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netherfeildren · 5 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Interlude : Tartarus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence; Torture; Murder; Blood and gore; Self harm; Suicidal ideations; Depression; Unreliable narrator; Alcohol and drug use; Overall very dark themes

A/N: The chapter is what the tags warn. Please, heed them carefully. Short because it's only an interlude, but the next chapter is almost done!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 3.5K

Read on AO3

INTERLUDE : TARTARUS

Can you eat winter? […] Can you live six months inside a frozen pear? […] Can you punctuate yourself in silence?

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

You are captured at the start of the cold season.

The first man you ever killed had been old. Weathered and beaten down by the galaxy and life, and forgotten or absconded to a decrepit and abandoned planet. Once thriving and rich, it had been bled dry and starved by the Empire, and now remained to stand only as a reminder to others as what not to be, a warning of how you’d end up if you did not submit.

Your master had hunted him for months, a mania about the search that was mouth slicked ravenous and vicious. Something sick about the way he’d obsessed about the man, murmuring his name over and over again at all hours until you were sure you knew the vowels and consonants of it better than your own. You’d never discovered the root of the obsession, the reason for the killing, and when you’d finally found him, he was not at all what you’d expected; brittle boned, white of hair, skin soft and folded over so that it sagged and drooped around his frame, seeming to hang around him out of mere sheer habit.

You’d swept into his mind, pilfered and pillaged and violated it; his past, his whole life, his family, cradled in the blink of your eye. You’d pulled his joints from their sockets, his fingernails from their beds, and his eyes from their cavities. You’d taken him apart piece by little piece, a slow going saturation of pain until little remained of the creature. Until the final piece you’d pulled from him was his breath, his very life, swallowed and settled heavy into your own soul.

You had been very young when you’d killed him, a girl of only seven years old.

You’d once heard that stars are made of a different matter than the four worldly elements – a quintessence – that also happens to be what the human psyche is made of. Which is why man’s spirit corresponds to the stars. You’d swallowed so many souls thinking they might be stars during that time. Perhaps, in an attempt to take some light within you, infuse yourself in the goodness of another’s quintessence. Young and naive and untried. You’d learned eventually how wrong you were. The damage you’d unknowingly wrought upon yourself. And when you remember it all now, the unending reaping, you think: I was young once, and you wish you could cling to that child, beg her to forgive you, beg her to run earlier.

Perhaps, that had been the beginning of the end, and everything after that had been nothing more than one eternally futile battle towards inevitable failure.

For some idiotic reason, you return to Corellia after you part ways with him. Idiotic or desperate, who can really tell, but without a doubt, bitter and angry and devastated. Filled with a keen missing and a fury and an outrage that he’d left you, that you’d allowed yourself to be left. That you’d pushed him away. That really, the destruction of everything was your fault. The day it had suddenly hit you that you’d destroyed everything for nothing, that you’d destroyed the two of you for no real reason at all except for petty and inconsequential fear, had been a monumental sort of devastation. You’d not been able to make it out of your dingy rented bed for days afterwards. And so you’d chosen to believe that this was the end of destiny, rather than the beginning of what had always been fated to you. For choosing to believe that you’d destroyed it yourself was better than the truth, that he had never really been meant to be yours in the first place. And if it were anything else, you’d finish it, destroy it to completion. It if was something less, you’d smash it like a rock, tear it as if it were a piece of parchment, but it is not, for it is your heart, your very heart, your memory.

The only thing left.

While you’d been with him you’d thought that you were healing, that you were healed. That you’d been made whole in his image. That after everything, after so much darkness, one single silver flame to illuminate the night would shine a light on your newfound completeness. But you’d realized, later, when it was too late, how wrong you’d been to think so. Love does not mend the torn seams back into rightness – it fractures the whole thing wide open, splits you down the middle.

And you’re so full of the most poisoned sort of regrets, a living, breathing, fire filled thing that seemed to exhume you from your own misery and would not let you exist peacefully in the deathlessness you’d have chosen for yourself. But it was impossible to go backwards now. Like any unloved thing, you’d not been sure if you really existed until he’d put his hands on you, and now, to have been forced to return to that half life, to be forced to exist in the purgatory of his aftermath – it was fury inducing, rage awakening.

All my hurts hurt worse now, and there is no escape and no reprieve, and it always feels as if the sky seems to peer down on me in a strange and pitiful way. How did that feel? It asks. I’m sorry I caused harm, I reply.

Time no longer exists, and so all you know is that it’s been an unknowable amount of nothing since you’d last seen him.

You ache all the time, try and forget, can’t help but remember

You’d always known exactly how it would play out. Step by step the course your life would take – the Force guided you, and yet, you were still lost. You were still confused. You’d known that he would leave, you’d always known. Just as you’d known you would be the reason he left. You’d waited for it, and yet, when the moment arrived for him to go, you were shocked. And hurt. You were hurt that he would leave you even though you had pushed him away, even though you had always expected it to happen, even though you were the perpetrator of your own abandoning and had always known that you would be.

And so, perhaps, you’d continued to return to Corellia despite knowing it was dangerous for you there, that there were whispers of a dark creature scurrying along the planet’s underbelly, that they’d seen your face all that time ago and rumors still abounded. But it had been the last place you’d found each other, and so some idealistic, stupidly desperate part of you thought that, perhaps, fate would look upon you kindly once again. That dark red thread of fate woven into action one more time, ringing taut with purpose and destiny.

Perhaps, you return looking for a fight or a beating or some form of punishment, certain that you’d find it in that cesspool of vice and crime and corruption. In that place that knows what sort of creature you pretend not to be.

Eventually, however, you get more than you’d bargained for. Or maybe, precisely what you’d wanted.

You’re betrayed by a slippery little Twi’lek. One who’d pretended at being interested in some easy, fun drinking and debauchery. One who you were not aware had awaited the return of a prize such as you for a long, long time. One who’d held the image of your face and your power in the cradle of her mind, ravenous for the moment when she’d finally be afforded a taste and a pay out.

If you could not lose yourself in anything else, him, or even something worse – the dark called to you again so often now, it frightened you – then you’d lose yourself in a bottle, a game of Sabacc, even, on occasion, or when things were particularly dire, a little bit of Spice, just to take the edge off. To make you forget. The smell of the past is everywhere, the smell of too many illusions, too many truths, and you try and resist all the time, you feel yourself actively resisting. But you lie in the awareness of it so often, in the miserable hold of rented beds where no comfort and no warmth is ever to be found on so many nights, that at any moment something terrible could happen. It’s not gone, that coldness inside of you. It’s not gone, the dark side, and it calls to you louder now that he is absent.

You consider yourself in new and strange lights now. A miasma of girl and power and tragedy and myth, always, always the myth of you. You are aware of yourself, of that myth, in so many lights.

Violence has changed me; my body has grown cold. Now there is only mind, cautious and dim, with the sense it is being twisted. I have never loved being alive, and it is difficult to remember that I should.

Din has changed me; my heart is half stone, half devoured. The sun has gone away, tucked inside of him, and I am always cold now, and even though I can't see it anymore, him, it’s comforting to know he’s still out there, somewhere. That the sun still exists.

And so, in need of credits, the Twi’lek finds it easier to sell you off to the highest bidder when she first captures you – that being a league of fanatics who had, at the height of the Empire, venerated the Sith as lords – Gods even – who bent the knee to the dark side in hopes of a power greater than they even really knew the truth of.

Drugged and cuffed after you’d been too stupid or uncaring to even try and defend yourself, you let them take you. You let them take you. You remember that first night in the hole in the ground you’d sentenced yourself to, before she’d left you to your fate with your captors, arm broken, bone jutting grotesquely from your skin, she’d looked down at you from her great height as you lay limp and ready for more breaking on the dirty ground of the cell deep in that Tartarean pit, brow split open and drooling crimson, glassy eyes wide and unseeing, filled only with the memories of gleaming metal, she’d called you a monster with the greatest of contempt and hatred in her eyes. And you’d laughed and laughed and laughed at the reality of you now, sanity gone away, only a little bit, only a little bit; after all, there had always been more madness than goodness anyways.

And you’d wanted to cry: I am not a monster! I am not a monster! But you knew she would not believe you.

This is only what you deserve, creature. Spit from her mouth like venom. You think of the Thalassian crone, all that time ago, or only yesterday: How does it feel to be nothing? She was kinder to you than you know this will be, and for a brief moment you pretend to miss her, fantasize with the idea of him coming to save you once again.

You’d wanted to lie and say that you were not a monster any longer, that you’d changed, that you were better, different, but that would have been a lie, for at your core you knew there would always live within you something of a slightly monstrous countenance, no matter what you did or made of yourself. And what you wanted to say, even more than that, was that perhaps a monster was not such a terrible thing to be. Perhaps, if you’d ever been given the chance, you could have served as a shelter and a warning, all at once, for a family you’d never been allowed to have. Perhaps, if you’d ever been given the opportunity to have been that, nothing much else would have really mattered.

You want to tell her his name. To let it serve as proof of the only goodness that has ever lived inside of you. But you do not. And you let them keep you for far too long, lying in that dark, damp hell, letting them hurt you.

She returns often, the pretty, purple Twi’lek with the sharp teeth. She takes Din’s earrings from you, that first day, and if you’d still had tongue and teeth and voice to thank her for the chance to look upon them, you would have.

They pull your skin from your bones and your bones from your skin, over and over again, and you try and lie that you don’t know what you did to deserve this, but you do. You do know. You remember the old man, the very first one, you think of all the countless others after him, the flash of shrieking beskar. You remember every single crime and sin and face and scream. Every scream, but loudest of all, your own.

You exist only in thousands of agonies.

And they’re creative in their torture and punishment, caring in the imagination of it. They burn the flesh from your bones only so that the Force can heal you back to strength. Slowly, excruciatingly, keeping you drugged and chained, diminishing your connection to yourself. Beaten and flogged and savaged over and over again. You think, or you tell yourself, that you feel little of it, or none at all.

More than anything, you feel so acutely how little it all matters.

Why have you done this to yourself? You’re sure you should ask. I don’t know. What is this all about? Be honest. Anger. Are you angry? Yes. You already knew this.

Perhaps, your mind has finally broken and fragmented in a real and irrevocable way. Perhaps, this is finally destiny finding itself.

You lie in the dark and let it hold you as it did when you were a child, alone and enslaved. You watch the water snake through the cracks of the stone walls, and you are so small, and suddenly, there’s a hole in your cheek and you heal and heal and tear apart again; taste the outside air with your newly grown tongue, and the blood that pools in your mouth reminds you that you’re still alive and made of nothing but regret.

You hold one single comfort like a newly blooming flower in your mind, the only thing that remains: We were together once. I forget the rest, before, now, it no longer matters. We were together once.

For an interminable age, you allow yourself to be poked and prodded, cut and flayed, experimented on – the silly notion these cultists hold that perhaps they could harness your power for themselves, bottle it. Hurt, you allow yourself to be hurt for too long. They never break you beyond repair, but they get very close, many times, and sometimes, you hope it’ll be too much, it needs to be too much just once, and then it could, perhaps, all end.

Your bones ache and wounds open where the too sharp edges of you abrade against the too hard stone, and you relish in the healing and reopening, relish in the suffering. You remind yourself that you chose this, that you continue to actively choose this, that all your choices are yours now, even the losses, and you caress that secret piece of you in the furthest, darkest recess of your mind, your lifeline, and it feels so good to finally be in control of the things that hurt you. Even if it is a false sense of control, even if it’s all only a reality of your mind's own making.

And sometimes, when the delirium has sunk its fangs in you entirely, and you almost don’t know who you are, you think: surely he’ll come to get me. He doesn’t know you’re here. Surely I didn’t fall in love with him just for this. He doesn’t know you’re here. If he knew, he’d come, he would, he would.

Two years is a very long time to be away from a thing you need so much.

I no longer care what sound it makes when I am silenced.

Two years is a very long time to forget.

If I die, it is not this life I will miss, it is him I will miss.

But an even longer time to remember.

How to forget? How to forget? How to forget?

Eventually, you lose yourself, and the brightness of torture becomes the brightness of night, and you’re gone within it.

You consider yourself: the myth, the archetype, the soul, me, me, the Cassandra, the Cassandra.

[Scream] [Scream] [Scream] [Scream]

Din.

You cling to him through the night, through the brightness, through the nothing. You dream of his hands and his hair and the vividness of him. You dream of that pure, golden heart. You dream of beskar and space and being loved.

You dream of being loved.

You do not choose the way you live. You do not live; you are not allowed to die.

You don’t know how long you allow yourself to be held within this womb of punishment, but you know that it is a very long time.

And then one day, unbidden and unexpected: one moment, you’re hungry, a strange and cold and gnawing hunger like something you’ve never felt before. A hunger of the soul. Your mind, so hazy that sometimes you don’t know if you remember your own name, that at certain instances the only image you can recall is the gleam of beskar – you smell vetiver and sweat and blaster smoke and the leather oil of his gloves. You hear his voice. The feeling of his hand in yours the second before you wake, and for a single moment before your eyes open, you’re somewhere else besides this damp Tartarus you’ve condemned yourself to, somewhere green and alive with him.

The third time you meet: You blink, and it’s all darkness and steel bars, and then, a dim light far in the distance? No. A blade of silver beskar.

He’s here. Near.

She had said to you once, your now made sweet Twi’lek: You’re going to die here. Surely, not soon. But one day, we’ll pull your life from you. Once we’ve pulled everything else, taken all we can, we’ll take your life too. And then you’ll be nothing, erased from memory, erased from myth. Nothing at all forever.

You’d taken her words with consideration. You felt strongly that you could not die any longer in any way that truly mattered. If nothing more, than for the memory of him, the memory of that togetherness could never be taken from you, it would always exist and could never be killed, and so what more mattered after that? Nothing really. They could take your life, your power, but they could not take Din, they could not take the myth of what the two of you had created together.

And always the myth, always the myth. You understand now, after an age in something worse than darkness, that you are yourself the creation of myth, and myth is indestructible.

She is made sweet and venerating in the end, and she dies so beautifully, your Twi’lek, and in the singular instant before you pull her heart from her chest, you recall her words from before, how like the Thalassian she’d seemed, nothing at all forever, and you tell her the second truth you’ve now come to understand more surely than anything else: “Only a Sith deals in absolutes, and I am no longer a Sith.”

You free yourself from the cruel and unforgiving hands of the dark for the second time in your life.

You’d thought once that you’d never again let yourself be captured, never again enslaved, and to have let yourself end up here like this of your own volition, your own wanton stupidity and miserable desire for punishment, this is the lowest a creature has fallen in a millenia, surely, and he’s on the same planet as you now, and you’re filled with the sudden blinding terror that he’d somehow know you’re here. That he’d find you. And that he should see you like this, brought so low and so broken, it would be worse than anything, any pain or suffering or torture you could have ever endured.

And so you call to that dormant tether you’d held this entire time, to the Force, to yourself, and you kill your captors. All of them. In one fell swoop. Without much of even a single thought on your part. And you thank her, when you pull his stolen, blood splattered earrings from her ears, for teaching you so much, for reminding you that power without conscience is a terrible thing, and that you know this better than anyone. And you walk out into the cold and dark night, silent and obscure as a shadow can be, even more so, if possible, prepared to make your unnoticed escape from him.

But of course, he finds you anyway.

Chapter IX

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

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Hello Neighbor

Domestic!Din x Girl Next Door!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: Can’t get enough of Domestic Din!! I did something a little different with the point of view/narration of this one so let me know how you like it! Requests are open.

Summary: Din moves into a secluded house on Nevarro thanks to Greef Karga. While he’s sitting out front watching Grogu play in the front yard, a woman comes up to say hello, introduces herself as his neighbor and brings him a welcome gift.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, touch starved!Din, nervous!Din, the italics indicate Din’s thoughts, spoilers for season three finale, lots of fluff, bar fight, creepy guy at cantina, hand job, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

This is the life, Din thought to himself, kicking his feet up and relaxing in his front yard.

In his front yard of his home. The concept was wild for him to believe; that he could be a homeowner, living the domestic life with his son. Of course the two of them were still going to have adventures together but it was nice to have a permanent place to call home, on none other than the planet Nevarro, where it had all started for them.

Din watched as Grogu played with the frogs in the pond. It was so nice to watch him play in the sun and just be a kid, not having to worry about the galaxy’s threats. After retaking Mandalore and defeating Moff Gideon, this is exactly what Din’s son needed.

Din is snapped out of his thoughts when he notices a figure approaching his house.

That’s odd, he thinks to himself. His house is secluded. He doesn’t have traditional neighbors who live right next door.

As the figure comes closer he sees that it’s a woman, and she’s carrying a basket. Grogu also notices her and drops the frog he’s levitating. Din rises from his seat and walks to the front of his yard to meet her.

“Hello!” she says cheerily, “I’m your neighbor! Well actually I’m the closest thing you have to a neighbor. I live at the last house on the edge of town so I’m technically the closest house to you!”

She’s friendly.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Din,” he says.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Din!” She says, her smile beaming at him. She tells him her name and Din can’t help to take note of how beautiful it is and how perfectly it suits her.

“I brought you a little welcome gift,” she continues, holding out the basket in front of her.

“That’s very kind of you, but you didn’t have to,” Din says, slowly taking the basket from her hands.

“It’s not much. And it’s only the least I could do! There’s a blanket in there and some cookies I baked. Which I’m sure the little one will just love!” she says, crouching down to look at Grogu. He babbles happily at her. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

“Grogu. He’s my son.”

Normally this statement would elicit some sort of response questioning how they came to be or even a weird facial expression, because they are indeed an odd pair. But not her. She just smiled and said “Well he’s certainly a little cutie.” She stood up and stuck out her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Din. I just wanted to say hi before sunset. I have an early morning at work tomorrow,” she says.

He extends his arm and shakes her hand. “It was nice to meet you, too. Where do you work?”

“I work in the High Magistrate office under Greef Karga. I mainly just file paperwork which is boring but Greef’s personality makes up for it!” she chuckles.

Din chuckles too and then he looks down and realizes he’s still grasping her hand. Embarrassed, he lets it go and apologizes, “Sorry about that…”

“No worries, Din. I’ll see you around!” She gives a little wave and turns to walk home.

Din watches her until she’s out of his sight. He never knew his name could sound so nice. He could listen to her say it forever. He scoops up Grogu and goes inside with the welcome gift from his new neighbor.

•••

Three days. It took Din three days to muster up the courage to see her again. But the problem was that he didn’t have a good excuse. And then it dawns on him.

She brought over the cookies in a little reusable container. I’m sure she needs it back.

Sure, it wasn’t the best excuse in the world but he was so taken with her it didn’t matter to him. He scoops Grogu up and takes the container in the other hand. He leaves his house and starts walking towards hers, feeling nervous.

What if I have the wrong house? What if I knock and some guy answers the door for her? What if I knock and it’s not even her? What if she opens the door and is annoyed to see me? She did say her house was the last at the edge of town. It has to be hers.

It’s quite funny, actually; the hardened bounty hunter getting nervous over the girl next door.

He approaches the door and gives it a quick knock. He holds his breath for a second before he hears her voice shout “Just a minute!” He takes a deep breath, feeling relieved.

The door opens a moment later to reveal her smiling face.

“Din! What can I do for you?”

He holds out the container and forgets to say something for a moment. The puzzled look on her face reminds him to speak. “Oh! I just thought you would want this back.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” she says politely. “I figured you would need it anyway, gotta stock up the new house, ya know?”

“Oh, right…” he says back, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Did you guys like the cookies, though?”

“They were delicious. Thank you again,” Din said, not really knowing what to say to keep the conversation going.

“It was really nice to see you, though. I just have to finish this report for Karga or else I’d stay and chat. You should stop by more often, though! I certainly wouldn’t say no to seeing this little cutie more often,” she says sweetly, looking at Grogu.

“Of course. I’ll let you get back to it,” Din replies, feeling a little crushed.

“I’ll see you around, Din! And of course you too, Grogu!” She gives a little wave and turns, closing the door behind her.

Din walks back home feeling a little disappointed he couldn’t see her longer but also happy he even got to see her at all. He goes home and spends the rest of the night thinking about her bright eyes and kind smile. He wonders if she thinks about him too…

•••

He doesn’t see her again for another two days. This time, he was walking through the marketplace in town when he heard someone shout his name from behind him.

“Din!” she shouts, “Wait up!!”

He turned to see her, running up to him and waving. That beautiful smile of hers practically blinding him.

She stops in front of him and says “Hello, neighbor! I’m glad I got to see you again!”

“I’m glad I got to see you, too. What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some ingredients for dinner tonight and later this week. Maybe I could cook for you sometime and we could have dinner together!” she says before bringing her palm to her forehead. “Wait, I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. I know you have a creed you follow.”

She’s so thoughtful, Din thought to himself. This is the first time the creed has ever come up between the two of them and she was extremely understanding about it.

“You’re alright. It’s nice that you thought to invite me over for dinner.”

“Maybe I could cook it and drop some off to you?”

“I would love that.”

She looks down and notices Grogu in his little pouch that Din carries him in.

“That is just the cutest thing!” she squeals, crouching down at Grogu. She looks up at Din and asks, “Can I hold him?”

How could he say no? How could he say no to her and those big, beautiful eyes?

“Of course you can.”

She stood up and Din picked up Grogu from his pouch and handed him to her. He couldn’t help but notice how good she looked with a baby on her hip…

Don’t get carried away, Din.

“He’s just so cute. I don’t understand how you could get anything done with him around because I’d just stare at him all day,” she says, looking lovingly down at Grogu.

Grogu looked up at her and stuck his hand out, reaching for hers. She reaches her hand out and he grabs one of her fingers.

“Do you want to walk together?” Din asks.

She nodded and they walked together throughout the marketplace silently.

It isn’t until he notices her gazing up at him that he asks, “What?”

“What are you thinking about?”

How I want to hold you. How I want to kiss you. How I want you to be mine.

“Uh, just thinking about our life before we moved here,” he says, lying to her

“I’d love to hear all about it. If you don’t mind.”

Din noticed they were stopped in front of a bench and sat down. She followed suit and listened intently as Din retold his and Grogu’s story. He told her about how his bounty hunting life, how he rescued Grogu from the Empire, how he separated from Grogu so he could be with his own kind, how he took off his helmet and became an apostate, how he redeemed himself and retook Mandalore with his fellow Mandalorians. He couldn’t stop the words from flowing. He looked at her as she listened with wide eyes, adding little commentary in the form of oh no’s and wow’s in her soft voice. He couldn't help but notice the way the sun hit her face and the way her hair caught the wind. She listened to him as if she understood and made him feel seen. For someone covered in beskar, that’s a hard thing to do; feel seen.

After he concluded she said, “Thank you for sharing that with me, Din. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to do that.”

He didn’t really know what to say for a moment. So she continued, “I know you haven’t had an easy life but think of all you’ve done. You saved Grogu from the Empire and took him in. You retook Mandalore. And all of that led you back here, to this planet, to me. It’s all very admirable.”

The words to me hung heavy in his head. Did she feel the same way about him? The very thought of that makes his heart beat fast and his palms sweaty. He doesn’t know what to say back.

“Thank you” was all he could muster.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” she continued.

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well some of my coworkers invited me to the cantina after work. I was wondering if you’d like to come, too. I know you can’t take off your helmet and drink in front of anyone but it would be nice just to have you there. If you’re worried about who will watch Grogu I’m sure Greef would. He’s not coming out with us anyway. He’s really turned into an old man!” she laughed.

She really thought all of this out, huh?

“Sure, that sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course! Meet me in front of the cantina at sundown?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Cool! Alright we’ll I’m going to go home and start making dinner. I’ll drop off some for you and Grogu!” she said, crouching down to place the kid back in his pouch.

“Thank you,” Din says. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow!” she replies cheerfully. And with a little wave of her hand she was gone, disappearing into the crowded marketplace.

After Din finished his errands, he returned home to find a container of food on his doorstep with a note attached to it. He picked it up and read the note. It said:

Hope you and Grogu enjoy! Can’t wait to hang out tomorrow night!

Followed by a heart and her name. He looked at her handwriting and how neat it was. He looked at the heart she drew and admired the way she signed her name, the curve of the letters. Again, it’s quite funny; the hardened bounty hunter is falling for the girl next door, falling so hard he finds himself admiring her handwriting of all things. He’s got it bad.

The next day comes and Din spends the whole day stressing about their plans. He was stressed about meeting her friends. What would they think of him? Would they like him? Would they think he’s not good enough for her? Never in his life has Din worried about people liking him but everything is different when it comes to her. He put his nervousness to the side and continued on with his day until it was time to drop Grogu off at Greef’s place. He places Grogu in his pouch and sets off into town. When he reaches Greef’s place he knocks and Greef answers, beaming at him.

“Well look who it is, it’s Mando! And of course we can’t forget Grogu too!” he says, smiling down at the kid. Grogu coos happily in response.

“Thanks for watching him.”

“Of course, anything for you and my little green friend. I’m glad you’re going out tonight. She’s great, isn’t she? One of my best employees.”

“Yeah she is.”

“I can take this little guy overnight if you think you’re going to be out late… if you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Thanks again.” And with that Din left and headed towards the cantina.

He walks down the streets of Nevarro, thinking about her and what she’ll be wearing and what she’ll be drinking and what her friends are like and then he stops. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her in front of the cantina. The sun was setting behind her, outlining her. She was wearing a dress that perfectly hugged her figure, in a color that brought out the color of her eyes. She looked like a painting. She heard him approaching and turned to face him, the sun hitting the irises of her eyes perfectly exposing all of their colors.

“Hi,” she says, giving him a sweet smile. “Everyone else is inside but I wanted to wait out here for you. And look at this beautiful sunset.” She turns and faces the setting sun again. The light hitting her and highlighting her features. Din didn’t say anything, too busy taking in all of her beauty. After a moment she says, “Shall we go inside?” and he nodded.

The cantina was busy that night, filled with people and creatures of all different races. Her friends were sitting in a booth in the front, two women and one man. As they approached the table she introduced Din to them. He learned that their names are Grena, Rhysi and Varlo.

The five of them sat down together at the booth. The four of them were drinking but of course Din was not. He was ready to have to explain himself and his creed to them. But they never pushed or prodded. It makes sense though, someone as sweet as her wouldn’t surround herself with bad people.

“I’m going to go to the bar and grab us another round,” she says, rising from the table.

As she walked off to the bar her friends turned towards Din, ready to feel him out while she was gone.

“So, I heard you and our girl are neighbors,” Grena says, her dark eyes giving him a slight glare.

“Yes, we are. She’s been wonderful.”

“Of course she is. She’s the best,” Rhysi chimes in, tapping her fingers on the table.

“What we’re trying to say here, Din, is that our girl has been through enough heartache already. Don’t add to it,” Varlo adds, crossing his arms.

Din offered a tip of his helmet and the three of them seemed to understand and soften up a bit. His original assessment of them still stands, they weren’t bad people. They were looking out for their friend. And who can blame them?

“She’s been gone a while,” Grena noticed, her eyes scanning the cantina for her.

And that’s when Din sees it. A guy at the bar chatting her up. At first glance one may think she was into it, but the look on her face said otherwise. He was tall, towering over her. Din could tell she was just trying to be polite but deep down she was scared. The man inched forward and wrapped his arm around her and when she tried to pull away, his grip on her tightened. The look in her eyes was pure fear. Din had seen enough. Before he knew it, he was rising from the booth and making his way to them. He grabbed the guy on the shoulder and said “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey, why don’t you lay off, pal? I’m having a conversation here with a lovely lady.”

As the guy turned to face Din, she slips from his grasp and inches away a little bit.

“Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?”

“Everything was fine until you showed up,” he says angrily, taking a step forward and getting up in his face (well, helmet).

“You really don’t want to push this further,” Din threatens.

The man looked Din up and down and then lunged at him, trying to tackle him to the ground. Din blocked him and swung at him, punching him square in the jaw. Everyone at the bar scattered in different directions. The man stepped back for a second, blinking angrily before lunging and trying to tackle him again. This time Din pulled him into a headlock. The man tried fighting it but there was no use.

“Don’t you ever go near her again,” Din says angrily.

“Yeah whatever, mando,” the man spit back.

Din’s grip around the man’s neck tightened. “Did I not make myself clear? Don’t you ever go near her again.” His grip around the man’s neck tightened even more. All of a sudden the bartender shouts, “Out! Out with the both of you! This is no place for fighting. You can do that on the street for all I care,” shooing the both of them away.

Din lets go of the man and looks for her in the crowd of people. He sees her with the same scared look on her face.

What did I do? She’s afraid of me now.

Din turns and makes his way to the front of the cantina before exiting onto the street. The man followed him outside but instead of continuing to fight he looked at Din, shook his head and muttered “all for some broad” before walking off into the night. Din stood there outside of the cantina for what felt like forever until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find her, looking up at him with worry.

“I’m sorry cyar’ika,” he said before she could speak. “I’m sorry for causing a scene in front of your friends.”

“Hey, don’t be. You really helped me out back there. That guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t stop touching me…”

He can see the fear in her eyes still. He pulls her into a hug and says “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

He takes in her smell (as much as he can through the helmet) as he holds her. He feels her shaking still and it breaks his heart. He never wants her to feel unsafe ever but especially not when she’s with him.

“How about I walk you home?” he asks, rubbing her back softly.

“Thanks. I’d like that,” she says, pulling away to look at him and give him a small smile.

“What about your friends?”

“They’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll be heading home soon, too.”

He nods and they start walking in the direction of home. Din puts a protective arm around her shoulder. He tries not to focus on the way she leans into his touch. Trying instead to focus on getting her home safely.

The walk is silent but he doesn’t blame her considering what she went through. Din started to feel guilty for not noticing sooner.

As they reached her front door they turned to face each other.

“Thanks for coming out with us, Din. Even though it didn’t go that well… But most importantly thank you for being there for me tonight.”

“Of course. I would do anything to protect you,” he suddenly finds himself saying, the words coming out before he realizes what he’s actually saying.

“You’re too kind,” she says shyly, looking at the ground. She continues, “Since our night was cut short… would you like to come inside?”

Yes, of course. I would do anything to be alone with you. To hold you and be with you.

“That sounds nice,” Din says, trying not to sound too eager.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Din followed her in and she shut the door behind him before flicking on the light. Her house matched her personality perfectly; warm and inviting.

“Well this is it,” she says, flopping down on the couch. “It’s not much.”

“No, it's perfect.” He sat down next to her.

They both fell silent for a moment. Din didn’t know what to say. He’s pretty sure that if he opened his mouth at all, all that would come out would be; I think you’re gorgeous. I really like you. I want to spend more time with you. So, he didn’t say anything. Instead it’s her that speaks first, “What was that name you called me? Outside the cantina.”

Din froze. He didn’t even register that he said that, the Mando’a word for sweetheart. He didn’t know what to say back. He had two options: 1. Lie and say it means something else, which was a bad idea. What if she found out the real meaning somehow? Or 2. Tell the truth, get it over with. Confess his feelings for her.

