss the use of past tense. Feeling like he’s already pried from you, he nods. “Well, you’re a natural. Plus, he likes you,” Din says, offering some sort of comfort and shifting the focus of the conversation.

Grogu chirps from below the both of you, making you smile. You boop his nose, making him laugh. “I like him too. We’re best friends now, aren’t we, baby?” You ask him, tickling his sides as Grogu’s laughter grows louder. “Better watch out, Mando. I think I’ve taken the throne as his favorite,” you say through your giggles. Din watches from behind his helmet as you cradle Grogu, his heart taking flight at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

“So… can I ask what brings you into town, besides clothes for Grogu?” You ask, marking measurements on the selected fabric.

“Uh, yes, uh, we’re actually also here to gather some things for a fence I’m building. I’ve got a pond in front of our house and Grogu keeps torturing the frogs. I also don’t want him falling in, so I’m buying the last of the supplies to block it off.”

Your heart softens at the mandalorian’s concern. Going above and beyond for his son.

“Those poor frogs,” you giggle at the thought of Grogu messing with them. “Yeah, if he keeps eating them, he’s going to turn into one,” he huffs. Grogu snaps his head up, garbling what seems like a question.

“Have you started building the fence yet?” You through a fit of laughter.

“I have not, I’ve been occupied with some last minute tasks High Magistrate Karga asked me to complete. But I plan to start soon, possibly within the next week.”

You hum as silence settles amongst you three. A thought pops into your head, recounting the time you spent helping your father around the moisture farm back home on Tatooine as a young girl. Building and repairing fences and traps with your brother around the farm, your father adamant on ridding your home of womp rats.

Without even thinking about your next words, they eagerly roll off your tongue. Not sure why you’d go so far to extend a helping hand, but not questioning yourself either.

“Would you like some help?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “W-with the fence! That is,” you say, trailing off at the end. “Oh, that’s quite alright, cyar’ika. It’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t ask another task of you.”

“It’d be no problem! I’m more than happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve never been so eager to do farm work in your life. Surely, your father would laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Cyar’ika, you’re very kind, but I’d be indebted to you should you help me. In fact, I already am with the garments you’re crafting for Grogu.” You playfully roll your eyes

“Again with the formalities. You aren’t indebted to me, Mando! This is my job. Helping would be considered a favor, helping out a friend.”

“Friend.” Mando states. 

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you call me? ‘Cya-cy-cyar’,” you stumble through the pronunciation. Mando barks out a hearty laugh, sending a flurry of butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Yes, we are friends, cyar’ika. You can just call me ‘Mando’ or ‘friend.’ We’ll work on your pronunciation later, don’t want you hurting yourself now,” he teases. Your scrunch your face up, mouth gaped open. “Wow! How rude of you, Mando! Give a lady some grace, why don’t you?!” You squeak, unable to contain the surprise in your voice as a huge smile breaks out onto your face, taken aback by his sudden playfulness.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. How can I re-earn your good graces?” A smile evident in his voice.

Your face feels like it’s going to fall off if you keep smiling.

“For starters, you can tell me what that word really means. I’m only fluent in Basic and Jawaese,” you say with a wink, trying to make him feel equally as flustered.

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

You shake your head as you measure Grogu once more, jotting down his measurements, playfully booping his nose to keep him entertained. “I am not. Tatooine was my home, it’s where I was born and where I grew up.”

He nods, carefully catching a wobbling Grogu. “So what brought you here?” You smirk. “I could ask you the same, Mando… if that is your real name,” you tease. The mandalorian chuckles under his helmet.

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you… should you ever choose to tell me your given name,” you tease.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything one day, cyar’ika.”

One day. Is he possibly considering telling you his name?

“One day,” you repeat. Your gaze never leaves his, staring into the blacked-out T in his helmet, hoping he can see the desire in your eyes. The silence is broken with the clearing of Mando’s throat. 

“I plan on starting next week. Does that work for you, cyar’ika?” 

You nod a little too eagerly, automatically agreeing despite not having checked your deadline schedules for other commissions. “It does! I’ll even bring over Grogu’s new tunics next week, they’ll be ready by then,” you excitedly say, folding the paper containing Grogu’s measurements and tucking it into your apron. Tucking your pencil behind your ear, you fold the fabrics up and carefully place them back in the box.

Grogu picks one up and hands it to you, melting your heart. You graciously pout, cooing at him. “Thank you, baby!” You squeal, gently caressing his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch.

He’s got you wrapped around his little green finger.

A pang of disappointment hits your heart, your time with the clan coming to a close.

You sigh as you tuck the box of fabric under one of the tables behind you. Silence hangs in the air, fiddling with your apron as you’re unable to say goodbye.

“Well… I guess we’ll be seeing you next week, cyar’ika?” Mando says, making you perk up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, yes you will, Mando.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of spending time with the duo.

“Good. I can’t wait, mesh’la,” he says quietly. Your brows reach your hairline at the new nickname. “Okay, now what does that one mean, Mando? You better not be insulting me!” You exclaim, poking fun at him, but genuinely curious as to what he’s saying.

“I would never, cyar’ika! Like I said, I’ll tell you one day,” he assures you. You sarcastically hum, reaching for something else in your pocket and hand Grogu yet another piece of candy.

“Here you go, little man. Thank you for being so good today, baby!” You tell him, helping him unwrap the lollipop as he squeals with excitement. He incoherently babbles as you discard the wrapper.

“None for daddy though, he’s being a meanie,” you pretend to whisper to Grogu. Your head snaps up at the sound of a groan.

“You alright, Mando?” You ask, brows pinched together. “Y-yeah, cyar’ika. I’m fine. J-just s-sometimes… this… helmet gives me, uh, a headache. I’m fine though,” he stammers. Your worry not quite dissolving. 

“I’m sorry, Mando. Would you like some medicine? I think I might have some inside,” you worriedly ramble. He waves you off. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I promise. Th-thank you for all your help today, truly,” he nervously says. Taking his word, you nod.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything. And of course, it was my pleasure,” you say as you extend your hand to him, smiling as you do so. He quickly glances down to your hand, his large gloved hand fully encasing yours, his thick fingers brushing against yours in the process. He gently shakes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze in between, flashing him a gentle smile.

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

“See you next week, cyar’ika,” he says, his hand still in yours. “I’ll see you both next week, Mando,” you say breathlessly. He sets your hand down, but doesn’t let go. You can sense his hesitation, but what could he be hesitating about?

“Have a lovely day… mesh’la,” he rasps with a tender, but swift swirl of his thumb on your hand. Sparks of electricity bolt throughout your body, your hand feeling as if it’s ablaze. He quickly drops your hand, gathering Grogu in his arms and settling him in his pram.

“Thank you. You too, Mando,” you nearly whisper, still relishing in the lingering feeling of his hand in yours. “Bye, cyar’ika,” he says with a wave, Grogu mirroring his father’s actions. “Bye, Mando. Bye, Grogu!” You say, returning the wave to the father-son duo. They part from your stall.

There’s a few customers browsing around your stall, but you hardly notice them as your mind swirls from what just happened between you and Mando.

What was that?

A customer comes up to you to ask a question. You shake the thoughts from your head and go about the work day. Anticipation blooms within you as the day drags on.

Next week can’t come fast enough.

we've finally been introduced to our reader (or as Din likes to call you, 'Cyari'ka' hehehe) and now the plot has been set up for some major pining! we've even caught a glimpse of backstory for reader!

i truly hope your suspension of disbelief allows you to picture yourself when reading this, because i like to picture myself while writing! Din wants reader aka you! 🫶🏼

anyway, thank you so much for reading! i'd love to know your thoughts in the comments, my asks, or dms 🩷

tag list: @javierpena-inatacvest @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @diguise7 @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @stilllivindue2spite @dindjarinsmut @coquettegingette @firstofficerwiggles @christinamadsen @leithatnight

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn't tag you ):

[omgahgase]

au where ellie is somehow dropped into space with din and grogu, and joel is left on earth losing his fucking mind. he'd tear through the entire continent looking for her, y'all thought the hospital was bad? no, he's fucking up every single state only for din to find him, probably rampaging through tennessee. joel would, obviously, be super fucking wary of the n-1 fighter bc?? hello?? it's a damn spaceship?? but then he sees ellie in the passenger pod, pressing her face against the glass and screaming, "JOEL! I'M IN A FUCKING SPACESHIP! JOEL LOOK! I'M! IN! A! SPACESHIP!!"

din would hop out, blaster leveled at joel's head, exactly like how joel is pointing his shotgun at him, and all din says is, "please take your kid back. she's teaching my son weird words."

ellie, who pops her head out of the cockpit. "joel! isn't this fucking cool?" grogu, who appears on her shoulders, "fuck!"

[lokischocolatefountain]

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

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

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

“Stop scowling.”

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

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

“I was not.”

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

“I do say so.”

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

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

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

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

“Play with Grogu.”

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

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

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have….big green ears.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No moustache.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant!”

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

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

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

“Lights out.”

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

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

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

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

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[starpeace]

here for the mandalorian rant ☕️

um well the first episode of the brand new season of disney+’s flagship star wars show was entirely... filler. the dialogue was incredibly bad, not even written badly but as if no-one had written it at all. entirely flat and devoid of life, in a show with a faceless protagonist whose dialogue literally has to carry all the weight. din continues to have no opinions, no emotion and nothing to say

as for the plot, what even happened in this episode? we open with the mandalorian covert ritually giving a child their helmet, but this is not explored at all, it’s only there to be interrupted with a giant monster fight for absolutely no reason, as if this show has been written by six-year-old me livening up clicking my barbies together by grabbing my toy dinosaurs. din has conversations with the armourer and bo-katan purely to rehash the information we’ve already been given, partly because half of it was in a bad show the casual audience won’t have watched. neither of these characters is doing anything.

din visits greef karga, who is now discount lando “gone respectable” but instead of having personality he’s just really into gentrification and this is presented completely uncritically. din, a character most charming for being the beaten up mercenary underdog of the galaxy, suddenly hates pirates and disorder (well, hates would imply he shows emotion—dislikes pirates and disorder? is mildly perturbed by pirates and disorder?), and pals around with high magistrates who offer him a position as a cop/landed gentry (they actually use the words “landed gentry”). there’s a couple of meaningless unfunny comic relief scenes because this is all that grogu is here for now, complete with a reference to, of all things, the rise of skywalker. in what is apparently the main plot of the episode, which is, i repeat, the first episode of the brand new season, din takes up a fetch quest to get a random droid part for an absolutely laughable reason that does nothing but completely negate a character arc from season 1 and everything we have been shown since, just reminding you that not even death will be allowed to have emotion or narrative weight, or prevent disney from dragging back onto your screen anything that will sell. he doesn’t actually do this fetch quest, btw, he just gets given it, because apparently we have to do multiple episodes of this

did i get everything? was that the whole episode? oh wait there was the fight with the pirates in space. i forgot it because there was zero tension. those pirates also earlier wanted to... have a drink in a school with greef, i guess, in a completely baffling scene? i can’t imagine there was any point to this pirate bit except to put fight scenes into this filler episode and force the visual effects people to carry the entire lumbering weight of this show. one has to assume that otherwise the pirates would have had personalities or motivations. oh, also purrgils appeared in this episode, because this is the Star Wars Cinematic Universe, and you’d better watch all the interconnected shows so all your beloved characters can eventually come together to swap lifeless quips on screen, just like you always wanted.

a droid drops a statue’s head on top of a murder droid to stop it, purely so din can say, “now that’s using your head.” if you were wondering what i meant about the dialogue.

i don’t even need to get into the politics of the story they’re telling. i don’t need to humiliate it further by comparing it to andor. it’s just bad to watch on a basic technical fundamental level, and it’s not headed anywhere better, because they will be churning out this story for cash forever with no goal or meaning, under circumstances where i cannot seriously even imagine caring about star wars anymore. hope this helps!

[stardusthuntress]

True Partners - Ch. 1

Din Djarin x femaleMandalorian!reader 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Din Djarin finds himself in a bit of a sticky spot and calls in an old friend for assistance… one he may or may not have a thing for… 

TW: this one is pretty mild, but it will get spicy later… very spicy… canon-typical violence (Mando is pursued by an opposing party, nothing new there); but it does get a bit suggestive at the end and the next part will be very NSFW, so I’m just gonna rate this whole thing NSFW; Din and partner chat about getting intimate and where their limits are, trying to give this a healthy relationship vibes, you guys will have to let me know if I missed anything that goes back on that in any way! FYI, Din is starting to question his strict rules about being Mandalorian, I tried not to make too many conjectures about it, but just bear that in mind if dissenting about his culture is something you aren’t comfortable with! 

A/N: please enjoy this fun little snaggle and the Top Gun movie reference I snuck in there! Also I know very little about the N1, so please excuse any mistakes I might have made or conjectures/assumptions I made, consider it creative license required something to keep the story moving! 

Mando’a: 

Buir = parent, in this case, father 

Keldable kiss = a Mandalorian habit of giving a kiss without removing the helmet, consists of the tapping of foreheads together, usually two beskar-clad foreheads, but it doesn’t have to be 

dividers by: @/djarrex

Blaster fire scattered through the rings of the planet, as the Mandalorian took down his quarry, one by one. He’d managed to reduce their numbers back to something he could handle more easily, but it hadn’t been easy. 

Not long after they cornered him, one of them had managed a direct hit to his fuel hatch, and his fuel levels were steadily dropping. It was a slow leak, but it was still a leak. There was no way he was getting out of this one alone. 

Somewhere between reducing his opponent's game pieces from 14 to 11, he managed to send a single ping to an old friend. One he’d teamed up with for a few years, long before Grogu came into his life. Rumor had it, she resided in this sector of the galaxy. He wondered if she’d still be up for teaming up with him again. They’d parted on good terms, but he still occasionally wished they had let their team-up become something more. No matter, right now he had a few too many starfighters working against him, and his little one in his lap. Not the time for distractions. 

Fortunately, this planet had a magnetic field that interacted with some of the rocks in its rings in strange ways. Ways he could use. 

He dodged, dove, and spiraled his way through and around a few that would scatter his signature and make him hard to track. Behind him, one of the starfighters attempted to skim a rather large asteroid to cut corners and catch him faster, but a large obstacle is also a visibility gamble, and it hadn’t worked in their favor. He could see the reflection of the explosion in the transparisteel of his cockpit. 

Grogu babbled happily, arms in the air. Mando chuckled. 

Only 10 left. 

He pulled a tight turn and then diverted between several large rocky chunks, and flipped his engines to reverse and then up and low to kill his speed and add a slight rotation, lest he lose all his momentum and let his leak get worse. 

His prey fell for his trap, swerving around the rock right in front of him, trying to cut him off. One shot from his barrels and the clueless pilot was little more than a smattering of stardust. 

Just 9 more to go. 

As he swerved and dodged, closing in on yet another poorly trained pilot, his comm crackled to life in his cockpit, a familiar voice drifting through the void between them as a few blasts from a new ship entered the fray. 

“Hello, old friend! You look like you could use some assistance?” He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. 

“You could say that,” He responded, trying to keep the giddiness from his own voice. 

“You sure got yourself into a fun little tangle here,” she quipped, zipping in behind him, between the Mandalorian’s N1 and his pursuers. “Brake right!” 

On cue, Mando abruptly changed course, diverting from the targeting system of the opponent that had been closing in on him. 

“You seem to be leaving a breadcrumb trail of fuel behind you. Is that why you called?” 

“It is,” he answered, in his usual short but direct habit. 

The metallic sound of an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh crackled through the comms. Mando felt a twinge of guilt for finding a reason to part ways all those years ago. He'd missed her. 

Somewhere in the distance, he saw blaster fire and a flash of orange and yellow. 

8 left.

As they chased and swerved like a coordinated team, he finally got a good look at her ship. 

“That’s a bigger ship than I remember you having,” he commented. 

Two explosions rocked the rings around them as debris scattered, only 6 more to go. 

“Yeah, got lucky. It was given to me by some good friends.” 

“Given to you? It looks like a Zyggerian Slave Ship…” Mando’s voice was laced with doubt. Was this the same woman he remembered? 

“It WAS, at one point in its history. But you know I take down Slavers on sight.” 

He chuckled with relief, “So that hasn’t changed a bit.” 

“Nope! How about you? Anything new in your life?” She asked, she always did have more fun with battles when they were paired with witty banter. 

“See for yourself.” He diverted up and left, soaring in front of her cockpit, allowing her to get a good look at the occupants of his little Nabooian starfighter, AND knock out his pursuer as it trailed unsuspecting through her sights. 

5 left. 

“Do I spy a little foundling in your lap, Djarin?” 

He chuckled, stealing a glance down at the little guy tucked into his bandolier. “That you do.” 

In his lap, Grogu squealed with joy, seemingly convinced they were riding the best rollercoaster he’d ever been on. 

“Sure sounds like a cute little one! Though I have to say, I think that leak you’ve got is getting worse. Tell ya what, why don’t we corral them over by that big dent of a crater in the obnoxiously round asteroid over there and finish this?” 

