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joelsbloodyhands · 7 months ago

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HISTORY, HUH?

Din Djarin x Reader, Boba Fett x Reader (small teaser)

DESCRIPTION: When you get injured by a bounty, Din takes you to Mos Espa to get help from an old comrade. AKA; Din gets jealous when he finds out you and Boba have history.

WARNINGS: Discussions of injuries involving blood, descriptions of jealous behaviour, references to smut 🔞 but not explicitly written, references to gun use (ahem blaster use!), mentions thoughts of torture (just readers imagination), kissing, mentions of panic underwater, Din being clingy af, established relationship with Din, past history with Boba, a sprinkle of angst, unrequited love.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🚀✨ cover photos from Pinterest

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability and has hair long enough to be pulled over their shoulder.

“I know this one,” Boba speaks, his eyes on your unconscious body, focused intently on your pained expression in a deep slumber. Din lifts his gaze, analysing the fellow bounty hunter uneasily. Din’s gloved hand rests instinctively on top of yours, laid flat against your stomach, his eyes darkening behind his helmet, unable to read his comrades face behind his own green weathered mask.

“In what regard?” Din speaks, his own tone scaring him.

Boba’s shoulders relax with a sigh as he looks you over again, “Little troublemaker,” Din hears a hint of playfulness in his words, a hidden note of admiration.

“We’ve crossed paths before. Can’t say I’m surprised to see them in such a predicament,” Boba gestures to your mangled shin and bruised shoulder. “How did this happen?” He asks and Din’s taken aback slightly by his sharp, disapproving tone.

“My bounty. Chased him down an alley, tried to corner him but he had allies. We were cornered and well…they…,” he runs a thumb over the back of your hand, his tone holding a hint of regret, “Well, they stopped him but-“

“Not without injury,” Boba responds, his voice a pitch lower, Din’s head turning once again, apprehending his friend’s sudden anger. Though was Boba’s anger directed towards the bounty or Din himself for putting you in harms way? He couldn’t tell.

“We should get them into the bacta tank immediately,” he lifts his head then, meeting Din’s piercing gaze. Though neither of them could see the others expression, Boba still cocks his head at the mandalorian, a wry smile playing on his lips. “You can trust me, my friend. I have no quarrel with your companion.”

Din hesitates, looking to the end of the room at the large metal windowed casket. “I’d feel more at ease if you explained your history,” he speaks, his head turning back to Boba who adjusts the blaster in his hand almost uncomfortably.

“Not my business to tell. I’d sooner face your wrath than theirs,” he nods to your face again, soft pained murmurs leaving your mouth now. Din squeezes your shoulder very gently, Boba watching him murmur sweet assurances in your ear, his cheeks warming underneath his helmet.

There’s no saying how long the two men stood hovering over your body silently, almost both deliberating how to move you to the bacta tank. Or more so not “how” but “who” would actually carry you there. Din found his hands slipping under your thighs and back, hoisting you against his chest gently, your head falling against the cold metal of his chest piece. You mumbled as he carried you over to the middle of the room. It took a moment for heavy footsteps to follow behind him, a gloved hand tapping buttons to open the glass chamber. Din laid you down into it while Boba watched him, analysing his movements with intrigue.

"If you can hear me, cya'rika," Din softly speaks causing Boba's fingers to stiffen above the control panel, "you are safe. This device should help the healing process. I will be close by. Do not fear. We are with trusted friends.” Din lifts his head almost seeking confirmation for the latter from Boba who nods once firmly. Din takes your hands in his as soft breaths leave your pained lips, he places your hands so that they are overlapping on your chest and then mindlessly taking the breathing mask Boba was holding out to him, placing it over your mouth and nose securely. Din forces himself to pull back from his protective hold against your hands, allowing the capsule to encase your body, filling quickly with the fluid as Boba's configures from the panel.

"How long does it take?" Din asks, his voice weak and rough, his eyes watering at the sight of your body so close yet feeling so far from him.

"Depends upon the injury," Boba starts, his eyes darting between the two of you; the Mandalorian he had come to known as a trusted ally and the trusted ally he had come to know for far more in his heart. "For this injury, perhaps an hour or less. Until then, we can wait in the throne room."

"I will not leave their side," the Mandalorian's words come out thick and unable to be coerced otherwise.

Boba sighs, his eyes back on your injury, the flesh of your ligament already re-growing, "they would not wish for you to stand by and wait. They'll be angry upon awakening if I know anything about their attitude towards injury in battle. There will be an air of shame-"

"It is not THEIR fault," Din argues, feeling an overwhelming sense of grief for allowing this to happen.

"I am not placing blame on anyone," Boba asserts, his voice lowering an octave to indicate to his old comrade that he means no threat. "But as I mentioned before, the...troublemaker and I have history. I know this. They would want you to take care of yourself while the opportunity allows it so that they can heal and awaken when the time is right."

Din shakes his head, his fists clenching, his visor focused solely on you and you alone.

He knows Boba is right.

You never did fare well when you got injured during a bounty hunt. You were self-deprecating, kicking yourself that you could have done better. It took the soft side of Din to convince you that you were good enough to fight alongside him. HIM who you called the best of the best, "a true warrior that I could only long to compare to. The fight is your religion. Your creed has taught you well." With all the sweet words of praise you've whispered to Din both in casual passing and intimately in the dark confines of your shared bunk, Din can only try to offer you the same but where he may excel in battle, he lacks in performance of admiration.

One which he vows to improve upon when you awaken.

"Fine," Din responds just when Boba's defeated steps move towards the large entryway.

"We will wait."

Some time later...

"Din..." you had started, grasping for your second blaster at your thigh. "There's another one-"

You are awaken abruptly with a jolt at the blaring sound of blaster fire colliding in your head. Your eyes widen, stinging and only allowing a fog of vision when you thrash suddenly, your hands thrusting forward, palms hitting a wall that you shove at mindlessly.

You're in water.

Or at least some sort of fluid.

Your movements are slowed. Your eyes blinking uncomfortably. There's some sort of mask over the lower half of your face, allowing air bubbles to escape above you.

You try to calm, your heart beating unsteadily.

One minute you were being shot at, the next you were here.

Where the kriff was Din? Grogu?

You moan out loud, trying to make some noise, your palms attempting to hit the wall blocking you from escaping.

Did they get hurt? Did Grogu get taken? Or were you captured and now laying in some sort of torture device awaiting your inevitable demise? What if Grogu was being dissected and Din was being beaten to death in the next room?

Fuck no. Calm. Calm down.

You close your eyes. Allowing your arms to drop slowly in the surrounding liquid.

Jumping to conclusion. Panicking solves nothing. I think better when I'm relaxed, you tell yourself, slowly but surely letting your fingers graze the surrounding hard bubble finding sharp edges beside your body.

There has to be a way out from the inside, you think.