He decided the latter was the best option.

“…It’s Mando’a for sweetheart,” he says quietly.

Her eyes widened. She stayed silent for a moment before scooching closer to him. She looked up at him and said “Sweetheart, huh?”

At this point he was sweating furiously. Trying desperately to read her expression. He couldn’t tell if she was flattered or freaked out. But then she placed herself in his lap and that’s when he realized what was going on. She said nothing still, her eyes gazing up at his visor. It’s almost like she puts him under a spell because whenever she gives him that look, his thoughts suddenly vocalize themselves and he’s unable to stop it.

“Listen, cyar’ika. I like you a lot. I’ve had feelings for you since the day you stepped into my front yard. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

“Aw, Din. I feel the same way about you,” she replies, wrapping her arms around him and putting her face in the crook of his neck.

A wave of relief washed over him. She feels the same way. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

They stayed there like that for a moment, her sitting in his lap, hugging each other, before she slipped her hand by his crotch, grazing it ever so slightly.

Oh.

For someone so sweet, she did have a little spice to her, too. Because the grazing turned into full on rubbing. Din felt himself get hard against his flight suit. She goes to pull his cock out before pulling away and asking him sweetly, “Is this okay?” He stuttered out a yes and she continued. Rubbing her hand up and down his large cock, watching it get harder and harder. She spit in her hand a little and lubricated it, making each stroke of her hand feel better and better. Each stroke of her hand set Din’s on fire. She quickens the pace a little and Din feels himself get closer. Unsure of where this was going or what her plan was, he stopped her, placing his hand on hers.

“I, um, I’m getting close and uh I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that okay? If I finish?” he asks nervously.

“Oh, I see what you mean… I have other plans.”

She steps out of his lap and stands up. She pulls off her dress over her head and tosses it on the floor. Din’s grateful for his helmet at this moment because if she could see his face, she would see him absolutely gawking at her. He took in the sight of her completely, admiring her waist, her legs, her tits, and even little things like beauty marks and stretch marks. She was even more beautiful than he ever could’ve imagined.

She laid out on the couch next to him and he glanced down at her form sprawled out. She spread open her legs a little, willing him to touch her center that was rapidly growing wet. He ran a finger up and down her slit. He checked to see if this was okay and when she nodded he inserted a finger inside her. Feeling her soft walls and rubbing her g-spot. She closed her eyes in pleasure. He admired the way her eyelashes fanned out against her face. Her soft moans leaving her mouth were like music to his ears. He wanted to make her do that more. He slipped another finger inside, making a “come here” motion. She was growing wetter and tightening around his fingers. And then he felt it, her orgasm. He felt her pussy flutter and convulse around his fingers, leading him to think what it would feel like around his cock. She came down from her high and sighed, opening her eyes. Her cheeks and chest were flushed. He wanted to remember every detail about this.

“I’m ready for you,” she says softly, spreading her legs so he could fit in between her thighs.

He hovered over her and aligned himself with her entrance. Her eyes widened and she let out a soft oh. He could replay that moment forever. He felt her walls expand to accommodate his size. He began thrusting in and out of her, looking down at her lovingly, half wishing she could see the expression on his face, drinking in the sight of her. This was the most beautiful she had been to him since meeting her. He picks up the paces and brings one hand down to caress her cheek. She looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes and that’s when Din knew he was a goner. She smiled sweetly at him and held the hand that was caressing her face. He continued to thrust more and more, each of them increasing in speed and intensity.

“I’m getting close, Din,” she breathes out.

“Me too, cyar’ika.”

He willed himself not to cum first, wanting to feel her cum around his cock. And when she did it was heavenly. Her soft walls pulsating around his cock sent him over the edge and before he knew it he was pulling out and painting her stomach with thick ropes of cum.

They stared at each other for a moment, coming down off the high of orgasming. After coming to his senses, Din reached for a tissue from the tissue box on the end table and cleaned her off. He sits up and she pulls herself into his lap again, wrapping her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for moving in. I’m really glad to have met you.”

“Me too, cyar’ika,” he says, brushing her hair behind her ear. He was still partly in shock that that had just happened.

They stayed there like that for a while, just holding each other before they decided it was probably time to go to bed. As she led the way to her bedroom Din thought to himself, Karga was right. I did need him to keep Grogu overnight.

Maybe Karga knew what he was doing all along. As he slipped into bed with her, he thought of all the ways he could pay him back. But most of all he thought about how lucky he was to have her. As she slept in his arms he couldn’t help but think about the day she stepped into his front yard; a day he would certainly never forget.

End note: This request was super cute!! I had a lot of fun writing this. Let me know your thoughts and send in any other requests you may have! And me send me an ask or reply to this post if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag list: @leithatnight @readingfan @babygirlrex0504

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iron-strangers · 10 days

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That's my girl!

aka Din watches you fight with the biggest heart eyes in the galaxy as Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) plays in the background (a WIP of my 3+1 fic)

gif credit @1038276637

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Length: 690+ words

Tags: Mand'alor Din Djarin, Swearing, Kid Fic

A/N: Written in Expanding Clan Mudhorn universe. Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

“I challenge you for the Mand’alor’s hand in marriage.”

The lively chatters around the market shifts into a quiet whispers when a challenger appears from the crowd. She has her full armor on, holding her blaster up for everyone to see. Shrugging, you took your squirming fourteen-months toddler from his birikad (baby harness) into his buir’s (father’s) arms before walking into the fight. Aranar laughs, clapping his chubby hands and pointing at you. “Bu-ee! Look, momma!”

“Yes, Ar’ika, momma’s gonna kick some s-h-e-b (ass), so we have to stand aside and let her do her thing, okay?” Din sighs, bouncing the boundless energy out of his toddler, getting a ‘Kay! and a grin from his son who’s currently munching happily on his small portion of uj cake, with that sweet tooth no one will ever doubt that he truly his momma’s son. Aranar is getting a lot of ‘copikla’ (cute) from every passer-by, enthralled by his mop of dark curly hair and his adorable toothy smile.

“I accept your challenge,” you smile, turning your saber on. The snap-hiss of lightsaber ignition rips through the air and Aranar whoops. “Bu-ee! Pu-pel!”

“Yes, good job Ar’ika! Momma’s laser sword is purple!”

“How many time should I tell you it’s called lightsaber.” Kryze sighs, holding her head in her hand. She insisted to come during their visit to the newly opened Sundari Market for this exact reason, security of the Ven’alor Mand’alor. “You married a jedi, osik (shit), you have two jet’ika.”

“Osik!” Aranar parrots, laughing without caring how his buir is going through all five stages of grief in three seconds. “Kryze! I swear to the Manda-”

Din is cut-off by the sound of lightsaber hitting beskar. You deflect blaster bolts with the force and hits the challenger on her pauldron. You swipe your saber low, aiming for her leg. She jumps and brings her other hand up, shooting grappling hooks out of her vambrace, straining you. You groan as you fight against the ropes until it budges a little, enough for you to slash it with your saber. You pull on the leftover rope, sending the challenger towards you and you punch her in the middle of the T-Visor of her helmet, sending her to the ground with a loud crack.

“That’s my girl!” Din cheers, earning snickers and adoration from the passer-by. Flustered behind his helmet, he nuzzles Aranar’s soft curls, pointing and narrating the fight to the baby. “That’s your momma, ad’ika. Isn’t she the best? Buir and momma will teach you just how to fight like that when you’re ready, ner ka’ra (my star). You’ll be unstoppable.” Din can't take his eyes off of his riduur (wife). You fight with grace, your steps calculated and you never miss your attack. Every hissing sound of lightsaber meeting beskar only adds to his love and adoration.

She shoots another round of blaster bolts and you deflect them all to the ground with the force, careful not to let stray bullets hit the crowd. You stalk over her, the tip of your saber dragging on the ground. You flick your hand and her blaster flies from her hand, crumpling in the air when you curl your hand into a fist and brings the tip of your saber up to her neck, so close to her pulse point.

“Yield,” you command. She stutters, forfeiting the fight and scurrying back to the crowd.

“Anyone else want to challenge our clan?” Your question is met by silence and you smile, turning the saber off. Addressing the crowd to go back to their activity as the purple light disappear into the hilt of your lightsaber.

Aranar lights up when he sees you, making a grabby hand and asking you for uppies. Smiling, you pepper the laughing boy’s cheeks with kisses and lift him up to your shoulder. Din leans his helmeted forehead to yours and leads his family away from the crowd.

“Hey, Kryze made Ar’ika swore back then.”

“By the force- Kryze!”

Yeah, that’s my girl, Din smiles adoringly behind his helmet, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together before you can go smack some sense into Kryze.

#expanding clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #drabble #din djarin is a simp for his wife #it's okay he's allowed #this is the way

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604to647 · 5 months

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Safest with You - Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV)

4.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din continues his courting ways.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), even though it's mostly Fluff, pet names (the usual: Pretty bird, sweetheart, etc.), a little bit of angst (Din struggles with his FEELINGS), mentions of parental loss, a wee bit of dirty talk.

A/N: I didn't switch to a second person narration for Din, but I still consider this to be his POV because we "follow" him this week. We get a little backstory on Din's past with the Fett Family, and come to understand Din and Paz's relationship a bit as well. Greef is mentioned! Thank you for reading!

Series Masterlist

The next morning, Din picks you up and takes you and the dog to a big farmer’s market just outside the city. You walk hand in hand, weaving through the different stalls, lazily sampling baked goods and seasonal produce. Al receives his share of pets and samples as well, and the three of you look the epitome of contentment. After a light lunch, Din loads your purchases into the truck; in addition to some fruits and veggies for your own pantry, you got everything you needed to make a spaghetti sauce from scratch, having offered to cook dinner for Din before your movie date tonight.

Although the original plan was for you to do the cooking at your place with Din meeting you there after work, Din finds himself no longer wanting to part from you, even if only for the afternoon. He volunteers his own kitchen for cooking; with his apartment residing on the top floor of the gym’s building, he reasons that he can help you while easily popping downstairs periodically for work.

Putting one hand on your hip, you tilt your head and tease, “You know, this is sending mixed signals.”

“Hmm?” Din’s eyes widen in innocence.

“We agree to take things slow, and now you’re luring me back to your place?”

Din knows you’re only teasing, but looking down at your playful expression, he also knows that you don’t know the real reason he’s been hesitant to take the next step with you. Din’s insistence that you take things slow has nothing to do with any type of antiquated feelings about sex or so-called propriety, and everything to do with a deeply rooted concern that he doesn’t deserve you. Since he met you at the coffeeshop, you’ve been his own personal ray of sunshine; brightening his world with your sweet nature and calming presence. But what is he bringing to your life? He knows that you think of him as caring and considerate, traits that he loves about you and it fills him with pride that you see those qualities in him as well.

Does he deserve to be held in your high esteem?

Would you still be unafraid of him if you knew the brutality he’s capable of inflicting, inside and outside in the ring? Would you still feel safe around him if you knew how many men he’s sent to the hospital? Din’s proud of the man he is, and he wakes up every day doing his best to be a good person. You deserve someone who’s good, and he wants to be good enough for you. He would like to have earned your affections, his place next to you, so that you never look at him differently than the way you do now. This time he’s spending courting you, it’s for you to get to know this him. Not the fighter, not the enforcer, but a man who is kind, loyal, compassionate and gentle. He wants you to know this man and to choose him.

Although you can’t read his thoughts, you soften, “Hey, I’m just messing with you, Din. You’re being so sweet, and it makes me happy. Honestly.” You bring your hand up to Din’s cheek and he immediately leans into it before turning into your palm and giving it a gentle kiss. His own palms now flat against the car, caging you in and causing your back to press up against the door, Din says in a low voice only you can hear, “You won’t think I’m so sweet when I finally take you to bed and take you apart, pretty bird.”

His voice is so intoxicating you nearly whimper, “That’s a heavy promise, Djarin.”

“I plan on delivering,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you long and slow against the car, leaving you breathless when he goes to open your door for you.

---

When you arrive back at the gym, Din shows you an entrance on the very right-hand side of the building that you hadn’t noticed before. The door unlocks to a long flight of stairs that you and Al climb, with Din bringing up the rear and all your farmer’s market bags. On a small landing a little past half way, there is a door on your left with a small window; you peek through and see that it leads to the second floor loft of the gym where Din’s office is located. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could easily pop downstairs for work, you realize, amused.

Reaching the top floor, you step aside for Din to pass and unlock his front door. He holds it open for you to go in first; you walk in, barely concealing your curiosity. The space is huge, which is no surprise considering the apartment takes up the entire floor; you step into an open living area, homey and lived in with a big comfy couch and several arm chairs, all pointed at large television. Both walls flanking this space are lined with bookshelves reaching from floor to ceiling, running the length of the large room. The shelves are filled with books, boxing trophies, knickknacks, and various mementos, including several framed photos of people with smiling faces. Walking towards where you can see the kitchen behind a partition wall, you grin as you recognize photos of Din at various ages with an older man that must have been his father. Just left of the dining nook that rests below a cut-out window that looks into the kitchen, there are some closed doors and the start of a hallway that must run back down the length of the apartment; you figure out that the bedrooms must be at the front of the apartment, overlooking the street. You imagine Din growing up in this space, and remembering what Din has told you about his childhood, you're satisfied that this must have been a good home to the Djarin men.

Din watches you take in your surroundings; this place holds many memories for him, of his childhood and his father. Moving back in when dad got sick had been an adjustment, but Din is glad he did it – while the last few years together may have been difficult, Din would not have traded them for the world. The bond between father and son had never been stronger than in those last years, and because of it, those years had been joyous in their own way. You’re the first new person to enter this space in a long time, and he wonders what you see, no longer trusting his own eyes.

You turn to Din, “I love it,” you say, beaming, and Din knows that you mean that you love more than just the physical space or layout. He sweeps you in his arms and kisses you warmly, silently conveying: thank you.

Cooking together is more fun that Din could have imagined. You’re a bundle of energy in the kitchen, putting your methodical mind to good use and assigning him tasks to help with the recipe you’ve memorized, all while chattering away and learning the lay of his kitchen. You poke around mischievously looking for everything and Din grins as he watches you putter around; he has a feeling you’re opening more drawers and cabinets than necessary, more to satisfy your own natural curiosity than actually searching for tools and ingredients. Smartly, he feels, he gives you free rein of the space and also choice over what music to play over the kitchen speakers. He doesn’t know all the songs you put on, but the way you’re enjoying yourself, bopping around him and moving your body to the beat, has him winding his arms around your waist and swaying along even to the ones he doesn’t know. The carrots are chopped, the onions are diced, the wine is reduced, all while you and Din kiss and dance. Sometimes Al will join in for a particularly upbeat number, but mainly concerns himself with nosing for food offerings. Din’s kitchen is coming alive in a way that he had nearly forgotten it could, and he feels invigorated.

He leaves you looking through his spices with a concentrated look on your face to go downstairs to the gym. Greef will be coming in a few hours to take over the floor, and until then, Din has a bit of paper work to finish off; he does so from a bench seat he takes on the main floor, overseeing the usual Saturday crowd. Paz comes by while Din’s finishing up some forms, hair wet from the showers after his workout.

Embracing as is their customary greeting, Paz checks in, “Hey brother. Glad I caught you. Something I might need your help with next week. You got some time to chat now?”

Here goes nothing, Din thinks, “Can’t, Paz. I’m actually… on a date right now. She’s upstairs cooking.”

Paz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows how private of a person Din is, and especially how protective he is of the memories of his late father in their space; for Din to let you in and leave you alone in the apartment… you must be special, “New girl? Huh. No wonder Brian and the guys have been saying you’ve been less of a grump lately.”

“Wha-“ Din is cut off from looking around the room for the young boxer when Paz jokingly punches him in the shoulder.

“So… when do I get to meet her?” Paz asks, expectantly.

“I’m thinking of bringing her to the fight next Saturday.”

“Perfect. Can’t wait to introduce myself to her… ‘bout time she meets a real Mando,” Paz laughs.

“Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, Vizsla. She uses big words,” quips Din, easily dodging Paz’s cross-cut. The two friends play box for another minute before Paz claps Din on the back, “Happy for you, brother.”

Din knows he is. The two make plans to meet up for an early lunch tomorrow to go over what Paz needs. When Paz is gone, Din looks up to the ceiling, as if looking through to where you are in the apartment above, and thinks about you meeting his friends. Meet “a real Mando” Paz had said – Din grins at the childhood “club name” that had been given to their group of friends, naming the tightknit group of kids after the gym where they all hung out. Of course, after getting older, most of group had gone to work for Boba Fett as muscle, security, some times both; it was in that capacity, as a unit, the Mandos had carved out a reputation for being an effective and elite strike team. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew that messing with the Mandos or having the Mandos sent after you was a fate most preferably avoided.

Was he proud of this moniker and his association with it? The truth was, yes – Boba and Din’s dad had grown up together, friends until the end; Boba’s family was Din’s family, and vice versa. There is nothing Din wouldn’t do for the Fetts, and anything he had ever done, however morally grey, he had done with conviction and would do again in a heartbeat if it meant helping his family. Din’s commitment and loyalty to his friends and family were his creed, steadfast and unwavering. His thoughts drift back to you: Would you understand?

He remembers the hurt you tried to hide from him yesterday when you very honestly confessed that you thought he might not be wanting you. Without a doubt he does, but once again, Din wrestles with needing to feel he deserves you; that he deserves the way you want him. Din is not ashamed of who he is or what he’s done, but he can’t quite reconcile how that man is upstanding enough to deserve someone like you. And he would like to be deserving of you. You don’t deserve anything less.

As Din climbs the stairs to his apartment, he realizes how hard he’s fallen for you in such a short amount of time; just being away from you for a little over an hour has him missing you terribly, and he’s glad that he suggested the change of plans and invited you into his little home.

What he is not prepared for is the scene laid out before him as he enters the apartment; you, so beautiful and relaxed, the picture of comfort curled up on his couch with the dog, reading a book you had pulled off his shelf. This picture of domesticity make his pulse quicken and ache for you in an entirely different way than the pure lust he has felt for you every night this past week. You look up with a sweet smile, “The sauce needs to simmer.”

Din comes over and you make room for him on the couch, curling up close when he sits. You discuss the books you found on his shelf, and later you joke that you were either going to rifle through the bookshelves or his medicine cabinet. As the two of you talk, even in this close proximity, Din can’t help but make the point to always be touching you. Your hair, your hands, your face, your entire being is soft and delicate, though not breakable, and so, so precious and enticing to him. Quiet conversation coupled with looks of longing and gentle touches lead to lazy and languid kisses that seem to stretch out the afternoon. There’s nothing urgent about today. Din feels your body relax in his arms, soothed; looking at you, he can tell your eyes are closed not just from pleasure, but that you’re genuinely tired, “Pretty bird, do you want to take a nap?”

“I can’t take a nap in the middle of a date. It’s rude,” you reply, eyes still closed.

“You’ve had an exhausting week. You need sleep.” Din isn’t wrong, and you hardly need any more convincing, already half asleep.

You feel Din getting up from his seat and place your hand on his wrist so he’ll look at you, “Please set an alarm for an hour on my phone? Need to check on the sauce.”

Stroking your hair gently, Din reassures you, “Okay. I’ll go back to work and let you nap. I’ll lock the door, okay? You’re safe here, pretty bird. I’ll be just downstairs if you need anything.”

Din covers you with a blanket, and after pulling a separate blanket over the dog, gets ready to head to the gym. He leans over you, pressing his lips to yours lightly, “You know, it’s also pretty rude to leave your date to go to work.”

“We’re both so rude,” you yawn.

“Yup. The worst,” Din kisses you softly, “Perfect for each other.”

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum before drifting off into a deep sleep.

---

You wake, not to your alarm, but to a delicious and aromatic smell filling the apartment. You sit up and stretch, looking around. Some time during the nap, Al has rolled over onto his back, exposing his stomach and shooting all four legs straight up in the air – really making himself at home on Din’s couch; you’re scratching Al’s stomach when you see Din stirring the sauce and call softly to him. He comes over and leans over the back of the couch; brushing your hair out of your face, he kisses you gently.

“You let me sleep?”

“I did. Couldn’t bear to wake you, you looked so peaceful. Your snores are very cute, you know?”

You bury your face in your hands, “Oh noooooo… I snore?”

“Like an adorable kitten.”

It’s been a while since any one has been in a position to let you know, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Doesn’t bother me. I don’t plan on getting much sleep around you, in any case,” he winks, as he walks back to the kitchen.

Din hasn’t just stirred the sauce, he’s made the rest of dinner already; you’re impressed and grateful and you make sure to let him know. After you help set the table, the two of you enjoy a wonderful early dinner together. A quick clean-up later, you drop Al off at home to have his own dinner, then you and Din head out to the movie.

Din doesn’t even remember what the movie is about, but he remembers the way you put up the middle partition and curl up in your seat and into his side, making it easy for him to comfortably drape his arm around you. A little more than an hour through the movie, when the male and female leads are barreling towards a misunderstanding, Din looks down to see you watching him instead of the screen and he leans down to kiss you, somehow not stopping until the lights turn on in the theatre.

---

After the dog has been properly walked, and more long, soft kisses dispensed, you tell Din, “That was my favourite of our dates.”

“We’ve only had two.”

“I know, and this one is my favourite one so far.” And you mean it.

Tonight’s kisses mirror those of the afternoon; lazy, slow, sweet. Din sends you upstairs with the promise that the dates are only going to get better from here on out.

Sunday morning, Din receives a video call from your brunch: a cheerful, and somewhat chaotic video of you and your friends who apparently want to thank him for the books he bought them. The one named Katie, utters an innuendo that has you blushing a deep shade of crimson before quickly ending the call. You and your friends are adorable peas in a pod, Din thinks.

He’s still chuckling as he sits down to his own meal with Paz. Meeting at their usual table in a restaurant frequented by Fett family members, Din looks across to Paz who is perusing the menu, pretending he isn’t going to order the same thing he’s ordered every time since they started eating here when they were teenagers. Friends since childhood and both embraced by the Fett family, Din and Paz Vizsla have been running around the streets, starting and then later stopping trouble since they had training wheels on their bikes. Both had gotten into youth boxing at Mando’s gym, but while Din boxed all the way through college, Paz had gone straight to work for Boba after junior high. Of the two men, Din had always had the more strategic mind, rising faster in the Fett organization than others, and eventually becoming Boba’s lead enforcer; but Din was ever cognizant that his success and how tightly he ran the Fett family security could not have been possible without his friend and right hand man, Paz. When Din had stepped back from the organization, Paz was the natural choice to be Din’s replacement. The two men remained close as ever; there was no one with whom Din trusted his life more than Paz, and the feeling was returned, ten-fold.

As he had already explained to you, once in a while, Paz would ask for Din’s help with Fett family business, be it strategizing and brainstorming a mission plan, reviewing proposed tactics, or occasionally, coming out into the field with the team again. There were simply times where Paz just ultimately felt better if Din was involved, and Din could not and would never deny his brother assistance. Looks like this upcoming week would be one of those times. Paz’s strength and authority has always come from his formidable presence and his capacity for brute force, but Boba currently needs some intel on a target that would come easier via surveillance rather than intimidation. Over lunch, Din and Paz map out a plan and team assignments, including a few shifts that make the most sense if Din is on site. By the end of the planning session, Din knows that this week, he will be the one having long work hours; between his surveillance work with Paz and his responsibilities at the gym, your third date would have to wait.

He lets you in on his disappointment that night during the dog walk, which has now been cemented as part of your daily routine. As expected, you’re understanding and reasonably curious, but easily placated with Din’s promise to still come by every night to walk Al with you.

Monday through Thursday have Din burning the candle at both ends. He finds himself being infinitely appreciative for having an excellent head boxing trainer in Greef Karga who competently doubles as a floor manager. Several of the gym staff and boxers also work for Paz and Boba, so Din is not the only one pulling double duty this week – everyone knows what it means to do their part. Most nights, Din leaves Paz and the team late in the evening and comes straight to see you.

He's tired on these nights, but you’re always a sight for his exhausted eyes; you take to bringing him a little sweet treat each night, aware that he needs an extra pick me up these days. Regardless of what he sees or has to deal with during the day, Din is content when he ends the night in the softness of your embrace; with you in his arms, your lips on his.

By Friday, everything has wrapped up on the security end, but Din ends up having to work late at the gym to catch up on some accounting admin he had pushed back; happy to turn the tables on him, you bring him dinner when it’s obvious he might forget to eat.

When you see him hunched over, squinting at a spreadsheet for 5 minutes straight, you offer to take a look, helping yourself to a makeshift seat in his lap. Within 10 minutes you’ve whipped him up a new template that rolls over month-to-month, and calculates the information needed with less than a third of the monthly inputs Din was typing in before. With your encouragement, he finishes his reports speedily, while you go back to eating dinner. Coming over to the mini couch in his office that you’ve been lounging on, Din flops down and pulls you close so your legs lay over his, “Are you a wizard?”

You laugh, “I like spreadsheets.”

“I don’t. I don’t think I really like any technology. Can’t trust it,” grimaces Din.

“I figured, old man. Is that why you don’t have any socials?”

“Any what?” Din gives you a confused look.

Confession time. “Social Media. The girls and I tried to find you online that night after I ran into you at the bookstore! Nothing.”

“I might have an old Facebook? Don’t remember the login,” Din muses, face scrunching up as if the idea of inadvertently having an online presence gives him a headache.

You roll your eyes and climb over Din’s lap, straddling him, “Good thing you’re so pretty.”

Din raises his brow, “Oh yeah? I’m the pretty one?”

“Oh yes. These brown eyes are so pretty. And these crinkles around your pretty eyes when you smile are so, so pretty. Beard is so pretty, too. This is my favourite part, this little spot right here that looks like a little heart, it’s the prettiest.” You press a deep kiss to his jaw in the middle of the patchy spot on his left side and breath in deeply, humming contently before resting your head on Din’s shoulder.

“Didn’t realize you think so much about me, sweet girl.”

You face Din again, closing your eyes and leaning in to find his mouth already waiting for yours and murmur low, between kisses, “Mmmmhmmmm. Think about you all the time, Din. When I wake up, in the shower, at work, at home in bed. Especially when I’m in bed. I think about you a lot in bed.”

Din’s hands start to wander, creeping under your shirt and gripping your bare waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of your leggings, “What you do you think about, when you think about me in bed, sweetheart?”

The kisses are getting a little sloppier as you grind down gently, rhythmically; you answer in shallow, gasping breaths, “I think about you on top of me, baby. I think about you getting a little rough with me and positioning me any way you want. I think about your hands and how they would feel touching every inch of me, pulling my hair, squeezing around my nec-“

“Pretty bird, I think I should take you home now or I’m not going to be able to control myself.” Din cuts you off abruptly, a dark look in his eyes.

Shy under his intense gaze, you nod and agree.

---

Having had the car ride to your place and the dog walk to calm down, you now rest comfortably in Din’s arms, playing with his hair while looking deep into his eyes between sweet, lingering kisses. Din opens his mouth to yours, again and again, lazily chasing your tongue with his own, “I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow, pretty bird.”

You sigh, “Me too! I don’t know what to wear though. I’ve never been to a boxing match before.”

“I’m sure you’ll look perfect.” Din leans down and whispers, “Wear something I can take off easily.”

You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips when you take in his words. Din chuckles, “You tease me all the time, pretty bird. You think I can’t tease you back?” Finding his boyish grin irresistible, you pull him in for a string of hungry and passionate kisses that leave the both you panting and you warm with arousal. You aren’t even being cheeky when you whisper to Din, “I’m going to go to bed to think about you now,” before turning to head in, leaving Din looking and feeling completely transfixed.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #modern au #no y/n #modern!din djarin #din djarin fluff

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dinsverdika · 1 year

Text

A Yellow Leaf & Glowing Flowers (one shot)

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Tags (as posted on AO3): fluff, mutual pining, early relationship, me making stuff up about space flora, me making a planet up, angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, helmetless din djarin (but only in the dark), keldabe kiss (which can be considered as a first kiss), use of mando'a, not canon compliant, reader's gender is not specified

Word count: 4,098

Notes: Hi! This piece has been sitting on my WIP shelf for many months. The entire premise of this one shot has been changed as I couldn't find any more inspiration for it. I hope you enjoy!

not canon compliant: Din's ship hasn't been blown up (it honestly makes writing x reader fics easier.)

use of Mando'a: translations in the footnotes.

ps: the Reader doesn't know Din's name but the narrator and well, you the real reader, do. I'm also my own beta reader so mistakes and typos may've slipped by me, apologies!

You had been walking for a while, it seemed. You could not exactly pinpoint how long it had been but this matter swiftly left your mind as the walking trail you’d been following opened up to a glade. You stopped dead in your tracks and scanned the area, nothing seemed out of order or unsafe. You left the pathway as you stepped forward into the secluded spot.

Your chest expanded as you inhaled deeply. You held your breath, letting the scent of the nature surrounding you reinvigorating your senses. A renewed feeling of wellness blossomed within you as you exhaled, making you feel weightless. You repeated the breathing exercise a couple of times until every single muscle in your body had let go of unwanted stress. You blinked your eyes open, focusing your gaze on what was above you: a purple sky decorated with a few orange clouds here and there. Their fluffy texture made it seem as if someone had painted them there. The sun was not entirely set but a pink moon was high in the sky and a few stars had started appearing as well, freckling the sky with their soft twinkling.

A splashing sound diverted your attention from the sky, you almost missed seeing a tiny frog swimming away after it'd jumped into the water.

A river.

The body of water was a few steps away from your feet. The stream created a soft burbling sound, putting you at ease.

You threw a look at the walking trail behind you and weighed your options. With a shrug, you chose to enjoy what the glade had to offer. You promised to yourself to not lose track of the time. You'll go back to where you came from eventually.

Your shoes were in your hands as you wiggled your toes in the fresh grass beneath your feet. It was soft and slightly wet as you strided to the riverbank. The river was not as shallow as you had expected. The water was clear, allowing you to see the riverbed easily. You patted your morning self on the back for choosing to wear mid-length trousers, you could dip your legs up to your calves without worrying about making your clothing wet.

A single yellow leaf appeared in your field of vision as it floated on the water, following the stream. You trained your eyes on it until it had disappeared down a short waterfall on your left and continued its way deeper into the woods. You had no idea how seasons worked on this planet, making you wonder if it was a sign that autumn was near.

With that in mind, you dipped your toes, testing the temperature. The water was cool but not cold.

Leaned back on your hands, sitting on the side of the river, your legs were swaying back and forth in the water.

The sun had fully set now, going below the horizontal line hidden by the trees in front of you, letting place to the darkness of the night. The clouds you had seen when you first arrived had dissipated; nothing was obstructing the moon from casting its purple-ish glow on the glade. Contentment filled you as you fully relished in the peaceful moment the galaxy had granted you.