“How do you propose we get them over there?” He was getting nervous about his fuel levels too. 

“What else? Make ‘em think they cornered us, of course!” 

“That was always one of your favorite maneuvers,” he noted. 

“Yeah. It’s fun, and it’s fast, and it’s efficient. All of which are beneficial right about now.” 

A few maneuvers later, the pair crossed in front of the big crater and swung out and behind their pursuers, cornering them against the crater they were about to make larger, and opening fire. 

“See? Fast and finished! How about that?” 

“I might need you to come to me….” He seemed a little embarrassed about it, though someone who didn’t know him very well wouldn’t be able to hear the hidden pain in his voice. 

“Alright, hang tight. I’m gonna scoop you into the cargo bay and we can take a look at your ship. Can’t wait to meet the little one!” 

Din sighed, what an embarrassing way to say hi to an old flame. 

A few minutes later, Din stepped out of his ship into the cargo bay of hers. 

“No. Grogu, you stay there. I need both hands to take a look at the damage. Maybe she can take us to Tatooine if it’s too bad.” 

“I don’t know who or what is on Tatooine, but I should have all the tools you need here to fix it on this ship. Though if that’s an N1 I might not have the custom parts on hand you’ll need to get her running again.” She tried to hide the jealousy in her voice. Clearly Tatooine had something or someone meaningful to him. 

“It is. Good eye.” He notes, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his helmet as he knelt beside his ship, reaching into the gaps between hull plates to better assess the damage. “I figure if Peli and the Jawas can’t get the right parts, maybe Boba can.” 

“Good friends of yours?” It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at her, she was struggling to keep the jealousy from making her look a bit put out. 

“Of a sort,” his voice held no clues as to their significance to him. So, he was back to being his usual vague self when he answered her questions. This would be fun. 

He stands, satisfied with his assessment of his ship, “Looks like it’s just minor damage, though I might need a new fuel hatch and hinge.” 

“If you want one that’s a little more blaster proof I could make you one with a touch of beskar, or at least reinforce it with a bit more shielding than the original design had. As much as I love the J-type Newbian ships, every ship flying between the stars has a few flaws, and that was one of theirs.” 

“And yet, you’re flying this,” he gestures to the ship around them, finally taking a chance to look around, and to take a good look at her. 

He takes a deep breath, just looking at her. “You’re still wearing the armor.” His voice has the twinge of memory in it. “But still sans helm.”

“I am still of Mandalorian heritage, the beskar was passed down in my family to me. I am still Mandalorian, according to some traditions, just not all of them… since I took off my helmet… I got tired of never seeing the stars with my own eyes, of never getting a chance to openly react to people’s expressions without coming across as gruff and unyielding. Though that can be very helpful, it can also be a negative thing at times. Children tend to fear a face they cannot read.” She clarified, unsure of how he would react to it given that he seemed to be handling that very scenario just fine. 

“I know,” he muttered. “I thought… you were the only one that did that…” 

“I take it you have met others now?” She asked. 

“Yes…” his tone implied he was still grappling with it, but he seemed to be accepting that it was a way to live and remain Mandalorian. “I had to atone for it…. But if I hadn’t taken it off, I would never have been able to rescue him.” His visor turned back towards the open cockpit of his little starfighter. 

A delighted gurgle from the cockpit of the N1 announced the appearance of a little green head with big ears and curious eyes. 

“Well hello there, little one!” she cooed, excitement adding a happy glimmer to her eyes as she took small steps towards the ship.

The little green bean lifted his arms to her, like he wanted her to pick him up. 

She looked hesitantly back at Din. “Can I pick him up?” 

Din nodded, once, but watched, carefully as she stepped forward and scooped up his little bundle of joy. 

“Hello! Aren’t you a sweet thing!” She automatically began to sway back and forth when he was in her arms. “What’s your name?” 

The baby babbled gibberish at her, reaching up to put a little hand on her chin. 

Din found himself getting jealous. Perhaps there were pros to not wearing the helmet anymore. He’d been struggling with the issue of wearing the helmet at all times since he’d gotten Grogu back and Bo had been allowed to remove her helmet. Now, once again, he found himself debating. To distract himself, he focused on her question. 

“Grogu,” Din stated, “His name is Grogu.” 

“Grogu!” She repeated, and the little one looked up at her expectantly, “Is that you?” 

A little grin and bubbly laugh echoed from the child on her hip. And she laughed too, hugging the child to her. 

“Goodness, you’re a cute little one!” She giggled. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to hang out with foundlings!” She told his contented little face. 

Din stepped forward, silent as ever, unsure if he wished she could see the smile he wore beneath his helmet. He was glad she was getting along well with the kid already. 

“Oh, does Buir want you back already?” She asked as Din approached. 

Grogu giggled and extended his arms towards Din. 

She smiled and passed him the baby, watching as Din stepped into father mode. Extra gentle hands cradling the baby’s head and back as he looked him over, adjusting his little coat, then tucking him into his hand, settling him to face outwards. 

When Din looked back up, he found her watching him closely, biting her lip. He felt himself release a silent sigh. So she did still want him too. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the two of them after all. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to just be around each other again. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Din started, voice a little hoarse, unsure of how much he wanted to say. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she replied, laying a hand on his shoulder in her unyielding need to be nearer to him. Her face turned towards his pauldron, a look of surprise on her face. “You got a signet!” 

“We got a signet,” Din corrected, proud of his little clan. 

She hesitantly retracted her hand. “Oh! We! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were… uh…” 

Din had forgotten he hadn’t done anything to assure her that he too had not yet found a partner! 

“We’re a clan of two now,” Din said, his voice full of pride as he looked at the small bundle in his arms and it looked up at him. “I adopted Grogu. He’s my apprentice.” 

“Oh! Two!” She breathed a sigh of relief, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Well, your clan is always welcome wherever I call home! Speaking of, if we want to be the most efficient with fuel, it’ll take us about 2 days to get to Tatooine from here. Why don’t you two come upstairs to the main cabin and make yourselves comfortable? I have food if you’re hungry, and space to lay down - with privacy! If you need to take that helmet off, or take a nap, or anything. There’s a spare room if you want it.”

“Grogu is always hungry,” Din comments, making her laugh. 

“Well, hopefully, I have something he likes! Follow me,” and she headed back up the ladder to the crew compartments. 

Grogu takes a nap after eating almost twice his weight in snacks. 

Din finds himself making a point to get to know his former partner again. 

“Well I gotta say, I remember you having a silver ship, but that’s a much smaller silver ship than I remember you having,” she says with a sly smile, echoing his comment from earlier. 

“Yeah, Razor Crest took too big of a hit…” Din explained. He couldn’t make himself say more. It was still a bit hard for him to admit he didn’t have a real space he could call home, for the kid’s sake. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she looked at him with concern, eyes boring into his helmet. 

Sometimes he swore she could see through it like she had x-ray vision. Or at least she made him feel seen, the real man beneath the beskar. 

“Hmm, well, perhaps you don’t have one yet, but you could have space in a ship to call home soon… if you wanted…” she hinted. 

Din was ecstatic, but also debatably certain that he was reading too much into it, so he just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. 

She could see his chest plate rising and falling rapidly, and knew her playful comment was starting to get to him. 

She smiled at him, and Din almost melted right there. He was sure she could hear his breathing through the modulator as he tried desperately to get his emotions under control. 

After 2 days he’s making excuses to stay in her company…. 

After 2 weeks he starts flirting more directly. A wry grin from a visiting Boba (also sans helm) followed by a laugh from Peli tells her they’ve never seen Mando act this way before and it definitely means what she thinks it does. Things just flow so smoothly between them, it’s like no time has passed at all. And even the few moments when they do catch each other off guard with something, it is always quickly resolved with a laugh and a teasing nudge or a quick chat and acceptance of differences or an alteration of habits to accommodate personal preferences. 

After 2 months, he finds himself pulling her into his lap and resting the metallic dome of his helmet against her temple after putting the baby to bed. 

She hums with a contented smile and leans into him, welcoming his first attempt at a keldable kiss. 

Din’s grip on her waist tightens. 

“You know, I had one hell of a crush on you when we were partners… I think I still do, actually.” She, a woman whom he personally knows to be a badass Mandalorian warrior capable of knocking him on his ass in minutes during combat training sessions, seems shy when she says it. 

Din chuckles. “I did too, and still do.” 

She swiftly turns in his arms and nuzzles into the cape covering his shoulders. 

“You seem to have made peace with my decision to not wear the helmet all the time?” She asks, still curious what his stance is on the matter now. 

“I have,” is all he says. “Are you okay with my decision to keep mine on?” 

“Yes,” she answers, and places a quick kiss on the side of his helm to reassure him. “Do you think Grogu will be okay with this too?” 

Din reaches up to put a hand under her chin so he can look her in the eye when he says it, “I think he’s already accepted that you’re not going anywhere.”

She laughs and hides in his shoulder again. 

“You’re good with him,” Din tells her. 

“So are you,” she answers. “He adores you, ya know.” She surfaces from his cape to say it. 

Din tilts his helmet up to look into her eyes, “Will you stay with us?” 

Her eyes widen with excitement, and she bursts into a grin. “Yes!” She shifts, fixing him with an expression that hints at a question for him too. “Would you like to move into my bedroom while we’re busy adventuring?” 

“Only if you’ll move into my cabin with us on Navarro when we’re more domestic.” He teases. 

She giggles and nods. “I would love to! Though, perhaps first we should try sharing a bed for a few nights, make sure everything works out smoothly?” 

“I don’t know if I’d be able to resist being more intimate with you if we try that.” He admits, quietly. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she whispers. 

Din masks his groan as a grunt as he shifts beneath her. 

She giggles. “Don’t hold back, Din. I need you too!” she croons, the cool beskar of his helmet brushing against her lips as he leans into her. 

“There’s a few things we need to discuss, first.” He seems nervous to even say it. 

“Okay,” she says with understanding, as though this isn’t such an intimate conversation. “Let’s talk about how to do this,” she encourages. 

He can take his clothes off, but not his helmet unless her eyes are covered… and he very much wants to be able to kiss her… everywhere, though he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that last part out loud just yet. 

So she offers to get a blindfold… and or a sleep mask so they can sleep together… 

Din nods, excitedly. “You would do that, for me?” 

“Even better,” she states, “I already use a sleep mask regularly, so it’s just a matter of adding you to the bed, Love.” 

Din grips her waist tightly with excitement. 

“Do you want to start tonight, or wait a few nights first?” She asks, letting him take the reigns since this is about his comfort level. 

“Let’s wait a few nights,” he thinks it through, “I want to tell Grogu about this change before it happens… so he knows where to find me… if he needs me.” 

“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready,” she states, placing a lingering kiss on the edge of his visor.

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it! And NO dropping it into an AI to finish it for me! That’s stealing my work and feeding it to an AI without my consent. It is not okay to give an AI something you didn’t write yourself! 

taglist: @bambambunny @kenobidevil @cw80831

[avenging-fandoms]

GIRL DAD PEY IS SOFT DAD PEY

🍄

**cheese the cat will be in a lot of stories, so here is a photo of cheese

Pedro loved the sound of his daughter crying.

It sounds crazy, he knows it. But hearing her cry means he gets to hold her until she stops, and he loves being able to calm her down. You started to move from the bed but Pedro quickly rolls over, holding your shoulder and kissing your cheek and jaw slowly as he pushed you back down.

"Go back to sleep, honey. You deserve a good night's rest" he whispered and you roll over, hugging him tightly and he smiled while kissing your forehead. "I love you"

"I love you" you mumble, and immediately pass out again. Pedro got up from the bed and Cheese followed him, nearly tripping him as the cat weaved through his legs with soft chirps.

"Do you not hear your sister, Cheese? You can only think about yourself?" Pedro says to the cat, to which Cheese replies with a meow. Pedro chuckles and scratches behind Cheese's ear, heading into his daughter's room. "Oh, my precious girl" Pedro sighed, scooping up the angry 1 month old from her crib.

Pedro's hand engulfed her head and hand softly patted her butt as he laid her on his chest. The cries did pain him, he always wanted his girls happy. He scrunched his nose and headed over to the changing table, changing the diaper that made him want to die.

Eliana's cries settled a bit, but she still whimpered. Pedro snapped her Grogu jammies back up and held her with his left arm as he headed to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" Pedro flicked on the island light, so it was enough light without bother his girl. He looked down at his whimpering girl, rubbing over her eyebrow softly. "Are you hungry, my Ellie girl?"

He hummed and swayed his body softly as he waited for the breastmilk heat up, his eyes dry and heavy. As tired as he was, he enjoyed every minute of this. "Alright, Ellie. Let's go eat and read a book"

He headed up the stairs and sat in the rocking chair, looking at her book selection as he fed her. His eyes landed on 'Love You Forever' and he quickly looked away. He couldn't read that book, and you knew not to read it around him.

Pedro settled with Eric Carle, whispering the words as she drank her bottle. He held in a laugh as he watched her eyes rolling. She finished the bottle and he burped her, wiping her mouth and wrapping her up in her sleep items.

He dimmed the lights and turned on her sound machine, rocking her and patting her butt. Soon Eliana settled down and Pedro put her back in her crib, shutting her door ever so softly and going to the bathroom before heading back into bed.

The blankets were tucked under his chin as he shut his eyes. He felt the bed move and you wrap your arms around him, hand under his shirt on his stomach. "I love you daddy" you whisper and he smiles, grabbing your hand and kissing it, letting it rest on his cheek.

"I love you mama" he whispers back and you both fall asleep with Cheese at the end of the bed.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

"You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer."

Fault Line by sElkieNight60 (+ podfic)

Part 1 of Tectonics

"You’re invulnerable…” he whispers, but it’s clear that fact falters in his mind.

Confusion writes its way into the lines on Conner’s face and Clark takes a step back as though physically pushed.

“You’re not invulnerable.”

It is a statement, dull like stone.

“N-no, sir.”

— 🦸 —

OR: Conner's not as invincible as Clark thought. Suddenly, he's a lot more human.

Danny Phantom x DC

The Business of Family by Spaced_Ace

Jazz remembered the way their parents loomed in the living room as they’d laid out that verdict. Ever-present weapons gleaming, standing in such a way that they blocked access to both the front and back entrances. Their eyes had been what struck her the most of that horrible tableau. What made her stomach fill with jagged stones and drenched her back in a frigid sweat. The way they looked at her little brother, their gazes cold and hollow and -

Hungry.

(Things are not well in Amity Park.

With the GIW getting more and more aggressive and their parents becoming ever more suspicious of Danny each day that passes, Jazz knows that they're running out of time. It's not safe, and their options are painfully limited. Out of sheer dumb luck or a little intervention from Clockwork, she manages to discover a distant relative that just might be their salvation.

If asked Oswald Cobblepot would say that it's just good business. Adopting a few kids had done wonders for Bruce Wayne's reputation, why not his? It's not like he can't afford to put them somewhere out of the way if they get to be a problem. It's just business. Nothing more.

(His soft heart says otherwise))

The Witcher

Words of Love by ForestWren

"I should warn you,” Jaskier said between kisses in the soft darkness of the shed, “That I know some… very interesting people. You may want to avoid meeting them.”

“I’ve dealt with the Redenian court for decades. Your friends can’t be worse than that.”

Five times Radovid meets Jaskier's friends and family, plus one time they are alone.

Star Wars x The Mandalorian

Master Skywalker: The Absolute Worst by PrinceJakeFireCake

"Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately.

“You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek and told Grogu to stop eating his blocks.

Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Boba Fett falls for Luke Skywalker. It isn’t the funnest thing he’s ever done.

Original Works

Call Me Menace by wingedcat13

You, Synovus, are a respectably terrifying supervillain. Your main rivals, a pair of superheroes named Legionnaire and Athena, are actually respectable as heroes. You hate having to stoop to kidnapping their child - but you hate more what the kid's behavior implies.

if it don't hurt now (just wait a while) by quandaries_and_contradictions

Part 27 of mage in a wolf pack

When the hunters first take him, Jaime knows everything will be okay.

He’s scared, of course. He wants his mom and dad and little sister. But he knows it’s going to be okay — because the wolves who protect his town will come for him. Lada’s mother and father and papa won’t let the hunters get away with this. All he has to do is hold on until they get here.

Months later, he's not so sure.

Stranger Things

No One Rides For Free by weird_witchcraft

"Are you okay Harrington?” Eddie asks gently, “Need me to get anyone?”

“No one to get,” replies Steve, so soft Eddie barely catches it. “You think I want anyone seeing me like this?”

Eddie Munson stumbles across Steve Harrington crying next to a bush at Tina's party and makes it his mission to cheer him up.

Clone Wars

mirci't be uja by ihathbenobiwankenobied for whitchry9

Obi-Wan is usually good at keeping track of his blood sugar levels–because he has to be–but this time, it’s out of his control.

