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whatsnewalycat · 5 months ago

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Passenger / Chapter 7

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Four)

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Chapter Summary: Our heroes fuck around and find out.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.1k+

Content / Warnings: smuuuuuuuuut, dirty talk, inner conflict, outer conflict, jealousy, dog grogu, the mandalorian au, fascist propaganda, not beta read

Notes: Ayooo! This “day” is gonna be split into 2-3 parts, which will conclude the story arc for Wyoming, then I’m taking a small pause from writing this to finish another ongoing series (Designated Person). This series is going to be ginormous in terms of longevity (I have at least 20 more chapters plotted out and fully intend on completing them) so pls don’t worry, I am not abandoning them. Also I switched the POV from 2nd to 3rd person and will be updating the backlog of chapters to this POV.

—

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din feels around blindly for the alarm clock and presses the big SNOOZE button, releasing a sigh into the sudden silence.

Someone else’s body heat sticks to the edge of him. He shifts onto his side and tugs at the warmth, huddling closer. It mumbles something into his chest, but trails off, weight going slack against him.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din unravels to turn off the alarm clock, then rolls back over, letting his arm fall loose over the lump beside him. The warmth wiggles closer with a groggy hum.

Prying open heavy lids, he blinks until his eyes start to adjust to the dark motel room. His surroundings come into focus gradually. Stiff sheets and body heat and a nest of blonde hair.

He draws back to look at her face, studying her peaceful dozing features. The curve of her lips and the dip of her Cupid’s bow. From this distance, he can map out all the tiny freckled constellations smattered across her face.

He syncs his breath to her quiet snores and absorbs the steady rhythm of her pulse.

Just for a few more seconds, or a minute.

It might be the only time he gets to see her in this way, so defenseless in such close proximity. Mona Lisa without the protective glass, she is precious and vulnerable.

If that much is true, who is he? The thief sent to rip her from her frame? The night guard posted to protect her? Or both, or neither, or does it even matter? Because here she is, a real life enigma, and all he can manage to be is the awestruck witness who stumbled upon her.

She starts to stir, burrowing into the crook of his neck. He should wake her up. Separate himself, at least.

It feels wrong to hold her this way.

It is wrong to hold her this way.

‘Unprofessional,’ he reminds himself, as if that were the only reason and not just one of many.

She stirs again.

This time, a yawn expands her rib cage and puffs hot down his collar. He pretends to sleep, closing his eyes as her lashes flutter against his thudding pulse.

Shit.

He braces for impact. Waits for her to come to her senses. To shove him away or pull back.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she nuzzles closer and yawns again. On the exhale, she relaxes into him.

Her weight and warmth melt through him, unclenching muscles he never knew he had. She curls and uncurls her fingers against his chest, a gentle affection that flickers up his spine. Her touch wanders to the elbow draped over her waist. It slowly roams up his arm, lulling him into a trance-like state as she skates along his bicep, then his tricep, rounding his shoulder to trace his collarbone.

When her fingertips graze his neck, heat swells at the very center of him and spills over the edges, reverberating through his body. A groan scrapes his vocal cords and his cock throbs against her belly.

Traitor.

Before panic can call him to action, Charlie arches towards him and releases this sweet, quiet gasp that empties his mind of reason.

He tightens his arm around her waist and rocks his hips, blood burning when she pushes back.

Rolling onto his back, he pulls her on top and they both moan at the weight of their hips settling together. She wastes no time working herself against him, huffing and whining in his open mouth.

He has enough sense not to kiss her, but not enough to keep his uncuffed hand from slipping beneath her shirt to explore her soft, warm skin.

“Oh fuuuck,“ she moans, body tensing as she speeds to a frantic pace.

His eyes roll back at the violent rush of stimulation. He finds the small of her back and pins her hips to his so all she can do is wriggle and whine with frustration.

“Slower,” he pants, grinding the damp fabric between their bodies, “Feel that? Just like that.”He softens his grip to guide her, nodding when she matches his indulgent momentum, “There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

“So fucking good, holy shit—”

Sucking in air through gritted teeth, he starts to gather her hair in his fist. Her hand follows on its short leash, clinging to his handcuffed wrist as he pulls her hair taut. She moans and melts against him, but her hips never miss a beat.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, spurring her faster when she chokes out a guttural noise.

Every time she slides up and down his swollen cock, a hunger inside him deepens.

He wants to feel the heat of her in every conceivable way, to explore the aching need simmering between them. He wants to strip her bare and count her freckles and fuck her senseless. He feels her panting breath on his and desperately wants to kiss her. How pathetic. He wants and wants and wants, and yet, he knows there’s no time for all of that.

Not with the way she starts to sputter and shake, heating his blood with second-circle hellfire. When he tightens his grip to wield her body against his, assuming control, she doesn’t resist in the slightest.

“Din—fuck, it feels sofuckinggood, don’t stop. Don’t stop—oh my god don’t stop don’t stop—”

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?”

She whines and digs her nails into his wrist, nodding frantically, “Yes yes yes yes yes—”

All her muscles go tense and gasping steals her breath. It returns to her a moment later with a choked sob and shaking limbs while his heartbeat pounds through his body, thick and hot, growing louder and louder until it consumes him completely.

He groans, hips stuttering against her as the warmth of ecstasy washes over him.

They go slack-limbed in the moments that follow, liquefying into a throbbing, panting puddle on the mattress.

It’s what heaven must feel like, he thinks. Blissed out and serene, the weight of her ironing out every adversity he’d ever faced into a single flat line leading to this. Leading to her.

The saccharine thought sours on his tongue.

What the fuck am I doing?

—

What the fuck am I doing?

Charlie pokes at her half-eaten cheese omelette a few times before wrinkling her nose and pushing the plate aside.

As she folds her legs up in the squeaky wooden booth, she allows herself to glance across the table at Din, whose aviators are fixed on her. She doesn’t know that he’s looking at her but she does all the same. No proof except whatever gnaws at her stomach lining.

“Just like that… There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

Heat rises to her face.

Averting her gaze, she searches for words to start idle chit chat, but comes up blank. Her mind keeps wandering back to the ghost of his touch.

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?”

She squirms a little, then buys herself some time by taking a slow sip of lukewarm, watered-down coffee.

This silence isn’t normal.

She needs to act normal.

Make conversation. Just don’t mention what happened, because it couldn’t have happened. There’s no way she would allow… that. This.

No. Not a chance. It didn’t happen.

It was a dream, that’s all.

A really really hot dream.

Drawing a deep breath, she tries on this new version of truth and finds enough comfort to let her shoulders fall away from her ears.

RULE #5: Live in the now.

Onward and upward.

Today I will paint the sign and play a show and take every moment as it comes.

She digs the notebook from her rucksack and pulls the pen from its spine. Flipping to a blank page, she finally breaks the silence.

“How big would you say the Giddyup sign is, ten by five?”

Din takes a sip of coffee, then shrugs, “Ten by eight.”

“Ten by eight?” She frowns, visualizing both ratios on the paper, and concedes, “Ok, yeah. That seems about right. Thanks.”

Using her thumb as a benchmark, she sections off the page in a rough 5:4 grid. While outlining her design, she watches Din at the edge of her vision, who scans the cafe between sips of coffee.

“So after this, we pickup clothes from the laundromat, pick up the pup, and head over to Paul’s?”

“Yes.”

“My first set starts at eight. Figure I can get most of this done by… pfff, I dunno, five? Maybe six, depending. I’ll have to make myself presentable, eat something, then we can head over to Outlaw.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Got any song requests for me?”

She looks up at his silence and finds his aviators fixed on something across the room. Right in his crosshairs, the waitress jots down a bald man’s order.

Of course he’s enamored with the waitress. Why wouldn’t he be?

She has a kind, gentle way about her. She’s delicate and ladylike. She has long, shiny hair and a contagious smile. She probably showers every day. She probably reads the Bible and young adult novels between assigned texts for her nursing school program. She probably has childhood friends and a five-year plan and regular communication with her family.

Most people are into that sort of thing.

So sure, it makes sense that he perks up like a dog earning table scraps every time she stops by their table.

RULE #9: Do not get attached.

It doesn’t matter that he likes the waitress. Not in the big scheme of things, anyway. She should utilize his tongue-wagging, not detest it.

The logic is sound, but the feeling inside her doesn’t change.

Cloying and desperate.

So fucking stupid.

If she were traveling with him under her own volition, she would’ve parted ways with him before this had a chance to germinate.

Yesterday, probably.

This morning at the latest.

Right after she woke to find her body curled up against him, his arm draped over her side. His skin felt so warm and good on hers. Comfortable.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Din shifts.

She looks up from her gridlocked mountain range in time to see him pull his shoulders back and puff his chest out.

Predictably, the waitress approaches their table and begins picking dirty dishes off the table, “Can I get y’all anything else?”

“Just the check is fine,” Din answers.

“Excellent.” She props the stack of plates on her hip so she can pull the bill from her apron. Placing it face down on the table, she smiles at him, “No rush, just whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

Charlie gives her a polite smile when she departs, then watches Din’s attention follow.

Red flares through her, a bull in a china shop.

Fuck. This.

She flips her notebook closed and tosses it in her rucksack, “You should invite her to the show.”

His focus snaps back to her. “Why would I do that?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs, taking out her wallet to evaluate its contents, “Seems like you’re sweet on her. Might as well give it a shot.”

He draws back and frowns, studying her too close for comfort.

She grabs the check, doing some quick math before teasing, “Wow, you’re a cheap date.”

“What are you doing?”

“Buying breakfast.“

“There’s no need—”

Waving him off, she wriggles out of the booth and swings her bag over her shoulder as she starts towards the cash register.

He catches up with enough time to hiss in her ear, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“All set?” The waitress smiles between them.

“All set.” Charlie hands her a stack of fives under the check, “The change is for you.”

“Oh, well thank you. I appreciate it,” she punches the total into the register.

“Yeah, of course. It was delicious. And the service was excellent, obviously. But, umm… Hey, you know, if you’re not busy tonight, I’m playing a few sets at Outlaw. You should come.”

Din’s glare burns a hole in the back of her head, lending her a sick sense of satisfaction.

The waitress blinks up at her, eyebrows jumping a little, “Oh, are you guys in a band?”

“No, just me and my guitar. He’s security,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder at Din, but doesn’t dare turn around. “Anyway, no pressure or anything if you have plans already. But if you don’t, it’ll be a good time.” She leans in closer and drops her volume, “Between you and me, I think he would like it if you came.”

The waitress chuckles a little, glancing at Din before tucking a wave of hair behind her ear, “I have to check to make sure I don’t have plans, but… Yeah, maybe.”

“Perfect! Oh—My name is Charlie, by the way,” she nods over her shoulder, “The big guy is Din.”

“I’m Marla.”

“Marla,” Charlie repeats, trying to regulate her manufactured enthusiasm, “We’ll see you later, then, yeah?”

A coy smile spreads across Marla’s face, eyes flicking to Din before she nods, “I’ll see what I can do.”

—

In the swollen silence of the laundromat, Charlie plucks a freshly-toasted shirt off the clean clothes pile, glancing at Din’s sharp movements beside her as he does the same.

She swallows the frantic buzzing in her chest that urges her to smooth the tension.

It was the right thing to do. There needs to be enough distance between them for her to find the escape hatch.

Discomfort is temporary. This discomfort is necessary.

She cannot let it get to her.

RULE #3: Keep your wits—

Din chucks a balled-up shirt back into the pile and spits, “Are you taking this seriously?”

“The laundry?”

“I told you we need to keep a low profile.” He He faces her, all rigid and puffed up, “First it was the show, then the sign, now you’re trying to get us in with the locals—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way. I got you a deal with Paul and a date with Marla, plus I’ll get spending cash—”

“We shouldn’t even be in public, let alone keeping a social calendar. You don’t understand how dangerous it is for us to be visible.”

“Do you really think Marla from The Pantry Cafe is going to ping my location to all your buddies?” She scoffs, trading her folded shirt for her crumpled up pair of jeans. “I highly doubt anyone here gives a shit about me.”

“That’s not—” He sighs, propping a hand on his hip, “If someone from the guild picks up your trail, they will come for you.”

She rolls her eyes and tucks the folded jeans in her knapsack, muttering, “What then, you won’t get your finder’s fee?”

“It’s not about that, it’s about your safety.”

A voice at the back of her head reminds her she’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

She almost listens to it, too. Until Din opens his trap to drive his point home further.

“I know what these people are capable of—”

“Kidnapping and murder, I assume.”

“There are worse things.”

She turns to him and blinks, “Scare tactics, Din? Really?”

“Not a scare tactic. A reality check.”

“Oh my fucking—”

“You’re being reckless and you know it.” He squares his shoulders, jabbing her chest as he grinds out, “Tighten. Up.”

Swatting his hand away, she scowls up at her reflection in his aviators. Her fingers twitch with the impulse to rip them off and stomp them to pieces.

“You know what? Fuck you.” Searching his face, she envisions barbed wire and life sentences. She hardens to stone and doesn’t dare fucking flinch as she speaks.

“You keep acting like you’re doing me some big favor because you’re not an absolute fucking ghoul to me. You fucking stand there and say it’s about my safety like you’re protecting me or something, but you’re not. You are protecting an investment. Din. The dollar sign attached to my head. You said it yourself, I am nothing to you but a payload.”

A bitter laugh escapes her, resentment bubbling up from an old crack in her heart, “You don’t give a shit about my well-being. My fucking safety? Fuck off. You’re delivering me to the same fucking slaughterhouse they would.”

Every visible sign of anger sloughs off him like dead weight, leaving him with this raw, deflated expression that undermines her certainty.

As she stares at him, bracing for a response, her own self-righteous fury withers up and dies in her chest. It turns to a plea.

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me it’s not about the money.

Taking a step back, he turns and starts shoveling clothes into his backpack. “Let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.”

It shouldn’t feel like a punch in the gut, but it does.

She nods solemnly, then falls back into place helping him clear the folding table.

—

Din crosses the vacant road from Jackalope Motel to Giddyup Auto, holding Grogu’s leash taut at his side so he can’t wander.

Dawn begins to eat away at the night sky, dusty orange fading to light blue, leaving only a tiny sliver of dark over in the west. Daylight dyes wispy eastern clouds blood red and banishes morning fog, drying up the damp that collected overnight.

Ahead of him, Charlie’s dusty green knapsack sags from her squared shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pendulum with each purposeful stride. She keeps her spine straight and her eyes forward and an invisible yardstick between them, as she has since their spat in the laundromat.

The distance is necessary, though. For both of them.

Somewhere along the way, he allowed the line drawn between them to become blurred. He lost all definition. It never should have happened in the first place.

He should be grateful she had enough sense to pull the trigger this time.

Grogu perks up and lets out a small, “Boof.”

Din tears his eyes away from Charlie’s backpack to see Paul emerge from the shop, waving at Charlie, who walks up to greet him. They both look back at Din, then Paul tells her something that makes her snort with laughter. It’s strange, he thinks, how she can flip her demeanor at the drop of the hat.

As he draws closer to the conversation, his ears attune to her voice.

“… this is the easy part, honestly. I should be able to finish up before sundown.”

Paul grins, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his coveralls, “Seems we’re runnin’ on the same timeline then.”

“Oh. You mean…?” Charlie shuts her mouth and glances at Din when he comes to a stop within their circle of conversation.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Paul teases. “I was just telling Miss Charlie here that the rig should be finished up quick, long as I don’t find any surprises.”

Din frowns, “By tonight?”

“That’s what it’s lookin’ like.”

“I thought it would take longer.”

“Made good time,” Paul shrugs. “Figured y’all would be itching to get back on the road.”

Grogu starts whining at Charlie, who crouches down to pet him. The dog heels and pins his ears back, lapping at her hands as she gives him all her attention.

Din clears his throat and gives Paul a nod of appreciation, “How much do I owe you?”

“Lookin’ at twelve hundred, give or take. We can settle up later.”

“Hey Paul, can I grab your tall ladder?” Charlie gives Grogu a pat before rising to her feet, “Oh, and do you have an extra stereo I could I borrow for the day? I don’t want the big guy to chat my ear off.”

Paul cackles while she shoots Din a teasing look that makes his blood pressure spike.

“Come on, I’ll see if I can’t find one for ya.”

—

CEO Pushes City to ‘Clear Homeless from the Streets’ in Open Letter to Portland Mayor.

Amidst recent controversy surrounding the growing homeless population in Portland, one local businessman speaks out on behalf of property owners.

In an open letter to Mayor Ed Kneeler released this morning, Tom Bucheron, CEO of Empire Property Management, LLC, calls for the Mayor Kneeler to “take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland,” which, he goes on to claim, presents undue financial burden on Portland property owners.

Din follows the link to a PDF of the letter, looking up from his screen to observe Charlie as it loads.

On her perch at the top of the ladder, she paints while singing along to some 80’s power ballad on the radio. The blonde bun at the crown of her head, lops from one side to the other as she bops around to the beat.

With her constant squawking and beak of a nose, she sometimes resembles an ill-tempered bird. This only solidifies the likeness in his mind. A yellow cockatiel whose domesticity never took. She screams and nips at those who dare try closing her cage door.

She glances back over her shoulder, so he drops his eyes to the screen of his tablet.

Mayor Ed Kneeler:

I call upon you today to take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland.

In recent years, we have seen a dramatic rise in homelessness, drug-related and violent crimes, and overdoses. We have also seen property values plummet as of late. I have been residential property management and real estate investment for 34 years. I’ve seen property values ebb and flow with the market, and can say with certainty that our current state is unprecedented.

Homeless encampments are epicenters for crime and disease, sprouting up through the cracks of our beautiful city and spreading at a disastrous rate. Property values suffer. As such, the real Portland citizens suffer. Those of us who have families and homes here. The real Portland citizens, we invest in our community through fellowship and commonwealth. We are the lifeblood of this city and we are suffering dearly. Dually so are Portland property owners. Our property values plummet with the blight of homelessness. Not only that, but we also foot the bill for welfare and social programs with our taxes so that the City can enable the miscreants that come in droves to suck up our resources.

In a lineup of cities comparable in size and population density, Portland stands out for all the wrong reasons: low property values, high crime rates, high taxes, and an epidemic of homelessness. Cities that rigorously enforce vagrancy laws reap the benefits of higher property values and lower crime rates.

It couldn’t be clearer. The City should strive to eradicate homelessness in Portland, not enable it. Today I ask that you enact a citywide ban on vagrancy and start disbanding encampments.

The only reason I ask this of you in such a public forum, Mayor Kneeler, is because I question your motives for not addressing this matter sooner.

Do you act on behalf of the real citizens of Portland, or in your own self-interest? If your peers in the Democratic Party frown upon law and order, does that affect your decision-making? While pondering whether or not to act on this problem, what holds more weight? Potential backlash to your career, or the burdens suffered by real citizens of Portland?

Please do not let your pursuit of legacy destroy our beloved city. Step up and do what’s right.

Sincerely,

Tom.

Din saves the PDF and checks on Grogu, still curled up in a ball beneath his chair. He looks up at Charlie, who went quiet when the radio started warbling the weekend forecast.

As she rolls green acres onto the sign with quick, short strokes, her fluffed-up bun still bops back and forth like she’s dancing with just her head. Probably singing to herself.

Did she tell him the truth about what happened in Portland?

It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Whether it’s true or not, she was right. He’s delivering her to the slaughterhouse.

Normally he finds comfort in this ambivalence. This time it settles like lead in his belly, heavy and poisonous.

He digs the phone from his pocket and dials Karga.

“Din! Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

He frowns, “Why?”

“The client is looking for an update on the asset. You still have it, correct?”

“Yes.”

“When can they expect your arrival?”

His gaze wanders to Charlie, painting away without a care in the world. Guilt twists his stomach raw.

“What do they want with her?”

A beat goes by before Karga responds.

“They didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. Neither should you, if you know what’s good for you.”

Din looks down at the gravel and nods. “I’ll have her there by Sunday at the latest.”