A flower suddenly bloomed near you with a soft puff. A soft, comforting glow emanated from it, lighting up the darkness surrounding it. Child-like wonder buzzed within you as a few dozens of flowers bloomed around you as well. You glanced around in awe; the flowers all bloomed randomly around the glade. The trail you had taken also had the same flowers on each side of it, as if to guide night-time visitors to this spot in the middle of the woods.

One last flower bloomed by your thigh.

“Late bloomer, aren’t you?” you chuckled quietly.

You gently held the flower from below its receptacle and tilted it, wishing to take a better look inside it. It had white petals with a thin light blue streak in the middle. Each petal had the same pattern. Even though you could not tell how or why it happened, it was evident that the glow was coming from its pistils. Its faint sweet scent hit your nose, urging you to take an even closer look; you feared that the pretty glow emanating from the flower would die off if you were to pluck it out.

“Here you are,” said a modulated voice from behind you.

The sudden voice made you jump. Relief coursed through you as you whipped your head around, your eyes landing on the Mandalorian.

“You scared me,” you said, resting a hand on your chest. You could feel your heart beating at a rapid pace beneath it.

“I didn’t mean to,” deadpanned Din.

“Was I gone for long?” you asked, recovering from the short-lived scare.

“No," he replied, shaking his head. "You were gone for an hour, I’d say. The sun had set fast, though,” he added. “I was working on the ship until these flowers bloomed and grabbed my attention. It's been a short walk from the ship.”

The cold air of night surprised you as soon as you got up as it hit your wet legs, making you shiver. The temperature must've dropped a lot quicker since the night had settled in.

“This place is beautiful,” you stated, making your way to the Mandalorian. “I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know what these flowers are?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, crouching down to gently tilt one just like you did a few minutes ago. “They’re pretty, though.”

You nodded in agreement. “Do you think their glow would die out if we were to pluck some of them out?”

You gasped as Din swiftly pulled on the flower he was holding, ripping it off from the grass.

“Mando!” you shouted.

Din pushed himself back up and inspected the flower wordlessly. He rubbed the inside of the petals, smearing the pollen on his fingertips. Curiosity overtook you as you pressed your side against his, taking a better look at what he was doing.

He hummed and brought his hand closer to your face. “I don’t know if you can see it but it seems like each particle of pollen produces light. That must be where their glow comes from,” he explained.

Din watched you take his hand in yours, he tore his eyes away from your joined hands to train them on your face. A frown had appeared above your eyes, creating a crease between your eyebrows as you focused on the product smeared on his fingertips. Endearment washed over him as you tilted your head. He swallowed as his eyes lingered on your pursed lips, they've never looked more kissable than right now. The moonlight complimented your face beautifully.

“These flowers must contain a lot of pollen then,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The Mandalorian hummed in agreement and replied, “it also means that they only lose their glow once they have wilted.”

“I wonder if bugs pollinate these flowers…” you said out loud. “Do you think glowing honey can be produced out of them?” you asked.

"It could be a possibility," he replied.

He glanced around the area, seeking anything that could resemble a pollinating bug. Nothing unusual jumped out of the darkness surrounding you, even after he'd activated thermal vision on his visor.

"I'm not seeing any bugs around, though," he added.

His gaze landed on your face once more, your attention wasn't on his hand -although, you hadn't let go of it- anymore but on the glade too.

A soft breeze made the leaves of the trees around you rustle before hitting you head on. The Mandalorian couldn't feel it, his armour and flight suit protecting him from it.

The same couldn't be said for you, the thin clothes you were wearing were optimal for warm weather -which this planet had proved to have a few hours ago- but not for the colder temperatures the lack of sunlight was providing.

You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to shield your body from the unrelenting breeze.

Your arms were of little help as you shivered once more. Your legs were still wet from earlier, accentuating the coldness striking you.

In a flash, the Mandalorian had you pressed against him, his back turned to the breeze; doing a better job at shielding you from the cold than your arms.

You brought your curled fists up to your mouth, deeply exhaling into them, warming them up in the process. Din's hands were on your back, rubbing it up and down. Warmth spread in your chest as you nuzzled his chestplate, pressing yourself against him even more.

A giddy feeling joined the warmth in your chest as you relished being pressed against the sturdy Mandalorian. The beskar against your cheek may have been cold but his touch was making it easy to ignore.

You'd thought his attentiveness was part of his job, being a bounty hunter meant being on high-alert all the time; being aware of your surroundings at all times must have become second nature for the Mandalorian. Yet, Din had proven to you countless of times that his attentiveness was not only reserved for his bounties, but for you as well.

You hadn't been the only object of his attentiveness, you'd seen how conscientious he was with Grogu. You tried swallowing around the painful lump forming in your throat.

“We should probably head back to the ship, it must be getting late,” said the Mandalorian, tearing you away from your reverie.

You agreed wordlessly, reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace. Din cupped your face, his leather gloves were warm on your skin, their oaky scent filling your nose.

A frown appeared above his eyes as you gave him a contorted smile.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs.

You sighed and leaned into his touch, "yes," you lied. "I'm just tired."

The Mandalorian didn't believe it but let it go for now. Soon enough, his hand was on your lower back, guiding you towards the walking trail.

The soil crunched underneath your feet as you walked back to the ship in comfortable silence.

Din was scanning the area from under his helmet, ready to unholster the blaster hanging off his belt if a threat were to appear out of nowhere. Your eyes, on the other hand, were gazing up the trees, searching for a beehive… a glowing beehive, maybe?

Disappointment felt heavy on your chest as nothing popped up to your eyes and the shape of the Razor Crest appeared on the horizon.

The Mandalorian reached the top of the ramp and turned around to be greeted by the sight of you standing at the bottom of the ramp, staring into the darkness of the wood. Your shoulders were low as if you were carrying the weight of the galaxy on them. You were chewing on your bottom lip, preventing it from trembling.

An invisible force pinched the Mandalorian's heart. He made his way back down the ramp and grabbed your hands, covering them with his. You looked up at him, a silent gasp died on his lips as he noticed tears gathering on your waterlines.

“I’m sorry this is all very futile, it’s just that-” you apologised. A sob came up your throat, making it difficult for you to finish your sentence.

“I understand,” he nodded. “It’s been difficult for me, too.”

Your eyes bounced between his eyes through the visor. It was fruitless, the tinted transparisteel was impenetrable.

Seeing his face contorted by sadness and pain was not something you could've handled anyway.

“We should go up and rest,” said Din, trying to move the two of you away from the painful topic.

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to not give away how upset you were.

The Mandalorian made his way up the ramp once more, his fingers laced with yours.

“Come on,” Din said once the ramp had hissed shut. “Let’s go.”

His hand was back on the small of your back, guiding you towards the cot. He rummaged under the pillows and retrieved your sleeping clothes. You quietly changed into them while Din had retreated to the 'fresher, offering you a few moments of privacy while he freshened up.

Exhaustion washed over you as you pulled your sleeping shirt over your head. A grimace pulled on your features, vulnerability crawling its way in your chest. Insecurity prickled your fingertips as you uselessly flattened your shirt with the palm of your hands. The lump in your throat hadn't reduced, sobs threatening to breach your lips to ease the pain.

It had been a long day.

"A few long days," you corrected yourself internally.

With your sleeping attire now on, you crawled into the cot and slipped under the cover. Air hitched in your throat as you turned on your back and your eyes landed on the hammock hanging above you.

Nothing could have held back the painful sob from breaching your lips this time. The Mandalorian had crafted and hung it above the cot many months ago -which felt like years now.-

Grogu's little coos had become a comforting sound, it made you feel at home and safe. Yet, seeing it now brought you no comfort. All it did was remind you that he was gone.

Din appeared in your field of vision, blurry by your tears. He had removed his armour apart from his helmet. He'd ditched his flight suit for a long back shirt, his legs were bare. You leaned up on your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks. You used your shirt to wipe them away.

The Mandalorian was also staring up at the hammock, his helmet blanking his face of expression.

You hiccupped a muted sob as you watched him. Din shifted his attention to you, he brought a hand to your ankle, grounding you a bit.

You sighed into his neck as he maneuvered you onto him, his lips pressing kisses on the crown of your head. His helmet was now forgotten on one of the shelves implanted in the walls of the cot. The door had been slid shut and the lights turned off, plunging the two of you in darkness.

Quietness fell upon you as you settled in your night-time routine, enjoying the physical closeness.

"He would’ve loved it," said Din after a while.

His arms tightened around your middle and you scooted closer to him, pressing your fronts together. One leg tangled between his legs, one leg above his hip.

“He would’ve,” you agreed. “The frog I saw jumping into the river before you arrived would've not appreciated his presence, though.”

Images of the Child squinting his eyes in concentration, lifting his three-fingered hand up, channeling all of the energy his tiny body could muster into the force as he would try to levitate the poor frog out of water popped in both of your heads. It made your bodies tremble with laughter, knowing that Din would have to reprimand him while you would feel sympathetic towards the frog he would have been forced to spit out.

Your laughter eventually died down and quietness filled the cot once more. You fell asleep with no more words exchanged between you.

Your eyelids were still heavy with sleep as you fluttered your eyes open. Slightly dehydrated, your mouth felt pasty. A yawn bubbled up in your throat and breached your lips. You patted the mattress beside you, expecting to feel the body of Din next to you. A confused crease appeared between your eyebrows as it fell flat on the mattress.

You pushed yourself up and reached for the button near the sliding door. It slid open, letting the light from the cargo hold seeping into the secluded, dark area. You squinted until your eyes got used to the bright, artificial light.

One look around the cargo hold confirmed your suspicions, the Mandalorian was gone. His helmet was not on the shelf either. It’d always been one of the skills you envied the most; being discreet and stealthy came with the job of bounty hunting. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t heard the cot opening and closing. You must’ve been dead asleep.

You threw your feet over the edge of the cot, the durasteel floor beneath your feet pushed the remaining drowsiness out of your body with a final yawn. You brought the heels of your hands to your eyes and rubbed them until tiny suns appeared in front of your closed eyes.

When you'd reached the cockpit, the viewport allowed you to see that the sun wasn’t that high in the sky. It was still pretty early in the morning. With that in mind, you went back down the ladder and made your way to the refresher.

The ramp of the ship hissed open as you were brushing your teeth. Your heartbeat slightly quickened as you rapidly spat the toothpaste and cleaned your mouth. Although, you were fairly certain that it was the Mandalorian who was entering the ship, hearing the familiar sound of his steps on the floor reassured you a bit.

Din seemed surprised to see you awake as you exited the refresher to meet him in the cargo hold, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness off your mouth.

“I didn’t expect to see you awake,” said Din.

“I haven’t been up for long,” you waved off. “I didn’t hear you leave the ship.”

“You were sleeping pretty soundly,” he replied. “You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” you scoffed.

“You do,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you said. “Where were you anyway?”

He didn’t answer right away and fished around in the bandolier bag resting on his thigh plate instead. You trained your focus on the bag, not seeing Grogu peeking out of it brought back the sadness that a few hours of slumber had managed to wash away. Fortunately for you, Din retrieved a jar from his bag before the unwanted feelings could truly settle in.

Din watched as your eyes widened in surprise as he presented the jar to you. Joy bloomed in his chest as a bright smile appeared on your face. The jar fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. It was of a generous size, too. Yet, he could tell that this wasn’t what had caught your attention.

“Is that-?” you asked, stepping towards him and taking the jar away from his hand.

A soft smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his eyes followed you. You walked to one corner of the cargo hold. The darker area heightened the brightness of the product inside the jar.

Din joined you and leaned his pauldron against the wall, his arms were crossed over his chestplate.

"It's honey," he said.

You looked at him in awe, “honey from the flowers of last night?"

He nodded. “There's a market not too far away from here,” he explained, “a vendor was selling a lot of artisanal food. Among the different food was dozens and dozens of honey jars."

His hand went back into his bag and pulled out another jar, “I got two of them.”

Your mouth dropped open as your eyes shifted from the jar to his visor repeatedly. You took the jar from his hand and brought it next to the other jar you were holding.

The light emanating from the jars was even more intense than the light emanating from the flowers. Your gaze sinked into the Mandalorian's eyes. The tinted visor prevented you from seeing his eyes, you were met with the beskar of his helmet instead, the glow of the honey bouncing off it. From behind the helmet, Din was admiring how the brightness of the honey complimented your eyes beautifully.

It seemed time had stopped as you gazed at each other. Yet, the air around you thickened and an invisible force was pulling you closer to one another. Your guts tightened from the tension growing between you.

The Mandalorian's teeth were sinking in the flesh of his bottom lip. The tension between you was coming to a climax as he watched you slide the jars back into his bag carefully; the sudden close proximity had his heart beating into his ears, muting everything else around him.

It ached. You were aching to show your appreciation for the man in front of you. The tips of your fingertips prickled as you wished to cup his face and thank him for the sweet gesture. Instinctively, your hands reached up and cupped the sides of his helmet, meeting the coldness of the besker instead of the warmth of his face you were craving to feel.

Air hitched in Din's throat as your hands reached for his helmet and lowered his covered face to yours. He let you maneuver him until his forehead was pressed against yours. All of his senses were on fire as he registered what was happening. His heart was rapidly pumping blood in his veins, facilitating the fondness he was feeling for you course through him and reach the tips of his limbs; making him weightless in the process.

"Vor entye," you whispered.

Butterflies sprung free in your tummy as the Mandalorian rested his gloved hands on your hips and brought you closer to him. Your hands slid from his helmet to around his neck, you hooked your chin onto his shoulder. A deep sigh escaped you as you relished in the embrace.

Protectiveness crashed over Din in several waves as he felt you growing putty under his touch. He'd circled the small of your back with one of his arms while his other hand was caressing your back tenderly.

"Ba'gedet'ye," he whispered back.

Quietness fell upon you once more as you enjoyed each other's arms.

You were the one who broke the silence first.

"I wanna gift one of the jars to him," you said quietly.

Din replied with a questioning hum.

"The honey," you repeated. "I think Grogu would like it."

Din hummed once more as an affirmative this time. "I wanted to gift him something as well," he added.

You laid your hands flat on his chestplate and leaned away from him, keeping your tummy and crotches flushed together.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

The Mandalorian untangled himself from your arms and walked towards the weapon locker. He picked up the spear made of beskar which was left to be leaned on the locker.

"I thought of having it melted and turned into a chain mail," he explained.

"That'd be an amazing present," you retorted. "It'd almost be as if he had his own little armour."

The Mandalorian nodded and put the spear back. "I'll have the Armorer do it," he said.

"He'll have something to remember us with," you stated. "Is he allowed to receive gifts?" you asked.

Din shrugged, "I don't know. I don't see why not."

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your pointing finger. "On which planet did the Jedi take him to again?" you asked.

"Ossus," replied Din as soon as the words escaped your lips. "It's a planet in the Middle Rim. I'm not supposed to know where it is but I've put a tracker in Grogu's coat, the Jedi hadn't seemed to have removed it."

The Mandalorian knew the Jedi wasn't stupid, he must've noticed the tracker and chose to not remove it.

"We should go now!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together.

Din smiled at you softly under his helmet. "We can't go now," he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. "We have to get the chainmail done first."

"Ah, yes," you replied, letting your hands drop to your sides. "Do you know where your Tribe could be?"

The Mandalorian nodded, "somewhere on a space station called Glavis Ringworld."

"Somewhere?" you repeated. "You don't know the specifics?"

"No," he replied. "I'm sure I could get the information I want in exchange for a job done, though."

"'Makes sense," you agreed.

"Come on," he said, guiding you to the ladder going up to the cockpit, "the quicker we get this done, the faster we get to see him."

"Can I get some of that honey while we travel there, though?" you asked, looking down at him from your spot up the ladder.

You couldn't help but giggle at seeing shake his head.

"Of course," he replied, amused. "That's what I bought it for, I guess."

Mando'a translations:

vor entye: thank you (I accept a debt)

ba'gedet'ye: you're welcome

source: mandoa.org

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fluff #angst #the mandalorian #din djarin #afab!reader #gn!reader #my writing

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

The Hunted

(A Haunted! Din Djarin x F! Reader Mini-Series)

Ending Three: Claimed

Read (Here) on AO3

Word Count: 7.2k

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Din is Haunted, Dark! Din Djarin, Possessive Din, Possession (By the Darksaber), PiV sex, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it folks), Vaginal fingering, Multiple orgasms, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Semi-public sex, Dom/Sub tones, Just absolutely filthy rotten smut don't look at me

Warnings: Unreliable Narrator, Stalking, Sex under the influence (of a weird ancient Mandalorian lightsaber that apparently makes these two fuck like animals)

Summary:

For a moment there's a flash of awareness at the back of your thoughts, a brief glimpse of light that illuminates the velvet embrace of darkness that clouds your senses. Even when you try to grasp at it, though, it feels too far away to reach, slipping through your fingers like a dewy morning mist.

The madness of the saber has wound around your limbs like a net, dragging you below the ink-black surface of delirium. You can’t see the bottom, can’t yet fathom yet the depths you’ll fall to, and when you look up you see the light fading away, warbling into a mere reflection of yourself. You've stopped struggling, and when you sigh the name of your lover it feels like the last of your air bubbling upwards as you drown in him.

"Din."

(Special Note: Feel free to check out my Haunted Din playlist, made to accompany this fic!)

Tag List:

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(Reply to or reblog this post to be added to future tag lists!)

By proceeding further you acknowledge you have read the listed warnings and tags

---

"Found you, Mesh'la."

You scream as you're tugged backwards, hands vainly clawing and scrambling at the metal panels you're pressed between, trying to find purchase. It doesn't matter, because Din's grip on your arm is so severe it's nearly bruising, dragging you further and further away from freedom and into the cage of his arms. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat before you're yanked out of your hiding place and Din is spinning you, pressing you into the nearest vertical surface so suddenly the air rushes from your lungs in a frantic gasp.

You try and thrash, but Din has your hands gripped firmly behind you in one hand, the other helping press your entire front into the metal as his frame cages you in from behind.

A whimper escapes you despite yourself, feeling the length of Din's body pressed all along your shoulders, his knee tucked neatly between yours. He's all skill and muscle, his strength bolstered through the forbidden power of the Darksaber. He turns it against you effortlessly even as you try to squirm and escape, refusing to cede even an inch to you, trapped within his hold. With every breath of his you feel his chest rise underneath the armor tucked between your shoulders and you shudder at the sensation of him caging you in from all sides.

"Don't make this hard." He breathes in your ear, and that treacherous heat curls within you, purring at the way his voice dips against your thoughts, offering an intoxicating temptation. Still, you manage to contain the gasp that perches at the back of your throat. Again, you wiggle, but when Din fails to budge you slump, raising your voice at him instead.

"Let me go." You plead, voice warbling with apprehension. Din merely huffs at you, pressing further into your back so that you nearly wheeze with the weight of him.

"Depends." He murmurs back, and the sound of him threatens to send goosebumps racing along your spine. "Are you going to be a good girl?"

Good girl.

You can't contain a little whimper at that, and when it manages to escape you Din's entire form briefly goes rigid against you.

"You like that?" He whispers eagerly, and you can hear the keenness spilling over his tongue, eyes bright and interested at your reaction. "My good girl?"

You don't reply, scrunching your eyes shut and trying to ignore that building desire within you. It bubbles just below the surface, prowling and purring and waiting for the moment where you surrender, let yourself indulge in his touch and give in to your pleasure.

It's wrong. You know it is, but your mind can't contain the memories of him before you decided to flee, of Din's broad hands splaying over your thighs and back as he bent you over the edge of his bed. You can still remember his voice growling those same praises down at you as he punctuated each syllable with a punch of his hips, stoking that flame within you into something radiant and burning, aching and unyielding in its pleasure. His name still tastes like a chant across your lips as your fingers clawed at the sheets, voice hoarse as you begged him for more, to cleave you apart in the way that only he can.

You ache.

You're breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try desperately to contain your rising lust. it feels like an impossible effort, with Din's figure weighing down on your back and his hands gripping both of yours, his breath echoing and crackling in your ear from under his helmet.

"Let me go, Din." You try again, voice cracking dry in your throat as you shiver long and hard. Yet the deceitful sensation of your body seem to trace like featherlight touches across your skin, and you let out a shuddering exhale that curls against your cheek pressed to the metal.

It's too late, though, because Din seems to have caught on to your inner thoughts, and when he chuckles darkly you feel your knees briefly go weak under you.

"You wanted to be caught, didn't you?" He purrs, and that silky voice of his oozes past your defenses, sinking into you lower and lower, descending to the warmth coiling below your belly. Still, you shake your head even as the false denial of his words rises within you.

"N-no!" You try, but the lie tastes sour on your lips. Your mind is buzzing, filled with static as you try and fail to find the justification behind your words. Yet you can't deny it now, can't deny all those nights dreaming of this day when he would finally catch you, take you in his arms where you were always meant to be. As much as you try to deny it you can't- you've been waiting for this moment, running and running from the deadly hunter only to be ensnared, claimed in the way you were meant to be.

You brace your forehead against the metal in front of you, let out a shuddering breath as you feel the remnants of resistance begin to fade from your limbs. Even as a part of you struggles to keep your logic clasped tightly to you, it's a vain effort. You can feel that madness rising within you now, inescapable just as Din is. It clogs the back of your throat and flood your veins with ink, and you know even if you run you’ll carry it with you, let it drag you back to him.

Din senses this, feels the way you slacken, and suddenly he's cooing in your ear, voice gentle and reassuring. "Shhh. It's okay, I have you now, back where you belong. With me."

This isn't right, and you know it. You haven't come this far to just give in, to let yourself be caught like this. Even so you're so tired, exhausted in body and spirit of running and hiding from this hunter, from the man you love. You’ve spent weeks aching for him, needing the comfort of his voice and touch. The lure of him is too much to resist, and to your weary bones his words are a sweet, sultry salve that glides across your senses and steals away the remaining particles of your sanity.

"There." Din croons, and you relax further into his arms. "That's good, sweetheart."

"D-don't-" You try, but with every moment you feel your tightly wound muscles loosen, warm under his touch. Like the flickering glow of a fire Din bleeds heat into you, unwinding all the tension from your body and mind.

Din hums, the cold metal of his helmet pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder and making you tremble.

"Aren't you tired, Mesh'la?" He asks, and with his question your head feels too heavy to hold upright, and something seems to be dragging the center of you down, downwards underneath the waves of madness. "It's okay, I'll take care of you."

That...that sounds nice. Your mind conjures thoughts that feel for a moment like they aren't yours- of a warm bed with Din's form wrapped entirely around you and keeping you safe. By his side you don't have to worry about where you're going to sleep, about running, about the shadows chasing your every step and nipping at your heels. Din will take care of you, he'll keep you safe, as he's meant to. All you have to do is give in, say yes as you should have all that time ago.

"Din." You murmur, and his name feels heavy on your tongue, but the taste of it curls over your breath and sweetens the back of your mouth in a forbidden aftertaste.

Din shudders, and for a moment his hold on you tightens again possessively.

"That's right, cyar'ika." He whispers, voice scraping rough against the back of his throat. "Say my name."

"Din."

Din growls. The sound has you limp in his arms in surrender, and for a moment he has to brace against you the metal wall to keep you from falling to the floor. You whine when he presses down on you, but the sound is less of a protest and more of a need, dark and deep and heavy inside you. It's a pressure only he can relieve, something only he has the cure for.

"I got you, cyar'ika." He tells you, and his voice feels like honey, warm and dripping over your lips. "My good girl."

You melt into him, craning your neck away from him with a plaintive little whimper that has his grip on your hands tightening to the point of a dull pain. You hear him curse under his breath, the sound muffled and crackled by his voice modulator, deepening it to a torrid, greedy murmur. His knee raises a little higher between your legs, barely reaching the apex of your thighs. You sink the remaining inch down onto it, grind blissfully down on the pressure with a muffled groan.

That seems to be the only signal Din needs, because suddenly he's flipping you to face him. Your back collides against the metal panel with a dull thud you barely hear over the rising staccato of your heartbeat inside your chest. Din still has his grip on your wrists, not that he needs to anymore, really. You're done running, done trying to flee. You don't know why you did in the first place, not when the thing you'd always been looking for is right in front on you, his lust-laden gaze staring you down through the dark, glinting T of his visor.

"Pretty thing." He murmurs, using his other hand to run a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. Your core clenches at the praise, warmth spreading across your cheek and eyes fluttering closed as you bask in his attentions. You missed this, you realize. You missed his voice soothing over your senses, his touch gliding across your skin and leaving tremors in his wake. The mere presence of him is enough to dull any and all inhibitions you once clung to as if they could offer you refuge.

"Here?" You find yourself asking, feeling the remaining shreds of your sanity question his decision to take you here, in the open with the possibility of someone seeing you. The warehouse is abandoned at this hour, but you never know when a worker might wander in, hear the two of you from within the confines of the metal maze.

"Here." Din confirms, and a murmur of trepidation runs through you.

"Someone could see-" You try, only for the rough timbre of Din's voice to interrupt.

"Let them see." He all but snarls. "Let them see that you're mine."

You try to find it within you to protest, but then his thumb suddenly digs between your teeth, and when you gasp he only pushes the digit in further, grazing it over the roof of your mouth. You want to curl your tongue around it, but before you can Din fixes you with his stare.

"Bite." He growls, and it's not a request.

So, you do, teeth sinking down on the suede tip of his gloved finger. To your surprise, Din tugs his hand backwards so his hand slides free and bares his fingers. You feel your heart jump a little in your chest, eyes flicking from where his hand skims low across your belly back up to his face, to his unbreakable gaze.

The flat of his palm briefly splays across your breast, his hand cold as it slithers between the fabric of your shirt and your bare skin. You shiver at the touch, but not before letting out a small groan of approval where Din kneads the rise of your chest appreciatively. The sound is muffled by the tip of his glove, but Din gives you no indication you should drop it and you want to be good, need to be good.

His hand holding your wrists flexes in a gesture of barely contained restraint, shoulders tight as he towers over you. You lean into his touch, and with every skim of his fingers and wide press of his hand you feel that coiling desire within you tighten, beg for release. It's all you can do to simply surrender to him, let him have you in the way you've dreamt of for so long despite the fear of giving in.

Distantly, you wonder why you were ever afraid at all.

When Din's hand presses below the hem of your pants you arch into his with a muffled, needy sound that rises high in your throat. Din's chest is rising rapidly, eyes fixated on the way your eyelashes flutter and your hands clench and release in a desperate bid to touch him. At the first swipe of his bare fingers through the wetness collecting between your folds you buck into his hand, wanting, needing more.

"So wet for me already, Mesh'la?" He asks, a dark amusement tinting his voice. "And here I thought you didn't want to be caught."

You shake your head in response, unable to speak past the glove between your teeth. He's wrong, you know that now. These weeks of running, fleeing had been you desperately trying to deny what had always been there- the need, desire to be beside him, under him. You had been running from yourself, but now that's you've surrendered you don't know why you even ran to begin with. It feels like it's still there, whatever that reason is, but when you try to grasp at it the thought dances beyond your reach like the shadows that flicker from him in the midnight.

It fades into nothingness when Din's thumb presses down on your clit, and your entire body goes absolutely rigid under his touch with a sharp little cry.

"So sensitive." Din murmurs, his eyes devouring every scrunch of your brow and hitch of your breath. You want to tell him that of course you are, you're always sensitive for him, only him, forever him.

You press down on his fingers instead as his thumb circles lazily over your clit, chasing your own pleasure. It's not enough, never enough, and he knows it. You need more, you need him.

When his hand vanishes you whine in protest, bucking your hips in an effort to chase his hand sliding from between your legs. Yet then the fabric between your lips vanishes and you suck in a shuddering breath, gaze hooded as you stare up at him. There's saliva collecting in the corner of your lips, and your face feels hot to the touch as he pins you under his stare. You don't speak, letting your head loll and bump against the inside of his elbow braced on the wall beside you. You can only imagine the sight of you, chest heaving and hands hauled above you, eyes dark with lust and face flushed with desire.

Din growls a sound deep in his chest, like a wolf stalking something from the shadows.

"Want to hear you." He rasps over the sound of his glove dropping to the floor, forgotten. "Want to hear all those pretty sounds you make."

You nod desperately, shifting in his hold and jerking your hips against his as they cage you against the wall. Din groans then, the sound low and heady and barely muffled through his modulator. Yet then his hand is tugging your pants down below your hips, baring you to him. More purposeful than before as he suddenly sinks two fingers into your heat up to the knuckles as your wetness slicks the back of his hand

You gasp loud, and the sound seems to please him as Din curls his fingers inside of you. You squirm, breath heavy and shuddering and breaking the silence of the otherwise quiet, desolate warehouse. When Din scissors those fingers inside you it's all you can do to sink further down on them, gasp his name in a plea.

"Din!" You beg, not knowing exactly what you're crying out for- for release, for salvation, maybe- for him to never let you go ever again and only ever let that pleasure within you reach higher and higher heights so you can barely breath for lack of air.

"Say my name like that again." He demands, and his voice is hoarse, as if the very sight of you keening in pleasure and squirming on his fingers undoes him at the seams. He's losing himself too, to not just the madness of the blade by the crazed desire of your flesh. He's boiling, maddened, his lust as uncontrollable as his desire to hunt. It's as if the chase of pursuing you has lit a fire in him that can't be dimmed by anything but your own release under his touch.

"Din!" You keen again, voice rising up to the rafters. "Din, please."

You're so close. You can feel it coiling and lighting within you, a firework with a fuse so short it's all you can do to cling on helplessly to his touch in search of your climax. You need it, need him in the way you need water, air, basic sustenance for your own survival.

"You are mine, only mine." Din growls, and suddenly the cold bite of his helmet is braced against your forehead. You stretch up to reach him, mouth open and gasping for air as your tongue forms the sound of his name. "Say it."

"Yours." You agree readily, chest heaving and thighs quivering. "Always yours, Din."

"Good girl."

With that his thumb is flicking over your clit at the same moment his fingers curl like that inside you and you yell as your orgasm washes over you so suddenly and sharply it's the only thing you can do but to cry out. Yet there's a hand over your mouth muffling the sound, and you realize your hands are suddenly free. They flutter for a moment before naturally falling to Din's shoulders, fingers tangling in the fabric of his cowl as he continues to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. You shake as your core clenches down and flutters on his fingers, muscles trembling as pleasure washes through your veins dark and thick enough to choke the air from your lungs.

It goes on for what feels like forever, the weeks of ever tightening tension in your muscles suddenly releasing all at once like a dam broken open. It's all you can do to cling to him, entire form trembling under his touch as you gasp out his name in a never-ending litany from behind his glove muffling your voice. The world narrows down to the feeling of his touch inside you, the rhythm of his fingers slowing and steadying, stroking your walls as you pulse around him.

Eventually the pleasure begins to dull and you feel yourself descending back into your own body, breath coming in shuddering and uneven gasps. Din withdraws his fingers from you and your breath hitches at the absence. He holds them up before his face for a moment, humming in appreciation at the slickness that spans between them. You barely notice, legs threatening to give out in the weakness following your devastating climax. You wobble for a moment, and Din's visor turns sharply to you.