(Or, a diabetic Obi-Wan is thrown for a loop after crashing on an unknown planet. Stim does his best to keep his General alive)

[kyberblade]

Back To You - (Din x Reader) Epilogue/Prologue for Close To Home

A/N: IT IS HEREEEEEEE!!! So sorry it took so long. So much happens. I was going to divide this and then I thought, “Hmmmmm…. No.” As one does. Another note at the end to avoid spoilers. Seriously. Don’t read it until you’ve read the whole thing. You’ve been warned. I have spoken. This is the way. Yada yada yada. …..You just jumped forward and came back didn’t you? 🙄 Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

There are parts of this you won’t understand if you didn’t read the Dincember 2022 Drabble Carry You With Me, but they are very small mentions, you will be fine as a whole if you don’t want to read it. But why wouldn’t you? 🥺

(This takes place two years after the other one, and goes to the beginning-ish of episode 1/5 of TBoBF, Return of the Mandalorian.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, (Nobody touch me he’s still here okay?) and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 😬 Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Return of past characters. Tears. Shenanigans. Lots of banter. Throwback to chapter one with dialogue repeats but in the best™️ way, and copious amounts of me trying to work in back to you as a normal thing in a sentence bc why not.

Word count: 16,655 (I said what I said.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

And for @fordo-kixed-rex, you deserve so much more than a shoutout for reading all 75 million iterations of this massive chapter from start to finish, and helping me in between. You’re a real one, friend. This series would not have gotten this far without you.

Also a shoutout to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @littlemisspascal for being a sounding board for me over this whole process. (Also to @deceiver-of-gods for all of your help over all the chapters with the Mando’a. I hope I got it right in this one.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

Two years later….

Tatooine was bustling. As always. Vendors with their wares, smells and brilliant sights everywhere you turned. Something new and exciting to pull you in and suck all your credits dry just like the planet's heat stole every drop of moisture…. 

But it was all nothing without the kid. It was dull and drab without Grogu at your side. His soft babbles, the odd ‘Patu’ he’d throw at the next snack he’d like to steal…. 

Dank farrik! Turning away from the hanging frogs at the nearest vendor, you swiped at the most recent batch of tears rising to the surface. Sniffling loudly, you melted into the warm hand that came to rest on your back, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s okay, mesh’la. I miss him, too.” The modulated voice at your ear carried unspoken sorrow of its own, sadness it’d never dare to even whisper into the universe, lest that make it real. If he kept it hidden, secret…. Like his face, nothing in the galaxy could use it against him. Somehow it made him stronger. And you both resented that and wanted to squeeze the life out of him for it at the same time. 

“It’d be nice if you’d show it once and a while….” You grumbled, turning toward him but keeping your eyes cast down to stare at the sand.

His hand fell to his side slowly. “What?” Head tilting to the side as he peered down at you in question, barely any space left between you, it leaned the other way when you shook your head with a sarcastic grin.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Your eyes lifted up to meet his visor finally, squinting against the glare of the twin suns. “Got everything?”

Din nodded. “Almost. Just need the-”

His words were cut short when the satchel across his chest suddenly dropped to the ground, the strap cut inconspicuously by a passing Rhodian seeming to casually bump into the Mandalorian only moments before.

You turned to try and find the culprit but Din tugged on your upper arm. 

“Forget about him. He’s just the-” Both of you looked down at the ground to find the satchel missing, “-distraction.”

You smirked. “I see.”

As Din’s head began to swivel in search of the thief, you attempted to reach out through the crowd with the Force, searching for the familiar signature of the contents in the satchel.

“How did you not get an alert?”

Now your head was on a swivel. Directly to the Mandalorian. “A what?”

“You know.” He wiggled his fingers like Cara always did when referencing the Force. “Why didn’t you know?”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, looking back to the crowd. “It doesn’t work that way.” The world weary words you’d said a thousand times felt like a mantra at this point. Then after a moment you added, “I’m not a security system.”

“Well that would be handy,” Din said offhandedly, beginning to walk purposefully in the direction the two of you had come not minutes before.

Stumbling after him, your face scrunched like you’d eaten something sour, you pulled on his upper arm to try and turn him around, but it only stopped him, his head still on a swivel. “Wait, what?!”

Din sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. I’m just looking for the thief. That bag has something impor-”

“Your old armor, I know.” Din’s full attention was on you now, his head tilted slightly in question. “Everything has an energy, that’s a really simplified way of how the Force works. Right now I’m trying to track the signature of your armor.”

“What is it?” He asked hesitantly, his weight shifting to one side.

Smiling softly, you took a step forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him down a side alley toward where you felt the signature grow stronger. “Nothing but goodness, Man- Din. Light and strength.” You stumbled over his name, still not used to using his actual moniker in public.

He chuckled at your fumble, shaking his head in disbelief. “From that dingy old stuff?”

“It’s not the quality of the armor that I’m reading.” You looked at his visor over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “It’s the quality of the warrior who wore it.” Turning back forward to navigate between the street crowded with lifeforms, one side of your mouth lifted in amusement. “That type of thing leaves an impression.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he finally grumbled quietly. When you looked back at him once again, your brow arched higher than before, he huffed. “How did you know it was there?”

Smiling softly as you held the gaze of his visor, you turned back to face forward, moving a bit faster. “You’re about as subtle as your new armor.” Din let out a soft, annoyed groan. “I saw you packing it back in Peli’s hangar.”

“I can be subtle,” he groused, slowing his steps slightly.

With your own groan, you turned to face him with a toss of your head for emphasis. “Yes. So subtle, Mandalorian. My big, shiny tin can. Now come.” Grabbing his hand once again with both of yours, you began to walk backwards, pulling him along with you. “We have a thief to catch.”

The alley had quieted down, the masses of beings thinned out so it was basically only you and Din, and maybe a handful of beings milling about, using the cross way as a shortcut to somewhere else. No one was lingering, their faces streaking by as they hurried to move on with their day.

“Hold that thought.” Din pulled you to a stop, planting his feet as he turned his head toward a crate on his left. On top of the box sat his satchel, untouched, his armor still causing it to look awkward and lumpy. “We may have just lucked ou-”

A surge of panic behind you caused you to turn toward the source, a small figure darting out of your line of sight as a familiar small voice muttered, “Oh shi-” before spinning around in Din’s hold, his grip around their forearm holding them tight.

“Okay, you little nerf herder, nice try- Sola?” Din’s voice dropped on the name.

You turned to fully face the pair, eyes going wide on the small girl now a young adult, maybe twelve, possibly thirteen years old now. 

She looked between the two of you, her expression a mirror of your own, as her body deflated in Din’s hold, her weight going slack in his grip while she cried in disbelief, “It’s you?!”

You couldn’t help the highly intelligent thing that tumbled out of you next. “It’s you?!”

Sola sighed a sigh worthy of a Mandalorian before she grumbled, kicking one foot at the sand path of the alleyway. “I knew I recognized that armband.”

Reaching up, you traced over the ribbons on your left bicep with the tips of your fingers on your right hand, eyes darting down to look at it briefly before they pulled back up to level a stern glare on the girl.

Before anything else could be said, heavy footfalls came racing up behind your little gathering. A female stumbled the last few steps, coming to a stop and collapsing, slapping her hands onto her knees before you could see her face, struggling to catch her breath. You opened your mouth to greet the newcomer, but she held up one finger before you could utter a sound. 

Din finally muttered in disbelief, “Cara?”

Your head whipped over toward the figure, eyes wider still. “It’s you?!” A hand came up to rest on your forehead, massaging back and forth as if that would help things sink in and make more sense. Your brows practically knit together in confusion with this new information, one arching up as you stared at the woman. “I’m so confused.”

Standing up, with one last heavy breath, Cara offered the two of you a tired smile. “Following up a lead.”

She held up a hand to stop Din before he could even ask, her eyes closing in mock annoyance. “Long story.” She opened them once again to land directly on you with a wink as Din sighed in exasperation before her attention turned onto Sola, her hand falling to gesture to the adolescent before landing at her side with a graceless slap. “And this little womp rat stole my commlink.”

Din looked down at the girl, giving her arm still in his grip a little shake. “This is Sola.” 

The girl shrunk under the stare of three adults. 

Cara’s gaze flicked up towards his visor, almost accusingly. “Friend of yours?” You nodded, and she sighed, hands going to her hips, weight shifting to one side. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Sola,” you tried calmly, going over to grab Din’s satchel before it was forgotten in the chaos. “Explain, please.”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I just grabbed hers by mistake, that’s all.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Cara leveled a look on the girl, her tone dry. “Off my belt?”

Sola tried a grin. “Whoops?”

The Marshal lifted the look to Din. 

“Don’t do that to me,” he complained. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“Don’t even pretend to look at me next, Cara,” you held up your hand to stop her before she even tried. “I only taught her good things.”

Sola rolled her eyes and tried to tug out of Din’s hold, but the Mandalorian easily held her in place.

“Have a seat,” you offered sweetly, pulling the crate the bag had been on toward you with the Force, and giving her a nudge to sit. “Talk.”

She stared over at the wall behind you, grinning in disbelief. “It was a dare, okay?” Her eyes pulled up to meet yours, their hard stare melting slightly once they did, revealing something vulnerable, something broken. Her voice softened just slightly, but still held the mock vibrato she started out with, making you huff as she continued. “Some kids dared me to take someone’s bag, and I was just unlucky enough to choose you.”

“And my comlink?” Cara tried.

Sola turned to her with a cheesy grin. “That was just bad luck on your end.”

“I’ll show you bad luck,” Cara grumbled, stepping closer to the teen.

You stepped between them. “Cara.”

“What?” She barked, trying to peer over your shoulder at the girl before looking you in the eyes.

“No.”

“She stole-”

“She’s a kid,” you corrected. “Tell me you didn’t do dumb stuff when you were her age. Hell, you do dumb stuff now.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cara grumbled.

You smirked, arms crossing over your chest as your weight shifted to one leg. “Ah, but I travel with a Mandalorian. What’s your excuse?”

Cara scoffed. “I knew him first, if we’re going that route.”

“I’m right here,” Din said, somewhat offended, reaching out to gently push Sola down by the shoulder without a second glance when she went to stand up.

You kept your voice even, mildly distracted as you spoke somewhat flippantly. “Mandalorians who shot their partner in the leg don’t get to talk right now.”

“I didn’t shoot you!” He protested, voice going up at the end in agitation.

“You shot her?” Cara asked at the same time Din spoke, turning to look at him with raised brows.

“I didn’t shoot her!” Din corrected before Cara could even finish, his visor swiveling back to you. “It was a ricochet.” His head tilted to the right as he stared at you. “On Gideon’s ship. The bolt bounced off the droid when she launched at it, and-”

You waved your hand dismissively, gaze landing on nothing in particular across the street. “Same thing.”

“It is no-”

“Ugh!” Sola threw her head back and groaned, staring at the sky with wide eyes, her voice went up with each following word. “This is torture!” Her head lowered back to look between the three of you, eyes narrowed to slits before they fluttered shut and she heaved another heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk.” She leaned back on her palms on the crate, her face finally relaxing to something more neutral. “Just…. Stop whatever…. This,” she gestured vaguely with one hand while her nose scrunched up slightly in disgust, “is.”

You turned back to face her, nodding for her to go on, but Din interrupted.

“Later.”

You rolled your eyes as he waved his finger at you in admonishment before landing them back on the girl, smiling softly. “Go on, Sola.”

She hesitated before taking a quick breath and letting it all out on an exhale, speaking quickly. “My parents are diplomats from a planet in the Mid Rim.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid!”

Sola glared at you, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath before speaking overly clearly the rest of her explanation. “We’re here to broker peace between the different ruling houses and our world.”

“Hey, if you’re going to have an attitude, we can just leave,” you warned.

“Great!” Sola beamed. “Bye!” She went to rise from the crate but both Din and Cara pushed down on a shoulder on each side respectively, earning a soft oomph! from the teen. 

She sighed resignedly before going on. “But as you can probably guess, that goes as smooth as sand in a hyperdrive.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not allowed to do anything. I have to keep up appearances, and stay inside most of the time now because we have gotten death threats after a deal gone bad recently.”

Din visibly stiffened beside her, Cara, too. A chill ran up your spine as she continued.

As she relaxed further back into the crate, her words seemed almost lazy, lackadaisical. “So I started sneaking out. Nothing major, just needed some fresh air, well, it’s Tatooine, so, air.” Her tone went rigid with her posture, the spark in her fading to a dull ember as her volume faded to a mere murmur. Her index finger traced lines along her knee as her eyes followed the invisible trails it made. “Then I met them.”

“Who?”

Sola met your eyes, almost startled when you asked, like she’d forgotten people were listening. She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes dropping back down to her lap, her tone still soft. “Doesn’t matter. A group of kids. They do petty crimes and stuff, I wasn’t going to do anything, but they said they were going to tell the people who had been sending death threats how I was sneaking in and out at night.” Her hand stilled, then began poking at the ankle of her foot tucked up under her absently, her eyes cast down at the ground. “They had been watching me, I guess. Let them know all our weak points in security. If I didn’t do a job for them, then they’d tell….”

“And one job turned into more….”

She nodded at your comment. Her eyes flickering up to meet yours for only a second before they pulled down again.

“Why didn’t you just tell your parents and beef up security?” Din’s voice was in planning mode.

Sola peered up at him, squinting against the suns’ light. “And prove I’d let them down?” She looked down at her lap, fiddling her thumbs. “Sneaking around, been committing petty crimes? Would you have done that?”

Din looked at the ground, his voice quiet. “Probably not.”

“Give me my comlink,” Cara said, holding out her hand toward the girl.

You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Really, Cara? You hear all that and you’re still banging on about your damned-”

Once the device was in her hand, she took a few steps away and spoke into it in a professional voice. “This is Marshal Dune. Please call off the search. It wasn’t stolen, I just dropped it. Sorry for the confusion.” A male voice you couldn’t quite make out garbled over static on the other end. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Cara replied, turning to face the three of you. “Also, I’m going to take off the rest of the day. Found some booths I want to wander through. We’ll pick up our meeting tomorrow. Yeah. See you then.”

She made her way back over, clipping the comlink to her belt. “I just bought us about twelve hours. What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Sola looked between the three of you with wide eyes.

You smiled. Her gaze was up and off the ground for the first time this conversation. And it was full of hope. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling gently. “Nobody messes with a member of our family and gets away with it.” Sola grinned at your words. You’d do pretty much anything to keep it there. “Now, let’s go scare some thugs, shall we?”

Xxx

“Now, I know that you packed it,” you said, standing in the fresher of the Crest, voice jiggling as you hopped slightly to pull the armor higher up your chest. “But I don’t know why.”

“Oh, the Jedi is stumped, is she?” Din’s sarcastic amusement was muted through the door, making you roll your eyes. 

Setting your weight to one hip, you pressed the button, and the durasteel barrier hissed open to reveal your Mandalorian leaning against the frame. His arms across his chest as he waited for you, his posture easy and relaxed, he looked like a growth on the walls of his ship.

Cara and Sola were out in the hangar with Peli, their voices faintly heard along with the annoyed bleeps and bloops of R5 as they echoed off the stone walls and up the open ramp. 

“Not stumped,” you countered quickly, walking around him to the middle of the cargo hold as you pulled your gloves on, chin held high as you chose your next words with care. His visor followed you as you went. “Just…. Curious.” You finally landed on with a huff, looking down at your hands as they fiddled mindlessly before adding on a mumbled, “And I’m not a Jedi.”

Din pushed off the wall, his head shaking gently in disbelief as he walked toward you slowly. “I was going to have Boba melt it down and forge it into something better.” He stopped somewhere behind you. You were purposely not paying attention, trying not to get distracted and make sure your armor was set up correctly, only faintly registering the absence of the soft thud of his boots on the metallic floor of the Crest right behind you before he went on. “I don’t know where the armorer is right now, and it’s not full beskar anyway, so any smith could do it, but I trust him.”

“Something better?” You turned to face him, head tilted to the side as you clicked your vambraces into place, their gears whirring to life. Stumbling back an inch as you startled, his chest plate brushing against your nose he was so close, you reached out to swat his arm lightly in annoyance, muttering a Don’t do that and shaking your hand out to the side with a grimace after it pinged off his beskar. Craning your head back to look up at him properly, you couldn’t help the small grin when you found him already peering down at you. “Like what?”

Din’s head tilted just so to the right. “Something for you.” He didn’t miss a beat. 

Your eyes widened slightly before they narrowed to slits. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He was smiling. You could tell by the lilt in his voice as he leaned into the tilt of his head, his body following and started down the ramp. “You know me so well.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his cape. “Nu-uh. Not so fast, Tin Can. Hold up.” Pulling him back to you, though he gave very little resistance, you leaned around to look into his visor when he was a few inches away, his hands on his hips in mock annoyance. “You don’t have to do that.” Your voice had gone soft. He turned to face you fully. “I know that armor is important to you.”

“So are you.”

You grinned. “Smooth, Shiny. Real smooth.”

Din shrugged one shoulder, his hands falling to rest at his sides loosely. “I have my moments.”

You nodded, starting down the ramp, and talking over your shoulder. “And they are few and far between.”