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #passenger

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kenobiwanx · 1 year ago

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din djarin x oc commission ✨️

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kaysfanficcorner · 2 months ago

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Out of This World Chapter 12: Last Night of an Empire

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader/OC

Summary: While on Nevarro, Din Djarin and his friends are joined by new Mandalorians when they take down the planet's last Empire base. He and the Earthling must wrestle with news that will change the direction of their quest.

A/N: Welcome back to Out of this Word! Not too much to say about this chapter besides I hope that you like it! Please continue to enjoy (or endure) my bastardization of the cannon events and my sweet soft Din Djarin as he figures himself out.

Mando'a: jate vaar'tur - good morning ner cyare verd - my beloved warrior

Warnings: Fluff; Soft Din; Cursing; Mentions of drinking; Me taking the liberty to ship two cannon characters who don't normally get shipped; Sci-fi violence; Blaster use; Off screen death; Angst

As always, strictly 18+ and minors DNI

AO3

*****

The following morning, you wake to the scent of spiced sugar and caf. You can hear movement over in the corner of the room, the distinct sound of plates and utensils being set on a table. Din's heavy body is clearly no longer in bed with you, so you assume it's him that you hear rummaging around. Green Bean is tucked under your chin, that much you are aware of without having to look. You can feel the warmth of his little body pressed to your chest, his steady breathing audible just below your head. One of his long ears is resting on your collar bone. A tiny green hand is balled up in your shirt. Sunlight is bleeding in through the window across the bed, you can sense that it'll be bright when you eventually open your eyes. Just as you think you've mustered up the courage to make yourself do it, you feel a presence come up to your side of the bed. A bare hand runs through your hair, and you feel something hard and cold press to your temple.

“Come have breakfast, love,” Din's pleasant sounding, modulated voice is in your ear. Then he lifts up and you feel the pressure of the helmet against your head subside, leaving you feeling somewhat empty without it. Then you feel him move the child a bit, and the kid begins to stir against you with little noises and a tiny yawn. “Adika, time to wake. I have breakfast for you as well.”

Finally feeling ready to face being up, both of your eyes pry open to look at your cosmic companion. It looks like a waking dream, the sunlight making your vision feel hazy for a moment as your eyes adjust through a squint. The silver glint of your beloved Mandalorian standing beside the bed with a bare hand held out towards you is a true vision, light dancing off of his beskar in various spots creating a blend of warm colors all around him.

“Jate vaar'tur, ner cyare verd,” you say to him in Mando'a, moving to stretch out your limbs as long as they will go while a great yawn escapes your lips. “Is that smell what I think it is? You really got the pancakes, didn't you?”

Next to you the child has also been stretching his little body out, adjusting to the morning as he rubs the sleep from his eyes with tiny fists. But at the mention of the pancakes, his ears quite literally perk up and he looks at Din with so much excitement that you cannot help but giggle.

“Damn, kid,” Din says with a chuckle of his own as the kid in question quickly climbs over your belly in order to fling himself into Din's arms. The Mandalorian gets knocked back a little, clearly feeling the force of the child's power. Laughing, Din cradles him to his chest and moves for the table. “Whoa! Alright, buddy, let me get you a plate, okay?”

“Oh great now there won't be any left for me,” you lament jokingly, “not when the dreaded bottomless pit gets his claws on them!”

“I purchased more than we probably needed, just in case,” Din says, glancing back at you with a smile riding the pleasant tone of his voice. Despite everything he has to deal with today, he seems to be in good spirits.

“I'm glad to see you in such a good mood, Din,” you can't help but point out as much as you climb from the bed, the chill of having to leave the blanket causing a shiver to run up your spine. Moving for one of the steaming cups of caf, you hold the warm thing in both hands and take a generous sip. Warmth spreads throughout your insides as the liquid hits your empty stomach.

Din looks at you and shrugs, sitting the kid down in a chair and moving to put a few pancakes on both of the plates he'd sat out on the little desk. “Calling it a good mood is a bit of a stretch. I just wanted to have a nice morning with the two of you before I have to take care of this unpleasant business.”

“That's fair,” you say, moving to sit in the seat opposite the kid. A frown finds your features as you look up at Din with worry in your heart. “I don't like that he and I have to stay behind.”

“Cyar'ika, you know it is for his safety.”

“I know, but your safety will be driving me nuts until you return to us.”

“I will do everything in my power to come back to you in one piece,” he says as he places your breakfast down in front of you, his free hand finding the back of your neck. The kid is already inhaling his food across from you.

“Please do, my love,” you say with a humorless laugh, looking down at the Nevarrian breakfast cakes you love so much. Dark red in color and similar enough in design and preparation to pancakes from Earth. They look almost like dark red velvet cake but they are made from a local root vegetable of the same red color and have a very pleasant earthy taste to them. Served with a sweet sauce similar to maple syrup but spiced in a way that feels both familiar and completely foreign at the same time. The texture is similar to that of a bao bun. This quickly became one of your favorite local foods after landing on Nevarro all those months ago, and your mouth is currently watering at the prospect of getting to eat it again now. “Thank you for picking up breakfast. What a nice way to wake up. But what about you? Did you eat already?”

“I can eat in the fresher,” he replies simply, shrugging again.

“I feel bad making you eat in a bathroom,” you say with a grimace.

Din shakes his head, “You're not making me do anything. It's either that or wait for you to be done, and I want to eat this while it's still warm. We haven't really used the fresher yet so it's still fairly clean.”

“Well what if you sit on the floor in there and I sit on the floor outside of the door and it's kind of like we're eating together?”

“That could work,” he agrees, fixing himself a plate. Patting the kid on the head, he parents him a little as he says, “Not so fast, buddy. You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache if you eat this too quickly. A sweet breakfast is an indulgence meant only for once in a while, not something we're meant to eat a lot of when we first wake.”

Listening to Din guide the child as a father would a son makes your heart flutter in your chest, the feeling of it almost painful. “You know, I think you're starting to do the whole 'parenting' thing more than I do.”

Din sighs, “I'm starting to have trouble controlling it.”

“You know my opinion on the matter,” you say, shooting him a pointed look. “I think it's the best thing we can do for him.”

“I know,” his modulated voice sounds so soft to you as he agrees, “I do not think you are wrong about that. Not anymore.”

You wave him off, not dismissively but in a way that gestures for him to keep moving. “We can discuss this at another time, please go enjoy your breakfast while it's still warm.”

Din moves over to the fresher, entering it with one final glance over to you before shutting himself inside.

Looking at the child you ask, “You mind if I go sit over there to be with him, kiddo? You can come too if you want.”

The kid looks up at you from his nearly finished plate of food and shakes his little head, smiling at you with a sticky looking grin. He's definitely going to need a bath after this.

Moving with your own plate and utensils in hand, you move over to the fresher door and plop yourself down onto the ground with your legs criss crossed. With your body sitting so that your right side is pressed into the door, you lean your head against it as you cut and fork yourself a bite of food.

When a moan of pleasure erupts from your lips as they surround the first sweet morsel to touch your tongue, a laugh comes from the other side of the door. It sounds as if he's also leaning against it with how close his voice is.

“They are particularly good today, aren't they?” Din's muffled words come from the other room, sounding as if his mouth is full.

“Thank you again for breakfast,” you reply, placing a hand to the door as you chew. A weird little pang of disappointment strikes you, wishing briefly that the three of you could eat together like a normal family. But that thought makes you feel a little guilty, so you push it away.

“You're welcome. I was mostly kidding yesterday, but then when I woke up this morning it sounded good. I figured why not,” his voice replies.

Your eyes flick over to the kid, checking to make sure he's okay while also mulling over the previous day's revelations about Moff Gideon. Din told you that story months ago, and the name was not lost on you when Bo-Katan said it. You knew before he said anything that Din was incredibly stressed out to know the child's biggest threat was still breathing after all.

“Kinda feels like we're stress eating, though,” you say, mouth half-full after taking another hefty bite.

Din sighs from the other side of the door, “I'm not going to lie to you and say I'm okay right now. I'm far from okay.”

“Is it Moff Gideon?”

“Yes. If he knows the kid is alive that's a huge problem. That means we're being hunted and have been this whole time.”

“But if you thought he was dead, odds are he thinks you and the kid are dead too.”

“That's a big if,” Din replies solemnly. “Hopefully, Bo-Katan's information is good. Perhaps taking the kid to the Jedi will ultimately be the safest thing for him.”

Looking back over to the little green child you love so dearly, who is about to start crawling across the table to help himself to more pancakes at any minute, you groan a little in frustration. “Please don't say stuff like that,” you mumble, hoping he can't really hear you.

But he can hear you, replying with, “I'm just being honest. If Moff Gideon is still looking for the kid we could be on the run for years. Potentially the rest of our lives. Do you really want that for him?”

You sigh, “You know that I don't. But who's to say he wouldn't still just be on the run with different people? With strangers, Din. It upsets me to think about it, and I'm tired of all these hypotheticals. Until I see a Jedi with my own eyes I don't want to speculate anymore. The speculation is driving me crazy.”

After a beat Din simply says, “I can respect that. I'll drop it for now.”

You get up to put some more pancakes on the kid's plate before he can crawl across the table to make a mess. Once he's happily supplied again, you lean down to gently kiss the top of his head.

“Love you so much, kiddo,” you whisper against him.

He chirps in response, a sticky hand rising up to touch your chin. The tackiness of the contact makes no difference to you. Wiping at the spot with the back of your hand, you move back to the floor and the three of you resume eating your breakfasts in silence.

*****

Outside of the Inn, Cara is waiting there for your party to emerge with a cheerful look on her face despite the day that lies ahead of everyone. Given that the last time you saw the Alderaan native she was walking off to her house with Bo-Katan walking decidedly close, you can't help but feel the urge to press her a bit on the subject.

“You look entirely too pleased with yourself, Cara,” you say with a teasing, joyful laugh.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she says aloofly, moving to greet the child in Din's arms without looking over at you once.

“Mhm, sure. Seems to me like I'm not the only one shacking up with a Mandalorian anymore, that's all.” Grinning at her widely, you throw an elbow into her side when she stands back up.

With a roll of the eyes she shoots you a playful glare. “Is this my payback for trying to play matchmaker between you and Mando?” After she says this to you, she looks right at Din, “You're welcome, by the way. I never said anything to you before but I can tell you two are good for each other. You've got to hold on to that for as long as you can.”

“Have you two been talking about me when I'm not around?” Din asks, tone sounding as if his eyebrows are all the way to his hairline.

“Of course we have,” Cara chuckles, sending a smirk your way.

“Duh. We're girls,” you agree, grinning at your cosmic companion. “If there's one thing we ladies like to talk about it's our love lives.”

“Nothing happened, by the way,” Cara says to you, tone shifting.

“Oh, I'm sorry to joke about it then,” an embarrassed frown finds your mouth.

“No, no, it's a good thing,” she smiles broadly, “She came back to my place for a drink and we just talked. We talked for what felt like the whole night. It wasn't the whole night, but it was definitely a long time. Probably too long, considering the sleep we should have been getting. I didn't want it to end. First it started as bonding over war and losing our home worlds, but then as the night went on it just became fun to talk to her. She's so funny.”

Din pipes up beside you, voice incredulous as his head whips towards Cara, “That woman does not seem to have a funny bone in her body.”

Cara shoots him a vicious glare, “That's rich coming from you,” the warrior woman says to him. Then points over at you while still addressing Mando, “When she told me how 'hilarious' you are I couldn't quite believe it either.”

“Alright, alright. Simmer down you guys,” you say with both hands up, stopping this before things get ugly, even in a friendly sense. “Cara, whatever transpires between you and the princess, we're happy for you and hope for the best.”

“Ugh, don't call her that,” Cara responds sourly, hiding the bashful look on her face by turning her head away. You swear on Jupiter that you can see a blush creeping up her cheeks. Cara Dune of all people.

That might be the craziest thing you've seen since Din blew up that fucking sand lizard.

*****

Seeing the mission group off feels so strange to you all things considered. To share a Keldabe kiss, a mirshmure'cya as you have learned it is also called, with Din in front of the three Mandalorian spectators feels like a violation of your privacy. Which is wild in and of itself because you're normally one to fully support and want public displays of affection. You usually have a hard time not hanging all over Din when in these serious social settings, preferring to have others know just who you belong to. But when Din leans forward to press his forehead to yours and you can see Bo-Katan and her associates making judgmental faces from the corner of your eye, you suddenly wish for closed doors more than anything. Or for them to just have their fucking helmets on so you can't see their reactions.

The two of you softly exchange the Mando'a declarations of love, as well as promises to stay safe. You can't help but say it quietly, self conscious that the other Mandos will judge your accent. Or judge the fact that you spoke Mando'a at all. The kid babbles up at Din with worried little noises, causing your Mandalorian to show him some extra attention for a moment before you all part ways.

Din, Cara, Greef and the Mythrol bookkeeper are all to ride off on a landspeeder. Bo's crew are to use their jet-packs to survey the situation and intervene from the sky. You and the kid are to stay close to the inn and keep your com-link open to Din's frequency at all times.

Greef Karga slips you a few extra credits before he hops on the speeder, declaring that the money is for both food and for you to gather things the Razor Crest may need for its journey onward. The amount seems entirely too generous, but you take it without much of a fuss.

You stand there and watch them go, waiting until you can no longer make out the silver glint of Din's beskar in the distance before you turn around to leave. The mission begins, and it's just you and the child from here on out.

So with the child in Din's brown satchel at your hip, you head back into town to explore the city you've seen grown so much in the nearly nine months it's been since you first got spit out here. As much as you dislike the gross analogy, the timeline makes it feel almost as if the city had been pregnant and is now giving birth to this sprawling, beautiful new place. Each time you and Din have returned she's been further along, and now she's labored for prosperity that is truly impressive to see.

New businesses have popped up everywhere, ranging from a variety of services. The open air market is still in the same place, selling all sorts of local produce and goods. The streets are so full of life, people of all ages and various species out and about in the bustling town. Everything looks so clean and well maintained, with new landscaping everywhere to give the city an extra pleasing atmosphere. You can't help but think that this would be a nice place to live if things ever really came down to it. Greef practically begs you and Din to stay every time you see him, and you wonder if part of it is that he knows it would make him look good to have a Mandalorian on the payroll. Perhaps some of it is about friendship. Perhaps, though, Greef Karga is a true politician now and he wants any who may oppose him to take him seriously. When people see beskar armor, they tend to stand up a little straighter.

Either way, if Din were to ask you to settle down one day it would not upset you for it to be here. This planet has a nice climate, so far the seasons don't seem too harsh. You and Din have friends here. For as many beautiful places you've had the privilege to visit, this one seems to make the most sense for some reason.

A whiff of something wonderful catches your attention, head turning to see a shop selling soaps, lotions, candles, teas, and that sort of thing. Looking down at the kid, you grab for his little hand and run a thumb over the green flesh there. “Well, my dude, we're going to have to kill a decent amount of time today. I say we go shopping. I could use a few things for the space RV and I wanna see if we can find a nice present for your dad. I want to do something kind for him. He does a lot for us, Green Bean, and I think we should thank him in some way. What do you think?”

The kid looks up at you with an expression of agreement on his tiny face, cooing with a nod.

With a smile, you reply, “Maybe we can find a little treat for us as well, huh?”

The kid says an excited little, "patu," in response, and you head into the shop with a mission of your own in mind.

*****

Din's been through this sort of thing so many times in his life that it honestly feels a bit like going through the motions at the start of this siege mission. The base even looks exactly like every imperial establishment he's ever had the displeasure of entering. Sleek dark metals everywhere and ridiculously spaced out hallways and rooms. If there was one thing the Empire loved to do, it was waste space.

Everything goes as planned, until the group gets further inside the base and come to realize that the skeleton crew Cara had promised was much more than that. Fortunately, Greef had been right when he said that everyone's skills combined was the kind of manpower they needed to get this job done. The initial scuffle doesn't last long, but blasterfire and hand to hand combat rise in a short lived cacophony that surely alerts the other stormtroopers and imperial officers to their presence. So the group quickly splits up into three parts, with Greef, Cara and the Mythrol heading off to flood the lava systems and blow this place to hell. Koska and Axe head off to secure the Mandalorian weapons, which leaves Din with Bo-Katan on the hunt for any clues about Moff Gideon.

As they slowly make their way down the corridors, weapons drawn and at the ready, Din notices Bo-Katan briefly look over at him from the corner of his eye. With the helmet on, it feels impossible to get a read on her.

“Back in the city, did that girl you're with speak Mando'a? I thought I heard her tell you that she loves you in our language.”

“That woman,” Din says pointedly, keeping his vision forward, “spoke our language, yes.”

“And yet she does not wear beskar?”

“She is not Mandalorian,” he replies, feeling tired of this conversation already. A couple of stormtroopers round the corner and both Mandalorians easily take them out.

Bo keeps talking once that set of troopers are down for the count, stepping over one, “I also saw you share a Keldabe kiss with her.”

“What does it matter?” Din snips.

“I am merely intrigued. Where is she from?”

“A planet far from here. Not of this galaxy, even.”

“Oh yes, I believe Marshal Dune mentioned something about that.”

“I don't see how this is relevant to the mission,” Din replies, feeling tense as he checks his helmet's heat vision for more enemy signatures up ahead. “Three more in this next room.”

The two of them quickly take down the two troopers and one officer, who Bo interrogates for information about Gideon. He turns out to be completely useless, so she quite literally tosses him to the side and the Mandalorians continue moving.

Din nearly lets out a frustrated noise when Bo-Katan keeps going with, “I simply find it interesting that she has such an understanding of our culture. Or your version of it, I should say. She has truly never seen your face, then?”

“Not once,” he replies, mouth tightening as he glares at her, willing her to feel it.

“To love someone and never know their face. That is truly a remarkable thing to ask of another,” Bo says evenly, but in a way which makes Din's blood start to simmer with how smug it comes off.

He hopes the offense he has taken with her statement is laced within his tone, “What makes you think I have ever asked anything of her? She acts entirely of her own free will.”

Bo-Katan shrugs, back against the wall as she moves to check around the next corner. Giving the all clear signal, she then says, “I do not mean to imply anything. The dynamic between you is interesting. In a good way.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Din says flatly, moving to follow her.

“I will say this, though: Our ancestors lived the way that you do, and eventually they chose to stop. They chose to live freely.”

“Who's to say I don't live freely?”

“Many people, if I had to guess.”

Ouch. She's not wrong, much as Din hates to admit it. You are truly the only person he's ever met outside of The Tribe who doesn't see it that way.

“Is there a point you are trying to make, Lady Kryze?” Din smirks to himself as he says her title with a sarcastic tone, only lamenting that he cannot see if it irritated her or not.

He's grown weary of this woman appearing out of thin air just to turn everything he's ever known about being a Mandalorian on its head, making these grand statements and saying things in a judgmental tone. The way she talks is getting on his nerves more than anything. If this wasn't about Moff Gideon or the kid, he would have gladly let Cara handle this part of the mission in his stead.

Bo-Katan looks at him, shoulders squaring as she says, “Only that being a Mandalorian has nothing to do with wearing that damn helmet.”

He's a little taken aback with how much that statement seems to gut him, stopping in his tracks for a moment. “That is not what I was raised to believe,” Din says quietly.

“I understand that,” she replies, sounding more like she's the one who is annoyed now. “I take it you were found by the watch as a young child?”

He nods, and they resume moving forward. “I was eight years old. My home world was destroyed and I was rescued by a Mandalorian. He took me in and I became his apprentice. I swore the creed when I was fourteen. Not that it means anything to you.”

Now Bo-Katan is the one to stop walking, regarding him. Her tone is quite serious, “I may not agree with your religious beliefs, but the fact of the matter is that you have been raised in this culture from a young age. You speak our language and you wear our beskar, you tell our stories to your children at night and you sing our songs. My planet is gone. My way of life as I knew it is gone. But my people are not gone. Koska and Axe do not tend to agree with me, but I truly believe that the way forward is to unite all Mandalorians, regardless of their beliefs. If you took that helmet off right now, it would not make you any less of a Mandalorian in my eyes. I would still welcome you on my quest to take back our home world and offer you a place in my crew.”

“If I took this helmet off, I would not be a Mandalorian at all. I would be an apostate,” Din says matter-of-factly.