"I got you." He murmurs, gathering you in his arms and you all but fall into them, letting your muscles give out. "Good. So good for me."

You preen at that, sated and pleased. Yet then you gasp as your thigh nudges the front of Din's pelvis and feels the straining bulge there. The brief contact is enough to have Din grunting, his hold on you tightening and digging into your arms. He needs you, you realize, and that knowledge is enough to set your blood on fire all over again- the thought that this entire time he's been desiring after you just as much as you have him. Now you've managed to find your own pleasure under his touch but left him wanting.

Your hand drifts downwards, gliding across his chest plate and settling over the hardness of him, pressing on it through the fabric of his pants. Din groans, the sound muffled as his hand briefly falls back. You grin, feeling yourself huff in pride at the reaction the simplicity of your touch can elicit from him.

There isn't much time to bask, however, because suddenly Din has you by the arm with one hand and is tugging your pants back above the curve of your hips with the other. Then he's walking, dragging you behind him as he makes his way back into the maze. You don't have the air to question him, not as his stride never breaks and he seems intent on wherever it is he's going. Besides, you don't have to wait long, because suddenly you find yourself being hauled into one of the many open shipping containers and dumped onto a soft surface.

Din pauses at the entrance for a moment, listening and watching for any would-be interlopers before following you inside. You watch his broad frame cast a shadow across your form, now sprawled over what seems like some sort of stack of moving pads. He moves towards you and that heat inside you burns at the sight of him, of your hunter stalking towards you with purpose, all muscle and danger and need.

You purr at him, spreading your legs in invitation. Yet instead of going for them Din instead seems fixated on your face, on the half-lidded gaze that glints in the darkness. With astonishing speed he's ripping off his helmet and dumping with a thud beside you. Then his hands are cupping your cheeks, bringing it up to his mouth before he devours you.

You gasp into his waiting lips, and the kiss is nearly bruising, all bite and teeth as Din takes no time in relishing the taste of you that he's been deprived of for far too long. Your hands are helping keep you uprights, leaning your weight backwards onto the mats. It doesn't take but a few heartbeats before you're scooting forward, reaching up and letting your fingers tangle in Din's soft curly hair. He hums in approval against your tongue, and you smile, nip at his lower lip playfully.

The taste of him blooms across your senses, dark and velvet and sweet. You want to douse yourself in it, let the scent of him paint across your skin in an undeniable indication that you're his.

Din seems to have the same thought, because suddenly he's shucking you of your jacket so his lips can descend to below your jaw. You gasp as you feel his seize the skin there, suck it between his lips so hard it's painful. Yet you only welcome it, knowing he's marking you, claiming you, leaving a brand so nobody will ever doubt you belong to him. So, you press him closer, lift your legs to wrap around his hips so you can feel the hardness of him under his flight suit press against the still sensitive junction of your thighs.

"Dank ferrick." Din curses against your collarbone, and for a moment his hips jolt, unable to contain himself. You both gasp at the sudden, delicious friction that greets you at the action. "Filthy girl."

Your eyes flash, and you wet your lips with your tongue, swollen and bruised as they are.

"Only for you." You murmur, a hand pressing Din's face into your collarbone, where he drinks in your scent. "Only you, Din."

Din chuckles, and the sound is different this time, warm, pleased. He straightens, removing your hands clinging to him so you flop onto your back with him wedged between your legs. You stare up at him in the darkness, and there's a shadow, a glint to him that seems supernatural, dark and dazzling like the white crackling energy of the saber.

“Look how shameless you are.” He purrs, and you merely hum at him, pleased like a loth-cat stretching in the sunlight. "My beautiful girl."

"You can sit there and stare." You quip, stretching your hands above your head so your breasts push upwards towards him. "Or you can come fuck me like you mean it."

Din freezes for a moment, as if shocked by the audacity of your sudden statement. Except then he's bending over you, and you see the wicked smile spreading across his lips.

"Trust me, cyar'ika." He murmurs darkly. "You won't be able to speak by the time I'm done with you."

Your breath hitches, eyes alight with excitement and expectation. Din's sultry brown gaze seems to mirror yours in the darkness, the glint there is familiar, reminiscent of the lightning crackling along the biting edge of his sword.

Din reaches down to free himself after only a moment of fumbling, and soon his other hand is shucking down your pants past your knees along with your underwear. You gasp at the sudden coolness against your bare entrance, but nevertheless lift a leg to let your trousers slide down your calf onto the metal floor. Din kicks them out of the way, and you catch a glimpse of his length in the shadows, his bare fist holding it tightly as a pearlescent bead of precum swells at the tip.

You let your legs fall open, beckoning him closer, wanting, needing to feel him again after all these weeks without him. You want him to fill you, graze that spot inside you that calls for him, for the thirst of his flesh against yours in a dance as old as time itself. Din steps closer, and you see his eyes glinting, his shoulders and chest heaving as he slots himself between your folds. The blunt pressure of him is just enough to stretch you, but you're open and ready for him, the wetness from your previous orgasm letting him slide the head of his cock through your folds.

"Tell me you want this." Din says suddenly, voice low and scraping dry against the back of his throat. "I want to hear it."

It's all you can do to not thrust your hips towards him, let him sink into you and feed the unyielding pressure within you. Yet you gaze at him through the darkness, the world narrowing to him and just him, the world and stars and galaxy beyond a mere blur to the stark sharpness of his gaze and touch.

"You caught me, Djarin." You breathe, and the confession alone makes your heart flutter and skip in your chest. "Now come claim me."

You barely have a moment to breathe after you taunt, because Din is sliding to the hilt inside of you and pressing all the air from your body so suddenly you can only arch off the mats under him. You manage to catch the cry that rips from your throat behind your hand, but it's not a moment before Din is grappling it, tearing it away.

"I want to hear you." He grunts as his hips quickly set a quick, snapping pace that has your entire form being jolted with every moment. "Want to hear how you come undone under me."

It's not as if you have much choice, not with the way Din is snapping his hips against your like he has something to prove. You can only gasp and whimper under him, feeling how your walls flutter and stretch around the width of him. You can feel every vein, every ridge of him inside you, and with every drag your belly coils and warms like he's stoking a flame there. You feel so full, that undeniable pressure within you building with every stroke of him against your inner walls. It's bordering on painful, it's delicious, it's all you've wanted all this time despite yourself.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this- squirming beneath me, taking my cock." Din breathes, and his voice is caught in his chest, breathless and needing as he ruts helplessly against you. Normally he would take his time, make sure to decimate you piece by piece until you were a whining, writhing mess until he at last took his pleasure from you. This isn't that. Din is fucking you like he's claiming you just as you taunted, reaping his reward for all the days and nights spent chasing you.

"D-Din!" You wheeze, reaching your other hand for him, seeking an anchor against the blinding pleasure of him carving you apart from the inside out. Din bends over you, and your hand finds purchase on the nape of his neck as you drag him downwards to your swollen, gasping lips.

Yet after only a few moments Din separates from you, his mouth wet with you. His other hand slithers up your shirt, groping the swell of your breast and seizing a nipple between his fingers. You keen a high sound in your throat, clamping around him tight enough for his hips to briefly stutter as he groans against you.

"Stars, you look so perfect like this, cyare." Din growls, his forehead braced against your as his breaths in your eyes gasp and whine. "So wet and open and needy for me."

You can hardly speak, your air robbed from your lungs with a particularly sharp snap of Din's hips, enough you feel the blunt head of his cock graze against your cervix. Your climax is so close it feels imminent, unavoidable as fate itself. You chase it with everything in you, jerking your hips down to meet Din's every thrust as he buries himself in your wet, tight heat.

"You missed this, didn't you, Mesh'la? I can tell, I can tell how much you wanted this." He croons, and his words are panted against your lips. You can only nod, lamenting the fact he's still in his armor, that you can't rake your nails down his back and mark him in turn.

"I thought about you every day, all the time." Din confesses breathlessly, and his words stoke a different heat within you, something new and affectionate, softer than this sharp, biting pleasure that writhes between you both. "Not a day went by that I didn't imagine you like this."

You feel the same, remembering all the nights you wished you could touch yourself to the thought of him like this, practically bending you in half as he sinks further and further into you, drinking in every sound and sensation of you like water to his waiting lips. At the time it felt wrong, the temptation of him. Now, now that you've surrendered the aroma of his infatuation is something you don't ever think you'll be able to get enough of for as long as you live.

"You really made me work to find you." He grunts above you, and your eyes catch a glimpse of his brow scrunched as he strains himself to speak past the mind blurring pleasure of burying himself in your core. "Maybe I should punish you for running-" and for a moment your breath hitches as you seize at the thought."-if I wasn't so proud of how far you made it."

His praise soothes you, feels like the smooth caress of his hands across your skin. It's true. You learned from him, let your keen eyes observe his methods and incorporate his lessons into your chase. It's the reason you were able to escape at all, were able to run for so long. It doesn't matter now though, not now where you are where you're meant to be."

"It doesn't matter." Din echoes against your thoughts. "I'll always find you, always bring you back."

Once, you would have feared that promise of his. Now it only feeds further into the arching flame within you as you bow off the mat under you and drive him further inside you. Din huffs as you whine loud and long, the sound bouncing off the walls of the metal container around you.

"You like that, Mesh'la?" He asks, and you hear the smug smirk on his lips in the darkness. "Can feel you getting close. You going to come for me?"

You nod frantically at him, your fingers digging under the back of his cowl and nails carving crescent moons into his nape. Din growls, the sound possessive and almost primal at the pain.

"Then come for me, cyare. Let me feel you break apart on my cock."

That's all it takes, and after only a heartbeat you're locking your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you as your second orgasm burns bright and radiant inside you. You flutter and clamp down on him, and Din wheezes at the force of your cunt seizing on his cock as you breathlessly gasp his name, the sound choked and starved of air. Your hips tremble from the sudden, unrelenting pressure of it, and as they do you suddenly feel a spurt of warmth inside you as Din nearly shouts with the abruptness of his own orgasm.

Yet before you can even begin to climb down Din is suddenly withdrawing from you, and you keen at the loss, momentarily fucked beyond words and reduced to mere sounds as you desperately reach for your Mandalorian.

"Hands and knees, sweetheart." Din rasps, and you blink for a moment, trying to understand his words beyond the haze of your pleasure. Yet then you comply, and with shaking muscles you flip over, readjust to let the brunt of your weight bear down on your elbows as you present your slickened core to him once more. It feels shameless, completely depraved, and once long ago you’d refuse to do as much. Now, however, the gesture feels like a dark, savory indulgence that paints low and heady across your tongue.

Din doesn't give you any warning before he's sliding home once more, and you gasp at the fact that he's still hard despite his orgasm, and that you yourself aren't completely sated. Then Din is hauling you back against him so your entrance is flush with the dark snatch of curls at the base of his cock and your thoughts vanish altogether. It's all you can do to let your head fall between your arms, and whimper at the fact that the coiling, snaking need in your core still hasn't abated, that you need him still just as much as he needs you.

Then again, you suppose that was always the case.

Din can go deeper like this, and with every roll of his hips you feel the air punched from your lungs, feel your arms tremble as they try to bear your weight. The curve of his cock is pressing something deep within you that makes constellation bloom behind your eyelids, and with every heartbeat you're chanting his name like it's a prayer. He's gasping too, forcing out his voice from between his clenched teeth, snarling with the force of it.

"Mine, MINE." He growls into your shoulder, teeth skimming across the bare flesh there before he's nipping, sucking the skin between his lips and leaving yet another mark that you're his. You whine, wanting it despite the dull blossom of pain, need him to leave the imprint of his love all across your skin. It's too much, the force of him pounding inside you and his hands seizing your hips so hard you're sure there will be bruises there too. Yet the ache only fuels that fire brighter within you, and you whine at the pressure building there, the radiance of it burning hotter than the force of a star.

“I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine, mine and mine alone.” Din pants, voice rough as it drags within his chest, cracks over something there that threatens to fracture with greed. "Don’t ever forget."

How could you? How could you ever forget you're his, with the way he's completely decimating you in a way that leaves you wanting more? You're taking everything he gives you, and it feels so good, so right that the pleasure of that alone threatens to buckle your arms under you and let your face collapse into the mat.

It doesn't take long before you're reaching that peak again, muscles clenching as his cock buries himself within you with every stroke, bumping against the very core of you and leaving smoldering fireworks. With every drag of him out you surrender to his need and desire as much as he surrenders to yours. Yet it's hardly a single breath before he's filling you again, as strong and powerful as tides within an ocean washing over your skin and soaking you to the bone.

It's softer this time as you reach the edge of your endurance, but even so your orgasm ripples through you from head to toe, your entire body shivering under the reflex of your own desire.

"Again." Din murmurs like a command, and you try to shake your head, not sure you have another in you. Yet then he's reaching down between you, to the junction where you two meet before his fingers find your clit. The pleasure is so sudden and sharp you jerk with a small cry, and Din has to still for a moment to keep you from bucking. Yet even with his strength he can't keep you still as the rough pads of his fingers circle that bundle of nerves and you nearly sob with the sudden spike of pleasure that races through your blood.

It doesn't take much, not when you're still oversensitive and Din is rutting into you like he's trying to cleave you in two and pick up the pieces. You gasp, breath tightening and brain shorting out as Din presses down like that and you nearly scream with the suddenness of it, clenching tightly around Din's cock inside you like you can somehow keep him there.

That finally does it, and you collapse forward. Din grunts, catching you and hauling you backwards so the exposed small of your back presses against the cold metal of his armor. You gasp with each stuttering punch of his hips, shivering and overspent. Din buries his nose in your nape, the coarse hair of his mustache grazing against the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"Good girl." He grunts, breath choked as he thrusts once, twice, before completely burying himself inside of you with a heavy, pleased sigh. "My perfect girl."

You sigh, head lolling backwards as the world dulls to a pleasant fuzz around you. You can feel the wetness of him between your thighs, stomach still fluttering and unclenching as you slowly sink down from that teetering high he's taken you to.

"Yours." You mumble in reply, your senses heavy and sated. "Yours, Din."

Din purrs contentedly before the world tilts and you're being gathered into his arms, your head lolling before the weight of your senses drags you under.

---

You stay with him.

Din takes you back to his ship, your head tucked against his breast as you drift in and out of wakefulness, body heavy and spent. It takes tremendous effort just to keep your eyes open as the lonely midnight streets fade around you to the silent, empty confines of the Razorcrest II. Not that you really need to be awake, anyways. Din has you, he'll keep you safe, make sure you're protected and cared for. There's no more running now, no more wakeless daydreams of him chasing you, no paranoia clinging to you as tightly as your own shadow.

You really don't know why you left in the first place.

You're safe here, after all, in Din's arms as he practically coils himself around you in sleep. You don't know where the ship is, but it doesn't matter. What's more important is the steady beat of his heart underneath your palm, splayed across his bare chest. It's the scent of him, heavy and sweet across your senses, lulling you into his touch. It's the way his eyelashes flutter in sleep, lips parted as they spill endless devotions to you.

"I'd burn worlds for you, Mesh’la." He tells you, his lips skimming over the small of your back, teeth grazing over the sensitive, exposed flesh there. "I'll make you my queen."

You gasp, and with every breath you're breathing black smoke. You thought it would choke you, suffocate your soul and asphyxiate you. Instead, the aroma of it curls over your tongue like nectar, thick and heady. When you sigh, it's into his bare shoulder where you've bitten down hard enough to bruise, leaving him a needless reminder of how he belongs to you, and you to him.

"I'd go to the depths of hell for you." Din whispers with every desperate roll of his hips into yours, and you believe him. A part of you wonders if you're there already, here within the shadows of the afterlife, tormented by a curse beyond your control. If that were true, though, why does it feel so good?

You ponder the question sometimes, when Din has tired himself from the indulgence of your flesh and collapsed beside you, hauling you against him and burying his nose in your hair. The answer came to you readily once, and with each passing day it becomes harder to summon, to find the path out from this luscious, depraved madness.

The Darksaber. It clouds his voice and makes the veins under his skin darken with ink, makes his eyes glint in the darkness and strengthens his bones into beskar. There's something wrong with it, you know. It shouldn't be like this, the way Din hardly ever sleeps or eats, the way his stamina and strength seems supernatural. It isn't right, but you can't understand why. Maybe if you got rid of the blade you'd remember, you'd remember why this is so wrong despite the fact it feels so right.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe, forever and always." Din purrs into your ear, and sleep descends on you with a soft, inviting touch. Your eyelids flutter shut as you tuck yourself further into his arms, which tighten around you like they'll never let go ever again.

Soon, you tell yourself. Soon you'll find a way to get rid of the Darksaber, find a way out of this.

Soon. Soon, soon, soon...

TRUE END

---

If you enjoyed this work please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#Din djarin x reader #Din x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x f!reader #smut #18 +#minors dni #Fic: the hunted #my writing #my fic #This is....just rotten lol #I'm not completely satisfied with it but oh well #Back to our regularly scheduled programming now lol #reader insert #nobody look at me

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browneyes-issac · 1 year

Text

Sweetie 💖

Secret Santa gift for @yourcoolauntie

Din Djarin x f!reader ( kind of an AU, all stuff we know about him and Star Wars stays the same, just changing around some stuff. 💞 )

You've known Din for all of your adult life. As time has went on you've grown very close and one day the flood gates of your feelings for each other open.

AN: Hi everyone!!! 🥰💞👋 Soooo I'm back to writing. I thought doing this amazing Secret Santa writing that @pedrostories is hosting would be a perfect way to get back into it. I definitely think having a set date to get stuff done by will help a lot with me. Getting the idea gears working and such.

AN for this story: Using her/she a lot at first because it's in the past, so embracing my inner narrator... 😆😆

So I left a lot of things open to imagination. I have always done that with anything I've written, even when I did it for school. So that is why some things aren't as descriptive.

There is some things I did not include from the prompt my giftee gave. I did my best to include. How I ended it, is kinda left open, so I can write more if you would like.

I hope you like it! 💞🥰

I'm still kinda new to writing, so I apologize if it is bad and I worded stuff odd.. 🙈😆

Word count- 2,825

They've been partners for as long as they both can remember.

Din; he'd been a full Mandalorian for about a year.

Y/N; she had been bounty hunting since she was a young teenager.

Her parents were both hunters and knew the risk of having a kid in their line of work. But they taught her all they knew as soon as she was older enough to start. But when she was about 14, they passed during a bad job. It broke her heart losing them but she knew it would come one day. So she pushed on and followed the steps they set up with her for when this day came. Then the rest was history until she met a certain Mandalorian.

🎄

The day Din met Y/N, he was so thankful to have his helmet. Because he was entranced by her beauty. He knew who she was, only by name, he'd never actually seen her. So the respect and love he already had for her from how badass she is at her job; it was so so unmatched to how beautiful and badass she was in person.

It took him a long while to work up courage to go talk to her. He never thought the shy little boy he used to be would make an appearance, thought he shut the young boy away forever for both their safety.

So one day he decided he would get up early. Get all the chores done, take a nice shower, clean all his armor, track down so beautiful flowers native to the planet they are on. Then a little after mid day he'd go to the local cantina in hopes that today would be one of the days you come in for a drink.

To his delight, she did.

🎄

She knew who he was. Mostly by name and reputation. She did however see him at the cantina in town. She knew how gorgeous Mandalorian's armor could be, but his was so much more breathtaking in person. One of the many thoughts she had the first day she saw him was " why hadn't he painted his armor? Could it be something meaningful? " She sure hoped so and wanted to know one day.

Over time there was this crush she developed on him. Never in a million years did she think she'd have a crush on someone, it's so dangerous in this galaxy, let alone on a mandalorian that has never shown his face. So she never really went up to him to say hi or anything.

But today was different, she was gonna go talk to him.

Knew he was there everyday she was, so safe to say he was an everyday visitor to the establishment.

She decided on a gorgeous but professional outfit to wear. Had to catch his eye, but still needed to be prepared to work if needed.

The outfit: all light into dark silver. Kind of a swirl mixture of the shades. The top was a tank top that accented everything she wanted to. She had found this skirt pant combo type thing that struck gold in her opinion. Because come on, she could look gorgeous with a skirt on one minute and then the other still look gorgeous but in pants. Such a win. The jacket though, it was her everyday one that went with everything. It was her mothers, she had gifted it to Y/N when she was around ten. And Y/N never took it off after that. The shoes, boots but they were more fancy and clean. Went very well with the outfit. She did change her hair some. Kept it up in case there was a job thing to come up, but still so beautiful and elegant.

🎄

~ The day of the meeting. ~

Both of them were so nervous. Din was still so thankful for his helmet, because he was sure he looked so worried and was cherry red from how nervous he was. Y/N was nervous endlessly but was keeping it cool so she wouldn't worry anyone or even Din.

She made it there first. Went to her regular spot by the window. Always has been a favorite seat, because you can see all the important spots in the cantina.

When Din arrived he had to contain himself from doing a happy dance once he saw her. He oddly calmed down a lot after he saw her. I mean look at her. So gorgeous in such a simple but effective outfit.

He decided to sit at the table right next to hers.

( Y/N internal thoughts)

" ok we got this. Just say hi to him. Thats a good start right? " she said while fidgeting a bit out of nervousness.

~ Back to the real world ~

" Hey-

"Hello -

They both speak at the same time. Instantly mumbling to themselves about being sorry and "why did I do that."

"What were you saying? " She said while waving her hand in his direction to offer him to go first. Also with a precious but nervous smile on her face.

Din instantly froze from how polite and soft spoken she was. Reminded him very much of himself.

After a few seconds he answered her.

" I was just going to say, would you like to share a table? Since we both are here alone, I thought it'd be nice to have someone to talk to and such. " he said while gesturing to the other side of the booth from her.

" What's funny is… I was going to ask you the same thing. " she said shyly.

Din sits there and admires her for a moment. Saying to himself; "she's the sweetest kindest person I've ever met in this galaxy. ", among other sweet things.

" yes yes I would love to join you. " he says as he's standing up to go sit with her.

~ Y/N internal thoughts ~

" ahhhhhh!!! He's sitting with meeee!! And all the sweet things he saidddd!! How he is so intimidating, but such a sweetheart?? " as she is completely freaking out about him internally, she's keeping it cool on the outside by just smiling at him and looking at the drink list but really admiring him more closely because she's never been this close to a mandalorian, let alone one so gorgeous.

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

They sit there for hours. Getting to know each other, comparing stories of past bounty jobs, finding out how alike they are.

After it starts to get a little late in the evening. They decide to make sure to meet up everytime they are on planet. Same time each time, so they won't miss each other by some amount of time.

❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄❄

Present day ~~~

Din and you have been partners for about 10 years now. They're have been times you guys have given into your desires. But it never changed your relationship with each other. Everything stayed the same. The only thing that really changed was you traveled/lived together on Din's Razor Crest. And there was never any love interest for you both. Just were always content and happy with being with one another.

Although you guys have not wed, he has told you his real name and shown you his face. He decided after the armor told him he was mandalorian no more and gained the dark saber, he was safe and comfortable showing & telling you. You've been by his side for over a decade, trust you with his life and everything.

Boba one day sent a holo message to Din about a job. He, nor Fennec could go undercover for the job, because everyone would recognize them in town. So they contacted you guys because they knew your parents passed down this gadget to you that changed your appearance and voice. And they as always would pay you both well.

Din asked you if it was ok and you guys talked it over. Always do whenever there is a new job. And he knows it is always needed and thankful when it comes to something to do with your parents. ( he's such a gentleman)

You said "of course, always happy to help out old friends. Besides they can always count on us, they helped us tremendously with Grogu and everything. "

He smiled at you with that darn adorable dimple and sparkle in his eyes as he was putting his helmet back on to send a holo back to Boba.

🎄🎄

In two days, you guys arrived in Tatooine.

Dinner and catching up was done between the four of you. As the dinner and the conversations died down a bit, Boba wanted to talk about the plan.

" So as you two know it's Christmas time here on Tatooine. The city is having a big party. There is a person I want you two to find for me. He knows some information that I need as soon as possible. " Boba said in his always serious tone.

" Sounds pretty easy to me, what about you, Din? " you said, looking at him, making sure he was ok with the job.

" I have one question about the job. Why do we need to use Y/N's appearance changing gadget? " He said with that no emotion voice of his that you've always loved.

" Well here's the thing, it is a well known enemy of ours that we need the info from. We have no way to get in contact. Can't exactly send in our friends that everyone knows in town to go get them. So that is why we asked you guys. Not only because we trust you dearly but we know you guys can pull it off the best and won't have any slip ups. " Fennec said.

" Oh. " Din and you said in unison.

" That makes sense. You guys can always count on us. Is there anything we need to do special to our appearance, besides just changing it? " You said in a very professional voice.

" Din, you will have to take your helmet off and change. Yes I know only select people have seen you, but I just want to be safe. Besides in a way you are still wearing your helmet. Y/N, you have full freedom also with how you look. I, we have full faith in you both that you'll get the job done perfectly. " said Boba.

Din was very shocked and didn't know what to say. But he calmed down a bit because he knows only Y/N will see his actual face before they change. So he isn't freaking out too much.

Y/N instantly knew he was just from how he shifted his weight and wasn't looking anywhere. So she moved closer to him and put her arm around him and soothingly rubbed his back. He melted into her touch immediately, which made her smile because it always warms her heart that she can help him calm down so easily.

Boba and Fennec exchanged a look of surprise, but didn't say anything. The reason is, they know how close you two are, so they just go about what they were doing instead of saying anything.

❄❄❄

It's the day of the party. You've been working hard on getting the gadget ready.

Your appearance changes:

hair: long wavy red into blonde tips. Eyes: one green, one blue. For a unique effect. And some other changes that aren't that noticeable, but are needed to make the look look real. Voice: a mixture of the famous rebel, Leia Organa and your own.

Din's appearance changes:

Those beautiful curls of his, you decided to make sure those are shown off. So you made them a little longer and darkened the color to black instead of the brown. His eyes: oh the beautiful brown. You really struggled with whether you should change them. Decided to do it, changed them to a gorgeous blue. Same as yours with the rest of the changes. Voice: a mixture of another famous rebel; Han Solo and his own voice.

🎄

All it is to do the changing is a holo pad that is modified to do the task. It scans whomever and scans a second time to put the effects in. You can put in any amount of time for it to last. The reason your family doesn't use it unless in an emergency is because for it to work it uses the power that is used in ships for the hyperdrive.

🎄

You both have changed, now it's time to get dressed for the party. You'll be matching of course.

Your outfit/look: This gorgeous sith lightsaber red flowing dress. It hugs you in all the right places, and accents the important things. It does have sleeves that come down to the elbow. There is a cool thing about the sleeves. They secretly have Din, Grogu, and your name with family next to it sowed into it. So you'll have them with you always. The shoes, simple but so effective. They are the same shade of red but with sequins.

Din's outfit/look: Dark green, very Christmasy shade of dark. It is so sharp, hugs all the right things. The dress shirt is a slightly brighter green, to make the suit pop. You had found these neat dress boots that can totally pass for his Mando boots, they are just nicer than them.

You both get dressed in different rooms.

❄❄

As soon as Din sees you in your outfit, he almost passes out. His mind didn't even register the appearance change,all he saw was you. How gorgeous and breathtaking you looked in that dress.

When you turned the corner the air was knocked out of you. Did not expect Din to look so elegant and handsome in his outfit. And the same happened with him, when you saw him.

" Din, sweetie are you ok? " You said because you were a little worried after you gained your composer back, because he was worrying you a bit from how frozen he looked.

" I- Yes I - Wait what did you call me? " he said. His voice lowered an octave and his eyes darkened.

" I I um.. I called you sweetie.. I didn't even think twice, you are my sweetie though. " you said shyly but confidentially because you're finally confessing your feelings.

He doesn't even say anything he strides over to you and kisses you. Cups your face with one hand and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you close to him.

You quietly yelp when he collides into you. But as soon as you registered what was happening, you melted into him.

The hunger you both had for each other just bursts. Hands roaming each other's body. Just all around very steamy and beautiful in a way. Because you guys finally are saying screw it and giving into your love for each other.

After a few minutes of making out and such. You guys unglued from each other kind of unwillingly since there was a big moment between you two.

" Baby, I think.. I think we need to get going before Boba scoldess us. " Din said while still peppering kisses up and down your neck.

" Yes.. We should.. I don't want to but we should.. " you said as you ran your fingers through his hair and gave him kisses all over his face all cute like.

With that said you guys made sure you were presentable. Surprisingly, only hair was ruffled a bit.

" I'm really proud of us, we didn't make each look too crazy with making out. Definitely felt like we made each other look like we were drug by banthas. " Din said while laughing. A sound you rarely hear. Anytime you do it warms your heart.

" Yeah I definitely thought we would look a little more crazy. " you said with a smile while fixing your hair a little.

❄❄❄

The party

🎄

It was difficult to find the guy. He was always moving when Din picked up his tracking signal. But about an hour and a half into the party you ran into him ironically.

You had gone to go get drinks for Din and yourself. Right as you turned around to leave the bar, this guy ran into you almost spelt the drinks. As soon as your eyes locked, he knew exactly who and why you were there. Soooo he bolted.

" I found him, but he ran. I'm going after him now. you said into your company link.

Oh and yes I put my location on so you can track me to come help. I know you too well sweetheart. " you said with a smirk.

" You know when we get back on the Crest I'm going to have to reward or maybe punish you for calling me sweetheart so much. I haven't decided what yet. " he said with a smirk and a much deeper voice.

" I like the sound of that sweetheart. And you're killing me with that deeper voice of yours. Kinda in love with it. " you said in a teasing sexy way.

The end. ❤💚🤶

Taglist: @stxrrylunatic @supernaturalgirl20 @heythere-mel @prolix-yuy @harriedandharassed

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift22 #pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction

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samantha-rae-velcher · 1 year

Text

What I write and who I write for

Movies/shows

Gotham

Star wars

Spartacus

Boardwalk Empire

Marvel

The Walking Dead

The Witcher

Salem

Star Trek

Harry Potter

Fantastic Beasts

Barry

Stranger Things

The pirates of the Caribbean

Lotr

The Hobbit

NCIS

___

Gotham characters I write for

Oswald Cobblepot

Jerome Valeska

Jeremiah Valeska

Jim Gordon

Harvey Bullock

Ed Nygma

Alfred Pennyworth

Mr. Freeze

Victor Zsasz

Butch Gilzean

Star Wars characters I write for

Darth Maul

Kylo Ren

Darth Vader

Han Solo

Poe Dameron

Lando Calrissian

Finn

Boba Fett

Jango Fett

Din Djarin

Paz Vizsla

Spartacus characters I write for

Ashur

Gannicus

Crixus

Agron

Spartacus

Glaber

Caesar

Boardwalk Empire characters I write for

Al Capone

Richard Harrow

Eli Thompson

Frank Capone

Ralph Capone

Nelson Van Alden

Arnold Rothstein

Meyer

Lucky Luciano

Gyp Rosetti

Marvel characters I write for

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Scott Lang

Stephen Strange

Zemo

Loki

Thor

Clint Barton

Bruce Banner

Peter Parker

Bucky Barnes ❤️

Ultron

Pietro Maximoff

Peter Quill

Drax

Yondu Udonta

Ronan

Rocket (platonic! We ain't furries here!)