Just when the panic returns, thoughts of Din hanging unconscious nearby or your sweet son laying on a ice cold table, your finger slips on something square and hard, causing a red light to blare in the liquid and a sudden suction sound to drag all the fluid down from your body. Your hands move quickly then, yanking at the mask over your mouth, the wall that you now realise was a windowed case, slides open. You cough, your hands going instinctively to your abdomen and leg, fingers smoothing over your skin exposed by the gaping rips in your clothing where the shots burnt through.

Healed.

Your eyes widen. Not a single mark of evidence that you were even shot to shit to begin with. Your neck snaps up, your eyes blinking away the remaining fluid taking in the room.

Wait...I know this place. Don't I? That banner.

Two banners hang from the stone ceiling above a large arched entry baring an embroidered signet you're all too familiar with.

"Well fuck," you say out loud, a grin plastering your lips.

You swing your legs off the side of the strange coffin-like device, your eyes overlooking it with a quirked brow. You slip off the side, wobbling slightly on numb legs, pins and needles in your feet as you wiggle your toes to rid of the discomfort.

Your legs carry you drunkenly from the room and under the large moss green banners, allowing one last grin to grace your features. You're not taking any notice of the water staining the stone floor with puddles as you pass through familiar rooms, carrying your fatigued body past a simple throne. You roll your eyes at it momentarily, a smirk on your lips when you stop at the sight in front of you.

Two visors snap to attention in your direction, standing in alarm at your unexpected presence.

“Huh,” you say with intrigue, overlooking the two men opposite each other at a table.

Grogu in the middle stuffing his face with soup, making a squeal of happiness when he sees you.

“This is a sight I never thought I’d see,” you murmur loud enough for them to hear, approaching the table while they both round it, Din more hurriedly than the green armoured man hovering near his abandoned chair.

Your full attention taken by the green bean making grabby hands your way, your smile gracing your features as Din manoeuvres your wet hair from your cheek and tucks it behind your ear.

“Are you well?” He speaks, gaze flashing to Boba whose busy looking over your exposed leg and stomach.

“I am, hey baby,” you soothe when approaching your small son, lifting Grogu from his high chair and bouncing him on your side when he takes your face into his hands, babbling a mix of mando’a and nonsense.

“Yes I’m okay, bean. I feel a lot better now. Please don’t worry,” your head lifts but it’s not Din who catches your attention, it’s the other armoured man, stood to your left, his wandering gaze lifting to your own.

“Boba,” you nod and he does the same back.

“Star-shine,” he speaks back and you don’t miss the way Din’s body turns rigid at the pet name.

You scoff, stifling a chuckle, “can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

Din’s hand slips to your side, gently tugging you further into him, his beskar cold to the touch against your wet skin.

You look up at him in surprise.

Din rarely instigated affection in the presence of others. It was then you realise he hadn’t turned his head from Boba, staring him down through his visor.

You’re distracted by what seems to be the growing tension between both men until you feel softness sliding over your bare shoulders, hands gently tugging the material around your body.

You smile.

“Fennec,” your body turns to meet a familiar grin, hands sliding around your wet hair to pull it over the blanket.

“You caused quite the worry,” she notes with amusement, her eyes glancing between the two warriors and back to you with raised brows.

Your cheeks burn when you realise neither helmet has turned back to you. Though unable to see their expressions, you had a feeling you didn’t need to.

“Din?” You try and sure enough the visor tilts back to you immediately, his stiff body relaxing and moulding into yours again. His fingers clutch your side.

“Mesh’la?” You look down uncomfortably at your wet clothes but before Din can respond, his shoulders lifting in realisation of what you’re asking, another voice cuts in.

“The trunk in your chambers houses some of your wares,” you mentally groan, watching Din’s body stiffen again.

Boba continues without a beat, “I’ll escort you.”

Fennec hides a smile when Din incapacitates.

“We’ll manage,” his hand taking yours possessively and wandering off towards a hallway just behind.

Fennec calls after, “on the right,” watching you both disappear and watching you get dragged into the room with a bewildered expression at the steel back in front of you.

She turns and looks back at the green helmet, dropping his visor from your direction back to her raised brows, “really?”

"It's been awhile," you say without a beat, tugging the long leather jacket over your figure, a shiver running up you while you stand outside in front of the palace.

“I didn’t think you would return,” the aged modulator responds.

Boba turns from his stance in the middle of the path up to the palace gate, his visor focusing in on you.

You allow a small smile to grace your lips as you walk to his side, watching the people of Mos Espa go about their daily markets.

“Not of my own choice anyway,” you tease and smile to yourself when the older man falls silent, his visor back on the market stalls.

Din had gone to fetch the Crest. You had offered to walk the short distance to it just on the outskirts of the town but your still uneasy figure had Din retaliating immediately and with a pressured look at Fennec who stood near the entryway to your room smiling curiously, he ordered her to watch over you while he went to retrieve the ship.

That was only a few minutes ago.

You left Fennec to babysit Grogu much to her narrowed gaze at the small child and her initial refusal. You had stifled an amused laugh when you left them to retrieve some fresh clothes and found her walking him around the palace rooms showing him artefacts from travels and battles. It gave you the opportunity to slip away to get some air. Grateful to have a moments peace since being encased in that tomb you now learned was a bacta tank.

“Thank you, by the way,” you spoke up, noticing the way Boba’s shoulders relaxed slightly under his rigid armor. “You didn’t have to help but you did. I’m grateful and in your debt if you ever need anything.”

“I think we’re past owing each other debts whenever one of us saves the others life. Would you not agree, star-shine?”

You smile slips only momentarily, “you’re angry at me?”

“No,” it comes out rushed and slightly raised. Boba falls silent a moment and you know he’s deliberating the delivery of his words before speaking them aloud. As was his nature as ruler of Mos Espa.

“Star-shine,” Boba spoke and you couldn’t mistake the way it shook slightly.

You turned looking to him.

“I know you are a wanderer. Content with roaming the planets to your own leisure but please do not forget that you have a home here in Mos Espa. In our home.”

He punctured the word “our” and you swear you saw the way his helmet tipped to the silver one you were now well aware of looming behind you silently.

Boba clears his throat, “at least, remember to visit when you have some time. I know Fennec would be grateful to see you. She’s very fond of you.”

You smile.

You understand what he means.

This isn’t about Fennec.

“I’ve missed you too, Boba,” you smile and you watch as his visor turns to the bustling market nearby like before, “and again thank you for answering Din’s distress call.” You turn your head, meeting the silver visor now looking down at you, a gloved hand seeking yours, “and allowing me use of your bacta tank. I know how important that device is for you. You look well.”

Boba turns back then and you notice the way his previously hunched shoulders relax slightly at your informality of which he wasn’t sure he could share with you.

“And you?” Boba inquires, his visor dancing between you and Din. “You are well?”