Din scoffed. “Lucky for you. You couldn’t handle me at full throttle.”

Grinning, you looked down at your vambraces and twisted them a bit. “That sounded like a threat.”

“It’s whatever you wanted it to be, mesh’la.”

“You look like a Mando.” Sola’s voice pulled your attention away from the man at your back before you could reply. 

“What? In beskar?” You gestured to the armor down your body. “No.”

The young girl rolled her eyes at you.

Grinning, you reached up to adjust your scarf tucked in to make the armor fit a bit better, and noticed her posture go rigid.

“You kept it,” she mumbled, pointing lamely toward the blue material around your neck.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just….” She pulled at her flowing poncho, revealing her bright pink scarf, still vivid as ever, tucked away underneath, close to her heart. “I have mine, too,” she amended softly. “I keep it hidden so it doesn’t get dirty or torn.”

“Kind of like my armband….” You mumbled, closing the last few steps between you before reaching out to softly roll the fabric of her scarf between your thumb and index finger as she traced the ribbon on your bicep with the tips of her own.

“I still have no idea what hyperspace looks like,” she mused, staring at the glittering fabric with a sad smile. “I was so little when we came here, and my parents wouldn’t let me anywhere near a cockpit. I’ve only ever been in a cabin while the ship was moving. No viewports….” She met your eyes again, hand falling to her side. “Supposedly we flew beside some purrgil and even then they wouldn’t let me look.”

Letting your own hand fall to your side, fiddling with the air aimlessly, you held her gaze. “Why not?”

Sola shrugged. “Not sure. They said something about safety at the time, and I just never pressed it, but now it just feels suffocating.”

“I know it’s annoying,” Din chimed in softly from behind you, his shadow looming over the young girl in the dying sun’s light, “but I would give anything to have my parents be overbearing one more time.”

Sola’s eyes flew up to the Mandalorian. “What happened to them?”

“A story for another time,” he said stoically, turning to the right and going deeper into the hangar. “Let’s confirm the plan.”

You turned with Cara and Sola on your left to head that way, Peli falling in step on your right as the droids followed along behind.

“They aren’t around anymore. It happened when he was very young, about the same age as when we met you. That’s why he became a Mandalorian. That’s all I’ll say,” you offered quietly. “The rest is his story to tell.”

The first stars were twinkling overhead as the sky said good night in brilliant shades of red and orange. 

Once your party had circled around one of Peli’s many cluttered tables off to the side, the top of it littered with ship parts, Din turned to you. 

“Gar beskar'gam jate slanar?” (“Your armor good to go?”)

You nodded. “Elek. An jate.” (“Yes. All good.”)

Sola turned her head slowly up toward Cara, one brow arched in confusion.

The Marshal slowly shook her head, eyes closed. “They do this….”

“Do what?” You asked, brows knit toward your friend.

Cara leveled you with a look. “Start speaking in any one of a thousand languages none of the rest of us know.”

R5 started beeping animatedly, trilling as he wheeled back and forth on his treads excitedly, and ended on a raspberry, making you and Peli laugh.

“Oh, great,” Cara rolled her eyes, “even the droid’s are in on it.”

BD and Treadwell made their way into the circle, the Pit droids not far behind, all of them chattering away as they approached you until Din sent a blaster shot pinging off of a piece of scrap pipe over in a corner.

The droids all screeched before going silent, freezing in their steps as Peli cried in protest, “Hey! Watch it!”

“Yeah, we don’t want another ricochet,” you mumbled, adjusting your armor for no good reason besides looking down and away from his judgemental visor.

Cara and Sola snickered from their spots across the table from you, the weight of Din’s stare beside you nothing short of stifling.

“If you stare any louder, Din, they may ask you to be quiet all the way on Coruscant,” you muttered quietly, adjusting your vambraces needlessly for the umpteenth time to hide the growing smirk across your face.

“I’ll just tell them it’s because of you, they'll understand. Garner sympathy.”

Only your eyes lifted up to glare daggers at his visor, his head tilting to the side teasingly as he held your gaze.

“The plan?” You groused, looking across the table with a sigh as your weight shifted to one side - away from the Mandalorian. 

His tone was light, as if it held a smile, while he laid out the steps of the plan one more time. “Sola said they would be meeting her back at the market in an hour. She meets them as planned. The three of us follow her, and stick around in the shadows, as inconspicuously as possible-”

“Says the man who’s a walking mirror.”

Din didn’t even bother to look at you, only sighing at your remark, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he went on. “From there, we follow them back to their base of operations. From what we’ve heard, shouldn’t be too hard to get into. We get in, cause a little chaos, get them to release Sola from this…. Contract, then we leave as quietly as we came.”

“No one dies.”

Cara nodded at your words, Din nodding once in agreement, his body going stiff at your next statement. 

“Even if we run into a Jawa.”

He took a deep breath to begin to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him, mocking his words from earlier.

“Later.”

Xxx

Spotting the culprits was easy enough. They weren’t sly about anything as they paraded through the streets with their puffed up chests, smirking as people scattered from them should they get too close. They hassled a vendor or two, shaking them down for a payout, and Cara grumbled beside you, gripping the buckle that showed she was a Marshal tightly through her poncho she wore to conceal it.

Before you could do anything, Din was hot on their heels, handing the vendors a stack of credits to make reparations as soon as the thugs’ backs were turned. They would try and insist he keep it, lightly shoving the money back into his hands, but Din somehow managed to sweet talk them into accepting every time, his head ducked down slightly, hand over theirs in a calming gesture. You wished you could hear what he said.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Cara muttered offhandedly. “Caring, soft almost. It looks good on him.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed softly. “That’s how he is with the kid. Grogu brought out a side of him I don’t think would have seen the light of day otherwise.”

She elbowed you. “Oh, I dunno. You’re pretty persuasive. Think it’d’ve come out eventually.”

You slid only your eyes sideways to look at her. “Why must you shit talk me?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll simply fade away. It gives me sustenance. I could go days without food, but teasing you? That simply wouldn’t do.”

Turning your head to peer at her incredulously, you spoke in a low voice after a long moment of silence. “I’m going to go stand over there,” you pointed behind you, “as far away from you as possible right now.”

Cara scoffed. “Good. Go. Your beskar'gam is drawing too much attention, anyway.”

With a grin, you began walking backwards down the street, keeping to the shadows. “Aw, you paid attention.”

Your friend glared at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A shit eating grin was across your face. “You’re speaking Mando’a….”

Cara huffed, her attention turning back to the street as she mumbled, “Last time I make that mistake.”

Stopping short, you stood up straight. “Aw, don’t be afraid to show your feelings, Cara. Feelings are a good thing. They make us human-”

“If you don’t stop talking-”

“Are you two done?” Din’s voice across the alley from the two of you pulled both sets of eyes his way. “They left a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, what with your bickering.” His head swiveled between you and the Marshal, judgment heavy through his visor. “Sola is with them, I gave her a tracker, slipped it to her when no one was looking while someone,” he looked at you pointedly, “wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was paying attention,” you groused, voice lowering as you kicked at the sand below your feet. “Just not to that.”

“She was talking about you,” Cara tattled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight, stretching like a loth cat.

“So were you!” You protested, also stepping into the nightlight, making Cara squint as she held up a hand as if to block the glare of the reflection off your armor. Swatting her hand down, you knit your brows at her. “It’s not that bright out here, don’t be dramatic.”

“Children. I’m surrounded by literal children,” Din muttered, turning and walking away exasperatedly.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you grumbled, following after him.

“Then prove me wrong,” he called over his shoulder. “Right now you’re worse than Grogu.” You gasped. “When he needs a nap.” Cara gasped. “And he’s hungry.” You both gasped.

“I take it all back,” Cara stormed past Din, her words brusque and aloof. “You’re the meanest person I know.”

“Person?” Your tone was incredulous as you sped up to fall in step with her ahead of the Mandalorian, head swiveling to land on him with a sly smirk over your next word. “Droid.”

Din stopped in his tracks and sighed, head tilting back to the sky just slightly with a gentle shake. “Oh, this mission is off to a great start.”

When both you and Cara kept walking ahead of him, the bounty hunter finally called out on a hiss, “Hey! Are you two done?”

“I don’t know, are we?” You turned on your heel to face him, hands on your hips as you planted your feet and arched your brows in question, almost accusingly. 

Din bit his tongue before he turned this into a whole something else before this entire endeavor even got off the ground…. again. For the third? fourth? time. He’d lost track of how many times they’d gotten off track in the last five minutes alone, let alone today as a whole.

With a jut of his thumb to his left down a narrow alley, he tilted his head that way for emphasis. “Thugs’re that way.” 

Both you and Cara hesitated for only a moment, weight shifting slightly from side to side before you dropped your hands from your hips with a huff and headed toward the alley, your Marshal friend in tow.

As you passed by Din, he muttered a low and amused, “Oh wise one.”

“I’ll tell Sola you said so,” you shot back in a low murmur. “She already knows I’m the smart one.” The alley was so small you had to form a single file line, and somehow you were in the front with Cara behind you, and Din pulling up the back. 

“She just lets you think that’s what she thinks,” Cara hummed. “We all know it’s me.”

Din snorted. “It’s neither of you.” He shook his head at the two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him over their shoulders as they came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “I’m the one with the map and the tracker, remember?” He tapped the right side of his helmet with his index finger.

“Oh, will you just get in front and lead, you overgrown Tin Can?!” You hissed, flattening yourself against the wall to let him pass, the heat of the day still clinging to the wall at your back.

Cara rolled her eyes as she squished herself, allowing him through, but it was still a tight fit all around between the three of you. When Din passed her, his back against the opposing wall, she grimaced though he moved quickly. “Will you just get out of my face, Shiny?”

“What, you mean you don’t want to get to know me this well?” Din relaxed his weight a little, leaning into her slightly. “I thought we were friends.”

Cara shoved him with one arm toward you, making him laugh as he kept going, stumbling slightly from the impact. “We won���t be if you keep on that thread of conversation, Mando.”

Din stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head sideways as he muttered softly, “Hi, mesh’la.” Leaning his forehead into yours, he chuckled softly at Cara’s over exaggerated gag in reaction.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you grumbled, fisting one hand into his cowl as you ignored Cara’s groans, elbowing her in the ribs with your free arm when she continued.

“What was that for?!” She cried in protest.

“Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean you need to moan about it.”

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked away at the wall across from her. “Go be happy somewhere else. We have a job to do.”

Din sighed. “She’s right,” and pushed off the wall to get in front.

You held on to his cape from behind him. “No. No, she’s never right.” Cara landed a swift kick to the back of your boot. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being so wrong all the time!”

“Don’t make me speak Mando’a to you,” you grumbled. “Or how about Huttese? I also know Shyriiwook now, too.”

“How about you speak silence.”

Din snorted at the Marshal’s words from his spot in front of you, Cara huffing out a laugh from behind.

“When all of this is over, you both are gonna pay.”

“You don’t scare me,” Cara scoffed.

Looking over your shoulder, you arched a brow, holding up one hand by your face and wiggling your fingers. “Well maybe I should.”

Her face went pale, her steps faltering slightly as understanding dawned on her features. “You don’t scare me,” she repeated, her voice softer after she swallowed roughly.

You chuckled, turning back to face Din’s cape once again. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before you could answer, Din cut in, without bothering to turn around, “It's just her way of threatening to trip you. Don’t read into it too much.”

He no sooner said that than he was stumbling forward down the alley, reaching out to brace himself on the walls with his forearms.

“Look at that? My boot also works in mysterious ways.”

“What happened?” Cara asked, oblivious to you tripping Din with the toe of your shoe.

“Gravity. Don’t read too much into it.”

Grinning up at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet where he had stopped in front of you, you let go of his cape still in your grip. “Careful, Din. There’s gravity there.”

“What did he even trip on?” Cara’s voice was incredulous.

“Air? His ego? Pride…. The options are endless….”

“The foot of an over eager Jedi that’s about to be in her mouth if she keeps talking,” Din hissed, barely looking over his shoulder at the two of you, arms falling from the walls to his sides.

“How do you mean?” You scoffed, following after him as he began to move down the alley again.

“We’re here,” he said with a flourish, the small avenue opening up to a wide street brightly lit with several buildings that dead ended down on the right. With a swooping gesture, he moved to the left, making room for the two of you to step forward beside him, his visor following you closely before tilting to the side. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s right,” Cara mused quietly. “Your ego is big enough for all three of us to trip on.”

“At least it’s well deserved,” Din groused. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“You followed a map. That was attached to a tracker. A blindfolded bantha wouldn’t have had a much more difficult time….” You said offhandedly, surveying the area.

Din stared at you for a long moment. “That armor makes you mean,” he grumbled.

“It makes me wonderful,” you countered, eyes across the street on a conspicuous crate, narrowing when it jostled slightly. “You’re just jealous that it looks better on me than it ever did on you.”

“Yeah. That’s it,” Din agreed sarcastically, his weight shifting to one side as he followed your line of sight. Pressing the side of his helmet, he immediately went into planning mode. “I’ve got two heat signatures.”

“Matches up with what I’m sensing. Two life forms. A whole mess more inside.” You took your blaster from its holster, its gears whirring to life. “Everyone set to stun?”

Hums of agreement came back at you along with nods in your peripheral.

“I’ll go in on the right while you two take care of whoever is lurking over there,” Cara gestured across the street with her blaster. “Sneak in that side door and start clearing until I find Sola and slip her a blaster, then we’ll find this boss.”

“I’m in,” you agreed, while Din nodded in agreement beside you. “Let’s go, Tin Can. We have some thugs we need to introduce to beskar.”

Xxx

Storming the place was easy. These thieves didn’t know the first thing about defending their home base.

Getting out on the other hand…. That was proving to be more difficult.

You pulled up behind a wall, tucking your arms into your chest as tightly as possible to make yourself a smaller target, your blaster held between both hands at the ready.

“You said this would be easy!” Din yelled from his mirror position across the hall. Well, almost mirror. He leaned on one shoulder, blaster held up in the opposite hand near his head. His whole body looked just on this side of casual. 

“I said no such thing. You did,” you countered, trying to mimic his posture subtly. “And on that note, Cara was the one who said you and I should go in together, so this is all-”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Cara’s voice carried from down the hall, the first word elongated as she slid across the floor on her hip to avoid flying blaster bolts to finally land next to you before popping up. “Don’t you dare drag me into this lovers tiff. Nuh-uh.”

Both you and Din spoke in tandem, “This isn’t-”, “We’re not-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sola said dismissively, jogging up easily behind Din, a singe mark on the shoulder of her poncho. 

Din stood up straight in an instant, took her arm in his hold gently to examine it, turning her every which way to get a better look. “What happened?”

“Told the boss I quit.” She grinned proudly before it melted into a grimace. “He didn’t take it so well.”

Blaster bolts zinged down the hall between the four of you, streaking the air in vibrant shades of purple and red, even an errant green here and there.

“If I could just use my saber-” you started, cut off by the unanimous voices of your friends.

“No!”

Letting your head lull back against the wall with a gentle thump, you rolled it in aggravation before facing the others again. “And why not?! I’ve saved your asses so many times!”

“Close quarters!” Cara was gesturing with her hands while she spoke, referencing the hall. “Too many people!” She gestured between the four of you. “Laser sword very bright! Very hot!”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. “I singed one corner of your tunic. One!”

“And that was one too many,” Din countered, popping around the corner to let off a barrage of shots before coming back for safety.

“This was my favorite,” Cara said forlornly, looking down at the smoldering fabric. 

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“No you won’t,” Cara scoffed. “You can’t afford my tastes-”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here!” Sola’s annoyed voice rang out louder than the blaster fire, pulling all three gazes her way. 

Din was the first to break, turning back to lay down cover fire once again around the corner. “Kid’s right,” he grunted, before letting off a shot that was accompanied by a pained scream at the end of the hall.

“I thought we were set to stun?” You hissed.

Din looked down at his blaster and shrugged meekly, flipping it back to stun. “Sorry. Old habits….”

“I know I am,” Sola said matter of factly, pulling you back to the topic at hand. “Now what’s the plan?”

Stepping a little closer to the corner you were tucked behind, you holstered your blaster. “The plan is for you all to eat your words tonight.”

“What are you doing?” Cara’s worried tone sounded at your back, Din’s incredulous one to your left. “Mesh’la, come on, don’t do something-”

“To save our skins?” You finished for him, looking up into his visor with a determined glint in your eye. “Watch me.”

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stepped out into the hall where the blaster fire had died down just slightly. The few earrent bolts bounced away from you as if they were hitting a force field. Confused whispers from the enemy preceded a pickup in the rapid fire, bolts flying at a new frenzy, none of which came anywhere close to touching you or your friends.

Lifting your hands in front of you, the bolts began to stop, hovering in mid air inches from your face, your hands, some several feet from you. The room glowed with multi-colored plasma bolts hovering above the floor. As the shots died out, silence filling in the blanks left behind, the corner of your mouth twitched up in an amused smirk.

With a small twitch of your index finger, all their blasters were disabled with a tink. 