Bo-Katan makes a frustrated noise, “That is entirely up to you, then.”

As they move forward to the next room, Din informs Bo-Katan of only one heat signature through the doors. Just then, Axe calls in on his coms to Bo that he and Koska have successfully loaded the weapons onto a vessel and they are ready to depart. She gives them the order, and Din realizes that they are stealing a ship as well.

“That wasn't part of the plan,” Din's voice fires angrily. Just as he says this, alarms start sounding overhead and he knows that a squadron of TIE Fighters are going to be sent after them. Worry for his friends, and for you and the kid back in town floods his system.

She shakes her helmeted head at him, voice sharp, “That wasn't part of your plan. I told you, I need ships to carry out this mission. Now come on, we're running out of time and I still need to know where Gideon is hiding from me.”

Din's coms go off just then, and it's Cara letting him know that the coolant keeping the lava at bay has been disabled. They now have fifteen minutes to get the hell out of there.

“Shit,” he exclaims.

He and Bo-Katan quickly move into the next room, and much to Din's shock standing on the other side of the door is the scientist Din had dealt with last year. The one he should have killed when he had the chance, apparently. The timid man seems to recognize Din immediately, a look of horror overcoming the dark features of his face as he adjusts his spectacles with a shaky hand.

“The M-mandalorian,” he stammers, backing up slowly into the lab behind him. The room is full of scientific equipment of all kinds, and he's headed towards a table filled with glass jars of varying liquids.

“You,” Din says, belly dropping.

“You know this man?” Bo asks with surprise in her voice, weapon trailing on the scientist.

“He works for your Moff Gideon. Tried to experiment on the kid last year,” Din explains loosely, blaster pointed right at the doctor's head.

The scientist looks hopeful at the mention of the child, and Din wishes he hadn't just said that as the man speaks, “I was under the impression that both you and the specimen perished last cycle. Do you mean to tell me it is still alive?”

“I am not telling you anything,” Din replies evenly. He already knows that he's going to have to kill this man when they are through with him. He cannot risk this information getting anywhere near Moff Gideon.

Bo-Katan takes the lead then, moving to slam the scrawny man up against the wall. Then she throws him down onto that table of glass jars, and the man cries out in agony as the broken glass and unidentified liquids assault his back.

“Where is Moff Gideon?!” She snarls, ripping the helmet from her head so that the scientist can see the ferocity in her wild eyes.

“Please, I will tell you anything you want! You do not have to hurt me!” The man is practically sobbing already, clearly not cut out to handle much pain.

And so he does, he tells Bo-Katan every single thing she needs to know to finish hunting down Moff Gideon. He even confirms that Gideon is in possession of something called a darksaber, whatever that means. She looks so pleased by the end of it, as if she can already taste some sort of victory around some unforeseen corner. Din's slightly troubled by her intensity, but he can't be bothered to worry about that as he leans over the squirming little man and grabs him by the shirt collar.

Bo-Katan warns that they only have seven minutes to evacuate the base, so Din gets to making quick work of his own interrogation.

Lifting him up by the shirt, Din gets right in his face as he demands to know, “Does Moff Gideon think the child is dead? Tell me!”

Flinching, the man nods, “Yes! Yes, I told you already! We were under the impression that the two of you both perished last year. The child's files have been marked deceased and we have continued on with our experiments without him. Please, I promise I will not tell a soul about this. I will not reveal to anyone that you or the child are alive.”

“I know you won't,” Din replies darkly, moving to press the barrel of his blaster to the scientist's head.

*****

It's been a few hours since the mission began, and not hearing a single peep from Din on the coms is starting to make you feel a little on edge. You and the kid have been in every single shop in town, and you're currently in the last one on the block of businesses you've been exploring. This one is like a kind of bookstore, selling personal reader devices similar to the iPad and the corresponding book chips that go with them. They've got everything ranging from non-fiction flight manuals to kids books, which you are currently browsing.

The slightly younger girl working the shop comes over to ask if you need any help, and you look down at the kid for a moment before addressing her. “Actually, do you have any recommendations for child appropriate chapter books? Something with some adventure maybe?”

“For the little one you've got there?” She asks, moving her blonde hair out of her face as she peers down at him with hazel eyes. “Yes I have a few here that he might enjoy. Is he old enough to read?” Her voice is skeptical as she asks that second question.

“No, not really,” you reply awkwardly. The kid makes a noise and you stroke his head a little to soothe him. You get the sense that he doesn't like being talked about as if he's not even there, and you have sensed that about him for a long time. “I plan to read to him at bedtime.”

It's true, this is something you've been thinking about for a long time now. You may not have many great memories of your parents, but you can remember your dad reading Harry Potter to you when you were in kindergarten and first grade, during one of those rare long spells where things actually felt good at home. Every night he would read you a few chapters at bedtime, and once you both got so into it that he accidentally went on for two whole hours. Your mother had been furious that he let you stay up so late, but it had been worth her fury at breakfast the next morning as you daydreamed about broomsticks and potions and your dad hummed the theme from the movies as he read the paper. Unfortunately, this little routine didn't make it past the seventh chapter of The Goblet of Fire. When things between your parents inevitably got volatile again, your father started spending his nights at the bar or with his secretary instead of reading to you.

Painful part of that memory aside, you've longed to share a connection like the one you briefly had with your dad with the kid currently situated at your hip. Sure, you've told him the plot to every kids movie you can remember and almost every fairy tale, but you're running out of ideas and reading from an actual book is different than scrambling to remember details of a story you heard twenty years ago. You'd very much like to know what sort of fiction this Galaxy has to offer. But, in this Galaxy books are not something people seem to just have lying around, and you hadn't thought until now to see if Din could get one of these reader devices for you.

The shop clerk has been looking over the story titles with a scrunched expression for the better part of a minute, when she finally says, “Aha!” Slender pale fingers find the chip and pluck it from its place on the shelf, handing it over to you.

Enthusiastically, she explains, “This one is excellent, and my child loved it when she was about his age. We still read it from time to time. It's a trilogy, and I have a deal to buy two and get one free if you feel like taking a chance on the entire series. It's about a pirate and a princess who get trapped on a ship together. Lots of adventure, a kid-appropriate romance. Funny side-characters. Coming of age sort of thing.”

“Honestly, I think I will just take a chance. I'd hate for us to love the first book and lament not having the other two,” you say with a grin, taking the other two chips when she hands them to you. Each one is a different color with a sleek look to them, the titles of each book written in silver basic across the front.

The clerk rings you up for the reader and three book chips, and just as you're thanking her with a kind smile Din's voice is chirping from your wrist. Quickly making an exit for the street, you're just in time to see an oddly shaped black starship fly over the city, followed by a much bigger ship a moment later. The force of the two vehicles causes a gust of wind to whip past you as they both fly off from sight. Shortly after that you can hear an explosion far out in the distance.

“Cyar'ika?”

“Din? Tell me you're alright, darling,” your words come out slightly frantic. “Some fucking ships just flew by in a fight. I think one was shot down. Was that you guys?”

“I am alright,” his voice returns to your wrist, sounding like it's in high spirits but surrounded by wind. “Sounds like that was Axe and Koska. I will be back shortly and I have good news.”

“I'll meet you over by the restaurant then,” you reply. Looking down at the kid, a smile of relief finds your lips. Good news in this context can only mean that Moff what's-his-face has no idea that the kid is alive, and he hasn't been hunting you this whole time after all.

“See you soon, love,” your cosmic companion says, ending the connection.

With a great sigh, your body releases much of the tension it had been holding for most of the day. You hadn't really noticed that it was even there until you feel the absence of it now.

Making your way down the busy street, a left here and a right there, you find yourself back at the restaurant in only a few minutes. A moment later you can hear something coming towards you from above your head, and suddenly two Mandalorians are landing right in front of you with their jet-packs. One of them is your Mandalorian, so as soon as your eyes land on silver beskar your body is rushing forward to greet him. With hands on either side of his helmet and your thumbs both resting in his concave metal cheeks, you look into the black visor with a serious expression.

“Thank you for coming back to me, ner cyare verd,” you say, uncaring that Bo-Katan is watching you and listening to you speak her language. At least she's got a helmet on this time, her expression hidden from you like Din's. “Please tell me the good news is that the kid is safe.”

Nodding, one of his hands comes up to your wrist and latches on, the orange leather of his gloved thumb running up and down the base of your palm. His other hand reaches for the child nestled in the satchel by your hip, smoothing his ears back a little. The child looks up at him with such a happy expression, clearly hoping for this outcome as well. Din's visor meets your eyes again, and he explains to you what happened at the base, that the mission was a success all around and Gideon's got no idea the kid still exists.

Just as he's finishing the story of running into the scientist, who he evidently killed in order to close that loose end, Bo-Katan's crew walk up from the left. Koska has an arm slung around Axe's shoulders and the two of them are laughing quite hard at one another. You let your hands drop from Din's helmet, but his hand remains around your wrist as it dangles beside you.

Bo addresses her crew with a smirk of pride, but teases, “I take it you two defeated those TIE Fighters without damaging our newest addition to the fleet, correct?”

Axe scoffs, “You know how good I am at flying.”

“He'd be lost without me, though,” Koska says with another little laugh.

“Yes yes, she helped a little bit,” Axe teases, elbowing his friend with another chuckle of his own. “Maker, that was fun,” he says, then he turns his attention to Din. “And you're not half bad, Child of the Watch.”

Din seems to straighten next to you, the grip he has on your wrist tightening. He clearly doesn't take kindly to Axe's pestering. Before he can retort, however, Cara's group walks up to join everyone from the right. You're thankful to see that the entire mission party came back uninjured.

“A job well done,” Greef Karga says in his booming voice, clapping both Bo-Katan and Din on the shoulders as he walks up between them. “I, on behalf of all the citizens of Nevarro, extend my deepest gratitude. Nevarro will gladly be Mandalore's first official ally when you reclaim it, Lady Kryze. And you, Mando, I am once again in your debt.”

As more pleasantries are exchanged, the group migrates into the restaurant when Cara declares that she's in need of a good meal and a stiff drink. For the second time in as many nights, you're seated at a full table surrounded by friends and Mandalorians. This time, you were sure to snag a seat directly next to your partner. Greef Karga sits to his other side. The Mythrol and Axe are again at the heads of the table. Across from you Cara is seated to the left of Bo-Katan looking happy as a clam about it, while Koska is to Bo's right looking almost bored. If one were to really pay attention, which you have been, one would notice how Bo and Cara keep subtly leaning into one another.

Din's holding the child in his lap, looking down at him for a long moment before looking across the table to address Bo-Katan. “You said that if I survived today you would tell me what you know of the Jedi.”

Bo leans in over the table, her red eyebrows knitting together in a serious expression. “I can lead you to one. Take the foundling to the city of Calodan on the forest planet Corvus. There you will find Jedi Ahsoka Tano. Tell her that Bo-Katan sent you.”

Din nods in appreciation, “Thank you, Lady Kryze. I have been searching for many months and this is the first lead I've found.”

All the while, you're fighting back tears beside him as your heart sinks down to your stomach and forms a hard pit like that of some great fruit. You unconsciously reach over to run a finger over the kid's ear, getting choked up at the prospect of what this means for your family. Din's hand finds your thigh under the table and gives it a quick but firm squeeze, the man in question shooting you a look from the corner of his visor.

“The offer stands, should you ever change your mind about joining us. This extends to your aliit as well,” Bo says, eyeing you as she says the word for family. As if she is fully aware that you know the word's meaning, and is adding some underlying meaning of her own to its use now.

Sending a respectful nod her way across the table, you say, “Thank you. We are a packaged deal at this point. He's stuck with me.”

“I'd hardly call it stuck,” Din says genuinely, his thigh inching over to press into yours as he leans towards you.

“Ugh get a room,” Cara jokes, winking at you from across the table.

“Actually I think retiring to our room sounds like a splendid idea,” you agree with a yawn.

*****

Once back at the inn, Din sees your shoulders slump with an almost defeated energy and he knows that you're upset about finding a real lead to a Jedi without having to ask you about it. He felt your energy make a complete shift the moment Bo-Katan said it. He's not entirely sure he knows how to feel about it himself, but he certainly doesn't feel good.

The kid is nestled in his arms, half asleep but still fighting to keep his eyes open. On an exciting day like this, Din is not surprised to see this behavior in his foundling yet again. He's close to real sleep though, Din knows him well enough at this point. His wiggling and fighting became less fervent about five minutes ago, the tiny body relaxing against its owner's will. Using the child's lack of fight as an opportunity to put him down, Din moves to situate him in the center of the bed, pulling the covers up around the foundling as he does so. Once the child is tucked in, Din turns to face you with his hidden brow knitted in worry.

“Hey,” he says, moving towards you, a hand outstretched. The hand finds your arm and lingers there for a moment. You don't flinch away, which is already a good sign. When your eyes finally meet him through the visor, though, they're filled with tears that are liable to fall at any moment. “I know this is complicated,” Din starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“Please,” pleading desperately, you're clinging to his upper arms to steady yourself from swaying. “I cannot talk about this tonight. I promise you that tomorrow I will grin and bear it, but tonight it's just not possible. My heart feels ripped to shreds already, Din.”

“Mine is too, if it makes you feel better,” he offers lamely, trying his best to maintain a calm tone of voice despite the fact that he can feel it quivering just the tiniest bit. Maker, he's so unsure of himself in this moment. The reality of what this new lead to Corvus implies is making him feel almost woozy.

News of a Jedi's location is suddenly real, not just this thing he's chasing without a direction anymore. There had always been this teeny tiny part of him, buried deep beneath his beskar, that wished that maybe the Jedi had gone extinct. Now Din has to face the reality of the fact that they are merely an endangered species, and that one is within reach. He also has to face the reality that you have inadvertently gotten your feelings wrapped up in this situation just as much as he has. The three of you truly do feel like a family, and are now likely to be split up from one of its members. Din Djarin would never take back his decision to let you join him and the child in their travels, not after everything the three of you have been through, but he feels partially responsible for the pain you're feeling.

“No, that certainly does not make me feel better,” you reply, lip quivering, “when I think about your heartbreak that's the worst feeling of all. Fuck, Din, you deserve to be happy. None of this is fair.”

“I know you don't want to hear this but life tends not to be fair, cyar'ika.” He hates both how true that statement is and how he sounds as he says it.

Sighing, your voice sounds so desperate for relief, “Believe me, I know. But can we please just drop this for tonight and pretend things are normal until the morning? Just this one night in this comfy room away from all the shit we have to deal with out there?”

Din looks into your eyes for a long moment, feeling so frustrated that you cannot see his in return. He's not even sure if he feels that much shame for it this time. “Yes, I can pretend for this one night,” he finally agrees, moving towards the desk to start removing his armor. Unclasping the cape from around his neck, he neatly drapes it over the back of one of the chairs. The rest of his beskar soon follows.

After another moment your voice breaks the silence, saying causally, “I could use a shower.”

“I could too,” Din agrees, eyeing you. He's down to his undershirt and pants, moving to the edge of the bed to get his boots next.

A small little smile graces your lips, “Remember when we took one together the last time we stayed here?”

A similar smile finds his own mouth, “I do.”

“Would you want to do that again?”

“That sounds nice,” he replies in a pleasant tone, adding, “we'll have to wait for the kid to go to sleep.”

A look of realization crosses your features and suddenly you've become slightly energized by whatever it is that struck you.

“Well I bought something for us today and I thought it would be nice to use it tonight,” you explain, moving to pull a dark gray rectangular device about an inch thick from one of the shopping bags you'd been carrying with you.

Din noticed the bags when the three of you were reunited that afternoon and had wondered what items you had acquired. He recognizes the item as a personal reading device, meant for the consumption of books electronically. The Mandalorian used to have one ages ago but when it busted he never bothered to replace it with a new one. He'd wanted to get a replacement around the time just before the kid came into his life, having missed his mid-flight readings when he was feeling particularly alone on the Razor Crest. It's been so long since he's felt alone at all, that realization causing his body to feel incredibly warm and relaxed for a small moment in the midst of all these complicated emotions.

“What book did you get?” He asks curiously, moving to take a closer look at the thing in your slender hands.

“'The Ruins of the Exiled' is the first book in the trilogy, and the shop girl talked me into buying all three with a discount.”

“I don't believe I've heard of that series. Do you know what planet it's from?”

“Naboo, I think was what she said? I'm not really familiar with that one because we haven't been there.”

“It's a beautiful planet. I'll take you there one day. What drew you to this story?”

You shrug, “I bought it on the shop girl's recommendation. She said it was a good adventure series for kids. I've been wanting to do proper bedtime stories with Green Bean for a while now. Karga slipped me some extra credits this morning for no reason, so I figured to hell with it.”

“Well if you'd like to read to him don't let me stop you,” Din replies, moving to sit down on the bed beside the child.

Moving over to the bed yourself, you kick off your boots and climb over the covers to sit to the child's other side. The kid looks up at you, still fighting sleep as much as he can. Din almost chuckles and praises the child for his resilience, but opts not to when he considers how it may not help your efforts to coax the kid into rest. Instead he settles in to respectfully listen to you read.

And so you get the reader device setup and begin telling the kid the tale, doing little inflections here and there. You change your voice to differentiate between different characters, and to get certain emotions across. Only a few times do you have to stop to ask Din to clarify something Galaxy related for you or define a word. By the end of the first chapter the kid seems to be out cold, and you seem to be fairly pleased with yourself.

From there, once you've determined that the kid is in a very deep sleep, you get up to move over to the fresher door and silently motion for Din to follow you with a beckoning finger.

He's reminded of that night a few months back when he'd taken a chance on entering the fresher to join you. The first time either of you both saw one other's nude forms. That night is forever seared in his memory, one he plans to cherish forever. Something about it had transcended things for him. Everything between the two of you had been so new and it had been so long since he'd had any sort of intimacy like that with anyone. That felt like one of the moments you truly became his cyare, long before he'd called you that out loud in the throes of sexual passion.

This time Din finds himself entering the fresher with you, watching you as the door swishes shut behind him and you begin to peel the dark fitted shirt from your body. His hands reach out to stop you, halting yours as they lift the hem of the garment up towards your breasts.

“Wait, cyar'ika, let me do it,” he pleads, urging your hands down.

“Can I do yours, then?” You ask with a little smirk playing on your lips.

“Naturally,” he replies, moving his bare hands to find the hem of your shirt.

Slowly, he lifts it up past your navel and then over the swell of your breasts. Arms raising to aid him, you move so that he can lift the entire thing from your upper half over your head. Then he makes quick work of removing the under garment. Once they're exposed his hands eagerly move for your breasts, taking the generous handfuls being offered to him as he closes the distance between you more. Your own hands find the hem of his black undershirt, lifting up until he would need to move his arms to go up any further.

“Can you detach yourself from those for a second and help me get the shirt over the helmet? I don't wanna risk accidentally lifting it up or something,” you ask earnestly, that worried face you always make when the seriousness of his creed comes into question causing the space between your eyebrows to wrinkle.

That look always silently says you both love and respect him so much, and that his creed is this beautiful fragile thing you feel obliged to protect. Maker, how he loves that facial expression on you. He's always wanted to kiss that spot between your brows away, to assure you that he's never had anyone love him like this and you're doing so much more than you know by just being yourself. But that area of your face is always obscured by your blindfold if he's even in a position to be kissing you at all. Din sometimes wishes he could kiss every inch of you all day long, as often and freely as he likes.

He's suddenly overwhelmed by everything. Bo-Katan and the revelations she brought with her about his culture. Killing that helpless scientist in cold blood for the sake of the child. Learning that a Jedi is within grasp when deep down that's the last thing he wanted Bo-Katan to tell him. The last two days have been so incredibly taxing on his emotions, but he's just been trying to push through all of it to get on the other side. What does the other side look like, though? He looks at you, at the adoration for him in your eyes, and he feels steady once again.

Din finally unbuttons the three buttons that run along his collar bone to allow for easier removal of his shirt around the size of the helmet, giving you the access you need to finish the job. As your arm swings back down with the fabric of his shirt in hand, you accidentally bump into the light switch and inadvertently plunge the fresher into total darkness.