You are happy and safe with this Mandalorian companion you seek refuge with?

You nod, a peaceful expression on your face as your fingers intertwine with the gloved one tightening in your grip.

“You have history,” Din mentions, trying to seem nonchalant about prying for the information he so desperately needs to know.

You were both back in hyperspace now. The reunion pleasant but short-lived. You felt a small ache in your chest, missing the familiarity of the planet you were speeding away from but there was a relief too being back on the Crest.

“Somewhat,” you respond with a shrug, rocking Grogu to sleep in your arms, his small green hand clutching your shirt.

“He wouldn’t tell me how you knew each other,” Din added, pressing buttons to get the ship into auto pilot.

You smile, “probably didn’t want to upset you.”

Din turns in his chair then, swiftly, his boots stopping the full turn harshly against the floor of the ship as he meets your gaze.

“Did he hurt you?”

You laugh in response causing his cheeks to redden.

“More like the other way around,” you grin.

“Oh, what did he do?” Din asks and you clock the obvious innocent tone he’s implying, knowing full well he’s desperate for information.

You humor him. “Ner kar’ta,” you begin making Din’s heart race at his language gracing your lips, “it’s endearing how much you trust that I wouldn’t harm someone without reason. You truly think me so innocent?”

Din sways slightly in his chair, distracted by your beauty, his lips tugging up mirroring the smirk on your lips.

“To ease you, it was at the start of our relationship. It was how we met.”

You let off there. Not speaking another word, waiting for Din to press you further.

“Tell me,” his words reach your ears, oh so quiet and sweet.

You fight a smile.

“If you must know, I shot him.”

You giggle and Din sits forward with immediate interest.

“Why?” he asks.

You elaborate.

“At the time, I was seeking passage on a supply ship. One of which Boba and his allies choose to infiltrate. Of course he thought me a threat and of course I thought him a common pirate so we had a stand off which resulted in me shooting him point blank in the abdomen. Fennec appeared then. It seemed she saw right through me and stepped between us. She explained that the real pirates were these people that I was travelling with and I agreed to assist them for a price. Enough money for off planet travel to Naboo. She agreed, on Boba’s behalf and much to his rejection might I add. It seems Fennec took a liking to me.”

“A rare thing,” Din adds and you nod.

“So we took control of the ship. It was rather simple. They already trusted me of course. We landed it in Mos Espa and I assisted Fennec with getting Boba to aid. I housed with them for some time. Safe to say we didn’t like each other to start but with time, a sort of friendship happened.”

“And more?” Din asks quietly.

“Are you jealous, Din Djarin?” You ask, causing him to evade your intense gaze, head turning from you.

“I don’t mind if you are. I rather like jealousy on you, ner riduur.”

Din’s head flashes back to you.

It’s the first time you’ve used that term and one Din has yearned for quite some time since you started travelling and establishing a relationship, parenting Grogu between you.

“I just…I know it isn’t my business,” Din sighs, “but I just need to know if-“

“We only kissed, my love. That’s all,” you smile reassuringly.

Din doesn’t like any mention of the fellow Bounty Hunter touching you but his body does relax at the thought of the two of you progressing no further than a brief kiss. Though, the way Boba looked upon you and spoke to you betrayed any thoughts that whatever the older man saw of you was anything far from platonic.

“He confessed his feelings for me,” you add, grinning at the look of surprise you know would be plastered on Din’s face.

“I know I was shocked too.”

Din’s cheeks blaze, he’s always taken aback when you can tell how he’s reacting under his helmet.

Your smile slips, “I felt bad though.”

Din remains silent, knowing there is more to this story that you need to get off your chest.

“I’ve never seen him that vulnerable before. He’s usually so stoic. It wasn’t like I must confess, I have developed feelings for you. You know how he can be all formal and shit, yeah well, nothing like that. He was genuinely all like, shit, I think I’m falling for you. I don’t fucking know why.”

Din shakes his head in shock at what you’re saying. None of it sounds like the bounty hunter he fought alongside at all.

You shuffle uncomfortably, trying not to rouse your sleeping child, “There was a lot of cursing, believe it or not. A lot of pacing, his face was as red as the surface of Dathomir. You had to be there. I told Fennec. She didn’t believe me for a second then apparently he started venting to her in the middle of the throne room while they were waiting on a contact to show up because I was leaving the next morning.”

Din speaks the words that have been eating away at his brain while you’ve been recounting the story to him.

“Did you share his affections?” His voice betrays him, trembling at the last syllable.

“I don’t think so?” Your brows furrow, shaking your head in exasperation, “Did my heart flutter a bit when I would watch him in a fight? Yeah it did. I quite like how stern he can be. Makes me think how different he might be intimately but I don’t know, it just seemed more like curiosity than anything else. I still didn’t feel a want to remain in Mos Espa. I wanted to explore, see the universe. With or without him…it didn’t really matter to me.”

“Do you feel that way about me?” Din eagerly responds.

“No,” your answer is immediate, your eyes fixated determinedly on Din’s visor.

He’s silent when you explain.

“When we met, it was more than finding you hot when you beat the shit out of a bounty or curious about how sexy you looked under that helmet.”

Din’s fingers twitch, adjusting his seating position when his lower half feels like it’s tightening against his armor.

“it wasn’t curiosity. It was genuine desire. That’s the difference. It was the desire to wake up to you every day, regardless of what mood you might’ve been in. I craved your praise whenever you would tell me I did a good job watching over Grogu or when you were teaching me how to shoot. My heart still goes crazy whenever you’re even an inch behind me and I can sense your looming figure above me.”

Din’s heart pounds at your words.

“I am so in love with you, Din.”

Your eyes soften with your words.

Your lips plush as the confession he’s already aware of graces your lips once again. Spoken even more beautifully than the first time you had admitted to him, that the time you had spent together meant far more to you than business.

You wanted pleasure too.

You wanted it from him and in every way that he would give it.

And he’d give you anything you asked.

Din stands, his body gravitating to you, taking a knee before your chair.

You drop your head back, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply when you feel the cool metal touch your forehead delicately.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You can’t fight back the smile twitching at your lips.

“I desire a life with you, Din,” his heart clenches at your words, his fingers brushing your lower back lovingly.

“And our son and whatever other foundlings you would want with me,” you smile shyly at him and he shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Mesh’la…I know you’re not teasing when you say that and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a desire of mine as well,” your eyes sparkle up at him, surprised by this new information. “But what about seeing the universe? Travelling from planet to planet? Isn’t that what you want before deciding to settle down with me?”

You sigh happily, using your one free arm to slide up past his chest, embracing around his helmet and pulling him closer.

“I’ve seen the universe, Din. I have. I wake up to it everyday. Every time I’m in your arms.” You gaze sweetly through his visor, feeling the way his arms tighten around you.