When you opened your eyes, the blaster bolts that hung suspended all immediately flew the other way, back toward the senders, but in such a way that they wouldn’t hit anybody. 

Within an instant the group of thieves at the end of the hall were left cowering, curled away from the stranger approaching them from the opposite end of the hall. Some blinked wide eyes while others scrambled back, all of them surrounded by smoke swirling around from the black scorches left behind from the blaster bolts.

“I think we win,” you said calmly, walking toward them slowly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” One rogue thief said, jumping to his feet, blaster aimed at you.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, not even looking at him.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he looked at his blaster in confusion, pulling the trigger a few more times before shaking it incessantly. “Oh, well.” He shrugged. “I have this.” He pulled a spare from the back of his pants.

In two seconds flat Din had stepped forward and shot him with a stun bolt, dropping him to the ground.

“Like I said,” you pulled the active blaster to you with the Force, disengaging the firing mechanism like you had the others before tucking it into the back of your own pants. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t need another one,” Din groaned. “That makes what, seven now?”

You scoffed. “Not nearly.” With a dry chuckle, you shook your head. “Try three.”

“Including the knife?”

“Oh, yeah! The knife. No, that’s four.”

“Guys!” Cara cried, walking up to stand on the other side of you. “Seriously?”

“What?” You looked at her a moment before cutting your eyes toward the thieves still looking on in silence. “I’m just recounting the weapons I’ve won from our various missions! I see something I like, I take it.”

“These guys don’t care.” Cara gestured to them with her blaster.

“No…. But I do.” You turned to look at the punks with a broad grin. “And something tells me they want to keep me really happy. Right?”

They all nodded vigorously. All but one. He got to his feet as he said, “Oh, kark this!” He was no sooner on his feet than Din had hit him with a stun bolt, dropping him into a heap of limbs where he stood.

“At least you remembered to use stun this time,” you threw over your shoulder towards Din, never looking away from the band of thieves still looking on wide eyed at your little party of four.

“Yeah…. But I’ve been known to forget things real fast,” Din mumbled, shifting his weight just slightly to rest easily on one leg. The way he held his blaster would make anyone think he’d gone soft, but you knew if someone made a wrong move, they’d be down in an instant.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” Cara stepped forward, her Marshal voice in full swing. “Sola over here is out. I don’t wanna hear of any of you within spitting distance of her ever again, do you hear me?”

Most of them nodded, wide eyed at the Marshal. All but one. It’s always one, you thought with a smile and gentle shake of your head. 

“And what’re you gonna do about it? Marshal?” The way the punk said her name dripped with so much sarcasm and venom, you were surprised Cara was still standing. If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now. “You don’t even live here, so how are you going to enforce anything?”

To his credit, he looked slightly afraid when you and Din took measured steps forward while Cara spoke.

“I have friends all over. I don’t think you want to find out just how far my reach can go…. Young man.”

Cara winced slightly on the last words and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing. The way her eyes darted over to you, however briefly, with a mighty rise and fall of her shoulders told you she knew she’d never hear the end of this.

He scoffed. “Like I’d believe any of that.”

“But you’d believe blaster bolts levitating in space then flying the wrong way?” You challenged, taking another small step forward. 

The kid scoffed again.

“You believe this?” Din was striding forward, his vambraces whirring to life as the flame thrower charged up.

Reaching out with the Force, you disengaged his vambrace as the wall of fire just started to lick at the toes of the boots of the insolent kid.

“Not now, Mando. I think he gets it.” Shooting your eyes over to the kid before looking back into his visor, you saw him glance over to find the teen cowering behind the others, mumbling apologies.

Din strode over to you, keeping his body facing the group of adolescents to make them think he was still a threat, which he was, but you knew him well enough to know he was looking at you now and not them, his head turned just slightly.

“Turning off my vambraces now, huh?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You shouldn’t be frying teenagers, Din. It’s not nice.”

Leaning closer to your ear, his voice hummed through the modulator, something in his tone different this time. “Later,” he promised again.

You grinned, winking at Cara as she rolled her eyes and walked off with an over dramatically gagging Sola. “Can’t wait.”

Xxx

Back at the hangar, the four of you tried to move as quietly as possible, to not wake a sleeping Peli. 

“I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I could ever repay you-”

Placing your hand on Sola’s shoulder, you smiled down at her when her big eyes looked up your way. So much like the first time you met her all those years ago. “There’s nothing to thank. That’s just what families do.”

“We help each other,” Cara agreed, stepping up behind Sola and putting her arm around her shoulders. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she added with a grin, “And yeah, sometimes we want to murder each other, too, but….” She looked at Din. “It comes and goes.”

“Mostly comes,” the Mandalorian muttered, adjusting his belt before walking off toward the ramp of the Crest. He stopped at the foot of it, withdrawing a vibroblade from his boot before he turned around and walked back. “Hey, kid.” He offered Sola the blade. “Take care of yourself.”

“You bet I will,” she mumbled around a grin, flipping the blade in her palm with expert precision that had your brow arching. Upon closer inspection, she saw a mudhorn upon the hilt. “That’s the same symbol that’s on your armor….” She looked over at your saber. “And your….” 

“Like I said,” you pulled her into a hug. “We take care of family.”

“Where’s my mudhorn?” Cara groused.

Din extended a blaster with a freshly etched mudhorn he had tucked into the back of his belt to Sola as he looked at Cara, head tilted just so. “Hidden with your act of valor. Go find it.”

“You’re mean,” Cara shoved his shoulder.

“You’d get tired of us anyway,” you mused in response to Cara, wrapping your arms around Din’s waist in what seemed an innocent manner, then lightly pinching his side in admonishment, smiling at his slight groan in response. Before he could get his own arm around your waist in retaliation, you pinned it to his side with the Force, smiling up at him smugly when he grunted in unamusement. 

“I already have,” she agreed, looking down her nose at the two of you.

“No you haven’t,” Din countered tiredly as he turned back toward the ship, heading up the ramp.

“What do you know?” She called after him.

“Everything!” His voice came from inside the ship overlapping your muttered, “Nothing.”

“Not enough,” you amended with a grin, meeting Cara’s eye as she returned your smile. “He doesn’t know nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I love teaching, then.” She laughed, offering you a hug before she turned to leave the hangar. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You coming kid?”

Sola hesitated in her spot in front of you. “But I don’t…. I don’t wear armor.”

“Verd'ika….” You reached out and rested your hand on her shoulder. “Ad’ika. Cyare'se. Daworir’ika. Ka’ra’ika…. Almost all of my nicknames for you had something to do with little.” (“Little soldier. Little one. Loved ones. Little stink. Little star.”)

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can see that,” you smiled softly. “Tal tomad.”

She pulled a face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Blood ally.” You reached out and pinched her scarf between your finger tips. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“What…. What does that mean?”

You smiled. “I need to come with a protocol droid….”  She laughed. “Warrior greater than armor. It means armor isn’t everything.” Moving your hand from her scarf to rest on her shoulder once again, you felt Din come to stand behind you, his reflection beginning to morph in Sola’s watering eyes. “It’s who wears it.” 

Xxx

As you watched Cara and Sola walk out of the hangar, Din pulled you to the side gently.

“Speaking of armor, you don’t have any now, either.”

Looking down at the armor still very much on your frame, you looked up at his visor and blinked at him once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He shifted his weight, hands resting on his belt in his default I already explained this pose. “I’m about to meet up with Boba in a few minutes. Need the armor so I can give it to him.”

You matched his posture, ignoring his indignant head roll. “Oh right. For this super secret thing for me I can’t know about.”

Din nodded once. “You got it.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned and made your way up the ramp of the Crest, not bothering to turn around as you grumbled, “You’re awful.”

“I know.” His tone was nothing short of beaming.

Xxx

The next day, the two of you were up with the suns and beginning work on the Crest with a handful of Peli’s droids. 

The woman herself had appeared after a while, but she obviously was not intended for morning hours.

Peli had disappeared into the shaded depths of the hangar, citing paperwork of some sort, but her snores could be heard from the main landing area. 

One thing led to another, and the work on the ship was forgotten in favor of brushing up on footwork with two chosen weapons.

The hanger sung with the clashing of beskar on kyber, his spear standing resilient against your purple blade.

The pit droids were hard at work on the Crest to try and cover up the cacophony of battle sounds rising up into the air.

As it hit a new fever pitch, you and Din drawing close together after some particularly fancy footwork, the glow of kyber straining against beskar painting your faces in a soft illuminated glow as you pulled closer still, you smirked. 

“I think that means I win, Mandalorian.”

Din scoffed, his modulator popping with the sound. “Nayc. A’nuhunla,” he drawled, his voice low. (“No. But funny.”)

Pulling back from one another, you huffed out a chuckle as you began to circle each other in assessment, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Give it to me in Basic, Mando.” Disengaging your saber, you stopped dead in your tracks, arms dangling limply by your sides. “I’m too tired to fight and translate at the same time.”

“Gar Jetii’kad,” Din pointed to the now bladeless hilt in your hand. “Nau’ur kad.” (“Your lightsaber.”) (“Light up a saber.”) 

“Din-”

But he didn’t let you finish, his hands tightening around his spear as his weight lowered, ready to charge. “Kad’au, Jetii.” (“Lightsaber, Jedi.”)

“Ne'johaa,” you mumbled, igniting the blade and lowering yourself into a ready stance to match. (“Shut up.”)

Once you were set, you stood straight up again, smiling softly when Din let his lowered weight relax as well in aggravation, his modulator hissing in annoyance. “This was just supposed to be for fun. Some training, maybe. Not-”

“Kad,” he almost barked, before launching at you. (“Saber.”)

“Mir’sheb,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you blocked an overhead blow from his spear, squinting your eyes as sparks flew from the impact. (“Smartass.”)

He took a minuscule step closer, pressing his weight into you and making you bend back slightly. His voice was low and mocking, but strained to show his struggle against your strength as you continued to push back. “Only for you.”

With a shout, you pushed him off of you with a last reserve of strength.

“That’s it. That’s it. I’m done.” You held your hands up by your head. “No more.” Twirling your saber as you stretched your wrist, you tilted your head from side to side. “You’ve got some unresolved issues with only using the stun back there at the hideout or something,” gesturing to him with a swooping hand gesture, you ignored his snort and slight shift of weight, “but I’m done with all your nonsense.” Turning away you took a deep breath and disengaged your saber, mumbling under your breath, “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.” (“I want a bucket of booze.”)

The next thing you knew you were flat on your back, sand flying out around you as the Mandalorian stood over you, flipping his spear back to its resting position with a flourish. All you could process as you blinked up at the cloudless sky was heat, grit, and what?

“I think that means I win…. Manda Jetii.” (The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.)

Eyes flying to his visor, you had to squint at the glare of the suns off the brilliant metal. You could only blink up at him, taking his hand when he offered it and helped you up. After a shared moment of simply staring at one another, he turned to survey the hangar, repeating your words from earlier. “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.”

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face. 

Her very, very, very distraught face. 

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought. 

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit. 

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you. 

“No.”

Peli somehow materialized beside you, everything about her bewildered and distraught. You let the two arguing tin cans go as you turned your attention to your friend, the final zap from the droid to Din’s thigh before it rolled off not going unnoticed. 

Pointing every which way with each new statement, Peli began to protest. “I was- They were- You just-” Her hands slapped down to her sides, her face pulled determinedly. “That’s not fair!”

She turned to her pit droid crew. “Why do I get all the defective droids in this town?” They began to prattle but she cut them off. “You guys couldn’t fix the wrong side of a bantha.”

Reaching out with your mind, a twitch of your foot sideways ever so slightly, and one of the compartments at the back of the Crest flew off, the wiring inside plopping out like the ship had drunk too much spotchka the night before and now had something to prove.

“It’s alright, Peli. It wasn’t all you.”

“You bet your beskar it wasn’t!” She turned a look on Din. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that massive spear sticking out of the side of my ship.”

Din had the decency to look sheepish, turning his gaze to stare across the hangar, hands on his hips.

“Now I’ll have to track down the Jawas to find enough ancient parts to fix this hunk of junk.” She smacked the hull closest to her with her palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a panel fell off to her right with a clatter.

Leveling her gaze on you, a shudder ran down your spine as Peli stared at you in silence. Finally she spoke again. “You. You’re going to help.”

“And you,” she pointed at Din. He pointed at himself in question and she nodded, maintaining the accusing jab of her index. “Yes, you. Mandalorian.” Din tilted his head curiously. “You are going to go to the cantina to look for a job to pay for all of…. this!”

Peli gestured wildly to the sparking Crest behind her. 

You winced at the singe marks left behind by your saber, beside the puncture mark from the spear as it had let loose from his hands and flown across the hangar. Its beskar body still stood proudly from the hull, glinting in the afternoon sun.

Reaching up high above her head, Peli jerked it from the body of the ship with a grating screech of metal on metal. Green goo began to shoot from the new opening, coating the sand of the hangar around her feet in several inches in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at it before bringing menacing eyes up to glare at Din.

“I’ll be at the cantina,” he mumbled, turning to leave without anymore fuss.

“I’ll…. Be here, I guess,” you mumbled, catching Peli’s death stare out of the corner of your eye. “Pick me up some of those blue cookies on your way back?”

“Really?” Din stopped, cocking his head at you.

“Yeah!” You shot back. “The kid isn’t here, so I don’t have to share them.”

“Who says I don’t want some?”

You scoffed. “Experience.” Crossing your arms, you stared at him. “Besides, who says I’m sharing regardless?”

Din took a step back toward you, his voice lowering playfully. “I could make you….”

“Cantina!” Peli hissed.

You’d never seen Din move so quickly.

Xxx

Peli had dragged you out to the large rolling fortress of the Jawas after she had given her pit droid crew a stern talking to. 

You couldn’t make eye contact with them as you stood just behind her and listened to her admonishments. Their judgmental stares from their single ocular lenses could be felt even across the hangar. 

Looking over the wares, you were just glad Din wasn’t here. Jawas would be dropping like flies if he were. He really had a problem.

Bringing your scarf up to cover your face, wrapping it around your head to keep it secure and protect you just a layer more from the suns beating down and sand blowing in the rough winds, you squinted at an old astromech tucked away in the back near the ramp.

“What about that one?” You asked, pointing to it.

The little hooded figure helping you turned, exclaiming something when he realized what you were asking about, then began talking a mile a minute and gesturing even faster.

Holding up your hands, you cut in, “Yeah, yeah, hold on little guy,” your new Jawa friend grunted at the name as you turned to call for help. “Peli! Get over here!” Waving your hand to gesture her over, you hoped it’d help her find you a bit faster.

You saw her curls before you saw her, turning your way and quickly weaving through the junk as her grumbling got closer and closer, but the exact words were never quite clear enough to understand. “What?” She finally asked in exasperation when she was about ten feet away, a power coupling in one hand and…. Something else in the other, you didn’t know what it was, but it had a lot of exposed wires and reminded you of an eyeball on a stick.

Pointing to your little robed shadow, you smiled at her. “Translate. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she focused on your small companion, nodding as he went along. “He says you want that R2 unit.” She turned her focus back to you, hands on her hips, eye on a stick still tightly grasped in one hand, “Any particular reason? I have plenty of good droids back at the hangar….” R5 started tweeting and blipping in concern, making her roll her whole head over to look at the droid on her left. “Oh, keep your dome on. I didn’t mean you.” She gestured to the droid with the eye-stick lazily before her eyes cut over to you. “Unless….” R5 let out a mighty whoop before rolling away.

Chirping and blooping from the R2 unit pulled your attention back to the matter at hand, watching in amusement as it rocked from side to side quickly on two of its three legs. Its shiny dome twisted back and forth as it let out shrill beeps and whistles, a lone raspberry cutting off the tirade before it focused on a Jawa coming up to stand beside it. 

As the tiny cloaked figure reached out to adjust the restraining bolt on its front, one of the droid’s front compartments sprung open in the blink of an eye, a surge of electricity arcing through the air and making the Jawa scream. The little scrapper jumped back, stumbling as its cloak began to smoke, strings of Jawaese getting lost in the wind as the tiny thief marched back over to the droid and swiftly kicked it near its treads.

“Stop!” You ran over, holding up your hands to try and intervene, turning to Peli with a pleading look on your face.

She tossed the junk in her hands onto the ground, doing a double take for the eye on a stick before deciding against it and made her way over to you, thrusting the odd part into your chest as she passed by. With a roll of your eyes, you tucked it into the bag of parts to make its way back to the hangar that was slung across your shoulders. 

The bag was over half full, and getting heavier by the minute, but you’d yet to see anything resembling a part you recognized go into the satchel. At this point you think ninety five percent of what she had picked up wasn’t even for the Crest, she was just exacting her revenge on Din. And you had no problem with that.

Peli tilted her head as she listened to the Jawa go on a tirade. Eyes flickering between the tiny robe with eyes and the droid, she finally looked back over her shoulder at you. “He said this droid is just a problem. It’s memory hasn’t been wiped in too long, so it’s developed an…. Ah, well,” she quirked her eyebrows, her hands landing on her hips as she studied the droid. “A strong personality.”