“Shit, sorry,” your voice breaks through the dark. He can see you with the night vision of his helmet, looking almost comical as you wave your hands around while topless. Evidently you cannot see him because you quickly declare, “It's pitch black in here. I can't see a thing! Hang on, let me find the switch.”

“Forget the switch,” Din says, and within seconds he's pinning you up against the sink, moving to lift your ass up onto the counter. “Let's stay in the dark,” his tone is shifting as he's lifting the helmet. Once the beskar passes by his vision and his head is free, he cannot see anything in the fresher either. Your form is suddenly lost to his eyes, but he feels the way your body melts against him with a little gasp when you hear the clunk of his helmet hitting the floor.

He can hear that sensual tone in your voice. He can also hear how you are consciously trying to be quiet as you speak, “Din, darling, are you bare? Did you come out of that beskar for me?”

“For both of us,” Din says, hands moving to find your face and pull it towards him. “Needed to kiss you, cyar'ika. Been needing to kiss you. So much has changed in the last few days and I need the one thing I know I can count on, which is you.”

As soon as he has a gauge of the distance, his lips are capturing yours. Those amazing, plump, gorgeously soft lips he wants to kiss for the rest of his life. And maybe more than just when these opportunities to skirt around the rules of his creed present themselves. He's not sure right now, not about that. But he's sure that he loves how good you taste, like the sweet juice of the fruit you'd had for dessert. He's sure that the feeling of your tongue darting past his open lips to massage his own tongue is making his eyes roll back in his head. He's sure that the little nibble you give his bottom lip just after gently sucking on it is going to be the death of him.

*****

The following day you find yourself at the restaurant once again, thinking idly that you hope Nevarro has procured a second eating establishment by the time you eventually come back. The food here is good, but a little variety couldn't hurt either. You also hope to hell that the next time you come back the kid seated in your lap is still with you. Maybe things won't turn out. Maybe this lead will just be another bust. But how long will Din be willing to keep this up if every lead ends up leading to nowhere? Months? Years? It's something to think about, but not at the moment.

No, at the moment Din's back at the inn eating and you've got a Mandalorian princess and her not-girlfriend seated across from you looking like they can barely keep themselves from touching one another. They are trying so hard though, attempting to maintain the tough, militant air which usually wafts around both of them. Of all the things this trip to Nevarro has spurred, whatever is going on between them is surely the thing that you're happiest about.

However, Cara just dropped some news on you and you're legitimately shocked to hear it. “So you're going to quit being Marshal of Nevarro to go help your Mandalorian take back her old planet? Which my Mandalorian says is cursed?”

“Your Mandalorian doesn't know what he's talking about,” Bo-Katan says, eyeing you for a long moment with a look you cannot read.

So you ignore her, asking Cara, “But what about you telling Mando that this place could also use a deputy? Now it will be without both?”

Cara shrugs, “High Magistrate Karga will surely find a replacement for me in due time. Hell, maybe things will go south with this Jedi and Mando will want a place to settle down with you and the little one. That tin can would make a great Marshal if you ask me. He could run this place by himself. Perhaps you could take a position at the school again. The two of you could make an honest life for yourselves here.”

Groaning in response, you gently squeeze the child around his middle and send a despairing look your friend's way. “Ugh, please do not fill my head with delusions. I'm having a hard enough time with this as it is and I promised Mando I would grin and bear it today.”

Bo-Katan's brow raises as she looks down at the child eating in your arms. “I do not understand the need to deliver this child to the Jedi to begin with. I assumed that the three of you were a family when we met two days ago.”

“It's a long story,” you say, taking a bite of your own food and a sip of your caf. “The very short version is, Mando was quested by one of his tribe elders to take this foundling to be with his own kind and by creed he has to carry out this mission. The problem is, Mando and the kid have been together for nearly two years, and I have been with them for about nine months. We look like a family because we feel like a family, and now that is about to be broken if this Jedi you're friends with takes him from us.” Voice choked by the end of that statement, you're willing your eyes not to water.

Bo-Katan's head of red hair shakes as she scoffs, “The Watch and their ridiculous rules. And you are fine with this?”

With a deep breath, you look her in the eye as you reply, “I chose to join the Mandalorian under the preface that our arrangement was to be temporary and the kid could leave at any time. I was simply the nanny. But then every lead ran cold and the months went on and my boys became the most important things that have ever happened to me. My heart has been broken since you told him about Corvus yesterday. So, no, I am not fine with it. But it is not my place to ask him to go against his creed and I vowed to him that I never will.”

“But to not live with the same set of beliefs, how can you hold your tongue?”

“I have not held my tongue. He's well aware of my feelings. He respects them, even if he can't honor them. Respect is really the key in all of this.”

“And you truly have no interest in seeing his face, your Mandalorian?”

Fighting the urge to make an unpleasant face, you answer your least favorite question about Din without trying to sound snippy. “Again, respect is key. When we met I was told how the helmet was going to work and I have respected that ever since. I am from a planet full of many different cultures, lifestyles, and belief systems. We all co-existed. Not always well, but we co-existed. Some of us were taught as children that there is no one perfect way of life. That all of them are beautiful in their own way if you're willing to put your own bullshit aside to respect and appreciate the differences for what they are. We're given the choice to live how we want and become who we want, even if others do not understand us. I was taught those values by someone very important to me. It's in my nature to allow others to claim a life that makes the most sense for themselves. If this is the life that makes sense for Mando, then who am I to tell him any different?”

Bo regards you silently for a long moment before the corners of her mouth turn upwards slightly. “The love you feel for him is palpable. And the sentiment about the world you come from; that is the kind of future I want for Mandalore.”

Quickly throwing a hand up, you explain, “Please know that my planet is not perfect. Not everyone feels the way that I do. Some of us are raised to hate other cultures so much that it creates actual wars and real ugliness with one another. Some never learn to appreciate humanity for what it is at its core.”

“Unfortunately that is not exclusive to Earth,” Cara says solemnly, eyes casting down to the table for a moment. “That's why I need to go with Bo to Mandalore,” then her eyes grow serious as she leans across the table a little to look at you squarely, “If I had a chance to get Alderaan back, you know I would do anything to try. Her quest means something to me, something I don't entirely understand but I know in my heart I need to follow that feeling. I need this more than I've needed anything in a really long time.”

After a speech like that, all you can do is send a supportive smile her way. Lord knows you felt a similar pull towards your life with Din all those months ago. “Then just know that you have my love and support and I just hope our paths will cross again one day.”

“I believe that they will,” Cara says, nodding fondly. “I think the force has good things in store for us."

*****

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lokischocolatefountain · 1 year ago

Text

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

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

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

“Stop scowling.”

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

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

“I was not.”

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

“I do say so.”

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

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

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

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

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

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

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

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

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

“Play with Grogu.”

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

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

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have….big green ears.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No moustache.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant!”

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

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

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

“Lights out.”

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

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

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

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

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗Star Wars Masterlist ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

✮✮✮One Shots✮✮✮

Too Sweet (You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready)

✮✮✮Multi-Chapter✮✮✮

Judgement Call (Din Djarin x Fm!OC)

✮Original on Ao3 here ✮Currently uploading a revamped version, with new chapters below✮

Part I: Pagodon Part II: Reward Part III: Travel Part IV: The Compound Part V: Trapped Part VI: The Egg Part VII: Nevarro Part VIII: The Raid

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dindjarinandlysakane · 2 years ago

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The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 25 - "You should stay"

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Masterlist

Chapter 25 - You should stay

----

The blue flash of the Marshal’s landspeeder siren illuminated the tears that still clung to Lysa’s trembling cheeks, with every rotation that it made.

Standing at the bottom of the small porch once again, Lysa could only stare out at the darkness of the flat desert landscape that surrounded them.

Fear now consumed her.

The idea that Crix was still out there somewhere - a terrifying concept.

Two of the peacekeepers had already gone out on their speeders to try and track Crix down. But despite his injuries, the lava flats were vast and covered in large rocks and peaks - plenty of places for a person to hide in the dark and stillness of the night.

All she wanted now was for this to be over, but it felt far from it.

Din had been furious of course, stood there now arguing with the Marshal, telling him where they needed to search first, and what they needed to do next.

Lysa chanced a glance over at him.

She was more grateful to him than words could ever say.

Everything he had done for her. Being there when she had needed him, feeling his strong arms wrapped around her. Finally feeling safe for the first time in years.

And she couldn't now ignore what he had so purposefully uttered.

Those tender words, with so much meaning behind them.

Lysa gave a swallow, gazing at him. At the man who had freed her from a lifetime of hurt and pain.

Lysa knew how she felt about him now.

But feeling a sudden tug at her skirt, Lysa looked down quickly, to see Grogu at her feet staring up at her with large dark eyes.

Swiping the tears from her cheeks, Lysa gave a small smile, bending down and picking up the small child, cuddling him into her arms.

“I haven't thanked you yet,” she said looking down at him and giving a small sniff. “I don’t know what you did-”

Lysa shook her head, lifting her hand and stroking Grogu’s cheek gently.

“-but thank you…for saving my life.”

At her words Grogu cooed up at her sweetly, as Lysa held him close to her.

Lysa had met a Jedi with powers like Grogu once before…on Coruscant…a long time ago.

But in that moment that Crix had fired the blaster, Lysa was certain that that had been the end. And to blink her eyes open and see the blaster stream hovering in mid-air like that…

…she had never seen anything like it in her life.

She looked up now to see Din and the Marshal droid IG-11 approaching.

“The Marshal has agreed to call on more peacekeepers from the City to help with the search,” Din said promptly, coming to stand close to Lysa.

“We’ll find him, Miss,” came the monotone voice of the IG-11 droid, swivelling on the spot before marching off to speak to some of the other peacekeepers who were patrolling the immediate area, guns clasped in their arms.

Lysa turned to Din.

“What if they don’t find him?” she asked in a worried voice. Pressing herself close to him, her green eyes searching his beskar-covered face. “What if he comes back?”

“They’ll find him,” said Din with a nod, but Lysa’s eyes were already worriedly scanning the dark horizon, as she chewed hard on her lip.

“Hey look at me,” said Din suddenly, lifting a gentle hand to her chin and coaxing her gaze back to him. “They’ll find him.”

Lysa stared up at Din for a few seconds before giving a nod, as he let his hand fall.

She hoped he was right.

“The device has been disarmed,” came the voice of one of the peacekeepers behind them, speaking directly to IG-11 as a second man came out carrying a crate with the detonator now sitting inside. “We’ve also done a sweep of the building. All clear.”

Lysa turned to look as the Marshal addressed Din.

“Your home is safe,” he said in a monotone voice. “I will set a patrol across the lava flats tonight to keep lookout.”

Din nodded. “I also have an R5 droid I can use to monitor the perimeter,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll get an alert if anything tries to pass through.”

“That would be useful,” replied the Marshal before dipping his metal knees and lowering his head in what Lysa could only presume was a sort of nod, before making his way toward the Peacekeepers’ large landspeeder.

Lysa gave a swallow, watching him as he went, not quite knowing what to do.

Crix was still out there. And now he had a vendetta against all three of them. A vendetta much more deadly than he had had just a few hours before.

So lost in worry, Lysa didn't even notice Din turn to her.

“You should stay here,” he said in a gentle voice through his modulator, causing Lysa to look his way. “It’s not safe for you to go back to your home tonight.”

Lysa, who hadn't even thought about the risks of going back to her apartment, let out a shaky breath, before nodding.

In her arms Grogu let out a yawn, drawing the pair's attention, as he snuggled into Lysa’s breast.

She cradled him tenderly, allowing the sweet moment to distract her from the feeling of worry that seemed to flood her every pore.

“I think he needs his bed,” she commented in a quiet voice, allowing Din to reach under Grogu’s arms and pull him carefully from her grasp.

He held his son with the care that Lysa expected of him now.

With Din, there was no malice.

Only a gentle kind of patience and calm which seemed to emanate from him.

Behind them the Marshal’s landspeeder pulled away, leaving just a plume of black dust which puffed up into their for a moment, before falling back down in the darkness of the night.

Without the flashing lights any more, the area around Din’s cabin seemed suddenly incredibly eerie and dark, and Lysa couldn't help but flinch as she heard the sound behind her. Which turned out to only be the wind, rustling the leaves on a nearby tree, almost invisible now in the dark.

“Come inside,” said Din in a firm voice, as Lysa turned back to him, giving a silent nod and gathering up her skirts in her hand, heading up the porch steps and into the warmth of Din’s cabin.

As soon as she entered, ahead of Din, her eyes scanned the floor where Crix had laid bleeding. Only to see that it was now clean of his blood, the peacekeepers and their pit droids having done their job well.

But for a long moment, Lysa couldn't help but stare at the spot, a fear washing over her.

She knew full well what Crix was capable of…and to have him out there…on the loose…it frightened her more than anything else in this galaxy.

She only hoped the Marshal and his team would do their jobs well and find him before dawn came.

She felt Din come to stand beside her, his tall form a welcome comfort.

“I have some bone broth in the conservator,” he said in a kind voice. “You should eat.”

But Lysa shook her head.

“I-I’m not hungry,” she said, giving a small frown, before looking Din’s way quickly. “But thank you.”

Din said nothing in return, just carefully manoeuvring past her and heading through a door to his left - Grogu’s bedroom.

Lysa lingered just outside the doorway, watching as Din gently placed Grogu down onto his small bed, dropping a small blanket over his middle.

But her eyes flitted swiftly away, darting over the living space she was standing in.

She felt safe here, with Din. More than she had ever done in all the time she lived with Crix.

All the pain he had caused her through the years, still there in the tiny scars and bruises that, even now, littered her skin.

But the sensation of Din’s strong arms around her had stirred feelings in her that Lysa had not been privy to for years. A feeling of warmth. Of love. A feeling that there was someone here who cared about her. Willing to sacrifice everything to protect her.

She lifted a hand and ran it down one side of her exhausted face, pressing her eyes tightly shut.

She was more tired than she had realised. The adrenaline and the shock of it all, the only thing keeping her so wired these past few hours.

Now she knew she needed rest. More than anything else.

She turned suddenly, feeling a presence behind her, to find Din emerging from Grogu’s room, the door behind him sliding shut.

Lysa peered up at him in the quiet of the night.

She could hear her own breath now in the stillness of everything, as he lingered near to her, tall and close.

There was so much now that Lysa wanted to say to him. To thank him for all that he had done.

But she could only swallow hard, tilting her head, as her eyes searched for his, behind his helmet.

Right now she wished that his armour wasn't there…just so that she could look into the face of the man who had freed her.

The man that caused her chest to constrict and her heart to pound just that little bit faster when he was near.

It was Din that spoke first, his voice low and husky in the lateness of the night.

“You can take my sleeper.”

Lysa parted her lips gently, blinking a couple of times at Din, before speaking.

“W-Will you-” she began, but Din cut across her.

“I’m going to stay up and keep a lookout,” he said stoically, giving a nod.

Lysa nodded quickly in return, her face flushing slightly.

For a moment she had hoped that he would stay with her. Not wanting to be apart from him now. Feeling so safe in his presence, it felt like it would break her to be apart from him again.

But she cursed herself for being so transparent, given everything going on.

What must Din think of her?

She held back and let Din open the door to the next room, beside Grogu’s. A room that Lysa had never been inside before.

Inside was a room exact in size to Grogu’s next door. But in here sat a larger bed, that almost filled the entire space, pressed up against the wall on one side, beneath a window. Leaving only a tight walkway around the left hand side.

Almost immediately Din moved to the sleeper, rearranging and smoothing down the rumpled sheets so that they lay neat and flat. She could almost sense his face flushing as he turned to her.

“If you need any more blankets-” he said quickly.

But Lysa offered him an attempt at a smile, the best she could manage given all that had happened tonight.

“I’ll be fine,” she said in a gentle tone. “Thank you…for letting me stay…and for…”

Her eyes searched his beskar-covered face almost desperately now. There was so much she needed to say to him. But for some reason she just could not find the words.

“...for everything.”

In the quiet of the space, Din seemed to still for a long moment, lingering there in his room just a foot or two from her.

And Lysa felt her heart begin to pound hard and fast, so many emotions coursing through her at this very moment. Not quite knowing if Din truly knew the impact of all that he had done for her.

He had saved her.

When she believed her life was far beyond saving.

A man she would never have met had it not been for a dust storm in the desert. A single decision to take a different route to avoid it, changing the course of her life forever.

Had it not been for that dust storm, Lysa would have never come upon the road that led to Din’s cabin. She would never have met Din or Grogu.

And she would never have felt that pull on her heart that she had felt every second of every day since the first time she’d met the Mandalorian.

What he had said to her tonight…surely those couldn't have been the words of a man who felt nothing for her in return…

But despite Lysa having made her decision…despite her having stood up to Crix…his words still slid through her mind like a venomous snake…constricting around every single good thought or feeling she had…making her doubt herself.

Causing her to question whether she would ever be good enough for someone like Din.

And despite their close proximity now and Lysa’s desperation to be close to him, she found herself lowering her gaze, letting it slip swiftly away from his.

And obviously taking that as his cue to leave, Din grazed past her, only stopping again when he reached the door behind her.

“Get some sleep,” he said in a gentle voice, through his modulator. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

And with that he was gone, the door sliding shut behind Lysa, leaving her alone, with only the starlight outside the shuttered window for company.

She let out an unsteady breath, dropping slowly down onto the edge of the bed, closing her eyes, as one final lone tear slid down her cheek.

No matter where Crix was now, Lysa was safe.

Finally safe.

----

Din cursed himself as the door to his Sleeper slid shut behind him with a hiss.

His heart was hammering a drumbeat inside his ribs and his breath felt non-existent in his lungs.

Why after everything that had just happened, after he had been so close to losing her, could he not manage to say what he wanted to say?

He let out a long huff of frustration, clenching his jaw beneath his beskar.

Out there, after everything, Din hadn’t been able to help himself. Professing how he felt to her, in his own stupid way.

But in amongst the chaos of everything, he doubted it was even something that Lysa had picked up on? His confession of just how much she meant to him, had been as enigmatic as everything spoken by the Mandalorains in his Creed. And Din hated that he had not been more blunt. Instead telling her exactly how he felt about her. Telling her that he -

Din gave a hard swallow.

He doubted now that she even felt the same. Din’s beautiful goddess of the sunlight. Of warmth. Of hope.

The embodiment of everything he had never known he’d so desperately wanted, until he’d met her.

These days he barely went a second without thinking about her. And even while he slept, his dreams seemed to be filled with visions of Lysa.

She meant more to him than he could ever manage to put into words.

And after all that she has been through tonight, Din so wished that he had just swallowed his pride, and his fears, and just held her until morning. Not wanting to let go.

But he knew now that she likely needed space now. A chance to ruminate on all that had happened to her tonight.

It was a shock to think that just half a day ago, Din had seen Lysa in the marketplace whilst with Karga, still certain of the fact that she would never leave Crix.

And yet, Din had seen her tonight, firing a blaster into Crix’s shoulder. And knew that, had she been more skilled with a weapon, Crix would be alive no longer.

More than anything, Din hoped that she was ok, throwing one last look over his shoulder at the closed door to his Sleeper room…

…letting out a hard sigh as he did so.

------------

@its5-15wakeup @thecraftyartist @crazypaine @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @marysucks-blog

Would you like more soon?

#din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din x oc #din ofc #mando fic #din djarin fic #din djarin oc #din djarin fluff #mando #grogu #din smut #din fluff #din x reader #din x lysa

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the-mandawhor1an · 1 month ago

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Lovebound

Chapter 13 – Guided by the stars, connected by the force

Masterlist

⇐ Previous chapter | Next chapter ⇒

Chapter summary: After their visit to the festival, a lot of things are about to happen for both Din and Arana, who has decided to leave ‘Maia’ in the past. While accepting her heritage is only the first step, the brunette is about to learn more about Mandalorians and even more about being with one.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! a little morning wood never hurt nobody; Peli is absolutely unhinged in the beginning; horny idiots; consumption of alcohol; virginity loss; yes, there is smut; Din is the king of consent; dick pronouns;

Words: 16.3k (I’m sorry)

A/N: Yeah well… it was bound to happen. They’re in love and Din absolutely wants his cyar’ika to feel said love. Lot's of Mando'a in this, translations are explained by the characters. Maia will be referred to by Arana from now on.