Groot (platonic)

DC characters I write for

Superman

Batman

Bane

Joker (Heath ledger or Jared Leto)

Captain Boomerang

Chato Santana

Rick Flag

Oliver Queen

Slade Wilson (Manu Bennett)

X-Men characters I write for

Victor Creed

Wolverine

Colossus

Deadpool

Cable

TWD characters I write for

Aaron

Father Gabriel

Rick Grimes

Negan Smith

Shane Walsh

Daryl Dixon

Merle Dixon

Eugene Porter

Abraham Ford

Paul "Jesus" Rovia

The Witcher characters I write for

Geralt

Jaskier

Filavandrel

Mousesack

Eskel

Salem characters I write for

John Alden

Cotton Mather

Beelzebub/ The Sentinel

Samael

Sebastian Marburg

Star trek characters I write for

Captain Kirk

Spock

Dr. McCoy

Quark

General Martok

Weyoun

Damar

Dukat

Garak

Julian Bashir

Shran

Captain Archer

Malcolm Reed

Trip Tucker

Phlox

Harry Potter characters I write for

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Lucius Malfoy

Remus Lupin

Sirius Black

Severus Snape

Fantastic Beasts characters I write for

Newt Scamander

Percival Graves

Albus Dumbledore

Gellert Grindelwald (Mikkelsen or Depp)

Jacob Kowalski

IT characters I write for

Richie Tosier

Ben Hanscom

Bill Denbrough

Eddie Kaspbrak

Henry Bowers

Pennywise/ Bob Gray

Barry characters I write for

Barry Berkman

Noho Hank

Monroe Fuches (As father figure)

Stranger Things characters I write for

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Dustin Henderson (platonic or as little brother)

Eddie Munson

Pirates Off The Caribbean characters I write for

Jack Sparrow....."Captain! Jack Sparrow!"

Captain Barbossa

William Turner

Bootstrap Bill

Davy Jones

James Norrington

Cutler Beckett

Salazar

Lotr characters I write for

Boromir

Faramir

Samwise Gamgee

Mary

Pippin

Aragorn

Haldir

Legolas

Elrond

Èomer

The Hobbit characters I write for

Bilbo

Thorin

Fili

Kili

Bard

Elrond

Thranduil

Legolas

Azog

NCIS characters I write for

Tony Dinozzo

Tim McGee

Joshany Gibbs

YouTubers I write for

Mully VR

Josh dub

Your favorite Narrator

Juicy

Eddie VR

Smashing

Jacksepticeye

Markiplier/Mark's egos

Angry Cops

___

What I will write

Smut/NSFW

fluff

Male character x Fem reader

Traumatized reader dynamic

Mentions of abuse

Mentions of Death

Mentions of Blood

Slight torture

Knife play

___

What I won't write

Male Character x Male reader (Unless platonic)

Fem Character x Fem reader (Unless platonic)

Incest

Rape (depends on Character and how graphic)

Pegging

Gore

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din’s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 3 years

Text

A Lesson In Touch [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Touch Summary: You want nothing more to say your feelings for Din out loud, but words don't come to you or Din easy... Maybe you can express your love in another way. Warnings: A little bit of angst and description of injury, but that's about it Request: N/A

A/N: This is the third and final instalment of "a lesson in" series! ((unless i get inspired to write another part)) Let me know if you have any requests for Din in general!!

A/N 2: Here is a list of people that said they wanted to be tagged for this fic! Hope you like it

@elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @the-fae-child @zoleea-exultant @captainwanderlust78 @ihavemyownissuess

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Tradition PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Touch

Din hadn't quite mastered the art of subtlety when it came to you. He was very thankful for his beskar, specifically his helmet, otherwise he was sure you would've noticed his outright staring. In no way was he trying to make you feel uncomfortable or offend you, but he just felt mesmerised by you in a way that no other being in the galaxy had. Well, apart from his little green son. But, this... This was something different.

You were something different.

Ever since you had bought that necklace, the way he felt about you had only intensified. It was scaring him in ways he didn't even want to confront. Thoughts of a relationship, of a family with you began to stir within him. It wasn't realistic- definitely just a day dream. Kriff, he hadn't even been in a romantic relationship before: how was he ever going to treat you right? Sure, he'd dabbled in a few flings here and there... Some he was less than proud of. Although he'd never broken his Creed, he had certainly bent the rules a handful of times; in his defence, he was young, and stupid... And, touch starved. In truth: he probably still was.

It had been a long while since anyone had touched him with any other intent than to kill him. He was used to the roughness of touch that came with combat: the way his fists hit another, and he was in turn hit, but your soft lingering touches were enough to distract him for the whole day.

He began to crave them: any excuse to be close to you.

If only the Mandalorian knew that he wasn't being as subtle as he thought. Even with the helmet disguising his eyes, you could feel his vision on you. At first, you felt self conscious under his gaze. You interpreted it as him glaring at you: maybe you had done something wrong with the kid? Or maybe you had offended him, and he just wasn't saying anything? But, slowly, you got better at reading his body language. It was tough at first, as Din revealed very little personal information about himself. Coupled this with the fact he was usually clad head to toe in beskar armour, you made slow progress. However, over time, you began to pick up on little cues. Soft, small hints that he wasn't glaring... He was looking at you: you'd caught him staring.

You were going to confront him about it, initially; maybe even make a light joke of it. You had quickly gone off of that idea. Soon, you decided you liked the Mandalorians eyes on you; you even let yourself believe that he might only have eyes for you.

And soon, just as he craved you, you wanted more than just his eyes on you.

~~~

The universe had a fucking funny way of answering your inner desires. When you said, you had wanted to feel him, feel his skin on your own, when you had said you wanted to feel his touch, this wasn't what you meant. Kriff. This was getting bad. Din was bleeding badly.

What had initially meant to be a pretty simple bounty had turned into a rather difficult one. The location Din was sent initially was inaccurate, and then when he arrived at the actual, correct location, it was a trap. His target had friends, and it soon became an ambush. The Mandalorian was still capable of taking them down, but they put up a pretty good fight, and before knocking out all of them, one had managed to stab Din in his side.

Which lead you to now.

Din was in your arms. He had stumbled into the Razor Crest, clutching his side with one arm and dragging the quarry with the other. You'd almost lost control in that moment, but you knew you had to stay calm for him. You rushed up to him, and quickly aided him in throwing the bounty into carbonite. Then, you made quick work of laying him down on your make shift medical bench, and asking him where the pain was coming from. Your eyes were wide with panic: he could probably tell. You were terrible at hiding emotions when it came to him, and you'd never exactly done this before. Sure, you'd patched yourself up more times than you can count: but someone else? Someone you cared about? Now that was something else entirely.

"Din," you cooed gently, trying not to make his pain worse, "I'm going to need to remove some of your armour. Is that okay? Is... Is that breaking your Creed?"

"I- No," Din huffed out, trying to be kind to you despite his situation.

"Okay, good... Good... I need you to lay as still as you can okay. I'm just going to..."

You don't know why you start narrating what you're doing. Maybe you thought it would put him at ease if he knew what was going on. Maybe it was making things worse.

Gently, you peeled away his armour from his torso, and observed the large cut down his side. You pressed your hand against him, and Din winced in pain. Your hand retracted quickly, and you ran to the first aid kit kept in the Crest. You opened the bag, and began searching around for the bacta patch and disinfectant that you needed. Your heart was beating really quickly, and you could feel Din's pulse getting weaker. His breathing shallowed. You steadied your shaking hands as you brought the disinfectant up to his wound.

"Din," you murmur, "Are you still with me? Din... I'm sorry this is going to hurt."

You saw his head nod slowly, and you began cleaning the wound as carefully as you can. He winced in pain and his hand shot up; he grabbed out to you, and his hand was wrapped around your upper arm before you knew what was happening. Despite the situation, his touch (even through his glove) surprised you. Your heart rate began to increase, and your face felt hot.

"I'm nearly done now," you promise him, "I'm just putting on the bacta patch and then you can rest."

"T-Thank you, cyar'ika," Din replied, his grip on your arm faltering before letting go.

You took his hand and squeezed it gently. Din was weak now but at least his wound has been tended to and he wasn't losing anymore blood. It was only now that the worst of it was over, that you took note of the blood across the ship. This would be one hell of a clean up. First, you washed your hands, and then you gently removed the remainders of Din's armour, save his helmet (of course). You unbuttoned his tunic and swapped it out for one that wasn't covered in blood- and one that didn't have a large hole in it. You like to think that he'd appreciate it.

With the ship finally cleaned, and Din safe, you crawled into your cot beside the child. Your eyes felt heavy as you held the child close to you: you took one last look at your Mandalorian, before finally falling asleep.

~~~

Din Djarin woke up startled. His hand went to his side, at first, and then across his chest, before ending up resting on his helmet. His eyes scanned the room before settling upon you. His eyes softened; in your arms lay his little womp rat. He was safe, and so were you. Din sighed, relieved that you were both still okay.

His eyes cast down to the pile of armour beside him: you must've removed it after he'd passed out. He recognised that he was now wearing a new black shirt, and that his old, bloodied one was nowhere to be found. His mind didn't have time to wonder where you'd put it, as the sound of him moving off of the make shift medical bench had caused you to begin to awaken. Your eye sight was blurry for a second, before focusing in on Din. He was up.

He was up!

"Din! You're awake!" you exclaim, shaking off any sleepy feeling that still remained.

"Are you alright?" Din asks, stepping towards you.

"Am I alright?" you repeat back to him, now also finding your feet, "You get stabbed, come home bloody to me -barely standing I might add- and you ask me if I'm okay?"

Din shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"Never mind me: how are you feeling?"

"I'm... I'm okay. Better now, thanks to you," Din reassured, reaching over to take the child from you now that he had woken up from his nap.

"Well, I have been told I have an excellent bed side manor," you tease.

"Oh yeah?" Din plays along.

"Really! If it wasn't for this whole bounty hunting gig, I definitely would've been a nurse," you assure confidently; although truthfully at this point in time, you have no interest in taking care of anyone else besides your small found family.

"You would've made an excellent nurse," Din chuckles.

It warms your heart: hearing him laugh.

"I thought you were going to pass out quicker than me at certain points, though," Din continues, "But I'm not dead so you must've done something right."

"Hey now, Mandalorian: in my defence, I was not expecting you to come back covered in blood and barely conscious. Forgive me if I was a little rusty."

You hadn't realised how close the two of you had become until now. His body was so close that you could almost feel the heat coming from his body. Or maybe it was yours. You weren't honestly sure at this point, but it was making your face heat up. You shyly looked away from his gaze. Seeing him like this almost felt unnatural. You were so use to him fully covered in armour, that seeing him without all the beskar felt like you were seeing him naked. Despite this, you enjoyed seeing him like this: he felt more human to you now. If he was feeling vulnerable at all, he didn't show it. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost say he enjoyed this new layer of vulnerability because it meant he could feel closer... Closer to you.

"You're forgiven," he murmurs, his voice low, "Am I forgiven, cyar'ika?"

"Hm..." you hesitate, teasing him for a second, "I will have to think about that-"

"-Mesh'la, please," he pretends to beg you, smiling under his helmet; Din's eyes remain on you, almost transfixed as you pretend to ponder the status of his forgiveness.

"Only if you tell me what m- me- mesh'la means," you whisper in a hushed tone, "Or agree to teach me Mando'a. I have to know what you are saying about me."

"Only good things," Din replies in the same quiet tone, "Beautiful."

"Beautiful," you repeat back to him, your heart swelling, "Din you are... Me- mesh'la too."

You expect him to reply: correct your pronunciation, or joke back with you but the Mandalorian has gone silent. Not an uncomfortable wooden silence. No, it was a warm silence. It felt right, and after a second, you adjusted to the new quietness. You imagine neither of you have had a moment like this in a long time. The silences you were use to only echoed with your hollowness, reflecting your loneliness. But this: this felt right.

Gently, Din leaned his head on your own. Due to the presence of his helmet, he was careful not to be too forceful, but you soon accepted the gesture, and kept your forehead on his.

A keldabe kiss.

That's what you would come to know that as. Although it originally started as slang for a headbutt, it soon became a sign of affection among Mandalorians. Affectionate moments with the Creed felt few and far between, so this was a way around that. And, it was one you quiet enjoyed. Even if you couldn't always touch your Mandalorian in the ways you wanted to, in these moments it didn't seem to matter. Despite the Creed, despite everything, there was no true barrier that could separate you and Din Djarin.

Your foreheads stay together for a moment longer, before separating. You look up at him, and you know -even without words, even without touch- he is yours, and your are his.

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

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Merry Go Round of Life 3

Find my masterlist

Part 3 people!! And guess what? We’re finally meeting some of our faves here!

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader. Eventually. Give it time.

Warnings: I don’t even think there’s swearing in this chapter.

Chapter three: In which there is a wizard

A soft weight settling on your lap woke you up. Well, partially woke you. You didn’t open your eyes as you murmured, “Not time yet ‘Mer.” It was definitely Omera. Cara would never be so gentle trying to rouse you.

A gentle coo made you blink, then your eyes flew open and you sat bolt upright, and then immediately slouched back into the chair with a groan of pain. Oh, ow. Your everything hurt.

A giggle from your lap caught your attention again, and you carefully blinked down at your lap. A small child was settled happily in your lap, looking up at you with large brown eyes. He smiled and giggled again. Your heart melted, just a little.

“And who are you, little one?” you murmured. “Are you here by yourself?” You looked around, one hand carefully cupped against the kid’s back to hold him steady. But there was no other sign of life around.

“Finally awake again,” the fire grumbled, rousing from slumber and stretching up towards the ceiling. “Took you long enough!”

For a moment, just a moment, you stared at the fire. That had been real, not a weird dream. All of it was real. The curse. The witch. All of it. You were in the moving castle.

“Don’t mind the kid,” the fire told you. “He’s Djarin’s ward. I think. Or adopted son. I don’t really keep track.”

“Djarin?” You stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word.

“The wizard?” The fire prompted you, sounding a little derogatory. “You don’t even know the wizard’s name?”

You shrugged, carefully, and rearranged the kid to be more comfortable in your lap. “Nobody in Kalevala knows his name,” you pointed out, perhaps a touch defensive. “We all just called him the Wizard of the Moving Castle, or something like that.”

“Ha!” The fire snorted, sending sparks all over the place. You yelped and swatted at a stray one near your skirt. “How pretentious! I can’t decide if he’d love it or hate it.”

“What should I call the little one?” You smiled down at the child, who beamed right back at you.

“Dunno. Mostly Djarin just calls him kid.”

The kid looked around at that. You had the feeling that he understood a lot more of what was going on than he let on. Then he grabbed a handful of your skirt and started playing with it, apparently content to stay where he was.

“Hey, we still on?” Peli demanded suddenly. “Our deal. You’re still going to work on it, right?”

You stood, carefully holding the kid to you so he wouldn’t be harmed. The little darling immediately cuddled into you with a little huff. “I don’t know how much help I can be. I’m not a witch.”

“You don’t need to be.” Peli smiled, and it showed far too many pointy teeth for a fire. Far too many pointy teeth in general, actually, now that you thought about it. “You’ll figure it out, you seem smart.”

Something about Peli’s words had little alarm bells going off in your mind. “What do you mean, figure it out?”

“Well, I can’t just tell you,” Peli hissed. “That’s against the rules. Even I can’t break the rules. Nobody can. But! There will be hints. All you need to do is stick around for a little while, and once you figure it out, I’ll lift the curse on you!”

You considered for a few moments. Really, that didn’t sound awful. You’d have to think of a convincing reason to stay in the castle. But either Peli would help you, or wizard Djarin would. You still couldn’t exactly go back to your shop, not with the way you looked. So while this hadn’t been part of your plan, it wasn’t bad. There were no major downsides that you could see.

“Alright,” you agreed. “It’s a deal.”

Peli grinned at that. “You’ll need to give Djarin a reason for staying.”

You nodded your agreement and started to carefully walk around, looking around the room for inspiration. The room wasn’t messy, really, but it was a bit cluttered. And a bit dusty.

“I could be his housekeeper?” you suggested.

“Not a chance,” Peli said with a snort. “He’d throw you out in an instant. Stubborn man.”

You frowned at the fire briefly before you continued your exploration. There was a little kitchenette attached to the main space, and before long you had a kettle and tea. “I could cook?”

“Nah, he does some of that himself.” Peli eyed you as you poured water into the kettle. “What are you doing?”

“Making tea.” You tone said that this really should be obvious.

“Oh no you don’t!” Peli immediately protested. “No! I refuse! That is blatant abuse!”

“I don’t see any other fireplaces,” you pointed out. “And I want a cup of tea. Actually, the little one could do with some breakfast, too.” You turned appraising eyes to the kid, who was still propped happily against your shoulder. He blinked at you and burbled, one little hand reaching over to pat your cheek gently. Your heart melted a little more.

“No,” Peli repeated, eyes wide. “No!”

“This won’t hurt you,” you told her, well used to tantrums from both your sisters and your niece. “Just bend down your head a little.”

Peli made an odd hissing, crackling noise as you plonked the kettle down over the fire to heat. Satisfied, you hobbled off to grab the frying pan and eggs. Everyone liked eggs. (Hopefully the kid liked eggs.)

“That’s right,” you muttered as you plonked the fry pan down too. “Good fire.”

“Here’s another curse for you,” Peli muttered bitterly, blue eyes staring at you. “May all your cooking burn.”

You hummed quietly as you worked, and the kid behaved remarkably well. Cooking one-handed was a little slower, but the kid didn’t want to be put down, with one hand fisted in your dress and the other half-shoved in his own mouth. Every time you looked at him, those big brown eyes were looking right back at you. Really, it should be illegal for children to be this cute.

The door creaked open behind you as you were cracking eggs into the fry pan. You stiffened but didn’t turn to look, instead focusing on the eggs. You stirred the eggs carefully, waiting for something to happen. The kid babbled something incoherent and turned to look at the new person, but didn’t let go of you.

“Peli.” The voice was low and rough, and definitely male.

“You’re back!” Peli wiggled under the fry pan. “Make her stop, she’s awful!”

A presence stopped next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw dark fabric and metal armor. Again with the armor. Maybe it was a witch and wizard thing? Hadn’t the witch been wearing armor when she cursed you? Curious. The person was male, and taller than you (easier than ever, since you seem to have shrunk a few inches in your new old age). He was also eerily, disconcertingly quiet.

“What is going on?” he finally asked, voice a little raspy.

“She’s abusing me!” Peli immediately burst out. The kid in your arms cooed and laid fully against your shoulder, grabbing a handful of hair in his grabby little hand. You huffed and carefully shuffled egg onto a plate for the kid.

“Eggs?” you offered the wizard blithely. “Figured the little one could use some breakfast.”

The wizard didn’t respond, but the helmet slowly moved to look at Peli instead. “Who let her in?” he demanded.

“Nobody, she just wandered in on her own,” Peli answered. “Somewhere between Kalevala and Tattooine.”

“Just wandered in,” he repeated slowly. The helmet shifted focus to you.

You shrugged, careful not to disturb the child, and managed to balance two plates over to the table. Wizard Djarin followed you.

“I was looking for a new job,” you told him, on the fly. That was not true, but somehow you’d stumbled into a job all the same. “You really shouldn’t leave such a young one home alone, you know. They’ll get into all sorts of mischief. My niece is only a little older than this one, and she was a fright! Used to try to put herself in one of the ovens if my sister didn’t have an eye on her.” You chuckled. That was absolutely true - Winta, Omera’s daughter, had been a right terror as a toddler, and had run the entire bakery staff into the ground.

The wizard looked at you, his helmet tipped slightly to one side, apparently deep in thought. Letting him look his fill, you set the child down at the table with a clean spoon you found. Fortunately, he was able to feed himself, though he seemingly narrated the entire process to you. You hummed when it seemed appropriate and nodded along with him. Honestly, small children were sometimes good like this, entertaining themselves and you. Win-win.

“You’re good with him.”

You jumped. You hadn’t expected the wizard to speak, and you blinked up at him. “He’s a sweet little one,” you answered carefully.

The wizard nodded once. When the kettle whistled, he waved you to stay where you were and retrieved the kettle himself, pouring the hot water into the teapot. You blinked, surprised, but didn’t object. As soon as all the cooking objects were away from the fire, Peli sprung back up towards the ceiling, seemingly stretching out and complaining, though nobody paid much attention to the words. (Well, you certainly didn’t, and it didn’t seem that Djarin was paying attention either.)

The rest of breakfast passed quietly. The kid ate and then slid off his chair to go wrap himself around the wizard, who picked him up easily and carried him off. You cleaned up after breakfast and then did a bit of tidying (and conveniently poked your nose into various cubbies and drawers, just in case there were any convenient hints laying about).

It wasn’t longer than an hour before the wizard returned and handed the kid to you again. You took the kid, blinking up at the wizard.

“I won’t be long,” he said, helmet focused on the two of you. “Stay with the kid.”

You nodded, momentarily perplexed, and watched as Djarin walked to the door. He turned a knob next to the door, one you hadn’t noticed before, and opened the door. Instead of seeing the expected hills of the countryside around Kalevala, or even the sandy wastes of Tattooine, you saw… a town? It was a different style of architecture than Kalevala, and you thought you heard birds, but different birds than you’d ever heard in your life.

But the view you had was brief, as Djarin stepped out through the door and shut it firmly behind him.

#merry go round of life #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #howl's moving castle au

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saradika · 3 years

Note

Hi Jess!

I wanted to share one of my favorite comfort fics/original works by the amazing author @gaiuswrites !

It's entitled Memento Mori, and is a short but impactful prose about grief, and how the narrator holds it insides them, how they "mother it". Though under 500 words, I find myself going back to it over and over, letting the visceral imagery really play out in my mind. Letting the words sit in my heart because they really are that impactful.

Also, Erikka writes some amazing Din fics, and has a beautiful series entitled King of Cups as well as her dark saber!Din au entitled Original Sin.

Please give this amazing author some love. 💖

Memento mori by @gaiuswrites

No Pairing - Original Work

Rated E / One Shot - 375 words

Summary: “I sit with my grief. I mother it.

-----

I'm including links to the other two if you'd like to read them:

King of Cups by @gaiuswrites

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rated E / Series (Ongoing) - 54k

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Original Sin by @gaiuswrites

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rated E / One Shot - 3.4k

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt. (Darksaber!Din)

Erikka’s Masterlist

#I've read Original Sin but I need to read the rest!#Comfort Fic Submissions #Din Djarin x Reader #milf-thrawn-nuruodo

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fanfoolishness · 3 years

Text

Mandalorian live-blogging, chapter 12, the Siege!

What did the Client really want to do with Grogu? He didn’t exactly seem to be on good terms with Gideon.

Din: “I finally know where I’m taking you — away from my life but not from my heart *cryyyyyy*” — oh wait, was that not the one?

The very practiced way Din is asking Grogu to do complicated shipboard maintenance suggests this has absolutely happened how many times before?

Din is so expressive here! All his gestures! So much nodding! His “no!” Hands! Shit, maybe my storyline about Din teaching Grogu sign is being carried on right here.

This may be the longest amount of time Din Djarin has spent continuously talking in about a year. I love how Grogu brings it out of him. He’s clearly exasperated by the shitty ship, but endlessly patient with Grogu, and I love how his voice absolutely conveys both of those emotions simultaneously

The tender way he says “no no no” to Grogu is so gentle.

I also love his contentedly narrating to Grogu as a part of their daily routine

I could easily watch 20 minutes of that type of content every episode and try to include pure adorableness like that in just about every fic I write

Oh, Cara Dune... why are you such an enjoyable character played by such an obnoxious person? I’m glad Gina Carano is taking her nonsense elsewhere, especially since it was clear she’d had multiple warnings, multiple chances to educate herself, but damn, I am gonna miss Cara on screen lugging Din around like a rag doll, or just smashing people in the face. I really appreciated seeing a woman on screen with the physique and capability to be that effortlessly kickass.

Din Djarin, wearing a jetpack: scrambles off his shitty ramp with all the grace of a flying lobster

I love the dynamic of Greef and Cara and Din. I hope we at least get to see Greef again! Maybe he’ll be like “now that the town’s cleaned up, the Marshal’s moved on.” Also, since when do we have Marshal in Star Wars? I’ve seen how many SW movies how many times, and no such thing as local law enforcement, let alone local law enforcement with a Western flair? Then all of a sudden Mando S2 shows up with Cobb Vanth and Cara Dune and I’m wondering if it’s an actual legal position in the Outer Rim and like, a cultural title of Outer Rim humans on many worlds (because it sure as shit doesn’t sound like a title you’d take in the Core Worlds).

Anyway, Greef’s actual love and adoration of Grogu is the sweetest. Maybe he and Peli can start a Grogu fan club and be the founding auntie and uncle.

Still can’t believe I missed that statue of IG-11 until I saw it pointed out here on tumblr.

Just think of how this is probably the first time Din’s been around this many children since Sorgan. And Sorgan kids had it different, they had a world that loved and protected them, and a place they could freely be above ground, and so that was fine; and Din had thought the children of his covert, the foundlings, they were fine too. But then it turns out it wasn’t true, the foundlings weren’t safe, they were slaughtered. And this is Nevarro, a township that wasn’t Home, but was nonetheless home to his people; and he remembers a little school in their hidden, simple covert for the foundlings in their training helmets; and he’s both heartened and pained that this group of children, at least, are able to be schooled in a safe place.

Din trusts these people as much as he’s trusted any non-Mandalorians, and it’s a lot! He knows he can ask them for help with the ship, he knows they saved his life and Grogu’s. And yet still see how unsure he is to leave Grogu at the school! He knows they don’t mean harm, he sees how beautiful and well-used the school is, he knows it should be safe... but he still stares after Grogu, barely looking at Cara, wanting to follow him. “Wherever I go, he goes,” says Din desperately, barely bearing to trust that anyone else could keep the kid safe like he could.

I keep thinking I need to write a fic of him flying off to go get Grogu at the end, now that I’m rewatching it, perhaps now is the time!

I’d love to have some of these kids’ Star Wars hairstyles

Hey! The Maelstrom! I know that! You know Han Solo did the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs? And I love correcting people when they think SW didn’t know what they were talking about? Parsecs ARE a unit of distance and that’s what Han meant because of the Maelstrom! He got dang freaking close to it! Anyway I’m just very excited because y’all do realize they built the Sun Crusher in the Maelstrom? Anyone here read those books?

Grogu is such a little shit! and he really did just say “Patu,” huh

I love Greef’s beard. I love it! Are we saying it enough? It’s great!

So is Nevarro basically an asteroid? Are they seriously flying to the other side of the planet for this? Maybe it’s tiny? How can Din fly over half a planet on a jetpack? Nevarro must be a galactic pebble.

I could watch Din just get in and out of vessels all day long

Din is just so excited to use the Phoenix and I love that he’s not that good at it but loves it anyway. “Hold tight”

Lava tide? The hell is this shit planet.

Din is not impressed by stormtroopers one little bit. I love him standing there all nonchalant.

Din is just sooooo shiny in this episode.

Cast it into the fire, Isildur!

Why do these bases never have guard rails for these giant drops

The Mythrol asked the same question 1.3 seconds later

Mythrol? Cracks of doom? Mithril??? A coincidence? Surely not

Greef I love your outfit so much

Yeaaaaaaah get those Snoke-looking bitches outta here

Din with a horrible sinking feeling... “I don’t like this...”

Din is heavily regretting letting this man live rn

Din must have been seeing. FUcking. RED

You know if they stop building their hallways with fucking COVER the stormtroopers won’t keep getting killed in them by enemy assailants with better weapons and aim

Din running to get his son <3

Cara SMASH and I love it

Din, you flew away over the LAVA? That is so badass. And I love his very clumsy superhero landing. And taking a running leap off the top of the lava flat

I love that Cara doesn’t quite get the whole kid thing, but totally supports Din in his love of fatherhood

Cara would be GREAT at driving the Mako

I do love how often environmental hazards take out scouttroopers on their speeder bikes. Like, no shit! You’re a human trying to go 300 miles an hour? Since when is our reaction time capable of that???

Dammit TIE fighters! They’re much more intimidating on a planet, actually. They pack a serious punch when you aren’t shooting ship-sized lasers back at them

Yes!!! The shitty little Razor Crest that could!

And Grogu’s excitement! He trusts Din so much now that it doesn’t even enter his mind they might be in danger. He just knows Din’s here, we’re gonna have fun, I trust him.

And think how much Grogu has grown since S1. He would have been hiding in the back with all of that excitement beforehand, not excited and waving his hands and giggling

Din is just... resigned to Grogu being sick. And he could clean Grogu up and go back to see Greef, but he just wants to make sure the kid’s okay... especially after what he’s just learned about Moff Gideon.

I do miss the slower pacing of S2. I would have liked another episode in between this and The Jedi where Din just sort of processes and deals with all of this new information.

Oh hurr hurr wait I write fanfic

I like that some of these Imps don’t have the Coruscanti accent. They’re just like... y’know, American.

Gideon is so childishly pleased by his Darktroopers, like get over yourself, dingus

If Favreau took this episode I wonder if that means he wanted to make sure all the mythology and shit is going according to plan. Or maybe I’ve just been watching too much X-Files. If Chris Carter wrote an ep, it was mythology ONLY, and that was it.

The end! Maybe I’ll write tomorrow :)

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian liveblog #mandalorian #mando #din djarin #Greef Karga #Cara dune #grogu #Nevarro #my mando meta

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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

The Heir

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, masturbation

Notes: I recognize this isn't actually what season 3 will be like but I just need season 3 to come and its not coming fast enough so I'm taking it into my own hands to write whatever I want. I just want the little green alien baby and his space cowboy dad to have a cute reunion is that too much to ask? Self-insert, with reader as "you" but I avoid Y/N stuff. Narrator's perspective refers to Mando as Djarin, Din's perspective is written as Din. Some back and forth with that. I took some liberty with the characterization as well. The rest is my own!

---

The throne room was silent save for your voice echoing from the high ceiling.

"Tell Mon Tarrow that his trade agreement still stands, as long as he keeps up his end of the bargain," you said to the hologram flickering before you. "We get our shipments, he gets his. That is all."

With a swipe of your hand, the hologram disappeared and you leaned back into your seat. This job was difficult, organizing and controlling the most heavily trafficked trade routes in the galaxy. It was not one you had chosen for yourself. But for generations, your family had been in control of the planet Nhora and its lunar outpost, maintaining its status as a neutral party throughout several civil wars, uprisings, revolutions, and revolts. You had inherited that neutrality. Despite attempts from both the Republic and the Empire, your rule had withstood their attacks, keeping peace with your people and ensuring the wealth of successful trade routes.