The R2 unit blooped before zapping the Jawa again, a warbling whistle following after in what almost sounded like a taunt for more.

“Stop,” you said again, taking another step toward the feisty astromech. It was very hard to not smile as you studied the round dome, its light blinking red and white at you rapidly as it scanned you up and down, finding something it trusted enough to calm down. It didn’t zap a third time, but it kept the utility equipped, sending a surge down the line when the Jawa got too close again as a warning.

It reminded you of Din. It even kind of looked like him. You had to really try to contain the smile as you thought of his reaction if you said that out loud.

The head tilt.

The finger.

“Later.”

The body was the typical white of most R2 units, though obviously worn and aged, some pockets of rust peeking through here and there along the edge, along with carbon scoring like it’d seen some firefights. With a darker silver dome, close to the color of your vambraces, you could tell it had received repairs along the line, the contrasting metals denoting different eras in its lifetime. 

The bands along its body that contained the attachments and along the sides of its legs were a warm coppery color, while the panels along its head were a dark gunmetal gray that reminded you of the Crest. 

Altogether it was a patchwork of parts, but it made something beautiful to you. Like when the suns hit the sand just right and caused a reflection in the distance. This droid was a mirage, a shadow.

“What’s wrong with it?” You interrupted the Jawa currently on another tirade that made Peli look like she was struggling to keep up. Getting down on one knee, still a good distance from the droid, you stared into its lense as it studied you once again.

Your friend turned to face you more fully. “What do you mean, they just told you. It hasn’t-”

“No, why hasn’t it moved?”

Peli asked the question, turning to look at the droid as she listened to the answer, its lense now turned on her.

“He said the tread on the right foot is broken. They have it out here because someone is coming to pick it up to wipe the memory. Its-”

“Not anymore,” you said quietly. “It’s coming with me.” Getting to your feet, you began to walk away, stopping when several Jawa voices began to follow after you, each more insistent than the other. You looked at Peli, brow raised in question.

“They say you can’t do that. It’s already a done deal. Now they’re asking if you want any of the other droids, they have an-”

You turned, looking at the gathering of red glowing eyes blinking up at you expectantly. Keeping your voice even, you made eye contact with each pair as you spoke. “You will release the droid into my care.”

A string of Jawaese was mumbled back to you, which you assumed was just them repeating your words, so you went on.

“Remove the restraining bolt, load it in the speeder, and let us go on our way.”

As they mumbled again, they broke off into groups to do what you said. 

Tapping the leader on the shoulder, you held firmly when he turned to look at you. “And it won’t cost anything.”

He nodded before going to join the others.

“How did you….” Peli’s voice dripped with amazement. “Can you-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me-”

“No, Peli.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and facing the Jawas as they loaded the droid who whistled happily while they worked. “I’m just saying-”

She stopped when you slowly turned to look at her, brow arched.

“Yeah, no, forget about it. Not important.”

Xxx

As you unloaded the droid at the hangar, once it was down on the ground, you knelt down slowly to inspect its injured foot. 

“I’m just going to tilt you a little bit to get a better look, okay?”

The pit droids began lowering some type of harness down to help you, but the droid began to rock back and forth, protesting loudly as its dome swung back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands placatingly, gesturing for the other droids to stop. “No lifts. I’ll do it myself, but you’ve got to trust me. It’ll feel a little strange, but you’re completely safe, I promise. Alright?”

The droid bleeped in agreement after a moment of hesitation, and without further hassle, you nudged it slowly onto its side, floating at the proper angle, held just right by an unseen force. As it moved into the proper placement, the R2 unit blooped an amazed sound.

After poking at the tread for a moment, you wrinkled your brows. “This isn’t broken. What did they mea-”

You were cut short when the tread on the other foot whirred to life where it still rested on the ground, spitting sand in your face in a rapid fire. As you drew back quickly, swatting at the sting settling into your eyes, you just caught a glimpse through your squint of the droid falling the rest of the way to the ground with a screech, your concentration broken.

Before you could really react properly, the R2 unit had popped upright, all manner of Binary curses and colorful language beeping and whistling as it whipped out the zapper it had used earlier on the Jawa, sending a warning jolt down the spine while rotating in a circle to keep all the advancing droids and Peli at bay. 

Then it started to lift off with some sort of propulsion, a victorious squeal echoing off the hangar walls that was all too soon followed by the sound of sputtering exhaust. Its lense pointed down, watching it all unfold, a quiver of fear warbled out of its voice box. The flames keeping it afloat flickered then died, sending it hurtling to the ground with a scream.

You were just able to stick out a hand, focusing enough to catch it inches from the ground. “I got you!” As you lowered it the last few millimeters back onto the sand, you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing into the warm earth beneath you with a quietly muttered, “I got you.”

“Well, that was a first,” Peli announced loudly, amused, as the R2 unit looked at you, a spurt of oil suddenly spewing onto the ground as it moaned in distress.

“It’s about right on track for me, honestly,” you huffed, laughing as you got back to your feet. 

The droid quaked as you got closer, worried coos softly filling the hangar.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” you spoke softly, coming back onto your knees a few feet from the R2 unit. “That was actually kind of impressive.” You smirked, watching as the trembling stopped. The droid was silent and you smiled a bit broader. “I would expect nothing less, honestly. It’s what I would do in your situation. Hell, I have done it a few times….” The droid whistled softly in amusement.

You laughed, feeling victorious when it wheeled a bit closer to you.

“I have, too. I live a very extraordinary life, my friend.”

A questioning bloop.

“Yes, I said ‘friend’. I consider you that, not anything less.”

A series of beeps and whistles, the red light blinking much more slowly now.

“I do speak Binary. Very observant.”

A raspberry.

You laughed, and it was followed by the closest sound a droid can make to the sound, a series of trills.

“Can we start over?” 

The droid wheeled closer, bumping its front foot into your knee gently before wheeling back slightly as if to say, ‘go on’.

You introduced yourself, reaching a hand out toward the droid. A panel sprung open on its front, the zapper coming out without a charge, making you arch a brow at the unit as it tittered playfully. The panel closed before another opened, and a small three pronged metal hand extended, closing around two of your fingers and shaking them in jerky movements as it beeped and blooped away.

“R2-B4?” The droid whistled in confirmation, releasing your fingers and closing the panel. “Can I just call you Bee?” A beep that sounded like ‘yes’ and also meant ‘yes’ in Binary chirped happily, filling the hangar. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bee. How about we get you tuned up, into a nice hot oil bath, run a few diagnostics to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be, then starting tomorrow we can-”

Some angry bloops and bleeps filled the air, while she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“No, no, no! No memory wipe! That’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She stopped rocking, but her lense scanned you up and down rapidly, her light flashing between red and white faster than you had seen yet. “You don’t know me yet, so I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to do that to you. That won’t happen so long as you are here. With me. With us. That makes you you. I don’t want just a droid, I want you, Bee.”

Reaching out your hand, you rested it lightly on her dome and an affectionate beep came out quietly.

“I just meant to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be. You deserve it, friend.”

It was at this point Din came walking back into the hangar. He stopped short when he saw the new astromech snuggled up so closely with you, the disarray of the hangar floor with the spilled oil and obvious scuffle, and Peli with her army of droids behind her and new eyeball on a stick waving around animatedly as she greeted him with a smile.

“Mando! Finally!” She walked toward him. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

The look Din leveled on you through his visor was nothing short of stifling. “Try me.”

Xxx

Once Din had calmed down enough to not shoot the new droid on sight, and Bee had calmed down enough to not zap the Mandalorian on sight, you sat down to explain the situation to Din as the astro unit underwent an oil bath.

“I don’t know, Man- Din.” You pulled a face at yourself as he chuckled at the slip up. “It just felt like I was supposed to, and she….” You looked straight into his visor. “The voices stopped when I saw her. Everything did. I don’t know.” Looking down to the table top to your right, you began to fiddle your fingers aimlessly. “I swear you won’t have to-”

“Okay.”

“Now don’t just- what?” You shook your head to dislodge any sand that may be plugging your ears and causing you to mishear because you could have sworn he said…. “Okay? ….Okay? Did you just say okay?”

Din laughed softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward onto your knees, getting closer to him and peering up with scrutiny for an agonizing minute. “What did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he rested his hand on his thigh. “Got you a present.” His head tilted to the side as you sat up a bit straighter. “Still gonna look at me like that?”

Eyes going wide, you sat back and matched his posture.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a snort. “I met up with Boba last night, as you know, and after going to the cantina, he caught up to me with the finished product.”

Din reached over and pulled a tarp off a crate to his right, how you’d missed it you had no idea, especially since the item before your eyes still sang with the same signature as his armor had. 

A jetpack.

Raw beskar and durasteel glinted under the twin suns, polished to perfection and ready to earn their first scuff marks.

“Din…. No.” You looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Reaching for the pack, he groaned slightly with the effort, sighing once it sat in his lap. “I couldn’t look at you in that horribly fitting armor one more time, and it was just taking up space on the ship.” He set the heavy gift in your lap. “Now I don’t have to lug you around anymore.”

Scoffing, you leaned in closer to him, batting your lashes. “Don’t lie, you like lugging me around.”

He tossed his head side to side. “It has its perks, yes, but now….” He gently nudged you back with a finger to your shoulder so you were sitting normally in your seat again. “Lift yourself, mesh’la.”

Sitting up straight as you held the jetpack in your lap, you traced its curves with your hand. “I don’t know whether to be offended or say thank you.”

Meeting the gaze of his visor through your lashes, he simply nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, let’s get you fitted and flying - but first, I have to sync them with your vambraces, or else you might-”

“Let me guess,” you sighed, relaxing back into your chair with a thump. “Or else I might blow something up?” Din nodded once in confirmation, and you mirrored him. “Some things never change.”

“And some things change all the time….”

“Well that was cryptic.”

“Fennec found a contact for me that might know where the Armorer is. Where the covert moved to.”

Your eyes went wide and you froze, halfway to attaching the jetpack between your shoulder blades. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s a job, but I head there in two rotations-”

Your face fell flat, along with your tone. “Excuse me, what?”

“Are you broken?” You arched a brow in question at him. “You haven’t moved since I mentioned the Armorer and you’re repeating yourself.”

With a huff of disbelief, you let the jetpack to the ground beside you with a gentle thud, and faced him once again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re insane?!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“See?” You gestured to him. “A perfectly valid reaction.” Din huffed, his head tilting to the side in annoyance as you went on. “First off I was excited for you, but then you go and say something crazy like you’re going alone?”

“Well I just assumed….”

“Go on,” you deadpanned, smiling slightly when he trailed off, swallowing roughly.

When he never did, you sighed heavily and forged on for the both of you. “Since I’m your wife,” you began, eyes cast down to the sand, ignoring the way he tossed his head back with a groan, “I think it’s only right I go with you.” You looked up to meet his visor. “Not to mention I continue to save your skin daily.”

“One time. I….” He held up one finger. “That was. I let that slip one time with Peli and it was an accident.” He huffed, staring at you for a long moment. “You're never going to let me forget that are you?”

You grinned. “No.”

Xxx

The two of you landed at the front of Peli’s hangar when you saw an unknown droid approaching in the street from where you were training in the air.

“Oh! Pardon me!” The courier droid raised its hands up in surrender. 

Reaching out, you lowered Din’s blaster. “You have a problem,” you mumbled. “You need to ask questions first, shoot later.”

Din grunted. “That’s not how I work.”

“Well, maybe you need to upgrade your circuitry, Tin Can.”

Both Din and the courier looked at you.

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is a Mandalorian, not a droi-”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter. “What’s the message?”

“Oh. Yes.” The droid reached into a bag fastened to its hip. “You have a holo from a Greef Karga? It’s marked sensitive/eyes only. I suggest you watch it someplace private.” Leaning around to look behind you into the vacant hangar, the only other soul being R5 rolling past with an offensive blip, the droid then looked back at the two of you. “Or just stay here.”

Taking the device from the droid with a smile, you were surprised when it didn’t just leave.

It reached back into the satchel and procured another device. A puck. And handed it to Din.

“What’s this?” The Mandalorian asked dryly, looking at the small device in the droid's hand as if it were the most confusing puzzle in the galaxy.

“Courtesy of Greef Karga…. once again.” When Din made no effort to move, the droid looked between the two of you. “They go together. I assume they offer some explanation. Otherwise, I have nothing to tell you about them.”

Din sighed, taking the puck and shutting the hangar door before the droid could say another word.

A muffled, “Oh. Well, good day, then!” Came through before the retreat of mechanical footsteps was heard.

“That was rude!” You mumbled, turning to go deeper into the hangar, but freezing when you saw the info spinning above the puck in Din’s hand. 

No.

No it couldn’t be.

Quickly activating the comm, you let Karga explain what you already feared.

“If you’re playing this message, you’ve already opened the puck. Yes. I know. I was just as shocked, too.”

There, in letters as big as day was your name.

“It was issued by the head of some small town crime group on Tatooine. Said you decimated their numbers yesterday?”

Din grunted. “Nobody died. What do they mean decimated?”

“I’m not issuing the puck to anyone, but be on the lookout. It could make things…. Difficult.”

The comm went dead, and all you could do was stare at the puck in Din’s hand, the info being presented to you but truly not being absorbed as all you could do was watch and blink.

The puck displayed your picture, slowly spinning with all your details next to it. 

Name: Eesra Kesyk

Last known location: Tatooine

Known associates: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Peli Motto, Sola Kei, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker

Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan, Luke, Ahsoka? For some small time group on Tatooine, they had really gone out of their way to find info on you….

Your gut sank. 

Unless….

You shook your head. There’s no way this went beyond a small town crime lord on a backwater planet. No way.

Focusing back in on the list, you squinted to read the fine print it was in to have everything fit on the little readout.

The rest was just details, date of birth, previous work…. reason for bounty.

“Are they serious?”

Unlawful use of star cruiser in restricted airspace, failure to comply with law enforcement, breaking and entering, damage to public property, battery and assault….

Din thought this was all very funny. He was practically giggling by now, snorts of laughter trickling out of his modulator as he stood to your right.

He’d tried to stop under your glare, he really did, but it just wasn’t possible, little snickers escaping here and there. 

“Who knew I married such a horrible person?”

He did this from time to time. Brought up his little misstep with Peli where he’d called you his wife, leaning fully into the absurdity and embracing the silliness you often tried to pelt at him mercilessly by saying it himself first.

Rolling your eyes, but unable to contain the small grin climbing up your face,  you looked back at the puck and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into, Tin Can.” Tilting your head at the readout, you pursed your lips. “And we’re not actually married, no matter what you said to Peli. You’re not ready for all of this.” Making a swooping gesture to yourself, you ignored his mocking snort of amusement. 

You stared at the list for another loaded minute of silence before going on. “Besides, half of these aren’t even true!” Gesturing to the list with one hand, you turned to look up at his visor, brows raised. “Unlawful use of starcruiser…. When did we even leave the planet?”

He was still chuckling warmly as he turned to you. “Did I? Know what I was getting into, I mean? I don’t know about that, mesh’la.” His chuckle grew louder as your face fell into unamusement. “And are you sure? Only half?”

Turning to face him fully, you raised one hand to wag a finger in his face teasingly. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps coming back.”

Pulling you into his arms, he hummed contentedly. “And I always will come back to you.”

Copying his hum of satisfaction, you reached up and grabbed his cowl like always, tucking your face into the fabric and taking a deep breath before turning to the side to look at the holo once again with a sigh.

“They got my name wrong, though.”

“Did they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you smiled. “Eesra Djarin of Clan Mudhorn…. That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

He groaned softly. “I-”

Bleep!

Din grunted in mild annoyance as Bee rolled up the ramp, stopping beside the two of you and trilling animatedly. “Not now, Scrap.”

Bee let out as close to a matching grunt of displeasure a droid could make, flipped out the electrified arm on her front, and waved it at Din in warning. 

“See? This is why I don’t like droids,” Din grumbled.

Rolling forward bit by bit, backtracking just slightly in between, she pried her way into the small amount of space between the two of you, making you step back just slightly to make room.

“Well, hello there,” you mused quietly to the metallic dome whose lense was looking up at you, smiling back at the tiny bloop in greeting. “May I help you?”

She babbled away in Binary animatedly, charged hand still extended toward Din in warning as she rolled ever so slightly closer towards you, tilting forward just a bit and causing Din to grunt as the forward motion pushed the bottom of her housing into his shin guards with a ping.

“I’m sure R5 didn’t say all that. What are you getting at?”

More beeps and whistles, this time containing squeals as her lense switched between red and white rapidly, almost faster than her sounds, as she animatedly continued her story.

“Wow,” you finally said when the droid stopped, staring at you expectantly.

“What did she say?” Din tilted his head at you.

“No idea.” You looked up into his visor. “All I caught was something something BD said and then Peli, Jawas….”

Both of you started to chuckle softly, Bee looking between you as she rotated her dome back and forth, a bloop of disappointment before a raspberry of annoyance, and you couldn’t shake the growing grin on your face if you wanted to.