The night had been short and yet there was nothing for Arana to complain about. Her head felt a little heavy when it lifted off of Din’s chest to see the light of day shining through underneath the door. Lying on his body, feeling his heart beat and his steady breathing felt incredible, so intimate in this tiny storage room. Din seemed to also slowly wake up, groaning underneath her and trying to move, but seemingly realizing he had another human lying on top of him. They both ignored the commotion outside of the storage room for now, focused on the other hidden in the darkness of the tiny, windowless room. »Are you awake?« he asked into the darkness.

»Good morning, I –« she was about to answer when there was a shuffle and then loud bangs as Peli hammered against the metal door that separated the two from the mechanic. »Wake up! Got you two some food. Put some clothes on before you come out, for the love of everything. I’ve seen way too much bare skin yesterday.« The brunette flinched on top of Din from the noise, he himself groaned a little louder. Neither wanted details, although Arana halfway expected Peli to make another comment. The brunette started lifting herself off of his body when she realized something was pressing into her abdomen when her weight shifted. For just a moment she froze, a little overwhelmed with the realization that her partner must’ve been a little too excited about her being on top of him. She quickly dismounted afterwards and she thanked the Force for the darkness in the little chamber that hid her blushed cheeks in this moment.

With one hand she felt for her clothes, only to realize in this moment she had left them in the bathroom and there was only her dress in here. »Shit… my clothes.« There was another flinch when she heard Din’s ‘I just woke up’ raspy voice when his head turned to her, asking »do you need help with your dress?« As if the sensation of his hard-on hadn’t been enough to make her want to whimper, his voice was making it very hard to keep her composure. »Can I have your cape?« She didn’t want to squeeze into the dress for just a few steps. There was a moment of silence. Was he thinking what she would look like wrapped in just his cape? »Sure.«

»Hello-o? Are you alive in there? Don’t make me come in!« »We are, relax,« Din growled towards the door where Peli was apparently waiting for some kind of response. »Maia will be out in a minute.« Oh yeah, the mechanic was blissfully unaware of what had happened yesterday, including the name change. Peli probably had something wildly different in mind when it came to what the two lovebirds had done. A random woman’s name would have made her assume they had a third one in here, or something similar. Din’s body might have appreciated a different approach for last night, to be fair. It was for the best if they wouldn’t talk about this… ever. »I’ll need another minute in here,« Din let her know. Arana had a suspicion why, his not so little issue. She took his cape and got up to wrap it around her, tucking one of the corners in so it would stay in place.

With Din still sitting, one leg angled, she leaned down to give him a kiss. »I love you… and I’m sorry.« »No need to apologize.« Did he know why? »I’ll distract her,« she promised him and got back up to her feet. She felt a little bad for putting him into this situation, but then again, she didn’t expect to be confronted with an erection so soon. After Din had put on his helmet, she took a deep breath and opened the door, practically dancing out of the storage room. The door shut behind her fairly quickly. »Good morning, Peli,« she greeted the mechanic with an overly joyous tone in her voice. »Someone’s in a very good mood today,« the mechanic commented, a steaming mug of caf in her hand. »Why wouldn’t I be? Yesterday was so much fun, and I saw fireworks for the first time ever, we enjoyed some food, good music…« she slowly walked over to the bathroom, making sure the mechanic’s eyes stayed with her.

The door to the bathroom stayed open so the women could continue talking. Peli would respect her enough to not come looking. »I clearly choose the wrong men to be with…« »Maybe you do,« Arana replied, putting on her underwear and pants. »The necklace looks good,« came from the kitchen. »Thanks, the pendant is made of Beskar.« »I saw the symbol before… it’s on Mando’s armor, right?« Just for a second the brunette’s head popped through the door way, grinning ear to ear. The mechanic mimicked the expression before Arana returned into the bath to put the rest of her robes on. The rustling was audible in the hallway and probably also the kitchen. »The stars really aligned for us to be here around a holiday. The fireworks were beautiful.« »You saw them? Thought I had seen you and Mando leave the market fairly early.«

Of course the older woman assumed the two had retreated to the hangar for other activities and Arana’s behavior just enforced that thought. That became painfully obvious when the mechanic rummaged through her cabinets, asking »so how does that work with you and Mando… Business up top, party below or–« »Peli!« »Come on! Let a woman be curious. It’s not like he would tell me anything about his love life.«

»Morning,« Din announced, somehow managing to sneak up on Motto who subsequently screamed. »Holy Batha-shit,« she cursed, clutching her heart. »Didn’t expect you to just stand there. I thought Maia had knocked you out for the day.« Din wanted to explain »I just need longer to–« »Put your clothes on, I get it. Was quicker to take them off yesterday, huh?« Peli finished, making Arana bite her lip while she was still hidden behind a wall. With all fabric now in place, she could reunite with the other two. »So,« the mechanic reiterated, »did the helmet stay on or not? I can’t see how that’s romantic. Not that I would judge you if you’re into that, or if Maia is.«

»Actually–« Arana pranced down the hallway towards the kitchen, putting emphasis on every step. »It’s not so much about the helmet staying on than it is about the face not being seen. You probably know an embarrassing amount of solutions for that problem.« Peli gave her a look and Din’s helmet seemed to turn to her in slow-motion. To be frank, he was a little surprised and confused why she would insinuate they had been intimate. And did so with a straight face while he was cooking under his helmet.

»Huh, so you’re not as prudish as I thought. But how can you make sure that he’s appealing? Don’t tell me love is blind or some pudu like that. I’ve been with some men I would have thanked for wearing a helmet, or at least a paper bag. Absolutely hideous, it was almost unbearable. No offense, Mando.« Arana stifled a chuckle while Din’s posture seemed to indicate a toneless sigh. No, he was absolutely gorgeous underneath the armor and fabric. Warm, comfortable, and hard where it mattered. What? »I just know. Let’s focus on something else. I – Maia isn’t a thing any more. To cut a long story short, I recently found out my parents were Mandalorians which kind of makes me one too; my name is Arana.«

»Wait, Arana?« Peli pulled a face of confusion. »Not sure I like that name, Maia sounds better. Besides, if you’re a Mandalorian, shouldn’t you be in armor?« Arana shook her head no. »It’s not that easy. I don’t just get one.« She exchanged a look with Din. »The only Mandalorians we know won’t allow me to have one, because I never learned to live by their Creed.. I’m not sure I would find it comfortable, either.«

The mechanic hummed. »I still like Maia more, but that’s not important. I got y’all some breakfast, extra protein to replenish after yesterday.« Din scoffed underneath the helmet, this time audibly for the two women. »Seriously?« he grumbled while Arana pressed her lips together, watching as he took his bowl. »I’d love to see your face right now, Mando,« Peli teased. »We’re training after breakfast,« Din let his partner know and retreated back into the room they had stayed in, far enough away for him to take the helmet off without his face being seen. The women sat by the dining table and Arana took a closer look at what Peli had brought them. It smelled sweet and admittedly tasty, but the texture was hard to describe. An amorphous, beige mass.

»You’ll have to explain to me again. You’re a Mandalorian. Okay, got it. New name, also got that, even if I think the other one fits better. Shouldn’t there be someone looking for you? I may not know much about Mandalorians but they don’t have children to just toss out into the galaxy. They’re not Jedi.« Ouch. Arana stuck her spoon into the mass before her and took the first bite, delighted to find the sweet taste relatively subtle. It felt rich and like it would fill her up nicely. She began explaining. »Judging by what Mando told me, children are invaluable to Mandalorians. I think I have to explain a little more about what happened to me. I was taken from my family by Imperials. I assume they both died and nobody that would have known me remained. So no one came looking when I broke out.« »I’m sorry, Sweetheart. You didn’t deserve that. Damn Imperials.« After a deep breath and a glance over to where Din was hidden behind the wall, Arana mumbled »what child deserves to be taken from their family.« Was her partner listening? She went for another bite while Peli mused on.

»You caught a Mandalorian regardless of whether your family might have lost you.« Arana shook her head and chuckled, a little too amused with the wording and the memory of their playful banter up on Peli’s roof yesterday. »Caught. Like it was my sole doing that led to us being together now.« »You’ve not seen how he was before he showed up here with you. Let me tell you: The difference is night and day.« Although it was exhausting to speak with her at times, Peli’s blunt but honest approach to conversation somehow made it easier for Arana to talk about the difficult things. Like her family. The mechanic continued. »You could get married and they would accept you, right? Even if it would be cruel to hide such a pretty face underneath a helmet.« »I know the helmet thing is strange at first but I got used to talking to one relatively quickly. Makes Mando a little harder to read but I’m getting the hang of it. Not sure how it would change if I had one on, too.«

The woman opposite of her took a sip of her drink, her non-existent eyebrows moving a little down. »I can’t picture you at a wedding with the helmets on, to be honest – but I’m not trying to be ignorant. It’s your choice. Can’t deny that you're good for him.« The reassurance felt nice, to have confirmation that the brunette had a positive impact on him instead of being a burden. Not that Din had made her feel as such, sometimes she just doubted herself. »No offense taken. All of that has time anyway. In the meantime I enjoy being around him, he makes me feel safe. Loving him sure helps.« It was a little reminder to herself in a way, and she wanted to say it out loud in front of someone. Would she even want to marry him to be part of the Watch? And more importantly, did Din even think about marrying at all?

Peli would agree. »Yeah, it has time. And if you ever have children I’m very willing to babysit them. Not for free of course, I can’t afford that, but for a good discount.« Arana took a deep breath, albeit silently. She didn’t know. She shouldn’t know. »Be careful what you offer, we might get back to that in the future. You’re just interested in setting up a little petting zoo, aren’t you?« Banter was a welcome distraction from the short pain she felt in her chest. Peli took the bait, laughing. »Come on, can you blame me? If you show up with cute, cuddly little guys I’d be stupid to not make one. We could even share profits. Didn’t get to say goodbye to the little guy.« Another ouch, especially if Din could hear them. She could have told the mechanic that she might get to see him again one day, but in the prospect of her partner evesdropping she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to put Din’s hopes up so soon. If it was up to his decision they’d be on the way to get the little one back from Luke right now.

Breakfast was finished and Arana looked over to the ajar door. »Cyare, are you ready?« There was a rustle and a groan and Din emerged from the room, helmet on and the empty bowl in his hand. »Yes, let’s go.« The brunette rose from her seat as well, giving her partner a once-over. If he had listened in on the conversation, he was keeping any thoughts to himself. His posture seemed normal, a little tense but that could still be from when Peli had teased him. Arana couldn’t ask him with the mechanic around.

»We need to find a suitable spot for the training,« Din let her know. He was right, they couldn’t just start swinging sabers without making sure they couldn’t cause any collateral. »We should probably leave the city, where it’s quiet enough to focus,« was Arana’s only wish. She would need a little quiet if she had to teach Din about sabers. No teasing came from Peli this time around, not even a comment about the two leaving for some privacy again. Arana vividly remembered what the mechanic had said on their first trip out of the city, where she and Din were barely more than strangers. I can tell why Mando wants to take you with him. She understood the implications back then, but now knowing that Mando had watched her at the time, it made sense. And now, why would she mind if he gave her longing looks?

Down by the hangar, she opened her ship and jumped up to the cockpit, letting her legs hang down the hull while her torso was inside, looking for her sabers and belt. The suns were up high already and she would need her cloak to not get sunburnt when they would be out there. She left her gloves in the ship, deeming them not necessary for the time being. Her partner was just leaned against the hangar wall, as nonchalant as he always was, and still – it felt like his eyes had been on her for a moment. »I could teach you some Mando’a,« he offered while she still hung in her ship, looking for her second saber. »Does that mean you’ll finally tell me what idiot is in Mando’a?« »I might keep that one to myself.«

With another jump she was out of her ARC, walked over to him, attaching the belt and her sabers. The ship closed and she put on the cloak. »Enjoyed the view, Mando?« she teased him with a grin. The helmet leaned sideways. »I won’t tell you that either, Arana.« The way he practically purred her name made her absolutely weak, knees feeling a little wobbly just from the soft vibrato in his voice. Considering how his voice had sounded not long ago, even more gravelly, it was a miracle that she wasn’t in a puddle right now. »Let’s go,« Din nodded towards the exit and off they went, walking through the streets and out the city.

»How did you sleep?« Casual conversation while they walked around seemed to be their go-to at this point. »I can’t complain, I slept on quite the comfortable underground.« Arana had to stop herself before she made it awkward for the both of them, don’t mention what you felt, don’t mention what you felt she reminded herself. »Your back must hate me though, sorry about that.« »Don’t worry about that. It does hurt, but I’ll be okay when I get to move a little.« The streets were still empty, most of the people in Mos Eisley probably still asleep after the night had been going on for longer than usual. Din quieted down as soon as a stranger crossed their path, however. There was no need for her to press on more conversation, perfectly contented to walk with him in silence.

Outside the city, after they had taken a short walk, Din halted, took a look around, and nodded approvingly. »I think we’re good here,« he announced. Taking the Darksaber from his belt, Arana took position opposite of him, a few steps away from him. She unhooked one of her sabers, deeming one enough for the time being. If Din showed improvement quickly, she could always add the second one. The lavender colored blade almost seemed white in contrast to the oceans of beige sand around them. Her blade gave off a low hum, a noise she was used to, but it sounded so different when it had nowhere to bounce off from, virtually no echo. »I need you to be open-minded, otherwise I can’t help you learning to handle a saber. It sounds weird, I know, but saber crystals have a mind of their own. Be certain of what you want to accomplish. Don’t doubt yourself. The Darksaber is old, it might be harder to handle, I don’t know.«

Her saber raised into a blocking position, she nodded towards her partner. »Hit it.« Din activated the blade and it was obvious the weapon was heavy, even the sound was different from her sabers. While his first strike seemed easy enough, she saw him struggle with the second. No noise of strain or effort came from him yet, but his posture tensed, his biceps and shoulders flexing underneath the fabric. Din’s movements were slower, more laborious, when he struck her blade once more. On top of the visible signs he was doing something wrong, fighting the blade, it was like she could feel his doubts, the internal conflict and his frustration. It surrounded him like a cloud, a grey aura of negative thoughts.

»You won it in combat. It’s yours,« the brunette reminded him, moving slowly to attack him but leaving enough time for him to block. To be honest, moving so slowly and pronounced was a little more exhausting. She didn’t want to hit the armor just in case the blade slipped and hurt him for real, she aimed straight for the blade and nothing else. Blocking was easier for him, not too much movement involved, but she saw how he was straining, sinking into the sand with his boots like it actually weighed more and more. What started off as a cloud around him, frustration and self doubt, had turned into a thick fog within minutes. »You’re resisting the blade.« Did it help she was telling him when it was obvious that it was all that consumed him right now? Finally, Din just sighed in defeat, deactivated and let the Darksaber fall into the sand. Arana deactivated her blade as well, giving him a confused look. Had she been too harsh with him? Had she insulted him? With the memory of their fight back on Glavis she knew she had to be a bit more tactful this time around, and not let his frustration jump over to her as well. With a sigh herself, she walked over and picked up the significantly bigger and heavier hilt, offering her blade to her partner in return. »We should maybe start a little easier. Modern technology and a little less stubborn, I would assume. No history attached to it but my short life, similarly lethal as the other one.«

»Let’s go,« Din groaned a little, the frustration still around him in the air. Was there anything she could do to help him? He was hard to read right now and she knew his pride was easily hurt if she chose her words a little unfortunately. She activated the blade, feeling the weight instantly. Being force-sensitive however meant it wasn’t as severe for her to feel the significance of the blade. Waving the blade around a bit, she got a feel for the handling, registering Din’s frustration growing a little more. As much as she didn’t want this to happen, they had to do it this way. »In the covert, someone tried to take the blade from me. To be the rightful owner, to win it in combat. Thankfully Mandalorians seem to be useless with a lightsaber. Otherwise he would’ve decapitated me.« Din explained. Hearing that should have stunned her more than it did, the prospect of her partner being killed, but then again, Arana was removing herself emotionally from this as best as she could to be a better teacher for him. The aura of the saber was definitely stronger than her own crystals, but it felt manageable. Was it because she saw the necessity in being able to handle it? Was it because she was a Jedi? Or had Din technically surrendered the blade to her and it was now listening to a more willing master? Din tried to at least lift his spirits a little, or he was starting to feel that Arana was sensing him in the force. Could he feel her presence? »Lucky for me he wasn’t able to, unlucky for the Mandalorians as a whole because now the saber is in the hands of an apostate.«

»Sooner or later someone will come to claim it again. All I care about is for you to be safe and not get hurt when you use it again. It’s inescapable. Also – I don’t want you to hurt me either.« The sight and smell of his burnt thigh was still so fresh in her memory and she would be grateful if it never came to another serious injury like this. The way he talked about himself explained why the blade taunted him. Din was a remarkable man but he talked himself down so much right now. Arana carefully approached him, swinging against the other blade. His armor would avoid the worst but she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted him to get a feel for a saber. That was it. Would she mind if he lost the blade again? Not really if he managed to lose in combat and not die. Din was more important than some weapon and definitely more important than some title he didn’t seem to want, anyway. They focused on fighting, Din slowly getting a feel for the saber. Taking turns, Din took a few swings at her and in turn blocked when she swung at him. The clash of sabers picked up in frequency and they had a well-working rhythm. Arana was proud of how well Din carried himself with a completely new weapon. Most of this was due to his resilience, she was certain, but she’d like to think that her encouragement had at least a tiny bit of influence.

After some time, the suns had passed their zenith already, they stopped and deactivated their blades, Din surrendering Arana’s blade to her, a few words of admiration on his lips. »You’re so focused while fighting. I’m far from it.« »Switching my mind off has always been a safety measure for me, it helped closing myself off from some – bad things. I don’t doubt it’s hard for you.« A heavy sigh came from underneath the helmet, his shoulders dropping. »I’m not sure if it’s worth it, or if I am. You’re making such an effort and I don’t feel deserving, not worthy. The Darksaber would be better in the hands of a Jedi master.« Arana couldn’t deny the saber felt good in her hands, but she had sabers of her own and they meant more to her. Besides, she was definitely not interested in command over the Mandalorians. Not that they would accept her anyway. »You’re too hard on yourself, cyare. Comparing yourself to someone who has been handling sabers for years. What Jedi would be interested in a saber that also grants you command over a civilization of warriors that despise them? The sword has been carried by Mandalorians for hundreds of years, it has a long history and matters to Mandos. It belongs into the hands of one.« Arana hooked the Darksaber into Din’s belt and looked into that dark visor.

»It matters to some Mandalorians. I haven’t even heard of it when I was still on Concordia. No one ever taught us.« She gave him an apologetic smile. It was, in a way, reassuring that Din wasn’t too ardent on the title of the ruler of Mandalore either. »To some, then.« Still there was this aura of frustration surrounding him. She placed both hands on his helmet, caressing the metal as if it was his face. »Regardless of that, you might not see it because you’re frustrated, but you did so well today. Masters aren’t born, they are made.« She didn’t care much if Din didn’t want the throne. It was his choice, at the end of the day, and all she wanted was for him to be safe. Safe with her, preferably. She didn’t need to be with a king, nor did she need to live in a mansion or anything. As long as she could be with him, she would be happy.