“Close your eyes.”

An order.

One which you’re more than willing to obey knowing the outcome.

You close your eyes, hearing the sound of metal clattering on the near console before feeling soft lips caressing yours.

!!Bonus Scene!!:

You’re in the cargo hold having since put Grogu to bed, organising food portions in a trunk near Din’s weaponry. You thought the bounty Hunter was busy sat in his flight chair navigating to your next refuge, so it was safe to say you were scared shitless when his modulator sounded close behind you.

“Is he a better kisser than me?”

You smirk but it fades quickly when you turn around to face him towering over you, his body moving closer and crowding you so much your back hits the cold wall of the ship behind you. You take a moment, searching the darkened visor focused on you like prey.

You let a wry smile reach your hot cheeks, batting your eyelashes at him.

“You’ll have to remind me.”

It takes a second for the lights of the ship to go out, plunging you into darkness, a crash of metal against the floor and warm lips meeting yours hungrily.

“Where’s our boy?” He pulls back breathlessly, your heart pacing at the rugged tone of his voice no longer hidden by a modulator.

“In our bunk,” you reply, feeling his ungloved hands on your face, relishing in the feel of his calloused fingers dancing along your jawline. His hands slip down your arms, gently grazing the insides of your wrists making you weak before intertwining your fingers and tugging you back towards the ladder.

“The chair it is then,” Din responds, his hand guiding your lower back now against the ladder crowding up behind you while you remain blind in the dark. His hands taking yours and placing them against the cool metal to guide you up.

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thefrogdalorian · 1 year ago

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Downpour

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Leading a solitary, nomadic existence for much of his life means that Din Djarin has never cuddled up to someone he loves during a rainstorm. Until one night in his cabin on Nevarro, when unseasonably poor weather introduces him to one of life’s simple pleasures.

Word Count: 1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: One suggestive line, Din having nightmares mentioned ✯ Author's Note: I miss the Razor Crest but daydreaming about domestic fluff in the cabin on Nevarro scratches an itch in my brain in all the best ways. I really want to cuddle with Din Djarin during a rainstorm. Is it too much to ask?! Thanks to @decembermidnight for betaing this one for me!! 🩷

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

The roof of the cabin on Nevarro has never felt like the most sturdy part of the modest-sized dwelling you share with your riduur. Especially not in the middle of an unseasonably fierce rainstorm, the severity of which has you groggily blinking awake in the pitch blackness.

Your immediate concern is for the mischievous child you tucked in just across the hallway shortly after sunset. You hope that the rain has not disturbed him and that he remains bundled in blankets, surrounded in his crib by the mountain of plushies which have been either bought for him by you and Din or gifted to him by the various people throughout the galaxy who cannot resist how charming he is.

Mercifully, your sensitive ears do not detect any wails. So, with Grogu seemingly still sleeping soundly, you turn your attention to his father. When you do not hear Din’s soft snores beside you, you vocalise your concern.

“Din, are you awake?” you mumble without turning around to face him.

Din shuffles towards you and wraps his arms around your waist. With a wordless response, he squeezes you tightly. You realise that Din is drawing comfort from your presence. Your heart grows heavy as you realise he must be alarmed by the rainstorm.

“Are you scared of the rain, my big scary Mandalorian?” you question. It is an attempt to lighten the mood, without fussing over him too much. You know how much such playful teasing gets underneath his skin.

“I’m not scared,” Din huffs.

You turn over, raising your eyebrows at him questioningly.

In the darkness, you can barely make out his handsome features. There is a soft light from the hallway, and you can faintly see his brown eyes sparkling slightly, even in the low light.

The lack of light is not an issue. You have mapped every inch of Din's face with your fingers and lips well enough to know that he will be furrowing his brow at you, exposing the wrinkle above the bridge of his nose that you love to gently trace with your fingertips whenever it becomes pronounced in times of stress.

You reach up to touch the lines of his face, as though you can ease all of his worries with just your touch, “What would all those bounties you once collected think if they could see you now?” you muse.

Din guffaws.

“Imagine if everyone you struck fear into the hearts of with merely your presence could see you now? Maybe they would feel silly for ever being so scared of a man who is scared of a little rainstorm…”

“Riduur…” Din warns, voice deep and firm.

He can excuse the teasing about the past. You have held him through enough bouts of sobbing in this very bunk after the visions which haunt him in slumber have torn him from sleep to earn the privilege of lightly teasing him. When nightmarish sights of his past sins overwhelmed him, you were always there, dutifully picking up his pieces.

But Din Djarin will never accept a charge of cowardice.

You know he is not seriously scared. Din is no coward. And he knows that you would never seriously lay such a charge at his door.

“You know I’m only teasing you, handsome,” you say with a wink you hope he can see.

You realise that Din has never lived somewhere for long enough to hear the rain pattering on the roof. His covert cloistered in the caves of Concordia. The Razor Crest was home but never docked in one place long enough for it to truly function as such.

The fact that until now, Din has been denied the simple pleasure of listening to a rainstorm in the arms of one you love is yet another detail of his life which brings you anguish.

“I think it’s very sweet, actually," you whisper, hoping he knows you meant no malice, "It's our first proper rainstorm in this cabin," you add, ensuring that he knows you understand this is new for him.

Despite how much Din's past makes your heart ache, you will not wallow in pity for him. Instead, it strengthens your resolve to make sure Din is loved every moment of the eternity he has vowed to spend with you.

You lean in for a gentle kiss, “Roll over and let me hold you, my love,” you whisper against his plush lips.

Din sighs and then leans in to kiss you again before he complies. A touch so slow and sweet, so different to the frenzied way his lips claimed yours hours before. Satisfied, he agrees to your proposal, flipping over with a grunt.

You position yourself so your chest is flush with his firm back, placing a kiss on the centre of his back, between his broad shoulders. Din sighs in contentment. You smile, relieved you can comfort him like this. It is a privilege unique to you out of everyone in the galaxy.

You slip your hands underneath the soft cotton shirt he wears to bed and absentmindedly trace circles onto the warm expanse of his stomach. His body is firm beneath your fingers thanks to his muscular physique; but there is a hint of softness there, which increases each year as he ages.

You do not mind one bit. It only makes his body better suited to cuddles.

This warrior who once terrified everyone is now a little softer at the edges, his toughness gradually eroded by the love he feels for his son and you, his riduur.

"Thank you," Din sleepily mumbles before he drifts off again, no longer disturbed by the thudding of the rain against the roof.

Fierce independence borne out of trauma had meant that Din had never previously known the simple pleasure of listening to rainfall pattering against the roof. It was a new reverberation, one initially alien and alarming to his highly attuned senses.

Fortunately, Din was not afraid for long. Now, he has you to hold him through the storm. There is no more fear or anxiety as he cuddles with you, his riduur, while the sound continues outside.