After a moment she reached out just a little further and zapped Din with the electrified arm, tittering a laugh as she rolled away at speed as Din chased after her after crying out in pain. “Ow! Get back here, you rolling scrap heap!”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the opening of the ramp to the Crest, and watched the scene unfold in Peli’s hangar.

Droids, a mechanic, and a Mandalorian all running in circles after a goal you weren’t quite sure of. All that was clear was Din was losing.

You were home, with the people you loved.

Looking to the side, you saw the bunk of the Crest open, the child’s hammock still strung across the top. The corners of your mouth pulled slightly down.

Well, almost everyone.

You were a clan of three.

No, it was more than that.

You were also a family.

And someday, you’d all be back together again.

Someday soon.

You’d find a way to bring it all back to you.

Adjusting your weight slightly, you bumped something on your vambraces in the process causing the jetpack between your shoulder blades beginning to whir with an increasing hum. Flames began to sputter at its base with a growing roar, sending a wall of heat down the backs of your thighs as it prepared to lift you into the skies once again.

“Din?” You called, quietly at first, staring over your shoulder at the new death trap strapped to your spine, then more urgently, “Din!”

He was already jogging up the ramp toward you, his posture easy and relaxed. “Calm down.”

A quick glance behind him showed an amused Peli and her circus of droids, all of them tittering in amusement. Bee rocked back and forth in glee at the foot of the ramp before rolling back to the others. 

“Calm down?” You repeated in bewilderment, watching him disengage the jetpack from your vambrace with a single button push, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Calm down?!” He began to chuckle, his hand skimming up the inside of your forearm to lightly grab your elbow and push you further into the ship as you went on. “I was almost a flying projectile and you-”

You hadn’t noticed the way he’d nudged you backwards completely out of sight of the rest of the hangar until your spine sealed along the bulkhead by the weapons locker, the lights of the cargo hold going to half brightness with a deft swipe of his hand over a control pad to your left. 

Half, but still plenty bright to see.

“Din?”

Taking in your new surroundings, you looked back up to see him taking his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. His helmet came next, the quiet hiss of the mechanism causing you to screw your eyes shut. The familiar sound of beskar thunking onto the metal floor of the Crest made them close even tighter.

Din chuckled softly, the unmodulated sound tickling your face with his warm breath. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly you blinked your eyes open, looking up to see warm brown eyes, and the sweetest smile waiting to meet you. “I still forget.”

Winding your hands up into the curls at the base of his head, you smirked when he let out a contented sigh through his nose. 

After a moment of simply holding the other’s gaze, you muttered quietly, “Hello, brown eyes.”

Din was on you in an instant, his groan of annoyance muffled against your lips as you laughed softly into the kiss. 

“You always have to ruin it,” he mumbled, crowding you further into the wall, his bare hands coming to cradle your face and making your eyes slip shut at the contact. “Nu-uh. Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

Fluttering them open, you tried very hard to keep them that way. “Sorry. It’s not every day a Mandalorian is half naked in front of me. I’ll try harder.”

“Half naked?” He tilted his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours, one brow arching up in question. 

“For you, a helmet and gloves is the equivalent of a-”

Din was back on you again, this time growling in mock frustration against your lips as you laughed a bit louder. The upturn of his lips gave his amusement away, though.

Pulling apart just enough that only your foreheads rested against one another, the two of you held that moment together for quite a while. Simply breathing the other in, and existing in this quiet moment before the storm. 

Before you left to find more Mandalorians. 

More Mandalorians. 

Now that was going to be interesting. 

After a moment, you rolled your head to the side slightly and peeked up through your lashes to find his eyes closed.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for you both to speak in tandem, “Open your eyes.”

“I will if you will,” you were quick to retort.

Warm brown eyes met yours once again as the setting suns’ light poured in through the open ramp somewhere behind him, painting the cargo hold of the Crest in vibrant shades of gold, orange and red.

Din smiled softly, pressing his forehead further into yours, using his hands at your cheeks to maneuver your head back a bit and into a better angle for him to lean his forehead into. “Only for you.” His fingers began to move up and thread into your hair. “Always for you.” It was hard to tell where he stopped and you began. “Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” He pressed his forehead even further into yours, his lips ghosting over your own with each word. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

“Gar cuyi ner yaim. Ner yaim'ol. Ner yaim'la.” The light of the day was fading, much the same as the two of you were melding into one another, practically becoming one being, all his hard edges blurring where your soft lines began. The Crest began to fill with long shadows as the lights in Peli’s hangar kicked on, filling the cargo hold with just enough extra light to see. (“You are my home. My homecoming. My comfortable.”)

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, and he melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your palm, his voice a low rumble. “Ni ratiin yaimpar gar.” (“I always return to you.”)

In the quiet moment, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek bone slowly back and forth before finally whispering with a smile, “Open your eyes.”

Once he was looking at you once again, you pulled your head back just a bit and tilted it to the side. “So, where are we going to find the covert?”

He went stiff. “We?”

You sighed, laying your head on his pauldron. “It’s been how long, and you still haven’t learned that I’m always going to come with you?”

Din looked at you with a matching sigh. He tilted his head at you, his weight shifted to one leg, his hands on your waist moving you along with him. “You sometimes stay here when I go out on a job and help Peli work on the ship. It’s almost done after what Gideon tried to do- er, it was until today.”

“Exactly. So after this last massacre, I don’t think Peli wants to see my face around here anymore,” you laughed, making him shake his head and let out a huff of laughter. “I think Boba would give us a lift to wherever.”

“And then how do we get back?”

You smiled as you closed the small space between you, speaking softer as the situation began to feel more delicate. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Why are your ideas usually half baked or somehow involve fire?”

You closed the distance between you yet again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, and pressing your forehead into his. “And yet they always work….”

“You get lucky sometimes,” he groused half heartedly before he returned the gesture, a warm ungloved hand spread across your back, the other moving up to the back of your head to tuck your face securely into the crook of his neck.

You weren’t about to pull away as he held you there gently. Turning your face towards him where it rested on his shoulder, your nose brushed against his neck, and his grip grew tighter. Glancing up towards his face, you thought back to a time in the bar when this all started when all you could see before the helmet obstructed your view was a small sliver of skin that bobbed as he swallowed roughly. 

Now you had an unobstructed view….

….Of unruly dark curls long overdue for a trim….

….Golden skin dusted with a light facial hair that had the slightest hint of grays peppered in….

….Kind, warm brown eyes that looked at you with so many promises….

….A nose that had definitely been broken once or twice….

….And a smile that took your breath away.

You turned your head up fully towards his face as you pulled away just enough to look at him straight on, and he turned his gaze down to meet you with a slightly playful tilt of his head like before.

“I’m just that good.” Your hands fell to rest on his chest plate. “Now let’s go find your people.”

“Let’s go find our people,” he corrected.

With a gentle nod, you pulled away slowly after a moment, turning towards the ramp with wide eyes as what just happened sunk in.

Our people.

Din walked past you, looking over his shoulder once he was on the ramp. “Are you coming?”

Our people. 

Turning your head slightly to the left, you saw he had stopped, helmet back on, gloves securely fastened, and every bit the Mandalorian you had met all those years ago, only now he stood waiting for you, hand outstretched in invitation.

Mine.

You smiled, walking forward and taking his hand. “Moff Gideon couldn’t keep me away.”

Xxx

Yes, I gave her a name. Eesra Kesyk. (Ee-sruh Keh-sick) Let’s face it, Mesh’la is still what’s going to be used 99.999999% of the time, and “you” the majority of the rest. But we’re going into a part of the story with a whole lot of other new players and I wanted to have something to call the reader besides “you” and nicknames. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sorry. But, it’s my story, and that’s what I chose to do. I have a plan, so if you’ll bear with me, thank you, and I hope we can see it through together. ❤️ Plus, Din still just calls her *sigh* or “stop it!” 99% of the time, so…. 🤭

Xxx

Tags to come!

[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

[moodymisty]

How about Din getting jealous? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That Grogu like the reader more than him XD

I feel like he’d feel so betrayed and secretly pout under the helmet.

Author's note: You're gonna pay for baiting me like that, you know..... I kid I kid, I love dadmode!Din so much. Edit: forgot to add a few notes that I meant to earlier because I am... stoopid

Relationships: Din Djarin/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None unless you consider excessive fluff a thing to warn for. And snuggling. Just being a little family after Din gets over being overprotective and a little jelly (not completely but enough lol)

Din will never allow his eyes to wander off the kid when you're near him, at first. They usually never do, but with someone else close by, he's on constant high alert.

He'll snatch Grogu up if he starts walking your way, or make sure that any attempt to say more than a few words at the little one is met with a firm glare you can feel through the tinted visor of his helmet. Any reassurances of your peaceful intentions are met with incertitude at best; Though you still give them none the less.

His excuse for being this way is protection; He can’t just let anyone near the kid. And while you're understanding, at least somewhat, Grogu definitely isn't on the same wavelength as the two of you. and Din hates it. You two are attached at the hip within moments.

It seems like as early as the first day you saw him, any time you're within reaching distance of the kid he's trying to make his way closer; Tugging at your clothes or reaching out in your direction. If Din is holding him or he's snug in his pram, he's always trying to catch a peek at you, making curious little noises. You reciprocate every one, always smiling back or laughing. Din at first doesn't quite realize why his chest feels tight when you do.

The Mandalorian manages to halt most of these efforts, but a few manage to slip through his non-stop surveillance.

'Hello', You whisper to him at one point while you're walking beside the hovering pram, smiling down at the child. Din for the first time silently lets it slide, continuing forward but his eyes still watching you out the side of his helmet's visor.

You're not even looking his way at the moment, and Din eventually just sluffs off; Filled with noticeable displeasure. You roll your eyes at him, and try and ignore the way his sentences are more snipped for the rest of the day.

But now you take the passenger seat in the Razor Crest- or later in Din's journey his N-1 Starfighter with the droid port modified to be a co-pilot's seat- which had previously only been Grogu's. You end up having the little one sit on your lap most of the time, particularly if you're landing or taking off. Grogu seems more than fine with the arrangement, and Din decides not to make a big deal of it.

After you're off planet you like to talk to Grogu while in hyperspace, talking about the stars or how 'he looks like such a pout over there', gossiping to only to the kid and smiling at the way you watch the Mandalorian's helmet crook towards you both. He's displeased, but he once again finds himself looking forward again and letting it slide. Din knows he isn't too much of a conversationalist, so surely Grogu enjoys your chatter. At least he seems to; And Din finds himself not minding it much either. Even if he'd still rather you talk to him.

It just takes time, chipping away at him piece by piece. but over time, Din finds himself also seeing a bit of whatever the kid sees in you.

The ship's gangplank is locked, all the supplies are secure, his and your blasters are clean; Din runs through his mental checklist, eyes drifting over every single centimeter of the Razor Crest.

The spaceport he's docked at tonight is safe enough, he feels like he can rest just for awhile without anyone trying to tear metal off the sides of the ship to sell for scrap.

He had sent you off to do so quite a bit ago, seeing the way your eyelids were drooping and you struggled to keep up with his sentences. When he'd told you to go lay down, you'd done it without much resistance. After one more once over Din finally walks back to his cot he indeed sees you tucked in it, the blanket tugged up over your shoulders as you're curled up underneath. One glance to the foot of the bed and he sees the floating pram closed, safely within reach. He looks back to you, eyes lingering for a moment and watching the way your body slowly raises and lowers with your breaths; Before he begins taking off his armor.

He's so tired; His body aches from the pain of carrying so much for days without sleep. Each piece is like peeling off a bit of him; So uncomfortable yet relieving. He gently sets them down, making as little noise as possible until he's left in only his flight suit.

The ship is almost pitch black other than a few small lights that barely illuminate around themselves, and he knows you'll keep your eyes closed. it's a well instilled habit in you now.

Once he's finished undressing he approaches the cot fully, and notices your lips curling upwards. So he'd either woken you up, or you've been listening to him this entire time. Your voice stops him, once you feel the weight of his knee on the cot.

"Sorry, Din. Your spot is taken."

You blindly pull back the blanket just enough to reveal the little child curled up in your arms instead of the pram, safely asleep. You usually curl up against Din's chest, so instead he loops around to your back, moving into the spot behind you and fully forfeiting his normal spot to the child. His arm lays limp over your waist, and you raise your head enough that his other arm can slip underneath your neck, becoming your pillow. the blanket rests at your waist level, now that you have his body heat to help warm you in the cold confines of the ship.

And for the first time in awhile, Din feels like he can actually let down his defenses a bit.

You're both here; The kid and you, right in his arms where he can feel you and see you. He doesn't have to keep a watchful eye on every stranger within reach and a hand on his blaster. His clan his safe; His family is safe.

He can just, breathe. For a moment.

“I’m glad the kid likes you.”

You can feel his facial scruff scratch against the top of your head as he speaks. Your eyes are still closed, so close to drifting off that you almost don't even respond to what he just said.

“What, did you think he wouldn’t?” Din noticeably stiffens for just a moment, before relaxing again.

"No," You can feel his arm laid gently over your waist, hand laying limp right next to Grogu.

"I'm just glad he chose you."

Join the taglist here: @starborncyare @simp-legend @nekotaetae @coffeyorky

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 1 - Stitching Serenity

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Chapter summary: As he adjusts to life on Nevarro, Din Djarin ventures into town with his son, Grogu, to gather supplies to finish settling into their new home. While shopping, he has a chance encounter with you - a local seamstress. The two of you make an instant connection, as he's drawn in by your beauty and kind heart. After striking up a deal with you, Din heads home after a long day, where suppressed feelings of loneliness and desire arise.

Chapter warnings: slow burn, domestic!Din, dad!Din, mutual pining, yearning, loneliness, bit of flirting, inaccurate star wars info, male masturbation, Din Djarin is referred to as Din and i’m not sorry, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy mando monday! we’ve got another series, babes! buckle up - we’ve got mega pining incoming. Din is a very special character that i hold close to my heart. 🩵 he is so complex, and i want to handle him with so much love and care. i hope y'all enjoy this introduction to the series! feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in my asks/dms 🫶🏼

Divider by @saradika

Light blazes through the cracked window, his room rapidly warming up from the brutal Nevarro heat. Din stirs as he hears his son babbling from his room right next to his. Rising to his feet, he pads into the next room, greeted by an excited Grogu. Din scoops him up out of his bed, and carries him into the kitchen.

Grogu’s been babbling a lot more, Din is curious if he’ll say his first words soon. He fixes up Grogu’s breakfast and sets him in his chair at the table along with the food. Making sure his son doesn’t choke while eating, he makes a mental list of things they need to get today at the market.

Beams, wire, fence lining.

Grogu spills some of his breakfast on his tunic, eliciting a sigh from Din. 

New clothes for Grogu are added to the list.

After breakfast, Din changes Grogu out of his messy tunic into a spare one he keeps in the drawer for laundry days. Settling Grogu back into his tiny bed, which Din so proudly made himself, he places his favorite ball and a stuffed frog Greef Karga had gifted to him inside to keep him occupied while he gets ready.

He trudges into the refresher, turns on the shower and strips down before stepping into the water. While scrubbing, Din makes another mental list of chores he needs to do around the farm. 

Tend to the yard, give the starfighter a tune-up, begin building the fence around the pond.

He steps out of the shower and dries off. Dressing in the refresher, he slips back out into the hall and back into his room.

He’s still adjusting to this new life, never knowing such tranquility and domesticity before. They haven’t got much yet, but he’s trying his best. Wanting to give his son a new, calmer life after all they’ve been through.

Sliding on his helmet and tacking on his remaining equipment, he slings the sack Grogu likes to occasionally ride in over his shoulder. He pads back into Grogu’s room, scooping up his gurgling son as he’s entertained with his toys, and placing him into his pram. The clan of two sets off on a long day of gathering things for their new home.

Sauntering into the markets, the clan heads in the direction of the hardware stand. Buying a few beams, wire, and a few sheets of metal fencing to build a fence surrounding the pond in his front yard. Din efficiently packs the supplies together and slings them on his back.

The fabric stand catches his eye, noting that he and Grogu do need more clothes, and even some new bedding.

As Din peruses through the selection of handcrafted items, picking up a new set of sheets for himself and garments for him and his son, Grogu wanders off in his pram to the stuffed animals.

Din perks up at Grogu’s babbling, seeing that his son has picked up a stuffed bantha. “No, Grogu. Put that down, we’re only buying things we need right now.” Grogu’s ears droop as he whines. “We’ll come back in a few days. I promise, kid.”

“Do you need help with anything?” A sweet voice breaking through the bustling air.

You appear from behind one of the cloaks that are hung up on display, kindly smiling at him and Grogu. Din’s breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you. You look radiant, ethereal - your beauty rendering him speechless for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Uh, no, ma’am. Is this your stand?” He asks, feeling flustered.