Let it go. That was, in a way, a mantra for a Jedi. Arana had to tell herself so often to let go, to let Din leave her behind, to overcome the death of her adoptive father, to live with not knowing who she was, where she belonged. Din had to let go of all the doubt to be able to master the Darksaber. And she had to let go of the fear of losing him. Whether it would be in combat or of old age, Din would leave her one day, or she would leave him. And, more importantly, she had to let go of her own feelings when Din was frustrated just as he was right now. She didn’t want to repeat their falling out on Glavis. »I think we trained enough for today, what do you think?« The brunette’s head tilted to the side, her hands still on the helmet. »I don’t know. Sorry. I wish it was easier for me, because right now it frustrates me too much. I know learning a skill takes time, I just–« he sighed, letting the helmet fall a bit forward, not making it far because her hands held his head in place. »Di’kut. That’s what you can call me when I’m being an idiot again.« Arana rotated the helmet, assuming he would look at her if she did. A warm smile on her lips, she repeated what he had just told her. »Di’kut. Maybe I won’t have to use it too often. I know this must be a lot for you. Maybe even too much to handle at once. I don’t know how to help you through this, I want to, though. You’ll have to tell me, because I don’t want to look into that pretty head of yours to find answers.«

»I had to learn quickly when I was a child and I just force myself too much, I can’t learn that fast any more. I’ll work on my attitude, I don’t want to drive you away. And please don’t look around in there, it’s not pretty.« »I don’t like my own mind at times. But don’t worry, it’s hard to drive me away.« She took a step forward and leaned her forehead against the helmet. Din couldn’t help himself and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. »I didn’t think I could ever be so emotional. I used to just turn around and keep going without looking back.« Arana took the opportunity and snuggled against his armor, her arms wrapping around his neck. »Having emotions hurts at times, I know. But both Grogu and I owe our lives to your feelings. You might not have saved me out of love, but there was something that inclined you to do it regardless. And I know you suffer because Grogu isn’t here. He is your first foundling, isn’t he?«

She was not saying ‘was’ to not make it even worse for him. »I never said having emotions is bad. Just that I’ve been closed off for such a long time. And then Grogu came along and turned my whole life upside down. And he is – was – I saw myself in him. A child that needed to be protected. He is my family just as you are and it feels wrong to give him away,« Din explained. Slowly she let go of him, Din also letting go of her body. Her hand reached for her neck, feeling for the pendant underneath the black fabric. Being considered someone’s family felt odd. She had lost every family she had. Her biological parents, Raymond – who she had considered a father figure for years – how could she doom Din to the same fate by calling him family? She had to say something, and if she couldn’t reciprocate his feelings in that way, she had to acknowledge that at least, someone saw Din as family already. »He considers you his father… Or a father figure.« Just like she had chosen Raymond back when she was in the facility, Grogu saw a protector and role model. »Luke might not let you see him, as the emotional distance is crucial for his training. While I don’t regret leaving him, I was at a completely different stage of maturity and in my training.«

Din tensed and she felt a little sting in her heart. She hurt him, she knew it. Resorting to honesty was her way of preparing him, so he wouldn’t be too disappointed if they made it all the way there to not see the little one. A necessary evil, so to say. Would Din know she was doing this out of love and not malice? »I know you want to see him and we can still fly there. Your expectation shouldn’t be that he sees you and chooses to come back with us, that is all I want to say. My words hurt, don’t think I do this because I want to hurt you. I just don’t know how to be more tactful about it.« »I just want him to have the gift. That is all.« That statement came so bluntly and Arana definitely had proof that she had hurt him, Din resorting to being short with her. »Will you be okay if he rejects it?« »I won’t force him. If that’s his choice I will respect it.«

Arana took a deep breath, grounding herself as to not make the frustration take hold of her. This was her fault for being honest and he had every right to be hurt by it. There was no need and no reason to snap at him, he wasn’t snappy with her, either. »There’s still a lot of time left until tomorrow, we should find something to do. Unless you want to leave right away, but we might need a longer break in between. I don’t think I need another evening at the festival.« Seemingly feeling her guilt, Din gently touched her arm, searching for physical contact to signal he was okay. He shook the helmet gently to convey a no. »We’re flying tomorrow. We can ask Peli if she needs help in the workshop. Or we sit down in her apartment and I teach you more Mando’a.« Looking down her arm, she found him caressing over her sleeve with his thumb. The bounty hunter had changed so much in the little time they had spent together, so affectionate even when they were out in the open. »Oh Peli for sure has something for us to do. In the best case we take all of the scrap that lies around and organize it into two piles. Actual trash and useful trash… or we suffer through more questions about our relationship.« »After what you made her believe, no wonder.« Oh yeah, she had kind of insinuated that she and Mando had been intimate…

»Let’s go back and I teach you some more Mando’a on the way,« he distracted her from her memories of that one dream she had and also the sensation of his hard-on snuggled against her. Otherwise she would have gotten a little light-headed. »Let’s see how much I remember when I hear it. ‘Cyare’ just came to me when you called me cyar’ika.« They started walking back towards the city.

»You know what it means, then?« Not quite, but she knew it was something to call a partner or a family member. She had heard her mother say it to her father in that memory of hers. Was it maybe the male version of cyar’ika? »It’s some word for loved one? Like… my beloved? But I don’t really understand the ‘ika.’« Arana felt inclined to grab hold of his hand, but then again, back in the city there were people and she knew how Din was when they were being watched. »It’s a suffix… to make the word smaller. Or used as further endearment. In Basic there’s no real way to imitate it. ‘Cyare’ is beloved or love, but ‘cyar’ika’ is closer to darling or favorite.« Din hummed a little, trying to find a better way to explain it. »‘Ika’ is when you would call a kitten a kitty to make it sound smaller.« She nodded, that was a good way to demonstrate it. »And what’s mesh’la? I assume it’s something nice because you wouldn’t insult me.« »I would never insult you. It means beautiful. ’La’ indicates an adjective.« It warmed her heart to finally know what he had said to her so often. Din had called her mesh’la so early in their relationship, before it even was one, before they had made it official. »Your name comes from ‘aran’, I assume. It means guard… or guardian. Similar to Basic most words are neutral in Mando’a. ‘Buir’ would be a parent, either mother or father.« That made more sense. Back when they visited Gor Koresh, Din had explained that women were equal to a man in Mandalorian culture. Made sense why there was no distinction in their language between male and female. »So buir’ika would be ‘daddy’?« He chuckled a little. »Yes, or mommy,« he concluded.

She smiled at him, pondering whether to make a joke or not. But then again, she didn’t know if the connotations were the same in Mando’a as they were in Basic, despite the soft laughter he had just expelled. Just like she wondered if she could ironically call him di’kut. »So, if I wanted to make your name cuter, would I say Din’ika? Di’ka?« Din’s chuckle returned, only to become a little louder this time around. The blush forming on her cheeks was inevitable, fearing the worst. »What did I say?« It took a moment for Din to regain his composure. »Dinii means lunatic.« »Oh, damn, sorry about that. I’ll stick to di’kut then. It’s not insulting to call you that, right?« Awkward.

»It’s not, don’t worry. ‘I’ll hold you in my heart forever.’ That’s what I told you yesterday. It’s our way to say ‘I love you’.« Arana stumbled over her own feet, startled by the sudden confession. Din jerked her way to catch her, but she managed to regain her balance on her own. »Stars, you can’t just drop that so nonchalantly. You sure have your hearts on your tongues for a bunch of warriors.« She took a deep breath and tried to calm her pulse that had just picked up. Was he aware what he was doing to her? »At least that explains why you say certain things in Mando’a rather than telling me in Basic. I won’t stumble and make an idiot of myself if I don’t know what you’re telling me.«

»It just felt right in that moment. I wanted you to know what I said, because the Basic translation doesn’t convey the same sentiment.«

»It’s alright. It’s just – an intensity I wouldn’t expect from a stone cold bounty hunter, you know?«

»I’m a human underneath the armor too.« She bit her lip, grinning a little when she saw the helmet turn towards her in her peripheral. »I know you are. Forever sounds like a long time.« A long time to love someone and also a long time to miss someone. »Do you believe in some kind of afterlife?« There was a clear shake of the helmet. »You’ll be in my heart till it stops. If anything comes afterwards, I wouldn’t know.«

Unwillingly her thoughts took a darker turn, suddenly remembering the nightmares that had plagued her just recently. Seeing him die, again, and her heart ached for the inevitable, the moment it would become reality. »No one’s heart is stopping. Forget it.« She felt her throat tighten, pure stubbornness taking over for a moment. The discussion about the afterlife reminded her of something she and Luke had talked about. »I’ve been told that some Jedi stay in this life even after their death, for a while at least. Something about a noble death or inner peace when it happens that grants them to stay a little while, conscious and somewhat materialized.« The sigh she let out almost made a sob escape. »I can’t imagine how it would feel to miss you for eternity.« His helmet faced her and he took hold of her hand, stopping and making her halt as well. She felt her eyes water when she looked at him. No way she would accept him passing on anytime soon.

»Let’s focus on now, when we’re together, cyar’ika.« He gently squeezed her hand, which she reciprocated with a sigh. »I’m sorry, you’re right.« Especially with the prospect of maybe having the apartment to themselves for a while later, Arana was fine to ditch the festival today. Her mind was occupied with memories of how Din had kissed her yesterday and she wanted to repeat it. Maybe take things further? The thought had manifested when she had felt how his body reacted to being close to her. As scary as the experience might be at first, she wanted to know how it would feel to be entangled with him, as close as can be. When she could hear every little noise he makes and feel every twitch of his muscles. Dank farrik.

It was early afternoon when they arrived back at the hangar, which was still occupied – to no one’s surprise. »Oh, you’re back so early?« Peli commented their return. How long had they been gone? To Arana it had felt like hours, but then again, she didn’t have any means to tell the time apart from the position of the suns. »Sand’s a little scratchy, huh?« the mechanic added, arms crossed in front of her chest, grinning like she had triumphed. Did she honestly think they would go outside the city to fool around in the sand? Instead of entertaining the thought, Din distracted the woman with a question she had definitely not anticipated.

»Do you have some work for us?« That did the trick, the mechanic loosened her posture and gave Din a blank stare, blinking twice before she found the words to reply. »Usually I’m the one doing the work, I’m the service provider over here.« While she was right, the two wanted to kill some time, besides »you’re letting us sleep in your home. Is there anything we can do for you in return?« Arana clarified. The brunette motioned to the ominous tarp that covered some form of machinery, perhaps the chassis of a pod-racer. »What about this?«

Peli pulled the tarp from the skeleton of a Naboo N-1 starfighter that looked in a generally rough shape. Peli was pragmatic, and far from stupid. »If you just want to waste time until I leave for the festival you can tell me. However, I could use a few more hands on this. Looked for an alternative for the Crest after Mando contacted me.« Din was ever-observant and pointed towards the star-fighter. »That’s not a Crest.« »Damn right, because it’s better. Leaves that ARC-170 in the dust too, no offense. Faster, more agile and a lot prettier with a new paint job. Also… she’s pre-Imperial.«

Arana scanned over the dirty, partially flaked off yellow paint, letting her hand glide over the rough surface. Speaking of her star fighter, the mechanic had a question burning on the tip of her tongue. »Where have you even gotten that from? Last time we met you didn’t even have properly fitting clothes. And now you have a new haircut, a different name and a damn ship from the Galactic Republic, not to mention in quite good condition.« Well, how would Arana explain it? ‘I am force-sensitive and I can steal virtually anything my heart desires if it weren’t for my morals’? »Would you believe me that I just took it? I can be quite convincing if I want to.« The woman gave her a once-over and raised her lack of eyebrows. »I don’t doubt that after yesterday. But for a ship? And that’s fine for him?« Peli looked over to Din, a little shocked. »Were you present?!« Before the brunette was able to explain what she actually meant, which was far from the mechanic’s interpretation, Din, oblivious to everything, replied »I wasn’t, but I know she is very convincing when she wants to be.« Arana facepalmed. That was his revenge for what she had done to him at breakfast. Now the mechanic would forever think she had exchanged her body for a ship. Fantastic. To avoid the awkward silence making it even more embarrassing for his poor partner, Din interrupted. »You had promised a substitute.« Peli nodded violently. »I never said it was a Crest and believe me. She needs polishing but you will fall in love with her just like you did with your sweetheart. Give her a chance.« Sometimes the tin can was a little hard to convince, but then again, when had Peli ever failed him? »Fine,« he grumbled.

Arana wondered what she could even help with, given she had no training in fixing anything. She was glad if her ship could be fixed with unplugging and replugging cables because that was about the extent of her technical understanding of anything. Din still wasn’t all-too convinced that he would like the N-1, but the mechanic tried her hardest to sell the ship to the Mandalorian. »Do you even know how hard it is to come by pre-imperial parts? Everything was handmade. They’re incredibly rare and expensive. And because I like you, I can add some modifications to make her even better.« Peli was a saleswoman through and through, and for some reason she referred to the ship as a she. Was that a tactic? »And because she’s so old, she is not registered anywhere, just like Maia’s… Ah, kriff, Arana’s ARC.« Mando huffed. »Fine, let’s see if it even starts.« Peli was delighted, either sensing a sale in the future or she was genuinely just happy that Din was giving her a chance. »Perfect. Then let’s start, because I want to go to the festival later. We won’t finish today anyway, she’s missing parts I don’t have nor can I get them this short notice.« Peli clapped, making a mental plan of what they could fix with little equipment and without the missing parts. »Mando, you and BD climb under the ship, you’ll handle the big parts. Arana, you can help me.«

Surprisingly she found something to do fairly quickly. Being relatively slender compared to Din but still a lot taller than Peli came to her advantage, she could reach further into the hull than the mechanic could. Connecting cables or pulling them through the ship… or pull a skeleton out of the chassis. The brunette had to comment on that. »Looks like this hasn’t seen a mechanic in forever. Where have you even found all of the parts if they’re so hard to get by?« She didn’t have to be able to predict the future to know what Peli would reply and she wondered why she had even asked in the first place. »Jawas.« Of course it was the Jawas. With a shake of her head, Arana let out a defeated sigh. »I’m starting to think that they are the universal solution for any kind of inquiry on this planet.« »That sums it up. Tatooine is full of treasure and the Jawas make the best of it. I gave them a list, they bring the parts, I don’t ask where they got them from and pay them.«

Meanwhile Din was struggling with the small droid which was supposed to light his area of work, but the little guy was just too excited and would move around the light with every noise the women made up there.

Who knows if the Jawas scavenged from the ships that were in the hangars or the ports close by. Arana didn’t ask, of course, because why would she if the mechanic had no interest in knowing? Speaking of ‘things no one wanted to know’, the woman had another sprinkle of information to absolutely scar the brunette. »Had a fling with a Jawa once, very hairy and pure trouble,« Peli suddenly told her, making the brunette almost hurt herself when Din bumped his helmet into the ship from below, seemingly as startled by the confession as she was. Of course, the other woman also noticed and called out »Mando, you good down there?« »I’m fine… my tool slipped.« Perhaps Peli would buy that, but Arana definitely heard how shaky his voice was. If he was blushing underneath the helmet right now? »I wish you wouldn’t have told us that…« she scratched the back of her head, looking at Peli with a hint of confusion. Could Din please punch her in the face hard enough to make her forget? She laid down in the sand by the ship and rolled underneath it, landing somewhere next to Din, her feet pointing to the opposite end of the ship from his. They were head to head and she could grin at him for a short moment. After she had attached a cable to a plug underneath the hull down here, she gave the helmet a soft kiss. »Thank you for not being a Jawa,« she whispered. »You’re welcome, cyar’ika,« and once again – Din purred at her. After biting her lip she rolled back away from him.

Peli had the next task already prepped, handing over a hand full of small parts. »Here’s a few lights and button caps. Sit down in the cockpit, don’t worry, you can’t break through and if you do, you’ll just sit comfortably on Man–« She didn’t need to hear that sentence end. Arana grabbed the parts and relatively loudly replied to interrupt Peli »oookay, Cockpit, lamps, buttons, got it. No insinuations of me on his lap, please.« Oh shit. She sat in the cockpit and busied herself with delicately placing small lights into the sockets and clicking the transparent caps over top. Light, click, cap, click, done. She wasn’t sure she was outwardly blushing but her whole body felt hot despite being in the shade. While she was busy calming her mind, thoughtlessly adding lamps and caps to the numerous buttons in the cockpit, the other two talked about the upgrades. Din and Peli threw around technical terms of ship parts. Arana had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, and every time she heard Din’s voice, it was like she got goosebumps. Why could she suddenly not stop thinking about sitting in Din’s lap? How had Peli managed to say something that completely influenced her thoughts? Her mind wandered on and went to what she had felt in the morning, pressing into her abdomen while she laid on Din, practically naked besides their underwear. Stars, it was insane how much she wanted to feel more of him, but she couldn't right now; she wasn’t sure she could ever. So deep on thought, she hadn’t realized that Din had positioned himself next to her and she jumped when his voice pulled her back into reality. »You okay in here?«

Arana dropped some of the caps in response and cursed under her breath, picking the components off of the floor in the cockpit. »Yeah, I’m fine. Go and fix your turbo-venti-something. I’m doing what I’m capable of.« She waved him away in hopes he didn’t think she suddenly hated him. It wasn’t about him, more that she was simply a little uncomfortable with her own thoughts that were racing around one thing and one thing only. »Okay,« he mumbled and walked away, causing her to sigh. Her task was completed soon thereafter and Arana stayed for a while longer, sat on a toolbox to try to understand what they were talking about. Ever so often she would see the helmet look her way and every time it was like her blood ran cold. Could Din hear her thoughts? Stars, she hoped he didn’t. One thing was certain, she wouldn’t be able to quiet her mind when he was around. »I’ll go for a walk,« she announced while jumping off the toolbox, not even waiting for a reply from either. She left the hangar behind, wondering where to go.

Well aware that Din would be concerned if she wandered off too far, so she hopped up to a nearby roof and sat down on the warm sandstone. With all of the decorations in the city and the already crowded streets, she was nicely hidden from all of the guests that ran around the bazaar already and also from the ones that would go to the festival later. Her sudden sensitivity to the topic was still a concern, in a way. »Okay, relax,« she told herself, crossing her legs, taking deep, steady breaths to stabilize herself. »You sat on his lap for a few seconds to fix his helmet. Nothing more.« She wrapped her cloak around her to shield herself from most of the sunlight. Returning sunburnt was the last thing she needed right now. A few breaths later, she groaned in frustration. »But why can’t I stop thinking about it?« You know why. You felt him.

Her eyes shot open and she rolled them subsequently, letting out a frustrated sigh and falling backwards onto her back. Flinging her body with a bit too much gusto, hitting the back of her head on the sandstone underneath her. »Ow! Fark.« The fingers that touched her scalp to check for an injury were free of blood, thank the Force. Hurting herself the minute she was unattended would've been so typical for her. Just like it had happened on Nevarro.

Unsure of what else she could do, Arana just laid there, covered by her cloak and hood, listening to the distant sounds of civilization to somehow free her mind, to detach from the topic all together. Din was probably similarly awkward about this, his body had betrayed him in a way. Still, the lap thing would plague her mind if she didn’t talk to him about it. She did feel bad, guilty even. They had somewhat talked about it already, but because of his hostility back then, she didn’t mention the extent of their contact. The longer it took to confess, the worse it got. To be completely honest, she had repressed it for a while.

For a while she just laid there, basking in the sun like a lizard, before she made it back to the hangar. In fact, the distant sound of music had been her sign to leave. How long it had been since she left? She wasn't sure. Arana entered the hangar to find it empty. Neither did she hear Peli nor did she see Din. Even up in the apartment, it was awfully silent. »Cyare?« she called up there. No response. Taking the opportunity, she took a quick shower after she had been in the sun practically all day, her clothes also getting the quickest wash. Afterwards she sat down by the table in the kitchen, waiting for someone to come. Din would realize she would come back here, right? The suns were slowly descending and with the relatively small windows up in here, she had to have the light switched on, waiting for some sign of her partner returning.