Turning to your advisor at your elbow, you began to discuss the redistribution of the year's crops when the large doors across the hall opened. It was uncommon for someone to interrupt your daily briefings, though not disallowed. You had an open-door policy when it came to your people; anything that needed your attention should be brought directly to you. It fostered communication and understanding. But the individual who interrupted you was not one of your subjects and was, to put it simply, completely unexpected.

Your advisor immediately silenced, as dumbstruck as you, and the only sounds came from the creature huffing and puffing his way toward you, mumbling some garbled non-language.

Creature was the best way to put it. He was small and green and wore a sack for clothes. Though you couldn't see his legs, they must have been tiny, for he wobbled very slowly towards you. And his ears, good grief those ears, were so large his head teetered back and forth as he walked. The throne room was already large, but it was made even larger by the tiny figure before you, a child, you realized, as he stumbled closer. You eyed the child suspiciously before giving your advisor a look that said, who is this? She only shrugged.

Perhaps this was one of Skywalker's new playthings, you thought. That strange Jedi was always passing through with some oddity or another to trade for supplies. He knew what you liked, gems and stones from other lands, flowers with unique scents, fabrics spun from the thread of ice spiders (very dangerous to come by). In exchange, he had free access to your palace as he pleased before heading off again to who knows where. But this was new. Skywalker never brought you living things that moved of their own accord.

You stood, gathering the long skirts of your robe and stepping off the dais upon which your throne sat. You weren't particularly fond of children, but the sudden appearance of one purposefully crossing the long marble hall and heading straight for you was intriguing. You met the child halfway, stooping over to get a closer look at him, and noticed a fine layer of hair on his wrinkled head.

As you bent over, the child looked up at you and cooed, a little smile on his face. He was admittedly a bit cute, though incredibly ugly.

"Hello, little thing," you said, addressing the child directly. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, of course, just gurgled strangely. A tiny three-fingered hand reached toward you as if asking to be picked up. You ignored him and stood up straight instead, turning to a guard and sending him out to look for the enigmatic Jedi who was sure to be close behind.

Apparently, the child didn't like being ignored. You felt a sudden tugging at your collar as if someone had taken hold of your necklace and was trying to yank it from your neck. Looking down, you could see the child was still at your feet, hand in the air, but now his eyes were half-closed. You realized with a mix of horror and curiosity that the little one was pulling at your necklace, though not with his fingers but rather with his mind. Perhaps you could have tried to stop him, withheld the piece of jewelry from him, but you were too dumbfounded to try. Why he wanted the chain around your neck you were unsure, but the child would have it one way or another.

The necklace broke with a snap and flew toward him, which he caught in one green paw. The astonishment hung in the room; most had never seen the force in action like this. But you knew.

The force was with this one. Now, you were certain he had to be with the Jedi.

"Luke Skywalker," you said with accusation in your voice as he finally entered the throne room, following behind your guard. "I am not taking care of this child for you if that's what you're expecting. And I want my necklace back."

Skywalker smiled as he entered and kneeled to address you. It wasn't necessary to bow before you, but the Jedi had always been a bit of a stickler for tradition. You took it as a sign of friendship.

"Don't worry Your Majesty, Grogu and I will be on our way shortly. He just needs a... special diet that I cannot provide for him."

"Grogu?" The little child looked up at you when you said his name. His mouth was wrapped around the metal ball that had hung from your neck moments before. It had been a gift from your mother, a symbol of the planet you ruled over, to be passed on if you had a child of your own. Now it was covered in baby slobber. And yet, your heart softened at the sight of the green child. Relenting to his pleading eyes, you reached down and picked Grogu up, holding him at arm's length as he played with the metal ball.

"Where did you find him?" you asked Skywalker as you led him from the throne room toward the banquet hall, your advisor trailing behind you, just as curious about the creature as you.

"I did not find him," Skywalker replied. "A Mandalorian did."

A Mandalorian? Your heart rate picked up, curiosity piqued at the thought. You had only heard stories about their kind since their fall from the Council of Neutral Systems. And of course what your grandmother had told you of them. They were a conflicted group but you knew one thing for sure, they were not friends of the Jedi.

"I presume you are to train him now."

"To the best of my ability. He is the same species as my master, surprisingly strong despite his size."

In the banquet hall, you sent for a meal, setting Grogu down on the table and sitting before him. He was fascinating, despite his babyish mannerisms and the ball covered in his spit. But what you really wanted to know more about was this Mandalorian. The rumors had not escaped you, spreading swiftly through the trade routes, reports of the Darksaber's resurfacing, of those who tried to claim it. The planet Mandalore itself was relatively uninhabited, having been ravaged by years of war and conflict. Your trade routes were one of the only ones that extended that far to the outer rim as most didn't find it worth the trouble.

But if the Darksaber was truly back, and someone had claimed it, the Mand'alor may make a recovery. That could mean many things for your people, possibly a surge in trade or a new rival that was willing and able to fight for space. Mandalorians were known to be the greatest killers in the galaxy, after all. But you were getting ahead of yourself.

"The one who found Grogu, are they the one who claimed the saber?"

Concern flickered across Skywalker's face. "Yes, I believe his name is Din Djarin."

The baby's ears perked up at the name, glancing back and forth between the two of you. His giant eyes blinked slowly as he eyed your face.

"Is the Mandolorian worthy?" You were of course talking about the inheritance of the Mand'alor throne.

"He delivered the child. And refused the saber, at first. There is hope for those who are given the chance of ultimate power and deny it."

Refused it? So ruling a creed and a planet had not been his choice. Much like you. Perhaps there was a chance for the Mand'alor after all. You watched as Skywalker traded your necklace for an entire laas fish, which Grogu swallowed whole, fins and all. It was a disturbing sight.

---

Din Djarin could be a man of stealth when necessary. After saying goodbye to his son, he had accepted a ride through hyperspace from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. But they had only been willing to go so far as Wobani, and he would have to make his way alone.

Though Bo-Katan had let Din leave with the Darksaber in tow, he could tell it had been with reluctance, and Din was sure this wasn't the last he'd see of her. Cara Dune had offered to follow him, but Din declined. This was a trip he had to make on his own.

Wobani was not the most welcoming of planets. The abandoned labor camps that had once been full during the reign of the Empire stood crumbling to dust. Some people had taken root here, making do with what was available.

But this was not where he needed to be. Din needed to keep moving, keep his eyes on the future, keep his mind off of the sad look on the little one's face as he'd been whisked away by a Jedi. Din felt empty without Grogu on his hip, hidden in his satchel or tucked away in his crib. Sure, Din missed having his ship, but he missed the child so much more.

The metal ball at his belt weighed heavy. He should have let him keep it.

But there was no turning back now. Din would allow himself one night of rest before moving on. There were no boarding houses on Wobani, though he'd asked around. And it wasn't like anyone wanted to house a Mandalorian. So Din settled for an empty, abandoned building, one that likely had held prisoners at one time or another. Now, there was nothing but a dirt floor and a wall to lean against. But it was better than nothing.

As the sun set, Din shut his eyes, ready for the next day to begin.

He was awoken not by the sun, but a grunting noise to his left. Din opened his eyes and adjusted his helmet to night vision, locating a massive heat signature through his visor. A large animal, crawling on all fours, appeared across the room. It hadn't yet noticed Din, more preoccupied with sniffing the ground with a large, whiskered nose. But even from this vantage point, Din could tell the creature had many giant sharp teeth, perfect for tearing at his flesh.

Maybe if he stayed absolutely still... Nope. That large nose turned in his direction and had him spotted in an instant. The options lay before him, run or fight, and neither seemed good. Shooting a blaster in this confined space was almost guaranteed to cause a ricochet and at the moment, the beast was blocking the exit.

But not the only exit. The beast began to approach, its long slithering tail making disgusting sounds as it dragged across the floor, sinewy muscles rippling beneath hairless skin. It moved slowly, but that didn't mean much. It probably thought it had found its next meal, a man in a suit of beskar. Din stood slowly, trying not to urge the beast to move any faster.

Last night, when choosing a spot to sleep, Din had noticed the small window above him. When you were constantly on the hunt or being hunted, having multiple escape routes was a necessity. And the window had seemed like a good enough option. Now Din hoped his judgment had been right. The beast was getting closer, giving him only moments to make a decision.

To reach the window, Din would have to turn his back on the beast, which he didn't particularly want to do. He would need a distraction.

The beast paused in its approach and then lunged, as Din aimed his vambrace, spraying it with fire. It reeled back, howling in pain, and he knew that was his chance. He jumped, fingers catching on the ledge and hauling himself through the narrow space. Din barely fit, especially with all his bulking armor and the few possessions he managed to carry. The beast he'd left behind was enraged, clawing angrily at the walls and snapping at his heels.

At last, he was able to swing himself from the window to the roof of the building, finding refuge up high. He laid back with exhaustion, listening to the sounds of the beast as it finally gave up on its query and left. Din wanted nothing more than to sleep, to forget the pain in his heart and calm his rapid breathing. Not much scared the serious Mandalorian, and despite the danger he had just narrowly escaped, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Above him, the stars shone dimly through the dusty clouds of Wobani's atmosphere. Somewhere out there was the kid. Din hoped he was happy.

---

Luke Skywalker and the child did not stay long. You were surprised to find that you actually missed the little bugger as you watched them fly away, a large supply of laas fish in tow. Though you were sure you'd see them again; Grogu's appetite was insatiable.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. If the Mand'alor were to resurface and become strong again, you had to be prepared. You wanted to have the upper hand and hoped that the trade relations that were already established with the desolate Mandalore planet would help in gaining their trust.

Though your advisors had recommended you give up on the planet, even demanded it, you had been unwilling to do so. The few who did live there desperately needed Nhora's help and supplies. They had little to offer in return and tended to be more of a burden than an equal partner, but it felt wrong to abandon that outpost. Now you were glad that you'd stuck to your convictions.

It was time to call a meeting of council members. Little was left of the Council of Neutral Systems since the fall of the Empire, but those who remained were essential to the maintenance of free trade. And if the Mand'lor were to return, the council needed to be prepared.

"We don't even know if this Mandalorian wants his planet back," General Tarrow was saying, his hologram flickering slightly across the table from you.

"It's better to be prepared," your advisor, Zena, replied. "Her Majesty has maintained trade relations with the planet despite their small numbers. We can use this to our advantage and get ahead of any potential military action they are willing to take."

"The fact that they could take military action is exactly why we shouldn't pursue relations with the Mand'alor," Tarrow countered.

Zena sighed, exasperated by the back and forth conversation that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. You could tell she was getting frustrated. "They deserve our respect, don't they? Innocent before proven guilty?"

"They've already proven themselves guilty, or didn't you study Nhora's history?"

The General made a good point, but it was always better to approach with peace than antagonism, you had learned. "I have reason to believe the one who claimed the Darksaber is of a different disposition, worthy, even," you said in Zena's defense.

"From who?" asked another council member.

"Luke Skywalker."

"The Jedi? I don't trust him."

"Well I do," you said, putting your foot down. "There's not much to be done at this time anyway. The reports are only rumors, after all. But we need to be open and prepared for the Mand'alor to return."

The meeting adjourned. Though no conclusions had been reached, you felt a shift coming.

---

When Din awoke next, it was the sun was up. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep again. Move. That was all there was to do.

Scrambling down from the roof that had become his bed, Din headed back toward the port he had come in from, hoping to find someone stupid enough who would accept a ridiculously small amount of credits in exchange for passage to the nearby planet Mandalore. He knew the task was impossible before he even asked the first merchant he found.

Time to change tactics.

Across the shipyard was a small transport ship. Din watched from behind some crates as a couple of droids loaded and unloaded cargo. It appeared the ship was manned entirely by droids and was getting ready to take off again soon. It would be a risk, boarding the ship and hijacking it. But smaller craft like this tended not to be very equipped for battle, and Din hoped he could use that to his advantage.

Keeping low to the ground, Din moved swiftly toward the transporter, staying out of sight of the droids. He hid next to the loading ramp, quickly climbing inside as it began to rise, signaling its imminent departure.

The cargo hold was tiny. The hulking Mandalorian couldn't stand up straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. Tight spaces didn't bother him, but he hoped that the rest of the transporter wasn't this small. Otherwise, this was going to be a long trip.

With the hum of the thrusters, the transporter lifted into the air, leaving the airspace of Wobani's shipyard. Din would wait until just before the ship entered hyperdrive to make his move.

The angle of ascent leveled and the flight smoothed, indicating they had made it out of the atmosphere and were heading swiftly toward their destination. The door leading to the cockpit from the cargo hold was thankfully not locked. With a shove, Din had the door open and the first droid in a headlock before it knew what was happening. One blaster shot to the central processing unit and the droid dropped, though not before making enough noise to signal to its copilot of Din's intrusion. And of course, it had a blaster.

The shot rang out, ricocheting around the tiny space, pinging off the walls and Din's beskar armor. Silently he thanked his laser-proofness, even as the shot knocked him off his feet and hurled him against the door of the cargo hold. His head slammed into the metal wall, blurring his vision. He would definitely have a headache after that one.

Stupid droids.

With a groan, Din heaved himself to his feet. Realizing that a blaster wasn't going to work, the droid stood, preparing itself for hand-to-hand combat. If Din hadn't been fighting for his life he may have found the situation funny, fighting in such cramped quarters. But the clouds hadn't quite cleared from his head and he barely noticed the tell-tale sign of the droid winding up for a punch. The droid swung out and struck Din squarely in the temple, sending reverbs through the beskar.

Dank farrik. This was ridiculous. He needed to focus, not be so distracted, but by what exactly? Din steadied himself and aimed his vambrace, blasting the droid with a shot that vaporized its CPU instantly.

Silence.

Shoving the now unmoving droids as best he could into the cargo hold, Din took control of the ship, rerouting the navigation system. Punching in the coordinates of the planet Mandalore, he shifted quickly into hyperdrive. The trip would take less than a day. But it was several hours of peace and for that Din was thankful, even if it meant no distractions from the big brown eyes that blinked at him every time he closed his own. They were so sad and--

Stop. Sleep. Move on. But they called out, even in his dreams.

Mandalore was even more deserted than Wobani. As the transporter eased out of hyperdrive, Din spotted several round constructions, which turned out to be domes as he got closer. Where was he going to land? There didn't appear to be a shipyard or trading post to accept incoming starships. No one connected to the commlink, requesting his flight information.

The planet was silent and gray.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy. As he prepared for descent, the rear detectors picked up on an approaching x-wing. Damn. Apparently taking out a pair of drones and hijacking their ship wasn't a free pass. Someone wanted their cargo back. And this ship was not equipped for that fight.

All Din could do was dodge as the x-wing rained fire. So much for a smooth landing. With a lurch, the left thruster was rendered useless and the transporter began to fall, rather than sail, toward the gray planet. Hopefully, Din could guide the transporter into a graceful crash and not kill himself on the way down. Seemingly recognizing that the ship was a lost cause and on its way to a crash landing, the x-wing swooped away, at least giving Din one less thing to worry about.

The ship lurched through the atmosphere, speeding too fast toward the ground and threatening to burn up as it went. The temperature inside the cockpit began to rise and Din felt lightheaded, likely due to the sudden force of gravity. He jerked up on the joystick, praying for a miracle.

With a defining blast, the transporter made contact with the ground. Din managed to remain conscious as the ship hit the sand, but only long enough to bring it to a slamming and skidding stop. And then everything went black.

It was hot. Too hot. And his mouth was impossibly dry. Din was barely aware of a pair of arms hooked under his armpits, dragging him away from the wreckage of the transporter, saving his life.

---

A year passed. Grogu and Skywalker visited again several times, though shorter than before. Little changed in the child's size, but he was stronger than before. You didn't even wait for him to steal your necklace, just handed him the small metal ball like a pushover as Skywalker restocked his ship.

And though you asked, pushed even, for details on the Mandalorian, Skywalker had little to say. The warrior seemed to have disappeared into hyperspace.

This lack of news was the exact reason why you were so shocked to find, not many days later, a suit of beskar armor standing in your throne room.

Zena had been explaining the benefits and disadvantages of increasing farming output as you walked to the throne room, but the pair of you stopped short at the door. A tall, gleaming figure stood in the hall, looking out a window, seemingly unaware of your presence. At the sight of him, the guards who had been flanking you drew their weapons, training their blasters to his back and stepping in front of you. It took you a moment to recognize the distinct shape of the helmet and the signet on his shoulder plate but this was unmistakably a Mandalorian, the Mandalorian, who had unwittingly laid claim to the Mand'alor throne. You held up your hand, willing your guards to stand down and let you pass.

"I'll admit, I am surprised to be in your presence, Mandalorian," you said. "Though not surprised that you made it in unseen. You'll have to teach me that one."

The man, Din Djarin you remembered his name to be, turned to face you, his helmet disguising whatever thoughts may have been written on his face. Of course, Din had known you were there, knew when you would arrive, knew exactly how many blasters were trained on him. But when he turned, the serious, threatening woman he expected to find was not there.

When Din had landed on Mandalore, it had been only your ships that he'd seen come and go. There was no official port or trading post, the locals explained, but Nhora's supplies came anyway, finding a way in the inhospitable desert environment that the remaining Mandalorians called home.

Reports of Nhora were mixed. Some were grateful for its help. Other's looked upon it with disdain, taking any acceptance of assistance as a sign of weakness. And rumors about the Nhora queen varied widely. Some claimed she didn't exist, was only a fabricated figurehead to maintain peace. Others described her as fierce and domineering, ruling with an iron fist and cultivating the illusion of order through force.

At first glance, Din knew you were none of these things. You were regal, of course, very obviously the one in charge. But your stance was warm and inviting, the soft features of your face drawn up into a smile. If anything, you felt more like an equal, rather than a royal who demanded authoritative respect. It was difficult for Din to smile, especially since the loss of everything he'd called family. But your smile was contagious. If not for his helmet, Din might have given his whole intimidating facade away. He was drawn to you, to your lack of fear, but he wouldn't let it show.

Djarin, though beneath the helmet he smiled against his will, appeared as the complete opposite to you. His demeanor was quiet and daunting, but he stood stiffly before you, as if unsure how you would receive him. He didn't bow or kneel or even address you by your title. And yet, though he could probably kill you and all the guards that surrounded you in the time it took to say his name, you felt no concern in his presence.

The memory of your grandmother's stories lurched into the forefront of your brain, dashing warriors, powerful and dangerous, yet righteous and honorable at heart. It made your heart beat faster. He made your heart beat faster.

"I heard you were looking for me," was all he said, modulated voice surprisingly calm despite the rush of emotions that flooded him. A man of few words, he got straight to the point. But inside he was wondering why you eyed him like that, with curiosity and diffidence, not afraid of him at all.

You nodded silently and took your place on your throne, unsure of what you would say next. How that news had reached him escaped you, as you hadn't been actively searching him out. Yes, you'd been wondering what had happened to him, what he planned to do. But you hadn't expected to meet him, not so soon. "Din Djarin, rightful heir to the Mand'alor throne. I wasn't anticipating this meeting for quite some time."

Though you couldn't see his eyes, the Mandalorian seemed to squint at you suspiciously through his visor. The sound of his name rolled easily from your tongue as if practiced over and over. "How do you know my name?"

"I know of the child you rescued. The one with the force." The Mandolorian took a step forward as if wanting to hear more. You leaned your elbow on the arm of your throne, one finger twisting nervously at the scarf of your headdress, anticipating his response.

"You've seen him?"

"Yes, a few times now. Skywalker prefers Nhora for restocking supplies. And Grogu is particularly fond of stealing things with his mind and swallowing his meals whole." The comment was meant to be a joke. Djarin did not laugh. He was watching your delicate fingers instead. "He is strong. Capable. A Jedi in the making. And you seem very attached. If I didn't know better I would think you were here for news of the little one."

"I didn't come searching for Grogu."

"I know. The Mandolorian don't simply come when called. They come when they need something. I heard what you did to Moff Gideon. How you refused the saber. I would be very surprised if there weren't some dangerous people after you right now."

Din sighed, knowing you had deciphered his intent without needing it explained to you. You were kind, but you were also sharp and perceptive, not wanting to waste time with small talk. Din liked that.

"I've seen your ships land on Mandalore. Nhora is the only one who still trades with the people there. I figured--" You realized he was asking for help but didn't know how to. Zena shot you a knowing look, recognizing that you had been right when you'd called that council meeting over a year ago. "I figured you could be an ally."

An ally. Perfect. This was exactly what you predicted. You wanted to rub your success in those snobby Neutral System faces, but you held your composure. This was your chance to make a connection, establish a rapport that would benefit you both, and protect your planet at the same time. If he needed an ally, you would offer it.

"Tell me what you need."

Djarin stood momentarily in silence, contemplating the consequences of what he was about to ask for. Was it this easy? Were you this willing to help every poor soul that came along? "I need-- I need a ship. And supplies."

"That's it?" It was suspiciously little if you had any inkling of the position Djarin was in. If he had seemingly disappeared for the past year, what struggles had he endured to make it here, to your planet?

"That's all I can afford. I don't have many credits left."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. "Credits? That's what you're worried about? I don't want your credits, Djarin."

Didn't want your credits? No one of sound mind gave anything away for free. You may have been generous, but there was no way you were that stupid. There had to be something else, he knew. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is that you rebuild a creed that was once my people's allies. And you defend us, the way you used to, from the inevitable. The Empire is still out there. It's naive to think they won't set their sights on us. But you-- you can stop them. So tell me what you need, everything you need, and I will help you. Do we have a deal?"

Zena, who had remained silent during the interaction, now leaned down and spoke into your ear. "Are you sure this is smart, Your Majesty? If the Council hears of your actions, they may not be very pleased."

"Zena, the Council has no control over what I do with my personal resources. So, deal or no deal?"

Djarin stepped forward, approaching you where you sat on your throne. Though you were seated above him, Djarin was tall enough to still stand at your eye level. He reached out a gloved hand, asking for yours to shake, you thought. His beskar glittered in the setting sun filtering in through the windows and sent you spiraling into thoughts of what he looked like beneath it all. But instead of shaking your hand, he simply held it and sunk on one knee before you, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and bowing his head. Had Djarin not been wearing a helmet, you were sure he would have kissed them. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said softly.

The act was ridiculous. Din knew that. You knew that. But it made your heart flutter even more than before.

"Oh for Maker's sake, this is absurd. Stand up, Djarin," you said, suddenly embarrassed, though you had to admit the sight of a Mandalorian kneeling before you would have made your ancestor's faint on the spot. "Let's find you a ship."

---

You weren't exactly sure what Djarin's rule about his helmet was. Would he take it off? Leave it on? But he needed to eat, so you led him to a private room for dinner, in case that's what he wanted. It would be naive to admit you didn't like the thought of being alone with him. You wanted to know how true your grandmother's stories were.

"I hope it's enough," you said, gesturing at the spread of food before him. "Please let me know if you need anything."

Djarin stood silently for a moment before sitting down heavily into his chair. He seemed exhausted, and though you couldn't tell with all that armor, it wouldn't have surprised you if he was injured somewhere under there.

"Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated."

"It is per our custom. I'll leave you to eat." You turned to go and leave him in peace, but he stopped you with a gloved hand on your wrist. Though a layer of leather separated your skin from his, Djarin's grip sent a jolt up your arm.

"Why are you being so kind?" It was a genuine question, one you didn't know how to respond to. Tell him the truth? Make something up? But the man before you seemed so earnest that it appeared best to be honest. So you sat, directly across from him, and began your story.

"My grandmother was a fair and just queen," you began, folding your hands in your lap. "Sometimes to a fault. She ruled on her convictions and morals, not tradition or law. In those days, the Mand'alor still controlled much of the outer rim and fought endlessly with the Jedi. Nhora remained neutral, accepting any and all who needed assistance, regardless of creed. A young Jedi took refuge on Nhora, and according to custom, was given full protection. This was something my grandmother believed to her core. Something we still practice today."

"So you're nice because your grandma said you should be?" It wasn't meant as a jab, but suspicion laced Djarin's voice.

You sighed and continued the story. "The young Jedi did not arrive alone. He was followed by a Mandalorian, out for vengeance and retribution. He stormed the palace, the first time in history that our defenses were breached. Fortunately, the Jedi was able to aid our guards in the Mandalorian's detainment. But not before my grandmother fell deeply and madly in love with him."

"In love? With a Mandalorian?" It was hard to tell through the modulation of his voice, but Djarin sounded shocked and more than a little suspicious.

"Perhaps it was all the beskar," you said, trying to make another joke. Djarin still did not laugh though he cracked an invisible smile beneath his helmet. "But yes. Of course, it's only a story, but my grandfather was of Mand'alor, so there must be some truth in it."

"You are a descendant?"

You nodded. You'd never met your grandfather, as fathers didn't matter much to the matriarchal line of rule, but now, here you were, sitting before another Mandalorian, and the cycle continued.

What Djarin did next gave you a shock for the second time that day. With a click and then the hiss of hydraulics, he lifted his helmet from his shoulders, placed it on the table, and began to eat. You barely reined in the expression on your face, narrowly avoiding blanching at the revelation of his face.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so strange that your grandmother had fallen instantly head over heels for your grandfather after all, considering the man you found beneath the helmet.

The Mandalorian that sat before you didn't have the mean, hardened look you expected. His expression was soft, lips smooth and slightly downturned into a natural frown beneath the curve of a prominent nose. He hardly seemed to notice your stares as he dug into his food, his dark eyes staying fixed on his plate.

Djarin's dark hair was tousled and in disarray, likely from being plastered under a helmet for so long. He had a disheveled beard, graying in some places, that made you realize he had probably been traveling for some time without a true place to stay or a real bed to sleep in. It was only then that you noticed the cut on his lip, the gash across his cheek, and the bruise under his eye. What had happened to him? What had he endured to reach Nhora?

Din still wasn't sure what was considered an appropriate or inappropriate time to remove his helmet. But he reasoned that if you were a descendant of Mand'alor, then this was appropriate. And despite his better judgment, he trusted you. Your story had made him think that perhaps your coyness earlier was not a result of his sudden appearance but a mutual attraction the pair of you shared. You were a complete stranger, a queen even, and yet he felt he had known you all along, as if gravity had pulled him toward you. You radiated warmth and acceptance, something he rarely received as a Mandalorian.

Din pretended not to notice your stare, but then you stood abruptly, and he looked up.

"Most people don't recognize me when I take off this whole thing," you said, gesturing to the clothes you wore. Din could tell you were trying to make a comparison to his helmet, all a disguise to maintain a physical and emotional distance from those around you.

You began to pull off your robes, layer after layer of the royal get up you disliked more than you let on. You unwound the intricate scarf from your hair, aware that Djarin was watching the whole time as your hair fell unbound around your shoulders.

It was all ceremonial, he knew, but Din had noticed when he first met you that you didn't seem particularly comfortable in your position. Now you stood in your loose underclothes, arms and shoulders bare, headdress and scarves discarded on the floor, and you relaxed. Your efforts were a mirror to his, showing your vulnerability and gaining his trust. And you did look different, not quite unrecognizable but somehow even smaller and less imposing than before.

You suddenly felt nervous beneath Djarin's gaze and felt it best to keep your hands busy.

Turning toward a cabinet on the wall, you began rummaging through it, looking for the antiseptic. You could feel Djarin's eyes now trained on your back, watching your every move. "I don't have any bacta spray in here, but we should at least clean up that cut."

You pulled your chair closer to his. The proximity was delicious.

"This may sting a bit," you said as you applied a swab to the gash in his cheek, fingers holding his face in place. Din didn't pull away but he did hiss lightly. Your body was so close to his own he could smell the scent of you, light and flowery like your planet.

"So, what else does the Mandalorian need from me?" you asked, trying to distract him from the pain.

Din grunted, though not in discomfort but to regain his focus. "The people-- I'm not sure what they need. I'm a warrior, not a ruler. I didn't ask for this. Mandalore is essentially deserted, those who remain have nothing and I don't know where to begin. The creed is fractured, scattered throughout the galaxy. I don't even think most of them want to be found. Especially not by me."

You placed a gentle hand on his chin to tilt his head closer to yours, giving you access to the cut on this lip. Thin lines creased Djarin's eyes and forehead, marring his golden skin with worry and tension. His eyebrows knitted in constant concern. You wanted to smooth that look from his face but it was more than you thought he'd allow. Instead, you focused on his mouth, not that that helped your erratic pulse and quickening breath either.

The tenderness of the act caught Din off guard. A royal, stooping to his level, rolling up her sleeves to do the dirty work, was surprising. He got the impression that you were a reluctant ruler, though he couldn't tell why. Nhora was obviously a prosperous planet, covered in glittering cities and sprawling trade ports. What he'd seen of the people they seemed happy and healthy. How could you be so successful and yet so averse to the job you performed so well?

"You're a good man, Djarin. I understand your reluctance. I was not meant to be queen either. I didn't want to be queen, and yet the responsibility was thrust upon me. But you are a good father as well, and I've known the best fathers to make the best leaders."

"I'm not a father. Not anymore." The words were spoken with a deep sadness.

"I think the Child would beg to differ. He lights up like a glow frog when he hears your name."

"A glow frog?"

"Native to Nhora. The resemblance is uncanny."

Din chuckled at the image, knowing the kid could probably just swallow one whole. "Has he grown?"

"Perhaps a little, though it's hard to tell." You finished your first aid and leaned away. Djarin's questions made apparent his love for and connection to Grogu. How he'd managed to let him go in the first place was beyond you. You didn't have children and weren't sure if you ever would, yet their bond was enviable. "Somehow I don't think it's a coincidence that we crossed paths, Djarin. You and I and the kid."

Din wasn't sure what that meant. He didn't particularly believe in destiny, nor did he know how to respond, so he turned back to his food. Decades beneath the helmet had given him the luxury of hidden expressions and wordlessness. He didn't know how to act without its protection.

But something else was also forcing his speechlessness. Though your touch had left his skin, the ghost of your fingers remained, leaving him in silence. He was ashamed something so simple could affect him so intensely, and yet he was melting like ice beneath a warm sun.

And while you continued to speak of Grogu, of his obsession with metal balls and being held in the crook of your arm, Din's thoughts swirled not around the child but the soft touch of your fingers on his face. He realized had never been touched like that before, not that gently. And your hands were so smooth, unmarred and flawless from never having worked manual labor or been in a fight. They twisted in your lap, unable to stop moving despite the idle chatter you had fallen into.

You weren't sure why you couldn't stop moving. Was it Djarin's stare, the way he appeared to be listening to you intently though he never responded, or his large presence that filled the room, or just the excitement of meeting the man you had been thinking about for the better part of a year? You realized that you were rambling, filling the silence with your words, your hands wringing in your lap.

All of a sudden, a big hand reached out and covered yours. You silenced instantly. "You're going to twist your fingers off if you keep that up, Your Majesty."