You whisper, "I love you, Din," before sleep's comforting embrace takes you too and you join Din somewhere peaceful. Far away from the downpour.

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fanfreakinfiction · 2 years ago

Text

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 1: Don’t Cry

Ch. 2 | Masterlist 🖤

14K words // Din Djarin x Pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles to find certain words. The reader is pregnant!

Tags: SMUT virginity loss, con-non-con, made-up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, 18+ DNI.

Warnings: Child loss, Pregnancy, Birthing, Blood, Death?, explicit mention of child loss and grief, guys this is dark.

A/N: I got this idea as I was dying in the shower from period cramps & also from a bot I used to use on Janitor AI before it was privated (RIP Din Bot). For logistics, we will just pretend that the Razor Crest didn’t get absolutely obliterated. For timeline reference, this takes place after season 3. Im convinced Din & Grogu are gonna have fun son/dad bounty-hunting adventures as Din teaches Grogu how to be a Mandalorian. Slight flashback in the middle of how reader and Mando met. Grogu has been working on his force flips lmao. I imagine the reader having an accent kind of like Gal Gadot, idk just roll with it. Also, I am so sorry if you cry reading this, I know I did writing it.

His hands ghosted over the silky skin of her back as he watched himself disappear and reappear from her stretched cunt. Slick mixed with blood pooled at the base of his cock in a ring, and the sound of her whimpers reached his ears through the thick metal of his helmet. The feeling of her tightness was so inviting, so hypnotizing, he felt possessed. He didn’t even mean to finish inside of her, he’d have to pay extra for that.

From the incense heavy room he found himself standing at the edge of an enigmatic forest, encircled by black rock. An ethereal silence enveloped the scene, leaving him with an eerie sense of detachment.

His eyes shifted as he looked up on a pool of steaming water, obscured by the thick veil of steam, he saw her. The woman he’d been with on Tattooine so long ago. She struggled, her words lost in the hissing steam as her trembling hand gently grazed her belly. And there, in the midst of the dream's uncertainty, he witnessed the miracle of life itself—a whisper of cells coalescing into a fragile existence, pulsating with an otherworldly vitality.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The gentle whisper transformed into a nightmarish wail—a blood-curdling scream that tore through the tranquility of the woods. It was a scream of agony, of despair, and it emanated from her trembling lips. Her lips, soft and inviting, the same ones he'd yearned to kiss that night when he had ventured into the pleasure house.

The piercing screams grew louder, echoing through the dream, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with torment. As he watched her agony unfold, he was jolted awake, his head colliding with the unforgiving overhead storage. The sudden transition from the surreal to reality left him momentarily disoriented.

In the dimly lit living quarters of the Crest, Grogu, the young green child who had become an unexpected but cherished presence in his life, cried out from his sling, hanging above Din's bunk.

With a heavy sigh, the sound reverberating through the vocoder in his helmet, Din rose to his feet. The aging joints in his knees protested as he reached out to comfort the child, his gloved hands gently lifting Grogu from the nest of makeshift fabric.

"I know," Din murmured softly, his voice a quiet rumble as he cradled the child in his arms. "You saw it too, didn't you, kid?" Grogu, with his large, expressive eyes, gazed up at Din with a mournful look and reached out, tiny green fingers brushing against the Mandalorian's helmet.

After the tumultuous events that had reshaped his life, Din Djarin had never allowed your memory to occupy his thoughts. Amidst the whirlwind of reuniting with Grogu, aiding Boba Fett, and playing a pivotal role in the reclamation of Mandalore, you had become little more than a faint blip on his radar—a passing connection that had provided a brief interlude of solace in the midst of his relentless journey.

But now, as he cradled Grogu in his arms, looking into the innocent, sorrowful eyes of the young child, he couldn't deny the awakening of something deeper within him. It was a sensation that transcended the confines of his dreams, a connection he felt as profoundly as the vivid dreamscape that had woven itself into his consciousness.

The realization slowly dawned upon him: you were more than just a fleeting memory. You were an integral part of the enigmatic tapestry of his life, and the threads of fate had woven your presence into his destiny in a way he had never expected.

Breaking free from his reverie, Grogu's tiny green form squirmed wildly in Din's arms, his latent Force abilities propelling him away from the Mandalorian's grasp. With agile grace, he leaped and bounced his way through the ship's cramped quarters, a small but energetic whirlwind of curiosity. Din could barely react before Grogu vaulted into the cockpit.

Din's boots thudded on the ladder's metal rungs as he followed the young one up into the cockpit. A chorus of wild babbling reached his ears, punctuated by the frenzied pressing of buttons on the navicomputer.

"Don't touch that!" Din exclaimed, a hint of exasperation in his voice, his heart racing as Grogu's tiny hand hovered perilously close to the power reset button. He couldn't help but be wary of the mischief the child could unleash.

The young one looked up at Din with eager eyes, babbled something incomprehensible, and tentatively touched the screen. Din cocked his head, his tinted visor reflecting his curiosity. With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the console and entered a code to initialize the navigation system. "Is this what you want?" Din asked, studying Grogu.

In response, Grogu emitted a single, distinct "Patu" sound, his tiny fingers now reaching for the code panel. Hesitating only momentarily, Din bent down, lifting the child to eye level with the buttons. Grogu began to press a sequence of buttons, his small, green hands navigating the controls with surprising precision. Din's eyes widened slightly, his thoughts racing.

"You know where she is?" his voice came out raspy. Grogu completed the sequence, and his innocent gaze met Din's as the navicomputer diligently calculated the numerical sequence. After a few moments, a series of beeps indicated the successful completion of the calculations. Din turned to read the result, the Aurebesh characters on the screen spelling out "Kith."

"It's in the Baxel Sector of the Outer Rim," Din murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty, as he looked down at the child now resting contentedly in his lap. Grogu gazed up at him, then shifted his gaze to the navicomputer.

With a reluctant sigh, Din pressed a sequence of buttons to engage the hyperdrive. Whether he liked it or not, the path ahead was clear. He had to check on you. As the ship surged into hyperspace, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that this journey was far from ordinary.

—

The path up to the Mountain of Mothers was a grueling journey, especially with your feet swollen and aching. It wasn't just a hike; it was a trial, a test of endurance to prove the worthiness of those seeking parenthood. The heavy pack you carried pressed on your lower back, making each step a test of your will. Normally, the pack was shared by the "Irrit" or father, but "Illa-ishi" or lonely mothers like you were compelled to carry it alone. The remnants of those who hadn't made it to the Mountain of Mothers were marked by the skeletons you passed on the way up.

The lower pool of the mountain lay two days away, and the upper pool required an additional five days of journey. Yet, something in your heart told you that this child would be with you in two days. As you followed the ascending trail, you crossed paths with an "Illa" or mother, accompanied by her Irrit. He bore their pack with pride, walking just behind her. It was a sight that warmed your heart, a testament to the culture you held dear.