“It is. Do you like that one, baby?” You ask, crouching a bit to get on Grogu’s level, who’s cooing at your words. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you gently tell him. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry. We’re only buying necessities today. Will you have any more next week?” You smile up at the mandalorian. “Nonsense, it’s on the house,” you tell him, giddy as a toothy grin plasters your face. “I’m afraid I can’t accept, ma’am. Thank you for your generosity, but-” 

“You mandalorians are always so cordial. I insist it’s on the house. It’s alright, sweet boy. Go on, take it,” you say. Grogu squeals and squishes the stuffed bantha into a bone crushing embrace, your heart melting at the sight of the little green child. 

“Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you. Could you at least let me pay for it?” You playfully roll your eyes. “Is your helmet sound proof or something? It’s on the house,” you smile, winking at him.

Thank the stars Din wears this helmet, or else you’d be able to see how red he is underneath. 

“I surrender. You drive a hard bargain. I’d at least like to pay for the clothes and these sheets. Are you the seamstress in charge, ma’am?”

You perk up at his question. “I’ll allow you to pay for the clothes, and that I am!”

You’ve got a bit of a spunky personality, from what Din can gather.

“Do you happen to take commissions? These shirts will fit him fine, but if it’s not too much trouble, could I possibly ask for some smaller ones that’ll fit him a little better? I’ll even pay double whatever you normally charge,” he rambles. A twinkle glints in your eyes, your face hurts as you can’t stop smiling at the flustered mandalorian.

“I do take commissions. And no need to pay me double, I’m more than happy to help at whatever price works for you,” you kindly respond. The mandalorian huffs out a modulated chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you very much, ma’am. Could I stop by tomorrow with him to get his measurements? We’ll be in town again gathering more supplies for our new cabin. We’re still settling in and I want him to have enough clothes,” he tells you.

“Sure! I’ll be here for the next week until dusk or whenever I sell out, whichever comes first. Are you liking Nevarro so far?” You curiously ask, wondering if he’s got a spouse at home.

“We are. It’s a much quieter life than our past one, but… it’s a nice change. Just want to make sure the kid has everything he needs.” 

You nod at his answer, unable to stop the next words tumbling from your lips. “Does your spouse need any custom garments as well, or just your son?” 

“No spouse. It’s just me and my son,” he quickly blurts. Your smile reappears at his answer, silence brewing amongst you two. Grogu’s gurgling cuts through the air, both of you turning to look at the excited child in his pram.

“You’re a good dad,” you softly tell him.

“Thank you. You’re a very kind woman. Thank you for being so kind to my son,” he quietly says, fondly staring at Grogu who is occupied with his new toy. “Of course. I can tell he’s a sweet kid. Also helps that he’s adorable. I can fold those by the way,” you say, hands out awaiting his items.

“Oh, thank you very much,” the mandalorian says gratefully, intently watching you fold his purchases as he searches for his next words. Not wanting your conversation to end just so he can hear your sweet voice.

“Do you make those stuffed animals as well?” The mandalorian asks you. “I do.” 

“You’re very talented,” he compliments. Now it’s your turn to feel flustered, heat surging throughout your body - and it’s not from the blistering Nevarro heat.

“Thank you very much,” you gracefully tell him with a bashful smile, silently asking for the items in his hands

“I might just have to commission you for one of those as well,” the mandalorian says as he hands you the credits for the sheets and garments as you fold them.

“Apologies, as well, for not introducing myself earlier. I’m…Mando. It was nice meeting you,” Mando says, trailing off at the end while packing everything into his bag. 

The market bustles now, making you shuffle a bit closer to him so he can hear you, as you timidly give him your name. He quickly repeats it, burning it into his memory. The gap between you both having grown smaller. Catching a whiff of your sweet perfume, Din’s knees nearly buckle.

Of course you’re the embodiment of sweetness - and he longs to have a taste.

Flashing him your dazzling smile, you stick your hand out, awaiting his grasp. His face grows hot as he shakes your hand, both of your touches lingering. You gaze deeply into the slit in his helmet, hoping he can sense a sliver of desire from you.

You shuffle even closer, nearly fully flushed against his beskar. “It was nice meeting you too, Mando. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Your voice hushed, your words only meant for him to hear. 

“Yes, we’ll be back in the morning,” Mando says just as quietly. Your smile softens as you glance down to your conjoined hands. You pull away, realizing your hold on his hand lingered for a tad too long.

He clears his throat before turning to his son. “Come on, Grogu. Let’s go,” he barks, causing Grogu to snap his head up and look at his father.

“Bye, baby! Oh, hold on a second!” You say, fishing in your pocket and pulling out a piece of candy. “Here you go!” You squeak as you hand him the sweet treat. His eyes light up and he gurgles in excitement. He hurriedly takes the candy from you, unwrapping it to shove it in his mouth. 

“Grogu, what do you say?” His father sternly asks him. Grogu looks up at you and babbles what you think is his version of ‘thank you.’

“You’re welcome, Grogu. Bye bye!” You giggle as you wave off the clan. 

Din makes one last stop, purchasing some things to make dinner. He carries his bag of garments and sheets in one hand and the bag of ingredients in another as his hardware rests on his back. He lugs everything back home as Grogu entertains himself with his new toy.

Opening the door, Grogu rushes in first in his pram as Din trails behind and shuts the door. He tosses the bags onto the couch and settles the hardware in a corner of the living room. Grogu babbles as he plays with the bantha you gave him, giving Din the perfect opportunity to quickly cook him some soup for dinner.

It’s different not living out of ration packs, and actually having time to cook a real, hot meal. Domesticity is so foreign to him. The thought of sharing this new life with someone - with you - quickly infiltrates his mind. His mind swirls as recalls his encounter with you today while making dinner. 

How did you become a seamstress? What’s your story? Do you give away stuff for free to other customers? Or was it because you’re interested in him? Is that why you had asked if he had a spouse? Or were you just being polite? Why does he care so much? He hadn’t thought about the other merchants this way, but there is something about you that has pulled him into your orbit, making him unable to shake you from his mind.

Grogu’s cooing pulls him from his trance, the soup he’d prepared had boiled over while he reeled through his thoughts. Din exasperatedly cleans up the mess and serves Grogu dinner, who scarfs it down the second it’s placed in front of him. As his son eats, Din continues reeling.

He’d been fine with being alone all these years. Why is he starting to feel this way? He and Grogu have been living here for a few months now, so why is he suddenly feeling a sense of desire? Longing? Even loneliness? Could it be the paternal instinct to provide more for his son? Or could it simply be you?

A tiny burp drags him back into reality. Grogu tiredly yawns, his belly full after a long day at the market with Din. His eyes droop, along with his ears. Din scoops him up and heads to Grogu’s room. He places the green child in bed, placing the stuffed bantha you’d gifted him alongside him.

Din shuts the door and walks into his room next door. He continues to think of you while stripping his armor. He’d suppressed his feelings of loneliness for years now, but something about you had brought them to the surface.

Perhaps it was the way you treated Grogu with such sweetness, so maternally. Or perhaps it was your divine beauty which shines so brightly, penetrating from within your kind heart into the external realm. Whatever it may be, Din could not seem to shake the overwhelming feelings of yearning and loneliness - needs craving to be fulfilled by someone, by you.

Sighing as he removes his helmet, he changes into sweats and opts to sleep shirtless tonight. Padding into the kitchen, he puts the dishes from dinner into the sink, grabbing a glass in the midst of everything.

He knows his son is a Jedi and can overpower him at any moment, but Din still places his spotchka on the top shelf of a cabinet. He just hopes for the best and trusts Grogu won’t get into it.

Swiping the spotchka from the high point, he pours himself a hefty helping and chugs it. Helping himself to two more glasses, he begins to feel the effects, his eyes glazed over and heavy.

Placing the spotchka back on the top shelf and his empty glass in the sink, he walks back to his room and pulls his blanket back. Settling into bed, he still can’t get you out of his head.

His cock twitches at the thought of you, palming himself through his sweatpants. Images of you flash through his mind as he takes himself out of the confines of his sweatpants. His length springs out and bounces onto his stomach, thumping in the processing. 

Din spits into his hand and winces as he strokes his cock. He’s so hard it hurts. Closing his eyes, he sighs as he strokes himself up and down, gathering the bead of precum that has dribbled from his tip and smearing it along his length. 

The memory of you smiling as you appeared from thin air has him thumbing at his sensitive head. Your sweet scent lingers in his nose, smelling of florals, candy, and a hint of musk. He picks up the pace at the recollection. His breathing grows ragged as he remembers the glint in your shimmering, kind eyes. A fire burns in his veins, balls throbbing as he nears the edge.

He recalls how his skin felt electric beneath his glove as you shook his hand. The thought of your lingering touch sends a jolt of lightning through his veins as he replays the sweet sound of his name fluttering from your lips.

He wonders if his real name would sound just as sweet.

At that thought, he teeters off the cliff and plummets into his orgasm, painting his stomach with his spend while he groans your name. There’s so much cum, he’s definitely going to have to use his new bedding tonight.

He swims through the treacherous waves of his climax, sweat sheening his body. His hair sticks to his forehead and the back of his neck, a heady bliss crashes over him as he tries to catch his breath. He hasn’t cum that hard… ever.

He pants as he throws an arm over his face. Attempting to steady his breathing, he exhales a deep sigh. He’s never been so frustrated with himself. He’s always had more self-control, more discipline when it came to his desires. It’s unbelievable, and downright embarrassing, how quickly he caved at the thought of you. He doesn’t even know if you’re interested in him that way. It’s not like he could give you everything you deserve either, so long as he follows the Way.

Rising to his feet, he pads into the refresher to clean up the mess he made on his stomach. He heads into the living room, rummaging through the bags he carried in earlier. Slipping into the new pair of pants he purchased from you, along with grabbing the new sheets, he trudges back into his bedroom. He strips the bed and replaces the sheets with the ones you crafted and sold to him.

Groaning, he plops himself onto the mattress and stares at the concrete ceiling. Scintillating moonlight shines through the cracked window while the embarrassment and guilt sink in.

How is he supposed to face you at the market tomorrow?

An exhausted sigh rumbles from deep within his chest. He's never been more eager to wear his helmet ‘til now. He turns on his side before nodding off - hoping for a dreamless sleep, one free of you.

thank you for reading! may the yearning begin 🫡 i’m setting these two up for a slow burn hehehe

we will learn more about reader and her story in the next chapters!! i just wanted to introduce Din’s mindset after settling into a calmer life with Grogu

i want to delve some more into Din’s mind and examine his loneliness since we only catch very brief glimpses of it in the show. we know he gets lonely though, an example being apart from Grogu for 2 years. he’s a human after all underneath all that armor. a complex one at that with being an orphan and having to hide himself all the time.

anyway, i hope you enjoyed! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters <333

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @party-hearses @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @pascalpvnk @javierpena-inatacvest @mandoisapunk

[happy-beeeps]

Dincember Day 1 & 2: Snow and Fire

Summary: Grogu has never seen snow before, so Din tries his best to help the little guy get over his fear.

Warnings: none! Fluff!

Pairing: din x reader

WC: 1.3k

You’re bundled up in the warmest clothes you have in your trunk, a heavy fleece lined pair of leggings and a thick sweater of Din’s he picked up years ago on Alderaan and a heavy jacket, trying to find something warm to wrap Grogu in. Currently, you’ve got his little brown sack pulled tightly over his tiny frame, and you've attempted to insulate him by stuffing clean socks inside the coat, hoping to conserve any extra body heat. “Just bare with me bug,” you murmur, wrapping a woolen scarf around his ears. Finally, you take a step back to admire your handiwork.

Grogu is standing completely still, arms out to the side like one of the figures you’d seen standing in farmland. He doesn’t move towards you, bundled up so tight you aren’t sure it’s even possible. Still, he’s unbearably cute.

You move to scoop up the bundle of Grogu in front of you, and he coos at your touch, moving to squish his hands up in the direction of your face. “Your dad said he had a surprise for us, you wanna go check it out?”

Grogu attempts to move his head in a motion you can only interpret as “of course! There’s nothing I’d rather do!” so you move forward towards the ramp of the crest, lowering it slowly open before stepping outside.

You’re met with, as expected, a gust of cold wind and a flurry of snow, kissing your cheeks and making your stomach flip excitedly. You haven’t been on a system with snow in ages, and you suddenly feel like a schoolgirl again, racing forward to jump into the soft powder. The light outside looks equally soft, the setting suns casting a soft, pastel glow over the landscape. You can’t remember the name of the system you’re on, someplace inconsequential with a small town and even smaller fishing industry, but the scenery is beautiful. Large, blue glaciers jut out from the landing, looking as if they’ve been pushed out of the ground by some giant. Snow coats the ground with a thick blanket, and as you step into it you guess it’s at least five inches deep, enough to threaten to reach Grogu’s midriff if you set him down.

The thought brings you back to reality, and you look down to see your small bundle wrapping himself into you, timidly looking at the landscape around and the snow on the ground. “Do you want to play?”

At your words, he moves even closer inwards, pressing against you further. Suddenly, it dawns on you. Is he scared? Has Grogu even seen snow before? Before you can attempt to find an answer, there’s a glint in the distance that catches your eye. Din walks towards you, sparkling like an icicle against the setting sun, and your heart flutters the tiniest bit as you watch his pace quicken slightly when he spots the two of you.

“Aliit,” he murmurs as he gets closer, wrapping an arm around you as he brings his forehead to yours, and placing a hand on Grogu. “You bundled this one up good.” He says, inspecting Grogu, who is softly cooing into his father’s touch.

“I think I immobilized him,” you chuckle, and from the subtle shift in his body language you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath the helmet. “Din, has he ever seen snow before?”

He thinks this over for a moment as he picks the baby up from your arms, settling him against his chest. Again, Grogu clings to him, eyes wide at the snow beneath his father’s feet. “Don’t know, don’t think it snows much in Coruscant. Hard to say where he’s been before I found him, but it’s not like it snows on Arvala-7.”

This much you know for sure. The three of you walk a bit further to a small clearing a few minutes from the crest. Not far enough to be dangerous, but just far enough that you can forget you’re here on business. Din has, as expected, surprised you, setting up a small but roaring bonfire and a blanket on a patch of snow he’s excavated. There’s a pot of something brewing over the fire, and three sticks of meat roasting on the side.

“S’not much, but I know it’s been awhile since you’d seen snow.”

It has been awhile. Honestly, it’s been longer than you can remember. You’d had to leave your home system, a smaller system good for nothing but ski hills and lumber, when you were young, and it seemed every place you bounced to was hotter (and dustier) than the next.

“Here, I’ll set him down.” He places Grogu on the blanket, towards the edge, and the baby tentatively looks between you two. He moves his arm first in the direction of his dad, then you, and finally, the snow. “Kriff, he’s really packed in there.”

As if in response, Grogu makes a half-hearted attempt to move towards the offending white powder, and nearly falls flat on his face, barely being caught by you in time. “He’s tiny! He could freeze!”

Din’s low chuckle comes through his modulator in a way that makes your head spin. “Your mom is trying to suffocate you.”

“Am not,” you scoff, moving to kneel in the snow and placing him down softly. “Go on bug, it’s soft, see?”

Grogu moves, tentatively, and touches the snow. Feeling it’s chill he quickly pulls back a hand and then, slowly, reaches back to pat it. Once he’s successfully deemed it not a threat, he makes a flop to the ground and sits square in it, the flurries coming close to his face as he gleefully coos and pats his arms all around him.

Din kneels beside him, grabbing a handful of the soft snow and rolling it between his palms, shaping it carefully. He’s so gentle with it, so slow with his movements as he carefully shapes the ball to sit in front of his son.

“Did you ever make a snowman?” You ask, watching as he shows Grogu how to push the ball along the snow.

He shakes his head subtly, “No. We never got snow on Concordia. It’s not like there’s really time for a bounty hunter to make one when I’ve been anywhere else.”

“Let me show you,” you sit down beside them, ignoring the way the cold sends a chill down your spine as the snow seeps through your layers. You don’t even feel it from how warm your heart is at the sight. “Let's make a smaller one,” you say, partially to Din and partially to Grogu, as you roll a second, slightly smaller ball and place it atop Din’s.

Grogu coos, and flaps his arms, and you help him as best you can to roll a third, even tinier ball to set a top the two. “Look bug, we made a little guy!”

He beams, his tooth glinting in the nearly gone sun, and flaps his arms excitedly. You and Din move to go sit closer to the fire while he continues to squish around towards the end of the blanket.

He gets up and removes the kettle from the fire, removes two small cups from his pack and pours the contents in each. “Stopped in a small shop while I was looking for the quarry, the shopkeeper said this was a local specialty.”

It smells heavenly, spiced and chocolate and sweet. It’s thick, coating your tongue with the delightful taste and clinging to the roof of your mouth. “Oh yeah, I could get used to this.”

You can tell he’s smiling beneath his helmet as he wraps an arm around you, pulling him flush to his side. Snow is softly beginning to fall, and Grogu is still playing, the moment so perfect in its silence. So perfect in fact, you barely catch the whisper that nearly escapes Din’s modulator.

“Yeah, me too.”