A thrill jolted through your body. Most people addressed you by your title, out of respect. But the way it came from his mouth, in that lilting baritone, sent the world spinning.

"I should leave you, let you sleep," you said finally, needing to get away before your voice betrayed your heart's emotions. "I know you've had a long day. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Maker, how you hoped he would stay. But Din Djarin would be gone in the morning.

---

The starship you had provided was more than Din could have asked for, large enough to accommodate his size and cargo, small and swift enough to fly fast and steady in whatever direction he required. Inside, his blaster, spear, and a new rifle found their place on the wall. Climbing into the cockpit, Din surveyed the array of buttons and flashing lights.

To the right, the joystick gleamed in the dim light of the shipyard hanger. It was topped with a square knob. A memory floated through Din's mind, the tiny claws of a green hand reaching out to grasp at the knob, the big ears and wide eyes and--

Pulling the metal ball from his pocket, Din unscrewed the square knob and tossed it aside. Miraculously the Razor Crest's hardware fixtures must have been similar enough to this ship's, and the metal ball screwed perfectly into place. He grasped it gently once more, before flicking a few switches and starting up the engine.

Keep moving. Always keep moving.

---

Djarin's touch lingered on your hands even as you fell asleep. You dreamed of him, of his face, tired but handsome, aged by worry and life, yet kind and full of that honor your grandmother claimed every Mandalorian of worth contained.

You dreamed that he stayed, protecting you and your people, the way your grandfather should have done. Perhaps your mother and sister would still be here if he had.

Those nightmares woke you, sweating and sitting straight up in bed in the near darkness. Soft light from Nhora's triplet moons glimmered through the window, bathing your room in a soft glow, easing the pain in your heart, and returning you to the present. You flopped back in bed, rolling onto your stomach to try to get comfortable.

"That kriffing Mandalorian," you sighed into the pillow. He occupied your thoughts as you drifted in and out of sleep, his eyes on yours, the softness of his face under your fingers, the way he'd let you take care of him, his hand steadying yours and bringing you back into your body. It tied a knot in your stomach and you cursed your grandmother for having given you such high expectations of the man. Yet they were expectations met.

And what if he stayed? Would you fall for him? Were you destined to do so, intertwined by some family history that fated you and him together? He must have felt the gravity too, the gravity that pulled you together and bound your lives.

You hadn't seen him without his beskar armor on, but you could only imagine what he might look like underneath it all, shoulders broad, skin smooth, back muscular and strong. Was he taught and wound, always ready for a fight, or soft and supple?

You'd been with men before. Plenty of them, in fact. They tended to fall at your feet, begging for the queen's attention and a chance to sleep in her bed. Nhoran queens never married, simply chose a man to be the one to continue on the line of queens that came before and the line that would come after. But none struck your fancy, none forced their way into your thoughts, none caused you to touch yourself with need when you were without their presence.

None like Djarin. It was a relief to orgasm beneath your hands, his face floating behind your eyelids. You came as the triplet moons set and the sun rose, as somewhere in the distance Djarin's ship was taking off, rumbling powerfully beneath his strong hands. The relief it brought you gave you several more hours of sleep, the best sleep of the past year.

You hadn't realized how starved you were for the Mandalorian until he was in your grasp.

---

The dense quiet of hyperspace allowed for sleep. Or too much thinking.

In this case, Din was doing the overthinking. In the holomessage he'd left you he'd tried to explain where he was going, what he was doing, that he'd be back. He didn't need to justify his actions to you. You'd given him permission to go about his business as he pleased, that you'd always be there for help if he needed it. But he felt he owed you some explanation.

There was so much to do, to plan, to look ahead to. And yet Din's thoughts surrounded only you and what he'd just left behind. Less than a day on Nhora and the planet called out to him, begging for his return. Or perhaps it was just you.

Din closed his eyes, willing sleep to find him, but only visions of you drifted through the darkness, your bare arms, your soft fingers, your face close to his, your scent. It was intoxicating. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to pick up that smell even now, lingering in the ship.

When he'd reached out to touch your hands, it had taken all his willpower to leave them there and not drag his fingers up your arm. It wasn't right, this sudden desire to touch you all over. You were just being kind. It was silly to think any further into it. And yet, the knot in his stomach and tightness in his pants said otherwise.

Din's eyes flew open, trying to rid you from his thoughts. Think about anything else, Maker be damned, anything but wanting to hold you, kiss you, drink in that scent forever and ever.

With a frustrated grunt, he stood and moved to the fresher, splashing cold water onto his face to relieve the tension in his chest. It didn't work.

"I don't even know your name," Din groaned into the silence of the ship, hands balled into fists and rubbing his eyes. It was useless. There was only one thing to do. With fumbling fingers, he undid his belt, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his pants. What would you think if you knew he was touching himself like this? But that only turned him on more, urging him forward to grasp his length with a rough hand. It only took a few pumps to finish, the fingers of his other hand gripping the edge of the sink as he grunted into the echoing silence of the fresher, amplifying the needy sounds.

He'd never let a woman drive him crazy. And yet you were going to do just that, already lightyears away.

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sheresh0y · 3 years

Text

Mar'eyce: Chapter Six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Mando OC Kaiyah Awaud

Word Count: 11.7k

Rating: M, 18+, no younglings. Idk if it calls for it this chapter but just to be safe this will continue to be a mature fic.

Warnings: canon typical violence, language, Harbinger gets his own warning now, passing food mention, alcohol is consumed, PTSD (I don't feel like you can be a Mandalorian and not have some kind of great trauma) & nightmares. Mando pokes through Kaiyah's things but it's not creepy I promise. No beta and tons of descriptions that should be earlier in the story that my lizard brain forgot.

Author’s Note: Not quite the 30k I wrote but this weekend has been busy and I start school Monday (I know. I'm not terribly excited about it either) so I wanted to get something out before updates possibly become spotty. I'm trying to keep Kaiyah as blank slate as possible so we can all feel like her but some mentions are made to height, hair, and tattoos in this chapter.

As always, translations and lore are at the end. Plus, a fun little headcanon for Paz.

Summary: "It felt wrong to dig through it but he needed to check. It was necessary. What if she was hurt?"

Read from the beginning: Mar'eyce Masterlist

Kaiyah heaved the box full of holopads and loose papers off her counter. She wasn’t trying to mess with Harbinger’s schedule, it was just a lot of stuff after fourteen years. That was a lie actually, she was trying to mess with her prick of a cousin. His oh so important to-do list of ‘real leader’ things was grating and she was already over it after three days.

“I can’t wait to push Arumorut even farther in its prowess. We will be stronger together, I know it. Thank you for all accepting me with open arms.”

That was his humble acceptance speech. Harbinger didn’t get on a stage and announce to the entire town that he was their one true leader, no that would have been too gaudy. It was just what he said every time anyone talked to him about his new status. Occasionally he changed it gushing about how strong they all were, how grateful he was, how much this meant to him that they trusted him. It was irritating because it was true. Arumorut needed someone who could get them where he was promising and Kaiyah couldn’t do alone, she had already tried.

According to Dagon, Kai-buir had yielded easily not even raising a blaster in Harbinger’s direction. A loud knock on the front door and shouting out the challenge had the previous chieftain out onto his porch for the first time in years. Kai had locked eyes with Harbinger’s garish maroon visor and nodded, stepping back into his home and shutting the door.

Even without words, the meaning was clear, it's yours, take it.

Dagon had watched the whole thing from inside his father-in-law’s home, the kids wanted to visit and Ro was still out on the mission so he delegated the opening to one of the Mandos that the blue guy had brought in. Tann was sitting on one of the chairs by the window and had narrated the entire thing back to her father as if he didn’t have a clear view from where he was trying to not beat Kato at some kind of battlefield simulator.

The entire town had shown up, trying to get a glimpse at one of the first real throwdowns in Arumorut or see their elusive figurehead. Cheers and congratulations could be heard from inside the home and Dagon knew it was one of the hardest things Kai had done in a while. Arumorut was Awaud’s home, had been for nearly every generation. As the only person who wasn’t aware of the legacy, Dagon asked how they all found the city. Nejaa said they were only going to tell the story once so he better not miss anything.

After the civil war, any Mandalorian that had fought for their way of life were shuttled off to Mandalore’s moon, and not long after some Death Watch, remnants were thinking of making a comeback. Nejaa couldn’t and wouldn’t live near the terrorists that destroyed their life and decided to leave. Their soulmate, someone who Nejaa avoided talking about under any circumstances, stayed behind stating that they had just lost one home they wouldn’t lose this one too.

So, armed with nothing but grit and a four-year-old, Nejaa rallied a pretty sizable group that was disillusioned with the New Mandalorians and hated Death Watch. After a few hyperspace jumps across the galaxy and the need for privacy from New Mandalorians, someone found Vlemoth Port and the group decided to settle there. According to Nejaa, no one could decide on what needed to be done first. Defenses, a place to hold court, homes, water access, it didn’t matter. If it could have been fought over it was. Huffing that they were “ori'buyce, kih'kovid” Nejaa nearly built Arumorut from the ground up themself.

The first and only catina was not even built for the purpose it held now. Nejaa just wanted a place to sleep that wasn’t a bedroll and figured everyone else would want a roof too, so they made a safe house. Trained as a medic, their next priority was clean water and a Medcenter. After that, defenses and guard posts. Finally seeing it all come together they built their home last, hoping that every other Mandalorian in the settlement got their helmet on straight and could figure out what they were doing.

Watching Nejaa be a parent and unquestioned authority on the landscape drove the people to officially elect them as alor. In the village’s mind, they were a perfect choice. Nejaa already had a soulmate, they were the perfect Mandalorian even if the two halves weren’t existing together, they had done the work to build Arumorut (even if it was embarrassing to admit it), and never complained about it. Taking the role on wasn’t something Nejaa wanted or even thought about. Truly they thought that Gaf Beviin would have taken the spot, he was coming out on top of every duel that had taken place for the title and Nejaa was genuinely surprised that he had acquiesced to them in the first place.

Continuing to run the town in their no-nonsense attitude Arumorut flourished. Word of mouth worked its way across the galaxy, any Mandalorian who didn’t have a home would have one with Arumorut. The invitation even extended to orphaned and lost souls, foundlings were the basis of the Mandalorian way after all. It didn’t matter to Nejaa if they had passed Verd’goten age or not. Those who were lost were found with Arumorut.

When Kai had passed his hunt and was officially coined an adult, it was almost predetermined that he would take Nejaa’s spot. He was quiet and diligent, shadowing his buir through meetings and negotiations he took to the role quickly. It was no surprise to anyone that after his coming of age Kai decided to paint his armor in the colors for peace and duty.

He didn’t officially reign as alor until his marriage to Ilyah when he was twenty-three and it was one of patience and practice. Never making the same mistake twice and striving for the best, he preferred to nip grievances in the bud and work in the community. He raised the standard Nejaa had set, saying that even if they couldn’t be on Mandalore, they were still Mandalorians and should act as such. No unnecessary wars, honest mercenary, bounty hunter, or security work. Duty and honor were at the crux of everything alor Kai did.

Most people agreed with Kai, up until the war. Ilyah was the opposite of Kai in nearly every way. Loud, brash, and unapologetic she had said that Mandalorians were needed. Manda had more than one meaning after all and to do their duty as guardians protecting the galaxy was their burden to bear. Not everyone agreed and had pushed back, saying that the last time they got involved in a war it ended badly for them just look at Manda'yaim or the rumors of who the clone donor was. Besides, the Empire would never come to Arumorut it was too remote.

Ilyah left to join the budding rebel effort alone and weeks later a fleet of troopers infested the planet. A chain code booth was set up in the only large city that Vlemoth Port had and people from every walk of life were lined up to exchange credits for numbers. Arumorut was temporarily abandoned in fear that any Mandalorians there would be executed for beskar they didn’t have or Maker forbid, someone started a fight and the settlement would draw the Empire’s wrath. A plan was thrown together to keep Arumorut safe and two days later, Kai joined his wife to take down the army that threatened their home. Three-year-old Kaiyah was brought with and it was in the Rebellion they found Ro and the family of four did their best to fight back the oppression that was suffocating the galaxy.

Kai had never wanted to abandon Arumorut, he always thought that he was doing his duty to protect it from the war. To keep the peace. He had never meant to become what he was now.

Dagon didn’t know the Kai that had married Ilyah or fought in a galactic war, he knew the Kai that existed now. The man that drifted silently through his house and had been mute his grandkids entire lives, but Dagon knew that the man who raised his stubborn husband and dedicated sister-in-law was dying from the shame and guilt that his best wasn’t enough.

As lunchtime rolled around strange mourning had filled every Awaud. It wasn’t pride, though that was a bit bruised, it was the fact that everything had been done right and well and things were good, but not good enough and it felt like they had all failed.

Maybe if Dagon had pushed Ro then this wouldn’t have happened. Ro didn’t want to lead or make life-altering decisions he had gotten enough of that in the war. He didn’t want to be away from his family all hours of the day and into the night, he didn’t want the responsibility and Kaiyah was already doing it anyway. Dagon knew that it was more than those things though, their family would have adjusted and supported Ro if either spouse had pushed for it.

The couple had fought about it, Dagon just wanted to know why his husband wasn’t taking a great opportunity. That was the night that he had learned that Ro had lost a lot to the galaxy, his birth parents were in the same squad as the Awauds and they never came home, lost their lives on some routine supply run. Ilyah was lost in a fight, the specifics were unknown to Dagon, and Kai had left himself on that battlefield too.

Ro wanted to have his family whole and safe. The family he created with Dagon was the only thing he hoarded, nearly binged himself on their security and love to keep sane. He had said that the home he made with his husband and now children was the one safe place left in the galaxy and becoming alor would ruin it somehow. So Dagon dropped it. Now he was feeling like he should have pushed Ro anyway.

When the docks commed to let the Awauds know that the ship had entered the atmosphere, Dagon ran to meet the rest of the family. Kaiyah and Ro deserved to hear the news from family and not be met with the celebration Harbinger were certainly throwing for himself. It ripped his heart out to see Kaiyah accept the fact that everything she thought she had worked for really amounted to nothing. Everyone knew that Harbinger would go scorched earth, leaving behind anything he didn’t need to build a new Arumorut.

This left Kaiyah cleaning out her home, taking down what she had thought would be her entire life. What had been her entire life. It was strange, not knowing what to do with her free time now that she had it. She was under the impression that nothing much would change, she would still help out in the community doing whatever work needed to be done. At least now she didn’t have to do those stupid budgets.

That hope was quickly dashed as she set the last box of documents and datapads on Harbinger’s kitchen table. His home was different than any other Kaiyah had been in, every room was divided by doors and walls he didn’t even have karyai something that was considered a staple in every Mandalorian home. “Sorry for the mess, Kay. Between renovations and my new promotion we haven’t had a lot of time to prepare for guests,” Harbinger huffed as he went through a different box of files. His face was tight in concentration, the scar on his left jumped and twitched every so often. It looked like he was almost laughing to himself as he read over everything Kaiyah had ever done.

“It’s alright, Harry. The place looks good.” Glancing around the room not a thing looked out of place. Even as she was guided through the hallways by Sonja Kaiyah couldn’t find a speck of dust or anything to even resemble ‘renovations’. Harbinger cleared his throat before organizing a different stack of papers, “I’m glad you’re here, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Kaiyah lied. Harbinger gestured for her to sit down, as she did she followed up her statement, “What do you need?”

“I just-I don’t want to step on any toes my first week as alor. You know how… Well, let’s be frank, how tense it was when I first left Arumorut. I don’t want any bad blood between us or the rest of the clans.”

Kaiyah nodded and leaned back in her chair, lifting it so all the weight was on the back legs. It was a bad habit she had picked up from her buir, Ilyah couldn’t just sit down anywhere she was always rocking her chair, tapping a table, fidgeting with odds and ends. Kaiyah had picked up almost all of those habits, it helped keep her head clear as she was thinking of solutions or lies but the chair thing was the worst. Bothered her ba’buir to no end as they griped about manners and destroying property.

Harbinger watched as his cousin used his furniture as a playground. The disrespect that she flounced in his home grated on his nerves. Even as a disgraced second place heathen she still thought she had some upper hand. Using his foot to bring the chair down to the ground, Harbinger smiled tightly, “heirlooms. You get it.” They weren’t, the chairs had come with the house and since Harbinger hadn’t been back in ten years and the plan needed his attention he hadn’t made the time to get some good quality ones.

Kaiyah narrowed her eyes in suspicion, she was pretty sure she had the same chairs. The woods that surrounded Arumorut didn’t necessarily yield a lot of variety. Dropping the thought quickly she tried to smile back at Harbinger, keeping this short and sweet with emphasis on the sweet might be enough to get the nuisance that called himself her cousin to leave her alone.

“Of course, I’m sorry. Bad habits die hard, or whatever they say. Circling back to what you were saying, I don’t think anyone here holds bad blood for you. You won the title fair and square, Harry. I think the only person who remembers what happened ten years ago is us and I think you’ve really grown. Everyone can tell you carry yourself with a lot more confidence.”

Ignoring the urge to roll his eyes at her jabs Harbinger tried to keep the conversation brief. He swore to the manda that every time he had to talk to Kaiyah he lost brain cells, her true goal was always at the surface and it was mind-numbing to listen to. “I’m glad. I did a lot of soul searching in my time away and I just want to support Arumorut the best I can. I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine, munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa, and all that. ”

“We all appreciate that Harbinger. I’ll get out of your hair now, I’m sure you have a lot of reading to do,” Kaiyah stood and made a show of pushing in her chair and setting everything as it was before she sat down. Gods, heavens, and hells better bless her for the patience she exerted in this conversation.

Harbinger stayed seated, “Yes, yes. Loads of work to catch up on. Listen, a few more things before you take off. I know you do those excursions and I’m sure now that you’re free you’re preparing another one soon, but could you hold off on those? I’m just not positive we have the resources to be using up all that fuel and housing all those foundlings.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t know if you know how those trips work, but pay for themselves. Plus, we’re able to bring in extra for the clans. My contact reimburses Reeger, or any pilot I take, for fuel and usually, the hostages want to go home. We don’t come back with very many foundlings most of the time,” Kaiyah explained.

“That’s great, but with Reeger being out for her pregnancy we’re already one ship down, plus hunters coming and going. I don’t know if Arumorut can handle losing all that transportation unless we haven’t inventoried those newcomers ships.”

“We don’t inventory ships. Those are personal property, not Arumorut’s.”

“Oh, my mistake then. I must have gotten my reports jumbled,” Harbinger shook his head like it would clear away the faux pas. Herding Kaiyah to the entryway he wondered aloud, “Do you know anything about those new Mandos? The ones who don’t take their helmets off?”

Shaking her head, Kaiyah thought about it, “No. Maybe they’re just literal? Armor is the most important part of the Resol’nare, after all. Why are you asking?”

“Just curious. They haven’t assimilated yet and I wanted to know if we could do anything to make it easier for their tribe.” Opening the door for Kaiyah, Harbinger shuffled her out of his house, “have a great afternoon, Kay. Thank you for everything you’ve done for Arumorut.”

Waving to Harbinger and Sonja who seemed to just appear from the house Kaiyah offered the same thing back to the couple and strode down the street. Maker, he was the worst. If the HoloNet had pictures of sleemos Harbinger would be the first hit.

The rest of the week went by like that, Harbinger playing up the grateful and surprised act. Telling everyone how beautiful their babies were and how their businesses seemed to be thriving if he could help let him know. Send any formal requests through one of his council - the two Mandos who Kaiyah thought were only staying for a layover - or bring the problem right to his doorstep, he was happy to help.

Nothing much had changed overall, sure it was only the first week, but Arumorut seemed happier. People were actively talking to Harbinger about things, projects that needed to be done, stuff Kaiyah wasn’t even aware of. Had she been doing such a shit job of providing for her people? Were they all right to not want her around anymore?

She still helped out where she could, took a lot of the small jobs that kept Arumorut afloat. Bugged Dagon in his shop, visited her father, took care of her niece and nephews. She still hadn’t told Kai about Cerna and it was eating at her, should she? Cerna and her mother were thick as thieves back in the day, Ilyah had called Cerna a sister and said she had enough mandokar to power The Rebellion herself.

Kaiyah was sure that when her father not only heard the news but figured out what happened that he would hate her. In a way, it was like Cerna was one of the last links to Ilyah, another person who could remember her and Kaiyah had taken that away in a moment of weakness. She hadn’t meant for it to go that far, it was just that Cerna wouldn’t shut up. Kaiyah was going to take her to prison or something if she could have just talked the captain off the ledge.

By the end of the week the nightmares started up again, Cerna joining the mix of firefights and explosions and death. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Kaiyah had been spending years working herself into a stupor to pass out dreamlessly or on the nights they seeped in, picking up work and doing something good. Good for her family, her community, protecting her way of life.

She wondered if Ro’s sleep was as shitty as hers. They had spent years fighting the Empire, doing things that kids shouldn’t have been doing. Smuggling, stealing, listening, carrying the Rebellion’s secrets because who cares about some ‘homeless’ kids. Hells, Kaiyah had killed her first Imp at six, couldn’t even remember why now but knew it felt like justice.

It didn’t feel so good now that she had nothing.

Din hadn’t spoken to Kaiyah since her brother-in-law broke the news of Harbinger’s new role. When Kato and Ellis still stopped by one of their fathers would be with them instead of their aunt. Neither had said anything to Din about soulmates anymore, they dropped it after it was clear that Arumorut had a new power structure now. It didn’t matter to him as long as he wasn’t the one to disturb The Covert’s peace again.

Everyone in the tribe was settling in, the jobs Kaiyah offered were upheld by Harbinger and they were left to their own devices most of the time. The only people who came through their side of town were either headed to the docks or children looking for new playmates. Things were getting back to normal for Din’s family and normal now meant hosting children get-togethers, answering questions about what kind of education he was pursuing for the kid, and trying to find a babysitter.

At the end of the week Dagon had basically dropped Kato and Ellis off at Din’s front step, the tailor had gotten a comm about some kind of emergency at his shop and was about to rush off with the boys when Din surprised the both of them by offering to watch all three. The kid had made a few new friends in Arumorut but his favorite playmates were the Zabrak boys by a long shot, if they left without some kind of play happening he would be in a bad mood.

“Are you sure? You’ll be outnumbered,” Dagon said over someone trying to get his attention on the comm.

“Not the first time it’s happened. If anything happens I know where to find you.”

Dagon chuckled as he walked away, “I like the confidence, beroya. I’ll be back to pick them up in an hour or two.” Waving goodbye to Kato and Ellis, the tailor turned his attention to whoever was on the other side of the comm and made his way down the street.

In all, the afternoon ended up being exactly how Din thought. The boys had decided to scrimmage yet another meshgeroya game and all the adult had to do was make sure they didn’t go too far. By the end of either round one or seventeen - Din was almost sure about the way they called matches. On the surface it seemed like Ellis would call out randomly that time had run out on the match and they would all reset when Paz walked up and ruined the train of thought. The kid made a beeline to his favorite uncle babbling about something while the twins stood back.

Getting down on a knee so the kid could talk to him, Paz listened intently to the gurgles and coos. “Is that so ad’ika? Are you winning? That’s good, want to introduce me to your friends?”

Now that Kato and Ellis had the green light to approach, it was an endless flurry of excitement. Kato wanted to know how Paz had gotten that big and made a bet with Ellis that he would have just as many muscles as ‘Mando’ did. Ellis brushed off his twin and was much more interested in the Gatlin gun that was attached to Paz’s armor and immediately wanted to know if he could shoot it. Answering any muscle questions he could and denying access to his arsenal seemed to get the boys less interested in Paz and as quick as they rushed in all they rushed back out to the field, continuing their game.

“Guess we’re not as fun as bolo ball, huh vod?” Paz laughed as he bumped Din.

“No, not when Ellis is on a winning streak,” Din chuckled along.

“Which one is that? Short hair?”

“Long hair, short hair is Kato,” Din pointed out the twins, along with motioning to the horns. Kato had nine and they could see them all around his head, Ellis only had four visible with the rest being covered by his long hair.

Paz nodded along, unconvincingly pretending like he knew which ones Din was talking about. “How do you know Ellis is winning? The kid told me he was winning.”

“Ellis calls all the matches. Why else would you call a match unless you had already won?”

Paz huffed, “Dammit. That’s smart, why didn’t we ever think of that when we were playing?”

“Because you cheated.”

“I never cheated! You’re just a sore loser, you know damn well that I - you know what, that’s not why I’m here. Jax is giving away this puck, says he doesn’t want to be too far from home when Reeger has the baby. Especially now that they have two of those kids from the last mission. You want it?” The puck and fob were in Paz’s outstretched palm, Din took the puck and clicked it open scanning over the information.

It was a thief, standard information attached to a weaselly looking human. Last known was Christophsis. The job wasn’t too intensive, they stole kyber from their job and now were hiding out in some crystal jungle on the planet. It was an easy quarry that Din could get away with taking since he was still technically recovering from the dislocated shoulder.

Anytime Ro was with his boys he repeated the medical advice Din ignored, it didn’t hurt anymore and he needed credits so he could move on with the kid. No one here knew any Jedi or any other tribes that could connect him with information, the longer they stayed here the harder it would be to leave. And they would have to leave eventually, even if Karga said he took care of the bounty on the kid it didn’t mean that hunters would stay away from them.

“I’ll take it, it seems easy. Can you watch him?” Din nodded to the kid, he hated leaving him behind but Arumorut was safe and had a whole tribe ready to die for him if need be. Paz shook his head, “Wish I could. I’m meeting with Harbinger right after this.”

“Best of luck to you, I met with him last week. He was asking questions about you guys,” Kaiyah strode up to Din’s unoccupied side.

Blue and silver helmets swiveled in her direction and demanded, “What kind of questions?”

Kaiyah snickered at the men. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if they were brothers, friends, or sworn enemies, "He didn’t want your mother’s maiden name if that’s what you were thinking. Just wanted to know about the helmets.”

“And you don’t?” Din questioned, Kaiyah had never said anything to him. He just assumed that she had gotten all of her answers from Paz and would have passed on that information. Now he wasn't so sure if people were gossiping.

“Not my creed, not my business. If you guys feel like you’re following The Way correctly then who am I to tell you you’re wrong? It’s not like I’m the Mand’alor.”

“There is only one way,” Din said.

“I guess not, considering the spread we’ve acquired here in town.”

“What did you tell him?” Paz gruffed, he still didn’t trust a lot of people here but at least Kaiyah was trying. Huffing a tendril of hair from her face, Kaiyah seemed unbothered as she faced the field to watch the kid throw himself over the ball right as Kato was going for a gnarly looking kick. “The truth. I don’t know why you were your helmets like that, Harbinger seemed interested though so be prepared for twenty questions.”

Kato and Ellis ran up to the group of adults with the kid following on their heels. Ellis dove behind Kaiyah as his brother chased him, yelling about how he was going to make the chakaar pay for something. “Hey, boys, stop it. No uj-cake for either of you if you kill each other.”

That seemed to get the twins' attention. “Cake? Are you heading out again?”

“No, your Edalinare said you guys are spending the night at my place. Tann is going to be there too, she just has to finish up training, so I was thinking cake for dinner.”

Cheers erupted from all the kids, even the green one whose ears seemed to twitch with excitement at the prospect of sweets for dinner. “Can vor’ika come over?” Ellis pulled on his aunt’s hand for attention. Kaiyah looked at her nephew, “if he and his buir enjoy cake I don’t see why not.”

“Mando has a job to take, he was looking for a babysitter if you think you can handle four ad’ikas,” Paz offered, shrugging as Din’s helmet turned to him that had cocked in an obvious ‘what the fuck’ kind of way. Kaiyah was the person they were closest to in Arumorut and Din had let the kid be in worse situations but it was still his kid.

“I don’t mind, wouldn’t be the first time I had a house full of kids. Besides, Tann is old enough to help if I need it.” Kaiyah now had all three kids standing around her, the twins were still hollering about their impromptu sleepover and jumping around their aunt while the kid had made his way to stand on her boot. “Is that alright, Mando?” Kaiyah looked up to Din’s visor and fuck. He couldn’t say no.

Not only did it feel rude, she offered and seemed fine with it, but the kid wanted to go too. It also didn’t help that she had unknowingly - or maybe knowingly since she also wore a helmet - made direct eye contact with him and he swore to every god that existed he forgot his own damn name. His chest seized with what he was certain was a heart attack and he had to clear his throat. Why was his throat dry? What was wrong with him?

“As long as it won’t cause any problems.”

“Your kid? Problems? Please, why would you ever put those two words in the same sentence,” Kaiyah giggled as the kids all started to chatter and babble amongst themselves, not so secretly making plans to stay up way too late and other mayhem. “Come on, boys! Let’s get vor’ika’s things and we can start making dinner,” she herded all the boys in one general direction and started into town.

Leaning over to Din Kaiyah’s pauldron nudged his bicep as she whispered, “I promise they’ll eat real food at some point tonight. I won’t load your kid up on junk, I’m mean not malicious.”

Paz Viszla wouldn’t say he was a paranoid man, just a very cautious one. He didn’t entirely understand the chip Kaiyah had on her shoulder but he could appreciate when it worked to his benefit. Like now.

“Your… Covert? Is that what you call yourselves?” Harbinger questioned as he sipped what looked like tihaar from a crystal glass. It was rhetorical seeing as he got it right on the first try. This was a different game entirely. It was diplomatic and rife with double meanings. When he met with Kaiyah he could tell that he could push a bit more, not be as polite. She wouldn’t take it personally and took his concerns just as seriously, sometimes even more so.

There hadn’t been that many of The Covert to relocate, either they had gone underground somewhere else or their names were added to the remembrance. Either way, they didn’t need all the rooms Nejaa had originally offered them. Some of the homes they decided to take needed repairs and they all needed modifications so their creeds could stay intact. Kaiyah was the one Paz took that issue to, Nejaa was more of a medic and semi-retired, they didn’t like to be bothered with the day-to-day stuff that came with running the town and Kai was nowhere to be found. His daughter made it her passion project and started passing new ideas through Paz, upgrades, and designs that would allow them the most privacy, tools, and lumber were delivered to the edge of their homesteads not wanting to overstep her bounds. Kaiyah even mentioned blocking that part of town off if it would make them more comfortable. She was nearly overbearing in how much she cared about what made their lives easier.

Harbinger was a different beast. Sophisticated, in a rough way. What other type of person would drink something that burned like punishment straight? And out of crystal?

“They’re impressive, I’ve seen the weapons you all carry. And your creed, it’s much different from ours. Reminds me of the old ways, when tradition mattered,” Harbinger smiled as his wife came into the dining room. She was small and younger than her husband by about ten years or so. Her hair was down, it nearly touched her knees and was darker than night. She had a scar that ran along her left cheek that unnaturally pulled her smile, just like Harbinger.