"Noona" or baby was the foundation of your beliefs, the embodiment of the life you and your "Manna" or partner created together. Reaching the Mountain of Mothers and returning with a child was the highest honor, a symbol of worthiness.

The Illa halted on her descent and, with an air of pride, revealed her noona, wrapped in the family cloth. "Noona asa illa-ini!" (it’s a girl) she declared with joy, unveiling a beautiful baby girl. You couldn't help but smile down at the tiny noona and the Illa who showed her off with such pride.

“Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit,” (baby is worthy of her mother and father) you responded with the customary blessing, bowing your head in reverence. The mother and father returned the bow, acknowledging the blessing. However, the mother's eyes soon drifted to your belly and the heavy pack that weighed you down.

“Asa Illa-ishi?” she asked softly, her face clouding with sadness. (Are you a lonely mother?)

Summoning all your strength, you fought back the tears that threatened to well up. With your head held high and a tender hand resting on your belly, you spoke resolutely, "A illa-ishi."

I am a lonely mother.

—

The journey through hyperspace had indeed stretched far longer than Din had anticipated. A full day had elapsed since that haunting dream, leaving him with the unsettling sensation of being trapped in some unseen, cosmic rotation of time. However, that ceaseless ticking eventually brought them to the end of their journey as the ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of a smaller, mysterious planet, its surface adorned with sprawling waters and lush forests. As he guided the ship into the planet's atmosphere, the Mandalorian noticed a stark absence of the usual signs of civilization—no traffic control, no spaceports, not even a refueling station. The setting felt eerily reminiscent of the world of Sorgan.

Din hovered uncertainly in the atmosphere, his mind racing. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, played with the mythasaur skull around his neck, seemingly unfazed by the situation. As Din stared at the green child, he let out a sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Now what…?" Din muttered to himself, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the details of the dream, seeking any hint or clue that could guide their search.

In his mind's eye, he saw you, your form shrouded in mist and glistening with sweat. The dress you wore clung to your figure, the fabric a soft white-grey that accentuated your curves as you breathed heavily. His brow furrowed in concentration. There was water, almost like a waterfall, surrounding you, with black jagged rocks supporting your form. Your feet were immersed in milky water, reminiscent of a hot spring.

Din's eyes snapped open. A hot spring. It wasn't much to go on, especially for a planet that could potentially be dotted with such natural wonders, but it was a lead worth pursuing. His hands sprung into action, deftly pressing a sequence of buttons that initiated a signal, a ping to any electronic communication device on the planet's surface.

Grogu's focus shifted from the mythasaur skull to the Mandalorian, the child's curious gaze following Din's swift movements. Din soon located the nearest signal on the planet's surface, and as he brought the Razor Crest lower, he was struck by the intensity of the landscape. Towering thick trees covered nearly every inch of land, a vast, unspoiled wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The planet's terrain was marked by colossal mountains that sliced through the canopy of green like serpents in water, their peaks jutting out in sporadic bursts.

It was a breathtaking and untamed landscape, like nothing Din had ever witnessed. His gaze scanned the vast expanse below, tracking the signal as he searched for a suitable place to land the Crest. Finally, he spotted it—an elevated landing pad erected above the treetops. It seemed to be a small station, but it was a potential refuge for refueling and gathering information, a step closer to finding you

"K1 to RC 4577, you are clear to land at dock 7," a thickly accented voice echoed through the Razor Crest's comms system, providing the coordinates for their landing.

"RC 4577 to K1, recieved," Din responded, his gaze shifting to meet Grogu's eyes. The Mandalorian leaned over to offer a piece of advice to the child, "Always be kind when you land; most landing bay employees often know the most information." Grogu looked at Din, his large eyes brimming with understanding, and he babbled something that Din accepted as an acknowledgment.

With precision, Din guided the Razor Crest toward its designated dock and gently brought the ship to the surface. As he withdrew his hand from the control lever, he noticed a subtle tremor in his own fingers. It had been a long time since he had felt such a physical manifestation of emotion, not since he had lost Grogu to Moff Gideon.

In response to the tremor, Grogu cooed softly and reached out for his protector. Din's gaze locked onto the child, his trembling hands cautiously reaching out to embrace him. Grogu instinctively placed his tiny hands on either side of Din's helmet, offering comfort and connection. A sense of relief washed over the Mandalorian, and he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The small hands on his helmet made a soft "plink" sound that resonated through his interior comms.

"Thanks, kid," Din murmured, his voice laden with gratitude, but his words unable to fully convey the depth of his feelings.

Exiting the ship, Din carried Grogu in his sling, the child's presence providing a grounding force amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. A young mechanic in worn-overalls approached, his basic broken but comprehensible. "Need refuel?" he asked, to which Din nodded in acknowledgment. The mechanic, unfazed by the Mandalorian's helmet, started toward the fuel hose.

"Hot springs?" Din inquired, his voice barely audible above the wind that whipped violently across the landing pad. The mechanic turned, his eyes reflecting confusion, but Din simply nodded and reached for his credits, preparing to tip the young man for his services. Glancing around the landing pad, he spotted a few other ships—a transport vessel and two cargo ships.

The pad itself had clearly seen better days, and the gusts of wind whipped violently across its aged metal surface, causing a tumultuous symphony of sound. At the front of the landing pad stood a small rectangular building, featuring one set of large bay doors. It seemed to be the station's main structure. Adjusting Grogu in his sling, Din began to make his way toward it, his steps determined.

The small building served as a cover for various ships, a mix of those dusted and covered with the weight of time, and others gleaming with newness. Inside, a modest diner and café shop hummed with activity, a few patrons engaged in quiet conversations. At the front, an older man sat at a makeshift desk, engrossed in the workings of a peculiar-looking computer. As Din approached, the man stood abruptly, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Hello, traveler! Welcome to Kith!" he greeted with a giant smile. "I am Don Mai, the residing Mayor. We are humbled by the presence of a great warrior such as yourself!" With a reverence that bordered on adoration, the old man bowed deeply.

Din suppressed the urge to laugh, already forming an opinion of the enthusiastic mayor that he made a mental note to tell Bo Katan about later. Before Din could utter a word, Don Mai thrust a paper pamphlet into his hands, his speech transitioning into a rehearsed spiel about Kith's culture and history.

"Kith has a rich culture and even more intense history! Women from all over the galaxy come to experience the Mountain of Mothers and—"

“The Mountain of Mothers?" Din interjected, his tone cutting through the mayor's ramblings.

Don Mai's eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Well, the Mountain of Mothers has been around since the dawn of life on our humble planet, and its springs offer—"

"Hot springs?" Din interrupted again, his focus unwavering.

"Uh, well, yes, you see, the springs offer—" Don Mai began once more, but Din's impatience grew apparent.