The door downstairs swished when it opened and a familiar voice called up the stairs. »Arana? Are you up there?« »I’m here,« she replied and got up from the table to come his way. Unbeknownst to her, Din practically ran up the stairs when he heard her voice, almost crashing into her when she stood right behind the landing of said staircase. »How long have you been looking for me?« Why did she ask? His behavior was a little erratic. And was that an alcohol bottle on his arm? »A while,« he replied and suddenly she felt a little more guilty for leaving, the exasperation very audible in his voice. »I was worried because you left so suddenly. I wasn’t sure if you had left the city. The desert is dangerous, even if I know you can defend yourself.« Guilt filled her face and Arana’s voice was quiet when she explained herself. »I wasn’t far from the hangar. I just needed a moment to myself.«

The alcohol bottle garnered her attention shortly and Din followed her gaze. Without having to ask, he explained »Peli gave it to me when I ran into her on the way back. Let me take the helmet off.« He hastily put the bottle on the table with a relatively loud thud, his helmet following directly after. He ran a hand through his hair and it was easy to see he had been a little sweaty underneath the helmet. »Hey, what’s wrong?«

With careful steps Arana approached him, extending one hand to cup his cheek. »I’ve never seen you so nervous.« Was it because of her? What had he thought about? That she had left and gotten killed? »I’m sorry, I was a little scared something had happened,« he mumbled, leaning into her hand ever so softly when she started caressing his skin with her thumb. His forehead wrinkled and suddenly she had the feeling she was looking into the eyes of a puppy. In a way it felt new that someone was so worried about her. It hat been so long since she had mattered to someone.

There was a faint smile on her lips, looking into the dark brown eyes that begged for her attention. »You’re so cute when you’re worried, cyare.« One of his hands also cupped her face now. Unsure when he had taken the glove off, but she felt his warm fingers on her skin. »Have you had enough time on your own? Are you okay now?« Din hesitantly asked, »I was scared I did something to scare you off.« A soft nod came from her, not daring to move too much to not detach from his hand. »I’m fine, I promise, you didn’t do anything. I was just a little overwhelmed by Peli’s antics today.«

Despite her intense meditation and a shower to gound herself, the brunette felt her heart rate quicken.

Perhaps she should just explain herself rather than leaving him hanging. There was nothing to be ashamed of with him. »I sometimes feel when you look at me underneath the helmet and it was just unfortunate that Peli made me think of something that is kind of an uncomfortable topic for me.« She tried to explain, but how would she? Din’s brows furrowed. »You can tell me next time then I will give you your space.« »I will.« Din was about to lean in, probably for a kiss, when she interrupted him »Can we talk about something? It’s … I don’t know, it’s a little awkward. Or do we want to get drunk first?« There was a little regret that she had interrupted him from stealing a kiss. »We can. Your choice if you want to drink first.« And despite the seemingly certain reply, it seemed like he was blushing a little? What was he thinking about? Oh no. »She reminded me of something when she mentioned your lap. Back on Nevarro, when you fell unconscious and I had to save your helmet from falling. I had to sit on your lap for a moment and I feel bad about it.« »Why? Doesn’t sound like you were doing anything bad. It was necessary.« Well she for sure wouldn’t have done anything to him. Not that she could have. »I was so scared you would wake up right in that moment and … you were unconscious, it doesn’t feel right to come this close to someone when they’re not there, you know?«

»And that’s what made you so uncomfortable? I can’t say how I would have reacted back then, but now it’s not a big deal for me. You don’t have to feel guilty.« Din took it better than she had anticipated, maybe this was because he was big and generally less in danger when unconscious. Also, Arana plagued more than one thought about this. »I feel guilty because I kind of enjoyed it… not that you were unconscious, but the sensation…« she mumbled and tried to somewhat hide in his hand. »Just like I enjoyed what happened in the morning today.« She saw his expression derail for a split second and his skin turned pink just as hers probably was. »Uh… if I have to be honest that was kind of embarrassing. I can’t control it.« »I was only embarrassed because Peli was so close… okay no… that might be a lie, I was awkward about it too. It is kind of a compliment, I guess.« She looked at him, caressed his cheek, and so did he. Finally she leaned in more, gave one of his overheated cheeks a kiss and leaned her similarly warm face against his. »Can we get drunk now?«

Din sighed in relief, wrapping one arm around her to give her a halfway hug. Naturally, Arana leaned in a little. That wasn’t too bad. Was their communication improving? »Do you want to?« She nodded and nozzled her face more into him. It would calm her nerves a little. To be fair, having talked about it had already helped tremendously. Still, Din had something to add. »I don’t know what Peli gave me, to be honest, so I don’t know what will happen if we drink. I doubt it’s anything dangerous, though.« Alcohol was dangerous enough, Arana thought. »If it’s the same stuff as yesterday, you’ll have to live with me being a little touchy,« she whispered and placed a few kisses along his jaw, causing Din to close his eyes for a moment. She gave him a final kiss where his jaw went into his neck, whispering »And I doubt you’d have a problem with that.« She pulled back and walked over to the cabinets, hoping to find glasses or cups to drink from. To make it a little more interesting, she had something in mind. »Maybe you can tell me something about you. Doesn’t have to be your deepest secrets. Just something you assume might be interesting to me, to get to know you a little better. Or you tell me what you worked on at the N-1, but that conversation will be awfully one-sided while I empty the bottle by myself.«

»There’s not much to tell you about me,« Din mused and opened the bottle. They sat down on opposite sides of the table, Arana placing two cups by the bottle so Din could fill them with the amber liquid. He gave her a warm smile and nodded her way when he raised the cup, Arana mimicking the gesture. It wasn't her first alcohol, even yesterday hadn't been. Probably the nicest tasting one, though. This one wasn’t shared between fugitives in a dark cargo container. They both took a sip, the alcohol numbing her tongue instantly. Instead of the slightly acidic note she had tasted yesterday, a flowery sweetness came through. Probably as strong as the one last night, which meant she would for sure turn cuddly by the end of this.

»I’ve told you about being a foundling myself. I come from a small planet called Aq Vetina. We were attacked by droids and my parents hid me in a basement. I heard them die. The Death Watch arrived shortly after and they took me to Concordia to become one of them.« »Do you remember your parents? And how your life used to be before the attack?«

Arana had guessed Din was traumatized from that. She had seen the droid and heard the blaster fire when they had somehow connected while healing on Nevarro. »In fractions. Probably repressed a lot. We were simple people, farmers. I ended up getting the Mandalorian training and when I was old enough, I looked for work.« She was a little jealous. but then again, she probably repressed most of the memories of her family, they weren’t forgotten, right? Besides, she had been significantly younger when she had been taken. »At least you remember something. Apart from the memory that came to me on Glavis, I don’t remember my family. I do remember when I first set foot into the facility, though.« She took a sip and sighed. She didn't want to make this about her straight away, but Din encouraged her to keep going. »Your turn, mesh’la.«

Why not tell him about her first day?

»Raymond took my hand and walked me through endless hallways. I was four – I think. He promised they were looking for my parents and that they’d reunite us soon enough. When I was put into the small room and Raymond had to leave, I think it settled in that I was doomed. If we can believe what Gideon said, they had killed my father at this point.« Another father dead. Not sure Arana even remembered much of her father. »It’s what the file said. I read it when I had the time,« Din nodded. It felt a little intrusive, there might have been a lot of unpleasant things on her file. »What else did you read?« Obviously not enough to scare him off. »It was just your basic info. Status and where they had found you. I didn’t feel it would be fair to snoop around. After you had left on Tatooine, I was concerned they had caught you.« She filled another round in. »I’d rather be dead than a captive. I don’t want to imagine what they would do to me now that I’m older and stronger.« A heavy sigh came from her, lifting her cup once more. It wasn’t good to drink and remind herself of what could have been. She was free, and she was with Din. »One good thing the facility granted was the silence. My room was like an isolation chamber in a way and it helped me meditate in absolute quiet, that’s also why I prefer to be on my own at times. One day in my teens something clicked and suddenly there was someone I could see. Witness his life through my eyes in a way. Raymond was so fascinated with what I could do, because I was the only one who could do something like that.« She took another sip.

»15 years ago I spent an entire week in meditation, finding out what we could about this stranger. I’m not sure if the other scientists ever heard of it – if Raymond talked to them about it or kept it to himself. My ability was peculiar, because there was only one person I could connect to. One man in the whole galaxy whose presence I could find anywhere.« A traitorous grin crept up to her lips when she saw that Din picked up on what she was hinting at already. »And you can imagine, he was not amused to feel invisible eyes watching him all the time. Especially when he was supposed to keep his helmet on unless he was alone.« Now Din for sure knew she was talking about him. »You could see me?« She motioned into the air around him. »Not as clearly as I can right now, of course. You were surrounded by your emotions like a fog most times. Hostility, but I understand why.« There was a nod from him, albeit subtle. »I remember I used to feel watched for a while when I was younger. It was driving me insane.« »Sorry.« They both chuckled. Din looked into his cup, taking a deeper breath. »So you talked with Raymond about me?« Arana nodded. »He was a scientist, of course we talked about you. Besides, I considered him my father, in a way, he was the only one I trusted enough. I could practically read your mind despite being parsecs away. Mostly we wanted to find out what it meant. About you as a person we didn’t because I never really dug that deep, it had always been more of a ‘why’ and not a ‘with whom’.«

»So you don’t know why it’s me?« She shook her head and another grin came up to her lips. It wasn’t that easy, at least not before she had met her master. »I only ever found out after I had run into you. Luke has so much knowledge about the Force.« Din took a bigger sip with the mention of Skywalker. Arana wasn’t sure what it was about him that made Din dislike him, although she had a suspicion. »The Force surrounds us all, you and me, this planet, the whole galaxy. It’s here, it connects everything. In a way it is cosmic energy, but not quite. And while most of us are affected by it in a way, some can feel it, and even fewer can use it. Like I can. You’ve probably heard that there is a light and a dark side.« Arana took a sip and hummed, unsure how to continue, or more specifically, how she could get to the point she wanted to make. »Maybe a different comparison works better, sorry. Think of the force as a magnet. Magnets always have two poles. They don’t exist with just one. And similar to a magnet, people can be opposite poles in the Force. It’s called a dyad, a really strong connection between two individuals. Luke is convinced that you’re my opposite pole and I agree. I’ve never felt such a strong connection with anyone and it would explain why I can do what I did back then.«

Din leaned back in his seat, contemplating his reply, perhaps. Arana helped herself to the third cup of alcohol, raising it to her lips and taking a sip, before a sly grin appeared on his lips. »I love being connected to you, cyar’ika.« He took a slow, calculated sip. Of course she picked up on the flirty undertone and thanks to the alcohol, she would reciprocate. The brunette cocked an eyebrow and asked »really?« If Peli would’ve been here, the mechanic would have probably had a heart attack just now, or would’ve excused herself because she knew what was about to happen to the two lovebirds that were now notably tipsy. Arana put her cup down and sat down on the table, turning on her butt to sit right in front of Din, one of her boots rested on his chair, the other dangling off the table. Din eyed her head to toe before he replied »really.« His eyes moved slowly, as if he was undressing her with just his gaze. »Did you say that on purpose or was that an accident?« Her head tilted sideways. Part of her thought it might have slipped, but then again – he had thought too long for it to be accidental. »I mean it. Is it kind of hot in here?« It was getting a little warm, she had to admit. »I love it too, handsome.« Her hands wandered upwards towards her neck. She opened her cloak, the heavy fabric falling onto the table. »We’re on Tatooine, of course it’s warm here.« Her hands sank back down, one stabilizing her on the table, the other reaching behind her, pulling her cup towards her with the Force. »You could take some clothes off, mesh’la,« she purred with a wink. If he was in a flirty mood she would join. After all – why not? She was feeling a little more courageous right now, thanks to the alcohol she had in her hand. »Do you need help?« she asked and took yet another sip.

Din leaned forward to place his cup on the table, green eyes watching his every move while he did. »You want me to undress?« he clarified. In response she nodded, put away her cup, pulling him in closer by the belt until he stood in between her legs. Her fingers snuck underneath the chest armor to detach the cape which subsequently fell to the floor. His belt was next, which she removed a little more carefully, placing it on the table beside her. While theres wasn’t much to feel yet, his body heat was very obvious, even through the heavy fabric. While she was busy helping him, Din was fumbling with his bracers. The mechanism to close these was a little too complex for her to open, she guessed, and it would go a lot quicker if they worked on what they could simultaneously. There was a grin on her lips when she turned her head to look up to him. »I think we can agree that the alcohol was a brilliant idea.«

Deep down Arana hoped they would be undisturbed for the night. If Peli had given the bottle to Din, maybe she knew to stay away? She had assumed they had done it last night as well, so she might grant them another night of privacy. Din chuckled. »You mean because it made me take my clothes off? Maybe I would’ve done it regardless, had you asked.« He watched her take the chest plate off, taking a deep breath when it was on the table. »So much better.« He rested one hand on her shoulder, letting it wander over to her neck before he leaned in to finally give her a kiss. »I’ve been wanting to do that all day,« he mused. Upon his retreat, she protested. He drove her insane. Her pulse picked up as soon as she had felt his lips on hers. With a little more force than she had wanted to, she pulled him back into the kiss and he wrapped both arms around her waist. Letting the instinct take over, Arana bit his lip again, softly. With a little groan, Din parted his lips and they kissed more passionately than they had done before. It felt incredible, Aranas heart jumping in her chest, especially after she had heard the sweet noise coming from him. He tasted like the alcohol and it was addicting, intoxicating to kiss him like this. Seemingly into it himself Din leaned in further and practically pushed her further back, molding to his body with both of her legs wrapped around his hips. One of his hands rested on the table, the other at her waist while her hand that wasn’t holding her upright held his head in place. If they had considered it hot before, now it was practically scorching in Peli’s kitchen. Reluctantly Din stopped the kissing to whisper ‘cyar’ika’ out of breath.

As if keeping her composure hadn’t been hard enough, Arana felt that damn tension in her body again, pulling on her legs to pull him in closer. The desperate yearning was turning into a tightness in her core. His eyes were so dark and he was visibly out of breath, her body pressed against his. »Hey,« she replied with a smile. Despite wanting to continue making out, her partner was a little concerned for her. »I don’t know where this will lead to. You make me feel things I’ve not felt in a long time and I don’t want to overwhelm you.« She looked down to her legs that had his hips in a tight grip. »I have a suspicion where this will lead,« she said, hoping to sound nonchalant about it, however failing, sounding insecure it its place. Of course he picked up on it. »If I’m being too much, please tell me.« It sobered her up a little, the realization that Din was so much into this that he wanted to take things further, just like she had fantasized about. Suddenly it felt so intimidating. »I don’t have any experience with… this. And to be completely honest I’m a little scared.« Scared about so many things. »We don’t have to continue if you’re scared.« He leaned back just a little, giving her more space. He let her choose, but why was it so hard? »I don’t want to stop. I don’t want you to stop because it feels so good. I know you would never hurt me but I fear that things would be different between us afterwards.«

»Why do you think anything would change?« »What if one of us doesn’t like it?« She assumed Din had had sex before and she was the one who would mess up. »We have two options: We never do it again or we try until we both enjoy it.« That must’ve blown a fuse in her brain. Her body tensed once more and she was pretty sure she involuntarily pulled his hips in further. He tried his best to make her feel comfortable with the situation and she was endlessly grateful for it. »The first time is rarely perfect. I’m leaving it up to you, we can go to bed and just cuddle, that’s fine for me. Neither outcome will change any of my feelings for you, I promise,« he reassured her.

What do you have to lose, besides a stupid title that doesn’t have any meaning? Seriously, look at him. You love Din. You see how gentle he is with you. Would it be so bad to just find out what it feels like? He’s into you, you felt it. Once you leave this planet, you don’t know when you’ll have the next opportunity for it.

After her internal pep talk, Arana softly shook her head. »No, I want this… please.« Similarly softly as her headshake, Din nodded and leaned his forehead against hers. »There’s nothing that could ever change how much I love you.« How could she be scared if that’s how he handled the situation? Unsure what to say, Arana whispered »okay.« He gave her a softer kiss, squeezing her waist with his hand gently. There was just one issue. »The mattress might be a little small for us, though.« Arana looked behind her body. In theory, they could do it on the table. It wasn’t like her body wasn’t already in the position for it, so was his, besides the fact they were still dressed. »That depends who is on top, I guess. Also –« She grinned, a devious plan forming in her mind. »There is an unoccupied bed a few meters behind you.« Yes, she was talking about Peli’s bed. Din followed her gaze towards the little curtain that led to the mechanic’s bedroom. »Are you sure about that?« he faced her, looking back and then back into her eyes. »Realistically it’s the best spot to lose your –« She placed her hand on his mouth to shut him up. Thankfully, he didn’t talk further, likely a little confused by the gesture. »Please, don’t make this a bigger thing than it is.«

Arana took her hand back, hoping he understood what she meant. Din seemingly accepted her plea and refocused his attention. »Alright. Do you need help taking your clothes off?« Playfully offended, she replied »I’m not that drunk, but you can undress me if you want to. Is it okay if I continue with your clothes?« Din chuckled and gave her kiss, leaning into her once more before he had to retreat so they could undress. »Of course, mesh’la.« He opened her belt, placing it beside his while she opened his flak vest.

After some time that consisted of various clothes and boots falling to the floor, kisses and the occasional sigh of enjoyment, both were bare-chested and enveloped in another kiss, Din leaned over her again, hot skin against hot skin. His hand was practically buried into her hip, holding on for dear life.

Once more she felt the hardness pressed into her. Din was grinding into her, voluntarily or not, her hand wandering between their bodies to open his pants and feel him up. Her partner suddenly made a noise that startled her and she pulled back. »Sorry, was that too much?« She looked at him with furrowed brows, but he shook his head. His pupils were dilated like he was on something, making Arana wonder if she herself looked so hungry. »No, it’s okay,« he reassured her. »Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.« To further make it clear that Arana didn’t do anything wrong, he lifted his hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. »We should change location, cyar’ika.« His voice was so deep and gravelly, sending shivers through her body. Another kiss landed on her cheek. »Alright.« She took the hand he offered and they walked over to the bedroom, switching the light off in the kitchen. They would take care of the chaos later.

They entered Peli’s bedroom and to Arana’s surprise, there was a larger window that allowed moonlight to enter the room. Din’s pants were practically falling off of him while walking. She sat down on the bed and looked at him against the moonlight. »You’re beautiful,« she mumbled, seeing how the soft light accentuated his muscles. He pulled his pants down, wasting no time to kneel beside her and letting his hand explore her body again. She almost anticipated him touching her chest, but his fingers avoided her breasts. »You think so?« he purred, his hand traveled downwards while he buried his face in the crook of her neck again. Her skin was still sore from yesterday. »That was a loud thought but yes… you’re very mesh’la.« After he had stopped his attack on her neck, he smiled at her, her hand cupping his cheek. »You look good in the moon light.« »If it means you’ll speak Mando’a you can say anything you want.« »You’ll have to teach me more then, otherwise I’ll call you a pretty idiot.« He chuckled, turning his head to place a kiss into the palm of her hand. »There’s too much fabric on you still,« he grumbled, sounding a little frustrated. Taking the hint, the brunette got up and stood before him, placing both hands on his shoulders once he had turned towards her fully. »I think you have to help me, cyar’ika,« she purred his way.

Just like he was asked to, he pulled her pants down, halting when she suddenly flinched, his hand had accidentally grazed her scar »Sorry,« he apologized. »I forgot about it.« »It’s okay.«

She stepped out of the pants when they were all the way down. The sight before her was one to behold. Din, in just his underwear, in the soft moon light, eyes full of love. »Come to me,« he purred, pulling her towards him by her hips. Instead of sitting next to him, Arana decided to be a little more upfront and sat on his lap. Without much hesitation he wrapped both arms around her, pulling her as close as he could without hurting her. Now a little taller than him, she placed a kiss onto his forehead. »I love you.« »I love you too.« Her neck wasn’t safe from more kisses, but she didn’t complain about it. Despite the soreness of her skin, it felt good to have him give her love bites and a million kisses. Especially so if he made the noises he did, further confirming that he was very into her. »Stars… you’re by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.« Din practically moaned against her skin, making her shiver. While she didn’t do much in her current position, it felt incredible to be so close to him. »I’m all yours,« is all she could muster up, her hip dragging along his thighs, seeking some kind of friction. »You’re driving me insane.«

»Makes two of us.« Without a warning, hands grabbed her butt, pulling her as close as can be and tilting his hips ever so slightly that she could feel what she was doing to his helpless body. It just so happened to grant her the sensation she had longed for, causing her to let out a proper moan for the first time in his presence. She dragged him into a kiss to shut herself up, Din himself choking a moan while his hands guided her to keep going with the motions of her hips. It felt incredible. He felt incredible. Their silent moans only driving one another more insane. When she couldn’t take it any more, Arana pulled back to catch her breath, face against his forehead, panting. Her body was tingling, screaming for release. »I can’t take this any more. I need you.« There wasn’t much Din said, mainly because he was just as out of breath as she was. »Alright.« To proceed on the brunette left his lap to lie down on the bed, and as soon as she saw Din pulling his underwear down, her thoughts started racing a little. She was overly horny but still a little scared. Seeing him naked didn’t help ease that fear in the slightest. Her partner seemed to pick up on her nervousness and laid beside her, cupping her face in one hand. »You’re tense. Are you sure you want this?« It was commendable how careful he was to make sure she wouldn’t regret this. There was no going back, she was so worked up, she needed him. »Yes, I’m just nervous.« His hand started traveling down her body, pulling down the last bit of fabric she had on. She lifted her hip to help a little. »You don’t have to be. I’ll be gentle.« Another reassuring kiss occurred, then Din hoisted himself over her. At first she feared he would go right at it when his knee nudged her legs apart, but it was just to make space for his body, allowing him to kneel there.