“This is The Way,” Paz responded in a knee-jerk reaction. Maybe if he repeated it enough times Harbinger would just let him leave. Instead, he laughed, “Yes, The Way protects us all. I apologize, I don’t think I’ve introduced you two to each other yet. Sonja, this is Mando. He’s the leader of the refugees that came shortly after us. Mando, this is Sonja. My wife.”

The woman smiled at Paz as she looked slightly left. She wouldn’t have made eye contact with him even if he wasn’t wearing the helmet. It made Paz uncomfortable. Your spouse was your equal in all things, but Harbinger’s wife seemed to be an accessory.

Paz nodded gently in her direction with a polite “ma’am” careful to keep his movements slow and mass slouched. Sonja repeated the gesture back to him, nodding and then drifting out of the room.

“She’s a bit shy, it takes a while to warm up to people. Hells, I don’t think she said a word to me until after we were married.”

The blue Mandalorian hummed noncommittally, how do you court someone who doesn’t talk to you? Did Sonja even know she was getting married? Did she even agree to it?

“I’m lucky, though. The Ka’ra blessed me with a fantastic woman. I know how the optics seem to those who aren’t Mandalorian. It looks like I forced her into a marriage she didn’t want but I’m a firm believer in the stars. Haven’t led me astray once.” Paz gritted his teeth, he was starting to get why Kaiyah didn’t like Harbinger now. He was self-righteous and that was the easiest way to put it.

“Marriage is hard, you two make it look so easy,” Paz said tonelessly.

That made the other man’s eyes light up, the scar jumping as he smiled wider, “Thank you, Mando. You married?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, don’t let Dagon know. He’s a terrible gossip and loves playing matchmaker, it’s easy to on Arumorut. Matching scars and all that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Paz gruffed. He knew the stories, every Mandalorian did. Matching scars and sharing the pain. He hadn’t had a lot of that, sure, just like everyone else he had strange scars or shocks but nothing to write home about. He assumed it was just a parable for marriage, that you were truly one in all you did as a Mandalorian couple. It was kind of hard to keep seeing it that way after being here, Harbinger and Sonja’s facial scar was one of many matching sets he’d seen. Dagon and Ro were another couple, the Twi’lek medic only had one lek the other scarred over. The Zabrak tailor only had one ear. Jax and Reeger both had a shallow nick of a blade injury on their upper cheek, the list went on and on.

It was a bit daunting, to say the least. That all these couples were matched in the stars and knew it because they saw each other and The Covert had to court and guess.

“Not that I don’t love a social call but I did have a few questions. Nothing about the creed, don’t worry. I know we all get those questions when we’re away from home. It’s exhausting. No, I just wanted to talk about projects, plans, that sort of a thing. I just noticed that you guys haven’t meshed well with Arumorut and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to make it easier for you.”

Maker, this man loved to hear himself talk. Shaking his head, Paz responded, “No, Kaiyah took care of that already. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, I assumed you two would have discussed these things already.”

Something flashed in Harbinger’s eyes, as quick as it came it was gone. His face pulled inwards, pinched and tight. The scar made it look like he was still smiling. It was the most unnerving thing Paz had faced down in a while. “Just double-checking. Can never be too thorough. I know Kaiyah’s... Reign little to be desired.”

Confused Paz tilted his helmet slightly, “We never had any trouble with her. Everyone I’ve talked to has only said great things about her.”

Harbinger chuckled before sipping his drink, “You and I have been talking to different people then, vod. If you're fine with how things are going then I best let you get going. You look like a very busy man. Thank you for stopping by.” Harbinger led Paz out of the home, down the hallways that felt suffocating. It felt like a maze. Or a trap. No home should feel like a trap.

Harbinger started talking again, having to turn his head over his shoulder slightly since Paz was behind him, “Mando, have we met before? I swear I’ve seen your armor somewhere.” Paz bristled slightly, unsure of where the other man was taking this. “No, I don’t think we have, alor. I’m sure I would have remembered meeting you," Paz decided against adding on the colorful monikers he had been thinking of in the last fifteen minutes.

“Now you’re just flattering me, I don’t like thinking of myself as an alor. Just someone helping their community. No, I’m sure we’ve met somewhere. The colors are so striking… You know what,” Harbinger snapped his fingers, the gloves muffling the sound a bit. “I think I’ve got it. You wouldn’t have any connection to Death Watch would you?”

Paz straightened automatically. That was a bold name to throw around. Standing at the door, Harbinger turned to look at Paz fully. The blue Mandalorian was at his full height now, posture rigid and looking like an immovable mountain. He was taller than a lot of people, bigger than any human he’d met. Harbinger was no slouch but he wasn’t heavy infantry.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Quite the opposite actually, I think Death Watch had some good ideas, they just went about implementing them the wrong way. Viszla was such a strong house, shame though how it ended,” Harbinger was looking at Paz like some kind of jungle cat. His eyes were shining in a strange way of pride and smugness. Like he had Paz exactly where he wanted him and was toying with his food.

“Blue is a popular color. Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about Death Watch,” Paz said. Harbinger could do whatever he wanted with the information.

“Until next time, Mando.”

Maker, he owed Kaiyah a drink. Or a bottle.

It was late, or early depending on how a person could look at it. Din had finally gotten back to Arumorut after three days and should he have washed the hunt off of him, slept a little while he could before going back to parenting? Yes. Any sane person would do that, Din Djarin, however, wasn’t a sane man.

Stalking the empty streets of Arumorut he made his way to the eastern side of town, heading to Kaiyah’s place. Knocking gently on the door, Din flexed his hands anxiously. He knew he was being rude interrupting both their sleep. He just needed to see the kid.

Kaiyah’s door creaked open, wide enough for him to enter as she waved him in. She was wearing sleep clothes, a light tank top and shorts to help with the heat and humidity that plagued this side of the planet. Her hair was prepped for sleep and it looked like she hadn't been to bed yet, nothing was rumpled or wrinkled and her hair looked intact.

“He’s missed you, had a hard time going down tonight,” she whispered as they crept through the house. She handed Din the bag he packed of possible kid related things. It was heftier than when he left it. Tilting his head at her in the silent question Kaiyah chuckled, “Dagon couldn’t resist. Whipped up a little wardrobe for him yesterday. The boys were all well behaved, too. Your vor’ika ate everything on his plate and some of the twins' too. Sleeps well, better than most toddlers I’ve watched.”

None of this was news to Din, he knew the kid could eat someone out of house and home if he wanted to and the womp rat slept like the dead when he choose to. “Thank you, for watching him. Thank you to Dagon as well, he didn’t need to do that.”

Kaiyah scoffed, “Dagon has baby fever, I think it was more of a ploy to convince Ro into having another. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why I was called in on babysitting duty, so don’t encourage him.” Slipping into the second bedroom, she gestured to the kid’s pram. The little floating oval bounced as Din reconnected it to his vambrace.

“That’s a neat trick. Any chance you can tell me what it is so I can be the best ba’vodu the next time someone has a baby?”

Din shook his head, “A friend made it for me. I’m sorry for waking you - I just-“

“Needed to see him again?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, “I get it. The first time I watched Tann overnight, Ro came over after four hours. Picked her home and took her home just because.” Turning, Din saw the burn under the straps of her top. It curled up from the collar and weaved its way across her neck, spreading out and down her left arm. It tore through the tattoos that sat there, breaking them all apart. Her right arm had a scar from something with teeth.

“- Mando? You okay?” Kaiyah was facing him again, nearly touching his arm and Din flinched back reflexively, not realizing he had zoned out. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you."

Her scars matched his. They were identical. Maker, help him.

Paz was unhelpful. He laughed in Din’s face and told him that the stories must be true then, told him that Din was just one in a long line of examples when he demanded answers the next morning.

“I don’t want to be an example, Paz. I want to get the child back to his kind,” the other Mandalorian stated.

“Two Mandalorians are better than one, stop trying to look a gift bantha in the mouth. You already left her with your ad’ika and that is the ultimate form of trust.”

Din didn’t admit to all the people he left the kid with that he didn’t trust. Or the times he left him unattended. “What about Arumorut? The Covert is safe here. You don’t think Kaiyah would go after Harbinger the second she knows? This could create problems for us.”

“Din, you are assuming she doesn’t know already, her brother patched you up. And, if she decides to go after Harbinger, she has my support. That man is…” Paz visibly shuddered, some of the armor plates clacking together. “There are no words in any language for that.”

“It went that bad?”

Paz shook his head, “I don’t know. He didn’t ask about the helmets as Kaiyah thought. It was a social call, wanted to help us 'acclimate'. His house is... strange. All walled up and closed off. His wife didn't speak a word to me, didn't even look at me. Just let her husband talk for her and smiled the whole way through."

"Is he hurting her?" Din grunted. It wouldn't be the first scum he'd taken out and doubted it would be the last.

"I don't know, I don't think so. She's just so... quiet. Nothing like you're riduur." Paz chuckled a bit at Din's obvious discomfort with the phrase, his arms immediately crossing over his chest defensively. "Let's everyone know what she thinks. Won't even wait for someone to ask her opinion."

"Shut up."

It was easier for Kaiyah to keep her head on straight when she had work to do. Everything had a little box or file that it was shuffled into, she could organize things as they came in. That’s what made working in town so easy, there was always something to be done at any given time and she could do it all. Hunt? Sentient or animal it was no problem. Fix a roof? She could figure it out.

Harbinger changed that. Now he outsourced jobs based on need or skill set. Long hunts meant single Mandos got those pucks. If water needed purifying, Mandos were sent to do that. Big jobs meant crews were put together of Harbinger’s choosing. Farmers needed extra hands? It was assigned not implied. Arumorut was becoming busier, everyone bustling around to get done what the alor asked of them. In addition to outsourcing jobs, more of the forest was cleared for something. There were talks of reconstructing Arumorut or making a bigger training ground but no one was certain.

Kaiyah couldn’t work any of the jobs she normally took because of ‘delays’. Ships and Mandos were scarce because of Harbinger’s assignments and Kaiyah’s jobs were pushed to the side with a promise of next week or "when an opening comes up". She couldn’t even help around the town, anything she would have done three weeks ago was already done or assigned out.

The kids were in school or training most days so that was a bust. Kaiyah didn’t know the first thing about medicine besides getting the bleeding to stop which meant Ro and Ba’buir couldn’t help her. Dagon finally told her to buzz off unless she was buying something.

Kaiyah was at her breaking point, she never slept anymore, she was jumpy. She yelled at Tann the other day when a pan fell out of grip and clanged on the floor. Kaiyah never yelled, especially over accidents. She needed something, anything in the hopes she could reorganize. Refocus and put this behind her. She needed to remind herself what this was all for.

So she bit the bullet and went to Harbinger.

“A job?”

“Yeah, anything. I’ll take anything,” Kaiyah said. Her knee was jumping under Harbinger’s table. She was hopped up on caf and sleep deprivation and it looked like it sounded. Scratching the back of his neck, Harbinger grimaced, “I don’t know, Kay. You look a little… Rough. Maybe next week.”

Kaiyah dug clenched her fists so hard the leather creaked under the strain, if she killed Harbinger here and now it would look bad. It would look bad no matter when she killed him but over a job? At the alor’s table? Manda it might be enough for Arumorut to ship her off for real instead of jokingly forcing her off-planet for soulmate business. “Please, Harbinger. I mean it, I’ll take whatever you have left.”

The man didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Kaiyah rarely said ‘please’ and would never say it to him under any circumstances. This was good. Great, actually. He couldn’t exile her without a reason and the rest of the plan couldn't continue with her here. She would be the first one to call a coup on him, no matter if it was justified or not.

But if she died on the job… Well, that was just the way the dice rolled.

“Alright, alright. I have one job. It’s not glamorous, it’s on Dantooine -“

“I got it handled. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s rough. It’s a -“

“I said I got it handled. Do you have a puck?” Kaiyah nearly growled. She needed this. Needed something to get her together. Unfortunately, she had to lick Harbinger’s crusty boot before she could get there and he wouldn't give her anything if she copped an attitude.

“No, I don’t. It’s a bit… Underworld. I have a fob and the last known. Proof of death is preferred, bring it directly to me and I’ll pay you out,” Harbinger held the fob out to Kaiyah. She snatched the tiny blinking rectangle from his grip like an untrained animal, which in a way, she was. Shame. He could have beat her into shape if she wasn’t so fucking stubborn.

The moons of Dantooine created a teal-grey cast over the lavender fields, it was truly breathtaking. Because the planet had never been successfully settled it was nearly untouched and it showed, wildflowers grew across the grass in brush strokes. Even at night, the temperature was mild it wasn’t humid and sticky like Arumorut could be. It was a place normal people could retire and live out the rest of their lives unbothered and untouched.

Kaiyah hated the quiet. It meant something went wrong. Like now.

She had tracked the quarry across Dantooine, or at least it felt like it. They were smart. Never bothered to make a camp and took the time to cover their tracks. Either they had been on the run for a long time and had already made the mistakes or they were trained in disappearing. In hindsight, she really should have asked more questions.

Kaiyah had finally found the quarry, a bald androgynous Kiffar with blue tattoos that had a mean right hook. She couldn’t feel it through the helmet but she could tell they had the spirit. They had pushed Kaiyah away and made a break for it, attempting to put space in between her and them. It had worked, they disappeared somewhere in the long plain grass and Kaiyah was back to tracking their heat signature. It was the way she was able to get close enough in the first place.

We're waiting… The rage that followed Kaiyah closely sang in the back of her head.

Shaking it off, she slid her beskad into a lower position and crawled through the taller grass hoping to flank their left side. If she was assuming correctly with that right hook their left side would be weaker. Plus the heart was usually located on that side.

Right as Kaiyah lunged with the blade the Kiffar blocked the strike with their vambraces. Crossing their arms in an X over their chest they pushed Kaiyah back again, forcing her out of their space and drawing a blaster.

“I’m not going back!” they shouted. “Never!”

Raising the blade into a defensive move, Kaiyah started circling. Closing the distance on the blaster would be the hardest part of all this. That’s why she preferred blades, blasters could only work at a certain range. And they never worked for her, jamming any time she tried to shoot one off or that one time it nearly exploded in her hand. Blades didn't do that. Blades were simple.

The Kiffar blasted the hal'cabur when she started closing the circle around them. Kaiyah didn't even flinch, the beskar could hold up. It was the whole point of wearing it.

Gripping her vibroblade in the off-hand she rushed in. Panicked the Kiffar shot bolt after bolt getting a few lucky shots in the padded armor around her gut and one nicking her neck. Gagging through the smell of singed flesh and cloth that now suffocated the helmet, the scent the followed her through the nightmares, she wrapped the blade around the Kiffar’s blaster and pushed it to the ground. In the same movement, she gutted the quarry with the vibroblade.

“You're no fun today,” the feeling grumbled.

Coughing through the injury they laughed, a wet and full sound at the same time, “I guess now he’ll never get me. Thank you.”

Kaiyah had the sinking feeling that she had just done something very, very wrong.

Flinching awake, Din pushed the sheets off of himself. What the hell was that?

A blaster shot seared itself into his stomach, a few inches right of his navel. The scar was a nearly perfect circle that spiderwebbed itself from the shot's entry point. His neck tingled in that familiar way of adrenaline after a fight as he was ripped out of the haze of sleep.

Shoving his helmet on and grabbing the blaster next to his bed, Din moved across the room to the pram the kid was sleeping in. A cross between a snore and a purr escaped the kid’s mouth as his wide ears twitched. Clearing the small home took under a minute, the clan of two only had one bedroom the rest of the house was open and flowy. They were alone, no shots had gone through the glass or walls. No one hiding in the fresher or down the street.

Kaiyah.

Fuck.

The revelation hit him like that karking Devorian. He hadn’t seen her all week, since he picked the kid up from her house. Was she on a job? Did Harbinger do something? Would he do anything? They were staunchly avoiding each other, she wouldn’t even walk down his street. Hastily throwing on his flak jacket and trousers, he pushed the beskar on and made his way towards Kaiyah’s place, the kid’s crib gliding behind him.

Din didn’t have any excuse or reason planned before he started banging on the door. He just had to know if she was home. If she was safe. That maybe this soulmate shit was just that. Shit. When no one answered he started looking in her windows, started trying to jimmy the lock on the door.

Checking the house was pointless, no one was there. The floorplan was similar to Din’s home, an open living space that extended to a kitchen, two doors to the left that went into the bedrooms versus Din’s one room. The first door was Kaiyah’s room. It felt wrong to dig through it but he needed to check. It was necessary. What if she was hurt?

There was only one window in the room and the top of the bed was pushed up against it, neatly made with pillows were stacked on top of the sheets. Trinkets and tchotchkes decorated the space, a dagger was placed in a wooden holder that was clearly for presentation. An old and ratty stuffed bantha sat on the dresser with a Rebel insignia made of durasteel leaning against the toy.

A framed portrait sat on one of the walls in her living room, a human couple in their middle ages stood side by side with their arms around a much younger looking Ro and Kaiyah on either side of them. They had looked like they were all caught mid-laughter. Ro still had both of his lekku, and Kaiyah’s hair was longer. They both had some childhood roundness in their faces and their armor was incomplete, either they were just about to take their Verd’goten or they had just completed it.

The siblings didn’t look like either of their parents. Their father, at least Din assumed it was Kai since the two hadn’t met yet, had dark copper skin with an average build. Black hair that sat in loose waves and barely brushed his shoulders, he wore a full beard (Din would never admit to the jealousy that he would never have facial hair like that) that was significantly more grey than his hair. A strong nose traveled into thick brows that shadowed the man's dark eyes. The armor he wore was forest green, streaked with bright yellowy-green. His helmet carried the traditional T-Visor and some kind of antenna on the side. Ro held it in his hands smiling for the camera or artist, a wide grin showing off the sharp canines he had.

The woman next to Kai was his height, leaner but all corded muscle, and visually the opposite. She was white and pale, completely bald, and had no eyebrows. She held her head high with an angular face, everything about her was sharp and strong even down to her lips. Her cheeks were high on her face and her nose nearly came to a point. Her armor was massive and intimidating, black and maroon with two pauldrons stacked on top of each shoulder like roofing shingles and a visor he hadn’t ever seen before. It looked like a bird of prey, everything about the visor pulling in and down to a pointed chin with two pink transparisteel panes for the eyes.

In short, Kaiyah’s parents cut quite a figure even without the armor.

The rest of the house went by like that, glancing in under the pretense of scanning for intruders and finding little details. Like the second bedroom, it sported beds for her niece and nephews. A small cot with a matching sheet and comforter set decorated in flowers was pushed against one wall with a bunk bed on the other. A small dresser sat under the window that faced the neighbor’s house and again little toys dotted the room. A nightlight that projected the entire galaxy onto the ceiling was still running, even with no one home.

In the fresher, Din noticed that she shelled out extra credits for some fancy Nabooian perfume.

The kitchen was open and empty, Kaiyah didn’t have a dining room table instead she opted for bar seating at her counter. She had placed her drinking glasses in the cupboard to the right of the sink.

Din had made sure not to touch anything and locked the house up as best he could after the search. Where was she? Why was she being shot at? Who was shooting her?

Ro was his next best guess. Her brother had to know where she was. Din was more mindful of his knocks this time, he didn’t want to wake the kids. Fidgeting on the stoop Din waited impatiently. Just as he was about to go in for the second round of knocks the door cracked open, Ro wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Who - Mando? Is vor’ika okay? Are you?”

“Do you know where Kaiyah is?”

Confused by the question, Ro laughed as he brow furrowed, “She’s at home, Mando. Where you both should be.” He gestured to the pram behind the Mandalorian.

“I checked already. No one answered,” Din figured it would be strange to full-on admit to creeping through a house that wasn’t his no matter the stance on soulmates. Starting to put the pieces together Ro glanced over the full armored man, “New scars?”

“Blaster blot,” Din pointed to the area the scar had appeared.

“Pain?”

“Annoying. Why?”

“If it’s bad you would know. I don’t understand it completely but it seems like pain… Transfers? I think that would be the best way to describe it. If it didn’t hurt you it didn’t hurt her is the easiest way to say it,” Ro explained as he stepped outside. He was covered in layers of clothing, a dark flannel sat over a long sleeve shirt with heavy-duty sweatpants and at least two pairs of socks. It was stifling tonight, how could someone whose species runs hot to begin with be cold?

As if sensing Din’s confusion Ro continued talking, slipping on some boots, “After I lost my lek to a stupid plan with an Aryx I’ve had trouble keeping a steady temperature. The armor helps regulate me most of the time, but I refuse to sleep in that. Wrecks my back.” Moving down the street Ro positioned himself on Din’s right side he pointed to his left ear, also scarred over, streaks of tissues coming to an end at the nub that was left.

“Can’t hear out of my right ear either. It doesn’t seem to bother Dagon, I don’t know how. I’m just lucky I walked away from that. It’s also how you both got that bite. Kaiyah and I were… Overzealous on our Verd’goten.”

“You hunted Aryx for your Verd’goten?” Din asked in disbelief. Aryx were massive carnivorous birds, standing at double Paz’s height they were known for having a chip on their shoulder. Two thirteen-year-olds were sent to kill one of those things?

“Yeah, of course. We were stationed on the Mid Rim already, pretty close to Cerea so we swung in, nearly died, swung out,” Ro waved off the shock that was pouring off the other Mandalorian. “We each got one apiece, one of our buirs tailing us just in case. What about you?”

“A series of tests,” Din answered feeling a little self-conscious. Kaiyah hunted a bird that was ten times the size of her at thirteen while he shot a target well enough to be passed.

Ro looked over at him, “Seriously? I’m jealous. I guess my parents were more old school, they took the whole ‘show you can provide for your clan’ thing to its limits. Originally, we were supposed to track, hunt, skin, and cook the Aryx. Showing that no matter where we were we could do something for our aliit, you know? I think we passed on guilt.”

Din hummed back, he doubted that. Ro had lost what humans would have considered a limb and still beat one of those hell beasts, he deserved the recognition. “Where are we headed?”

“To someone who knows more about this shit than I do,” stopping in front of a small hut of a home, Ro banged on the door and walked inside. “Ba’buir, it’s me!"

When no one immediately answered he called to the empty house, "Please, for the love of The Maker, don’t shoot me.” Turning to Mando who still stood at the door he smiled, canines glinting in the light. “They like to show off their slugthrower and I would rather not be picking buckshot out of myself tonight.”

A yawning, grumble noise made its way to the front room, “What, Ro? This couldn’t wait ‘til morning? You know how to break a fever!” A very rumpled Nejaa wandered out from the back of the house. They were stout and they looked like a carbon copy of their son, copper skin, soft jaw with heavy brows, and a strong nose. The only differences between the portrait of Kai and the previous alor standing in front of him were that they didn’t have a beard and their hair went past their shoulders and was just starting to become silver-streaked with age.

Glancing past Ro onto the porch, they eyed Mando, “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Do you know where Kaiyah is?” Din repeated. Nejaa shrugged, “Home, prob-“

“She’s not home, Ba’buir. And someone got a new scar,” Ro interrupted, tilting his head to point to Din. "How do we tell if Kaiyah's okay? You know this whole thing can be... tricky."

“Firstly, you gotta close that door. You’re letting all the air out, ad’ika. It's hot as the hells out there.”

Now that he had permission, Din stepped fully inside the home. It was small and every available space was filled with something, jars, books, and potted planets filled all the shelves and spilled onto the coffee table. Shoved in any space they could find were portraits - holo and not - of various stages of Kai, Kaiyah, Ro, Dagon, and their children. A mythosaur skull replica hung on the entryway into the kitchen where it looked just as stuffed as the rest of the house. Hanging on one of the walls was a full-sized flag of what appeared to be their clan symbol.

It was a home, not just a house. Warm and cluttered and lived in and Din could feel it like a living thing. Grief pulsed in his chest. He wondered if his childhood home looked like this, if he ever settled down could he have this? Something like it?

“Don’t sit yet. Where’s the injury?” Nejaa barked the question nearly like a command. Din repeated what he said to Ro and included the pain before they could ask.

“Let’s take a look, sometimes you can figure out if a soulmate is dying by the scar. Not always, mind you. Scars usually show up after treatment, not after the wound is inflicted. Could you imagine that? Bleeding to death together? Ridiculous. You would’ve been dead twenty times over,” Nejaa stated. Motioning to Ro and the two slipped towards the back of the house, the former leader griping about how they couldn’t find their glasses.

Stripping off his jacket for the second time in front of his second Awaud was a little annoying. Why did they have to see everything? Din had been living just fine before coming here and he would be just fine after. He reminded himself it was for Kaiyah, for her family. If she was in trouble he could handle some poking and prodding.

Loud enough to make their presence known, but hopefully not wake the baby. The two medics walked into the room, Ro laughed about something at Nejaa’s expense before looking over, “Damn, Mando. I get Kaiyah’s little crush now."

“It’s nothing you haven’t already seen,” Din muttered, trying to deflect the compliment and surge of confidence that Kaiyah thought he was attractive.

“Not like this, you were still wearing a shirt last time.”

“If you’re wearing clothes you’re doing it wrong,” Nejaa said. The innuendo made Din’s ears burn.

Walking a circle around him, the older medic nudged his skin around. Stopping at his back they stared at not only the blaster shot but the burn that wormed its way across his back, “That neck shot yours?"

"I've never been shot in the neck," Din replied. He wasn't one to brag, but usually, the bounties were too slow on the draw.

"Neither has Kaiyah. Tilt your head," Nejaa instructed and stretched on the tips of their toes to glance at Din's neck. Humming to themself, they finished their very thorough inspection of his scars.

"Good news, I don't think she's dying. Through and through on the gut, a nick on the neck. With a few bacta pads she was hopefully smart enough to bring Kaiyah should be fine. Bad news, your soulmate doesn’t know how to protect their soft spots,” Nejaa jerked their head towards the back of the house again in a silent question of privacy.

Din shook his head and threw his jacket over his shoulders and reapplied the armor, “Neither of you knows where she is?”

Both Awauds shook their heads and Ro gnawed on his lip for a few seconds. “She’s been cagey lately. Yelled at Tann the other day for something, I don’t think she’s been sleeping either.”

“Again? This hasn’t been an issue for years,” Nejaa shook their head.

“To be fair, we were all worried about it. Kai-buir yielding like that shook things up and you know how Kaiyah can be.”

“Worried about what?” Din questioned.

“Kaiyah,” Ro sighed and scrubbed his face. “Has she told you anything? About anything?”

The Mandalorian shook his head as the kid popped out of the pram, wanting to be involved in the conversation now that it was loud enough to be ‘up time’.

“We were Rebels. Not surprising, I know. It seems like everyone in this galaxy was on one side or the other. Long story short, Kaiyah had a hard time acclimating back to civilian life. Especially after our buir died. Doing things around Arumorut helped get her back together, made her feel like she was doing something good again. Or for once.

Arumorut checked all the boxes for her, she was able to have a pattern of checking up on people and doing something about it. None of us were expecting to become alor and when Kai-buir… retired, for lack of a better term, it was her that stepped up. Between Kaiyah and Ba’buir they were able to keep things running.

People kind of expected her to find her soulmate and step into the role fully. When it didn’t happen right away people got frustrated but were accepting of it. Now I think it’s just been simmering too long.”

When Ro finished speaking he looked exhausted, not just tired from being woken up by someone in the early morning hours. A bone-deep kind of tired, the kind you never really escape.

“Where were you then?” the kid cooed along with Din’s question, his hands patting the gloves Din wore.

“Naboo, I pursued medical school there. Met Dagon there, too. I didn’t-couldn’t stay here.”

“Why not become the chieftain then? Keep the seat warm for Kaiyah?”

“It didn’t work out that way,” Nejaa started in, a defensive tone to their words. “The manda has different paths for everyone and Ro was never meant to be a leader.”

“Thanks, Ba’buir. Your vote of confidence really means a lot,” Ro drawled. He continued before Nejaa could cut in again, “We all lost a lot to the war, but I lost four parents. Nearly lost Kaiyah too, I just. I didn’t want that target on my back, the alor target. I just wanted a job I could do well, go home to my family at night, and know we were all safe. I wasn’t going to risk however long it took Kaiyah to find a soulmate.”

Bouncing the kid lightly on his knee to keep the womp rat busy, Din asked, “But I have to? When Kaiyah finds out you don’t think she’ll do everything in her power to fight Harbinger?”

“She technically can’t without a reason, it’s part of her personal creed. No unnecessary wars. Until Harbinger does something against The Way or is actively endangering Arumorut, he’s alor,” Nejaa said.

“So what happens when she finds out?” Din gritted his teeth. This was going nowhere. It seemed too… Free. Just let the manda and the Ka’ra guide you through life until you tether yourself to a person? What would that solve?

“That’s up to the two of you,” Nejaa shrugged. "You should tell her, by the way. Secrets don't keep well in Arumorut."

Translations & Lore (in order of appearance):

Kai-buir: Typically, masculine parents go by their first three letters then 'buir', femme parents go by just 'buir'.

ori'buyce, kih'kovid: all helmet, no head. Someone with an overdeveloped authority, but I thought it fit for the context of mindless dummies.

alor: leader

Verd'goten: coming of age hunt that usually takes place at 13.

buir: parent

Manda'yaim: Mandalore. Yaim means home.

karyai: open living room used for dining and relaxing. Last stronghold in a Mandalorian home.

ba’buir: grandparent

manda: heaven, collective soul

munit tome'tayl, skotah iisa: long memory, short fuse. The typical Mando mindset.

Resol’nare: six tenants, I assume this is what people are taking about when they say The Way but I would really like an answer Disney.

mandokar: the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life. The 'right stuff'.

beroya: bounty hunter

meshgeroya: soccer, football. literally means 'beautiful game'.

ad'ika: child. I tend to use it in this chapter as 'kid' depending on the context.

vod: sibling.

chakaar: general term of abuse. I have a feeling Mando kids start swearing from birth.

Edalinare: Zabraki, family.

vor’ika: little green.

tihaar: clear spirit made from fruit. It's described as a fruit brandy, but I think it makes more sense as a vodka.

Ka'ra: star. Also a myth about the council of kings that used to rule Mandalore.

Paz headcanon: I'm not the first one to have this thought but I lost the original post somewhere in the mess I call my blog. Essentially, it makes the connection that Paz Vizsla is more than likely a child of members from the Death Watch sect we see in TCW. His armor is the closest to the Death Watch colors we saw from Din's flashback and if they're close to the same age (mid-to-late thirties) it would make sense. However, he doesn't carry the Death Watch symbol (which is just Clan Vizsla's stylized shriek hawk, we see it on the Mando that pulled Din out from the bunker). So either he disagreed when he came of age or had a falling out at some point with his clan. It's a great post and when I find it I'll link it here or tag it with the rest of the Mar'eyce mess.

ba'vodu: aunt/uncle

riduur: spouse.

beskad: slightly curved Mandalorian blade.

aliit: family, clan.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x original character #din djarin x original character #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin x oc #sw fanfic #the mandalorian #din djarin #kaiyah awaud #ro donetta awaud

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