"Where?" Din's voice was firm, demanding answers without the unnecessary embellishments.

Don Mai huffed, "The Mountain of Mothers is the largest mountain range on Kith. You should've seen it from your ship. If you take the elevator down to the planet’s surface, there is a speeder rental that can take you to the base of the range," the old man explained, his tone slightly deflated by Din's lack of interest in his detailed lecture.

Din places the paper pamphlet in a storage pocket on his bandolier as Grogu watches closely.

“And the elevator?” Din asks not looking away from the old man.

"To the left of the fuel pump on the landing pad. Just remember to pay your respects to the Gods as you visit the—"

The old man's voice dwindled into the background as Din walked away from the building and back onto the landing pad. He made his way to the fuel pump and, as instructed, looked to the left to find a rickety-looking elevator, seemingly manually operated. The metal showed signs of rust in various spots, and the wire pulley appeared to be in need of greasing. The flooring of the elevator was a grate that revealed the ground thousands of feet below. Grogu emitted a series of frightened squeaks and coos as Din hesitantly stepped onto the grating.

"I know, kid… let's just... get down there," Din muttered through gritted teeth, steeling himself for the precarious descent.

Din's hand gripped the elevator crank tightly, his patience stretched thin as he began the painstakingly slow descent. Halfway through, he had to switch arms, the anger at the archaic contraption bubbling beneath his calm exterior. It was unusual for him to get frustrated with inanimate objects, but this elevator was testing his resolve. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator reached the bottom of the landing pad. With a forceful yank, Din opened the rusted gate, stepping onto soil that felt surprisingly soft underfoot, reminiscent of the sands on Tatooine, albeit less yielding.

The area below was like a forgotten tourist hub, the shops standing silent and forlorn, each manned by a lone shopkeeper who stared into the emptiness, boredom etched across their faces. It was a desolate sight, a place trying to be lively without the visitors to make it so.

Walking further, Din noticed a row of rusted speeder bikes, the rentals. His heavy boots left imprints on the sponge-like earth as he approached. A few of the shopkeepers stirred from their boredom at the sight of the silver-clad Mandalorian passing by.

Reaching the speeder rental, Din was met by an old Aqualish man, the grey of the hair surrounding his face telling tales of years of service.

"How much?" Din asked, his voice reflecting his growing impatience.

"Fifty credits," the Aqualish garbled back.

"Thirty-five," Din countered, his tone firm as he shifted his weight to one side. Grogu cooed softly from his sling, his wide eyes observing the bartering process.

The Aqualish nodded in agreement and walked away to retrieve the speeder keys.

As Din adjusted Grogu in the sling to access his credits, he caught sight of a couple approaching from the earthen road. The man carried a hefty pack on his back, and the woman cradled a baby in her arms. The pride in the man's eyes was evident as he helped his wife walk toward the shops.

"Noona asa mala ta Illa a Irrit!" the shopkeeper, an elderly woman across the street, shouted at them. The couple bowed softly in acknowledgment as they continued walking. Every shop they passed echoed the same foreign phrase, and Din watched with curiosity. Upon reaching the elevator, the man removed his pack, fashioning a makeshift seat for his wife as he started cranking the elevator back up to the top of the landing pad.

The sound of a throat clearing broke Din's concentration. The Aqualish man stood, hand outstretched, waiting expectantly for the payment. Din sighed inwardly, realizing he had been lost in his thoughts. He paid the credits and received the keys to the rusted speeder. Adjusting Grogu in the sling, ensuring the child was safely nestled in his lap, Din ignited the speeder and set off down the only trail leading out of the market.

The only path to the Mountain of Mothers.

—

The pain in your swollen belly intensified as you stood at the base of the last incline leading to the lower pool. The journey had taken a heavy toll on your body, leaving you exhausted and in constant discomfort. Your feet were swollen, your hips ached, and everything hurt, but the cramping in your abdomen was what worried you most. The night before, you had barely managed to rest, opting to lie on the soft ground without bothering with your bedroll. Restlessness had plagued you throughout the night, and now the cramping made it clear that your time was approaching.

Today would be your last day on this arduous journey. The lower pool was just above you, but the pain in your body seemed unbearable. You knew it was all part of the gods' plan for you, but you never expected the pain to be this intense.

As you struggled up the final incline, a sharp pain ripped through you, and you stumbled. Your pack felt impossibly heavy, and your breaths came short. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as a wall of rock loomed ahead of you.

"Itta non a dashi," (I will not die here) you whispered defiantly, mustering the strength from the deepest part of your being. As your emotions surged, you felt the baby shift within you. With renewed determination, you regained your balance, placing a loving hand on your swollen belly.

The next incline lay ahead, one of the most challenging parts of the journey. You could see evidence of past mothers who had slipped or stopped, their bones scattered in the crevices of the rock. For Illa-ishi, like yourself, the task was solitary, without the help of an Irrit to assist with the ascent.

You stood at the base of the rocky cliff, gazing up at the tantalizing promise of the lower pool. The rhythmic thunder of the waterfall beyond the peak urged you forward, swirls of steam rose into the air, a tantalizing promise of the lower pool just a short climb away.

Thankfully, the rugged rock face bore shelves that made the treacherous climb more bearable. Growing up you heard tales of a time a century past when an Irrit, a kind-hearted soul whose manna, a young woman, could not walk. In a display of unwavering determination and love, he took chisel and hammer in hand, carving these sturdy, stone steps into existence. With these ledges, he could secure her safely to his back and ascend the daunting precipice so she could birth their child.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you surveyed the ascent before you. The harsh sun beat down, casting long shadows across the rocky surface. Determination burned in your eyes as you figured out the best plan of action. With a surge of resolve, you slipped the heavy pack from your sweat-covered body, feeling an immediate relief as the oppressive weight fell off you and onto the gritty dirt below.

With your pack discarded, you dragged it to the base of the wall where the first of the man-made shelves jutted out, a mere foot of space cut into the unforgiving rock face. Despite the fatigue gnawing at your muscles, you carefully planted your foot on the ledge, finding just enough space to stand. Bending down carefully you pulled the pack onto the ledge beside your feet. Your birthing gown, gauzy and light, provided a surprising ease of movement. Once you’d made sure the pack was secure you looked up and examined the next shelf. It was a little high of a stretch but you gripped the wall above to steady yourself, your gown billowing slightly with the effort.

Your hips protested with each movement, but the primal instinct to survive drowned out the pain. With staggering determination, you raised your leg, using the hold of the wall to leverage yourself onto the rock shelf to the left. Your arms, weary but unyielding, lifted your body until you were safely on the shelf.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you glanced back down at the last shelf, now below you. Gathering remnants of your strength, you reached down, hands trembling slightly, and lifted your pack with both arms onto the shelf beside you. Only one more shelf remained, higher up and to your right, a final obstacle before hauling yourself onto the top of the cliff.