His lips traveled down her torso, in between her breasts, further descending. His beard tickled and every now and then he even nibbled on her skin. It was hard to not move, her body giving in every now and then, but there was no protest, so Din continued on. When he reached the scar on her groin, he gave it a very soft kiss, Arana flinching slightly. »Does it still hurt?« Din looked up to her, concern painted on his face. »No, it feels like a tingle. Like my nerves are –« while she was explaining, she felt his tongue lick over her scar, her leg twitching and her knee subsequently hitting his ribs. »Sorry,« he mumbled and kissed it again, this time without getting kicked. »I’m glad I trusted you enough to take you back to my ship.« »Me too.« His kisses wandered on, along the leg that had just made contact with his side. Arana had her eyes closed, lost in the sensation until she felt his kisses wander up her leg again, coming closer to where she wanted to feel him, but not like this. »What are you doing?« Her torso shot up, leaned onto her arms to look at him. His eyes were dark, practically black when he looked up to her. It was a sight to behold. »I want to taste you.« There was silence in the room, gears turning in her head. »No,« she quietly said. »No?« Din asked. There he was, comfortably lying in between her legs, his head close to her core. It felt cruel to tell him no, especially when he looked so hungry, but it didn’t feel right. »Next time?« she offered, not sure she would ever be ready for that. »Whenever you want to,« he said and placed a kiss up on her mound, far enough away that she didn’t feel the need to pull away. To be fair, the view she had just shortly, had been more than inviting, especially with his dark, pleading eyes. Din crawled back up, but halted just below her face. He placed a few kisses on her ribcage, then slowly moved over to one of her breasts. »This okay?« »Mh-hm,« she gave permission, feeling his lips envelop one of her nipples. It was hard to say what exactly it felt like, but the tension in her body left bit by bit and the intense pulling sensation inside of her returned. There was another moan when he pinched her other nipple, groaning a little while his face was practically buried in her breast. She actually grew a little impatient, softly urging him on. The pulling was turning from uncomfortable to painful, her body demanding release. »Din, please,« she whined. Her partner huffed a little when he laid down next to her again, probably just from the impact and not an actual response. His hand finally wandered back to her crotch. »Whatever you want, cyar'ika.« »Will it hurt?« She turned to look at him, and all she found in his face was pure affection. His hand lifted and angled one of her legs, caressing her skin while he was at it. »If I’m doing my job correctly it shouldn’t. If it does, tell me.«

She felt his finger hit a wet spot, her slick spreading where he touched her. »Sorry,« she mumbled and hid her face in the crook of his neck, »I’m a little too excited.« Din’s face nuzzled into her hair, softly chuckling. »I don’t mind,« he assured her, kissing her hair. »You’ve touched yourself before, right?« »I have, but I’ve never been this – wet.« »I take that as a compliment.« She chuckled against his neck, giving him a kiss right where she could feel his pulse. »Di’kut.« She felt his finger glide over her clit, her hip bucking in response. It was a little torturous that Din spoke to her, but he wanted to take his time, and make it right. »I take it you’ve used your fingers?« »Yes.« His finger slid down to her entrance. »How many?« »Two at most.« »I’ll start with one.«

»Wait,« Arana begged him. Din pulled his hand back, placing it on her thigh, waiting for her face to surface again. She was close enough to his face to feel his breath on her skin. »Can I touch you too?« She actually sounded a little shy, but se wanted to feel him too, and make this a little more comfortable for him. »Of course.« »Show me how.« With the hand that had just been exploring her, he took hold of the hand that was closer to him, guiding it towards his erection. He closed her fingers around him, her hand enclosed in his fist for a moment. She mimicked the movement he was guiding her to do, along his shaft with a little pressure. There was a soft moan from him and he bit his lip. That alone made it hard for her to focus.

He was so hard in her hand and she was a little concerned how he would feel, as he was definitely bigger than two fingers of hers. And while she was at it, he slipped one finger into her. She inhaled sharply, somehow expecting it to hurt, but it didn’t. In fact, she could barely feel him inside of her. »Okay so far?« he checked in with her. »Yes.« »Can you even feel anything?« Arana exhaled, not really a huff and not really laughter, but amused none the less. »Not… really.« That’s when his thumb started gently rubbing her clit again, her face falling into the crook of his neck to moan. She changed the hand that was touching him, rotating her body towards his so she could be a little more comfortable, and he could be too. She tried her hardest to keep moving her hand but every now and then she would forget what she was doing, her mind blanking when he made her feel all the things she felt. Din’s soft groans were driving her mad if his fingers weren’t enough. She just assumed she was doing something right when he joined in on her moans. Her hip movements became a little more erratic and she had to choke a few moans on his shoulder.

It felt like he changed the finger and before she could find out why, he slipped both of the now coated fingers into her. Another loud moan escaped her, Din nuzzling his head against hers. »“It’s okay, I got you,« he whispered, his fingers dragging in and out of her. Now she definitely lacked the focus to keep pleasuring him as well, and he didn’t seem to mind too much. To be fair, she wasn’t sure how far he wanted to take the foreplay when the actual sex hadn’t even happened yet. She kissed him, making out with him to somehow make all of the obscene noises stop. The soft groans and an occasional smack of lips was definitely more bearable than what was going on around Din’s fingers.

Something changed. Whether it was because he picked up the pace or what, her body felt all tingly and she couldn’t stop panting against his skin. As much as she wanted to touch him, she couldn't. It was almost too much and opposed to her, Din knew what was going on with her. »Let go. Come for me, cyar’ika.«

And she did, a whiny moan came over her lips as she felt her body tense around his fingers and Din was so graceful to let go of her to wait until she was back in a clearer state of mind. She caught her breath slowly, nuzzling her face into his neck. »Did it feel good?« Arana couldn’t stop herself, she laughed. »What do you think?« They shared a kiss, her wrapping both arms around him. »Why did you make me come beforehand?« »I wanted to make sure you weren’t nervous any more and that you were taken care of before me.« He gave her another kiss. »I love you.« »Love you too, cyar’ika.«

To proceed further, Din gently pushed her on her back, kneeling in between her legs. Arana gave in easily, a lot more relaxed now that he had taken care of her. He leaned over her, nudging himself right by her entrance. There was another look they exchanged, a deep gaze full of love. They had exchanged a lot of ‘I love you’s already, but neither really minded to hear it over and over again. The brunette just nodded, giving him permission to give her all of him. Din reveled in the feeling, eyes closed, lips parted and a soft moan escaping him while he slid inside of her. As if she needed any more reason to absolutely fall for this man. Din was gorgeous in the moonlight, his face painted with an expression of pure bliss, not to mention the feeling of him stretching her out until he had fully settled inside of her. He came closer to her, resting his forehead against hers, arms burying underneath her and executed the first thrust, a slow drag to cherish every second of it. It felt like he was hugging her, somehow closer now that their bodies were connected. »Don’t stop,« she whispered in a soft pant, so dangerously close to his lips. »Won’t,« he breathed, picking up the pace. Her eyes fell shut, fingers dove into his dark curls, holding him in place while his hips snapped against her body. Their moans fell into rhythm as did his thrusts, Arana not doing much besides kissing him on occasion and her hands caressing over his skin, feeling his muscles tighten with every move.

It was incredible, the way their bodies felt like they were made for each other. Din didn’t need any commands, it was is if he knew what buttons to press to make this as enjoyable for her as possible.

Not sure how long he had been going at it, but she felt the same tightness in her body again, her muscles now very clearly tensing around him further and further. All she could muster up to alert her partner of her impending second orgasm were the same whiny moans she had let out earlier. Driven by the nonverbal signal, his movements became sloppier, harder, almost erratic. His arms came up from underneath her, holding him upright to have more room to thrust into her. With a louder moan, Din finished, the sensation of his muscles tensing driving his partner over the edge again. She felt a little bad about moaning so loudly, but she couldn't help it in the moment. Din didn’t care too much about her being loud. After a few breaths he lifted off of her, nuzzled into her side and pulled the cover over them. She cuddled into him, one arm around his torso as well. Despite the obvious noises she had just made, Din wanted to make sure she was fine. »You okay?«

There was a pause so Arana could collect her thoughts. She and Din had just had sex. Her virginity was gone, and all she could feel was relief and so much love for her idiot. »Yeah, more than okay. Thank you.« Her index painted little hearts onto his skin. He attempted a shrug. »Thank you for trusting me.« She looked up, giving him a soft kiss. »You’ve saved my life when I was a stranger, of course I trust you.« »That’s fair.« The brunette rotated to lie on her back, her partner coming with her and now resting on her chest. Exhaustion took over quickly, even more so when engulfed into a hug in a relatively comfortable bed. Seemed no one would leave this bedroom before sunrise.

#Wolke schreibt #gbtscbtf #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #original female character #mando fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x original character #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian x ofc #mando x ofc #mando x original female character

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dindjarindiaries · 1 year ago

Note

You reblogged that starter list and before I even saw your message, this one SCREAMED Din to me:

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be.

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You looked up at the expanse of stars overhead and let out a soft breath. The slight sting of the night's chilled air nipped at your nose, but the way it filtered through your lungs felt relieving. This was the open air; it was much more freeing than the ship you had started to feel trapped within.

It was that ship's boarding ramp you were sitting on, and as you took a quick glance over your shoulder, you saw its owner watching you from within the cargo hold with a worried tilt to his silver helmet. Having been caught in the act, his armored chest rose and fell in a breath as he started to walk towards you. Your gaze returned to the sky above as you sensed his approach.

"I thought you were charting another course," you said as Din took his place alongside you. "We can't spend too much time here."

Din shrugged in your periphery. "An extra rotation won't hurt."

Your head snapped towards him as your lips parted in disbelief. "A rotation?"

Din's visor was stuck on the stars, but after a moment of you staring, he returned your disbelieving glance. "What?"

You chuckled and shook your head, returning your attention to the night sky. You closed your eyes as your heart began to beat more rapidly. The question you wanted to ask screamed within your mind, but it came out as a mere whisper. "Why?"

There was a pause before Din responded. "Why what?"

You reopened your eyes and kept them on the stars. Looking at Din would make you lose your resolve. "Why are you bending your rules?"

When Din remained silent for a long moment, you quickly glanced over at him. His visor was fixed on his gloved hands as he picked the orange-colored material on his fingertips. "We can afford the time, for now." When he continued, his modulated voice was even lower than before. "And you're happy here."

You furrowed your brow at him. "I'm happy regardless."

Din gave his helmet a brief tilt. "Sure. But..." he paused, as if musing upon something, "not like you are on planets like this one."

You didn't know what to say to that. The sweet inhale of the crisp air you took was enough to prove his words true. As you continued to stare somewhat dumbfounded at Din, he added more.

"You don't like being on the ship."

You instantly shook your head and willed the words to come, but they wouldn't. Your throat had closed up around your wildly beating heart as the truths you tied to each atrium and ventricle came closer and closer to freeing themselves.

Din took your silence as a much more disappointing reality. Even his modulator couldn't hide his hurt. "You don't like being with me."

"No." You couldn't have gotten the word out faster if you'd tried. "That's not true."

"It's okay. I understand." Din's arm rested upon his propped-up knee as he looked at the stars yet again. You watched his visor reflect them with fond admiration. "My lifestyle isn't meant to keep people around for long." He nodded, as if he was still convincing himself of such a truth. "I've grown used to it."

His words, a genuine and honest reflection of himself, shattered your heart enough to let the shards escape through the barrier your throat had attempted to create. Each beautiful truth began to spill out in a stained glass mosaic of the image you had crafted over the past few months. "Yet I'm still here."

That caught Din's attention. His visor found your gaze as you pieced your art together.

"I've felt trapped, yes, but not by you or your ship." You exhaled and watched your hand as you set it on the metal of the ramp beside you. It was just inches from Din's own. "It's a feeling. One that consumes me, really. And while it's centered on you, it's not because of you that I feel so trapped. That's only because I know the truth. I know your guard has to stay up."

You huffed and shook your head at yourself.

"It sounds ridiculous to say out loud, honestly, but... you deserve to know." The corners of your mouth pulled up in a sad smile. "Even if there's nothing you can do about it."

Din's visor never left you as he sat in the heavy silence that followed. Eventually, his visor lowered, his focus moving to his gloved hand as it closed the distance to your own. Only part of his hand covered yours on the boarding ramp as he spoke in the most beautifully honest tone you had ever heard from him. "If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be."

You shook your head, your gaze also fixed on your hands as you did so. "If you were any different, you wouldn't be the person I've grown such feelings for."

You were delicate in the way you laced your fingers through his, allowing him to pull away at any point if he so wished. He made no such move, instead letting his armored chest rise and fall in a careful breath as your hands became fully entwined. After a few more quiet moments, he spoke up once again. "I can learn."

You looked back up at his visor and hoped your expression wasn't betraying your strong glimmer of hope. Din offered a determined nod.

"I will learn."

Your smile couldn't be stopped as you looked upon him much more favorably than you ever had the stars. "Yeah?"

Din nodded once more, resting your entwined hands on his armored thigh. "Yeah."

#get you a man who wants to learn how to accept love on your behalf!!!!!!! (and give it ofc)#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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whxtedreams · 9 months ago

Text

Oath Broken and Soul Bound Masterlist

A WItch Hunter!Din Djarin x OFC!Witch Series

Tales of witch meetings, gruesome and horrific, were used to fan the flames of fear and ensure the harsh punishment and persecution of those accused of witchcraft. The subsequent actions born out of the fear and hatred for witches were far worse than the stories that inspired them. The persecution and killings of those accused of witchcraft were not just ruthless, but often downright brutal.

**Blurb is subject to change until i begin writing**

Astaria Lowell had sworn to never take a life. So when Astaria is staring down at the Kingdom’s deadliest Witch Hunter that she had nearly killed, she must do what she can to save him. Which involved bringing the Hunter into her coven… full of Witches. As his health returned, Astaria realised three things. Din Djarin had not killed her. He was now wanted by the Lords for breaking his oath and she was to be tried as a Witch. They were both set to burn for their crimes. They needed to escape the Lords, but they couldn’t do it alone.

A Witch with forbidden magic. A Witch Hunter turned oath breaker. A pathological liar nobody trusts. A Dragon Rider without his Dragons. A grieving father with a trigger happy finger.

Five unlikely… friends, all needing a way out of the Kingdom for their own selfish reasons.

One impossible task they might be able to complete if they don’t get each other killed in the process. Or rather, kill each other.

Main Current Tags

WItch Hunter!Din Djarin, OFC!Witch, witch hunts, violence, author has researched but is still learning, forbidden love, Third person POV, fantasy AU, world building, pirate!Ezra, Dragon Rider!Frankie, Joel Miller just wants to be left alone,

Chapter List

word count // 1.8k

Part 1

1. The Hunter // 1.8k

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5

Part 6

the one shot that inspired this - The Hunter and His Witch

Other

Character Study

Notes

I am currently in a writers course and this is the story I'm writing for it. I am learning more as I write and may come back and edit things from time to time. The cover is hand drawn, don’t look at me - I tried. I was very hesitant to write an OC! instead of reader insert since I’ve seen a lot of people say they tend not to read them, but you will love Astaria I swear. She’s pretty cool. NOT doing a tag list for this series. If you want updates, you can subscribe to my AO3 and you will get emails when I upload.

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x ofc #mando x original female character #din djarin x original female character #witch au

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year ago

Text

Passenger / Chapter 6

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Three)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.3k+

Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns

Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.

It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.

Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.

Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.

He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.

Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.

Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.

When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.

“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.

“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.

Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”

The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.

Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”

“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”

“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”

“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”

“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”

Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”

“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”

“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off.

“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”

“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”

“Know any Waylon Jennings?”

“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”

“Surprise me,” he winks.

Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.

Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”

“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”

“How much will it cost to fix?”

Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”

“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.

“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”

Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.

“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”

Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”

You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”

“A trade?” Paul frowns.

“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”

Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”

Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”

Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.

“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”

Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”

“She is.”

“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“

Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”

“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.

“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”

When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.

“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.

“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”

“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”

Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”

“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”

Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”

The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.

“We can do that.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.

The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”

You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”

“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”

“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”

“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”

“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.

Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”

“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.

“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.

“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”

When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.

Stupid goddamn aviators.

“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”

Again, nothing.

‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.

You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”

This seems to do the trick.

It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.

Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”

“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”

He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”

He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.

“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”

Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”

Such a way with words.

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “‘Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”

After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.

“Why that one?”

He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”

Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”

You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.

“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.

She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.

“What?”

Dead giveaway.

Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”

“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.

“I didn’t say anything!”

He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.

After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”

“No.”

Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.

Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.

“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”

Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”

“Not at all.”

You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.

“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”

Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.

“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”

He says nothing.

“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”

The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.

“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”

His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”

“No, not really.”

Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.

“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”

With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”

Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.

You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”

He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”

“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.

“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”

When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.

He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.

Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.

It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?

He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.

“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.

Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”

“It says five dollars.”

“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”

“Does anyone?”

“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”

Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”

“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”

He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”

“Original.”

“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”

“Yes.”

“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”

“What do you need help with?”

You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”

“I can do that.”

Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”

He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”

As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.

“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”

He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”

Your question bounces off him with no reaction.

Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.

When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”

He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”

“Can you help me with something?”

His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.

“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”

“Use the big ladder.”

“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”

He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”

“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.

Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.

The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.

At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…

Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.

You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.

Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?

Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”

He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

Fuck, did he ask you something?

“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.

With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.

The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.

He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.

Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.

“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”

“Are you almost done?”

“You ruined the best part.”

“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”

You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.

A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”

He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.

Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.

“Are you gonna hop in too?”

His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.

“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.

He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”

Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.

“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”

His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.

“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”

“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”

He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.

Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”

Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”

“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”

You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.

Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.

“Like this?”

“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”

For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.

“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”

Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”

“Then why?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”

While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.

“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”

If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.

“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.

“Would you do it if you had to?”

The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.

“Why would I have to?”

“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”

He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”

“You wouldn’t?”

The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.

“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.

“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”

“Ignoring you.”

“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

With this, you go quiet.

Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.

His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?

He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.

But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.

While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.

“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”

“You choose.”

Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.

You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.

After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”

When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.

He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”

Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.

“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”

It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”

He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”

“Nothing.”

His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.

The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”

Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.

“Thanks.”

He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”

“Off.”

When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.

“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.

He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”

Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”

Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.

I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.

You almost fulfill the vow, too.

Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.

With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”

You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.

“Charlie?” he nudges you.

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”

He nods, almost apologetically.

“Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Go ahead.”

When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.

“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”

“Want me to turn the lamp on?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.

“Here.”

His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.

Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.

Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I can’t fall asleep.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Din.”

“What?”

“I said I can’t fall asleep.”

“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”

You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.

“Just talk to me for a while.”

“About what?”

“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.

His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”

“Hang on, let me think.”

A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.

“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”

“Like a farm?”

“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”

“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s the dream.”

You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”

“I… I’d rather not say.”

Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”

“Thank you.”

There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.

“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.

“What are yours?” he asks.

“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”

“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”

“Tricky bastard, huh?”

Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.

“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”

“You sound tired.”

You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”

“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”

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