After a short rest, you locked eyes with the next shelf, determination burning in your gaze. With a swift motion, you reached up for a gap in the wall to get a grip. Sliding your right hand into the sharp crevice, you pulled with all your might, grunting with effort as you lifted your right leg onto the shelf, which was higher than the last. But in that moment of triumph, a sudden jolt of pain radiated from your lower back all the way to your fingertips, and you lost your hold, a gasp ripping through you.

Stumbling backward, you were saved only by your pack, which you used for leverage to steady yourself. The contraction was fierce, so intense that it was only when you absentmindedly touched the dress covering your belly that you realized you'd sliced your palm on the unforgiving rock. Scarlet red stained your gown, creating an almost perfect handprint. Oddly, you felt no pain in your hand, your senses consumed by the tightening in your abdomen, which worsened with every passing moment.

“Issa non a tishi noona..” (its not time yet baby) you groaned out in pain, your voice strained and breathless. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to endure the relentless waves of agony.

You stood trembling on the shelf of the wall for a good minute or two before the contraction finally subsided, leaving you panting and exhausted. It was then that the sharp sting in your hand dominated your senses. You examined your hand, the crevice in the wall had sliced deep, and you could see the gash, making your stomach turn uneasily.

Reaching into your pack, you found the medipack, fingers trembling as you carefully opened it to retrieve the gauze and a bacta spray. With great care, you held your injured hand out in front of you and applied the bacta spray to the gash, wincing at the initial sting. Then, you gently wrapped the gauze around the wound, ensuring it was secure. The sharp pain began to dull as your trembling hand capped the spray, carefully returning it to the medipack.

With a sigh, you straightened up, taking a moment to regain your composure. The pain in your hand was no longer the foremost concern, and you couldn't let it distract you from the task at hand. You knew that each moment counted in this climb, and you needed to find the safest route to reach the next shelf.

Reassessing the situation, you examined the uneven rock wall before you, trying to identify the most secure handholds and footholds.

An idea crossed your mind and it could be great, or the worst idea ever and you could fall to your death but you were determined. You carefully maneuver around your pack and push it closer to the end of the shelf. You carefully placed a leg on the pack and then another, standing precariously on your pack which provided you almost a foot of extra height, you used the wall to steady yourself. You prayed to the Gods and reached with your right hand for the crevice that had so rudely marred your hand. Finding more traction with the gauze you confidently pulled yourself extending your right leg so your foot found purchase on the shelf. A victorious smile crossed your face as you then pushed off your pack with your left leg and hoisted yourself onto the shelf. A quiet laugh left your lips as you clung to the wall you were now facing.

Looking to your left, you bent down carefully to grab your pack. This shelf was a lot shorter, jutting from the wall maybe only eight inches. You had to precariously grab your heavy pack with one hand and quickly cram it under your left leg to prevent it from plummeting to the ground below.

You were so close now that you could feel the cool mist from the water above, and the deafening roar of the falls filled your ears. Perched roughly 15 feet above the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You dared not look down, fearing that it would disrupt your balance. Instead, you pressed your belly tightly against the rock wall in front of you, your heart pounding with both exertion and anticipation.

After a brief moment of rest, a surge of adrenaline coursed through you. This was it, the final leg of your treacherous journey. You had one more pull, one last push, and you would reach the lower pool, your goal within your grasp. But you also knew that a single mistake could lead to a disastrous fall, a fate you couldn't afford.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your arms above your head, your palms resting on the ridge above. With utmost care and precision, you hoisted yourself up, quickly placing both feet on your pack. The pack provided just enough height to get your elbows onto the smooth rock above. You pulled with every ounce of strength you had, feeling your belly scrape against the unyielding stone as you lifted.

Luck was on your side, as your feet managed to find a foothold through the worn leather of your boot. This newfound leverage allowed you to push yourself up, resembling a sea lion clambering onto a rocky outcrop. With sheer determination and the last vestiges of your strength, you quickly pulled your right leg under you and pushed yourself onto all fours on the smooth rock face. Your heart raced, your hands and knees trembling from the exertion, but you had made it. You had reached the final stretch of your perilous ascent, and the pool ahead awaited, a shimmering reward for your indomitable spirit.

A sob escaped your lips, a surge of emotion you hadn't anticipated as the reality of your accomplishment finally caught up with you. You had done it. You had managed to make it to the lower pool, and the inviting, milky-warm waters beckoned to soothe your weary body. Steam swirled around you, creating an ethereal atmosphere as you lay there, taking in the moment.

Rolling onto your back to face the sky, you watched as a giant silver ship soared high above the mountain. Your eyes followed it for a brief moment before it disappeared into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Tears welled up and trickled down your cheeks, their salty warmth mixing with the refreshing mist from the pool. You felt the gentle movements of the babe inside you and couldn't help but smile through your tears.

"Noona...we made it," you whispered in basic, your hand tenderly caressing your belly. The connection between you and the life within you was stronger than ever, a bond forged through this incredible journey.

After some time, you stirred, realizing that you needed to retrieve your pack. With some effort, the pack proved easier to handle than your own weight combined with the growing life inside you. You unzipped the pack and reached for your bedroll when another sensation, different from the earlier contractions, radiated through your core. This time, it felt like pressure, a clear sign that the moment you had been anticipating was drawing near.

After finding the bedroll, you took a moment to survey the area for a suitable spot to lay it down. The relatively flat rock surface encircling the spring was a dark black, a stark contrast to the frothy blue of the hot spring's waters. The ancient, tranquil pool was surrounded by old, tattered bedrolls, some empty, while others still held the silent remains of Illa-ishi who hadn't been as fortunate as you.

You sighed softly, the weight of the past and the solemnity of the place pressing down on you. You knew what lay beneath the surface of this hot spring – the resting places of those who had undertaken the same treacherous journey but hadn't emerged victorious. Out of respect for their memory, the people of Kith never dared to touch the remains. Instead, they left the bones where they lay, allowing them to become one with the planet's core, a final return to the world from which they had come.

Gently, you found a clear space amidst the bedrolls and laid down your own bedroll. It felt strange to rest among the remnants of those who had gone before you, but you also understood the significance of this place.

It was believed among your people that the Mountain of Mothers was the handiwork of the divine God of Kith, a deity whose love for his wife, Illa-ishi, was as vast as the universe itself.

Illa-ishi’s womb had cradled life for what seemed like an eternity and her body bore the weight of years, while her heart bore the burden of unbearable pain. Witnessing his beloved wife suffer, Kith, with his divine hands, crafted a pool at the mountain's base. Its waters held the promise of relief, a balm for Illa-ishi's agony.

While Kith labored tirelessly to raise the Mountain of Mothers, Illa-ishi, driven by a desperation born of unending torment, embarked on a solitary climb up its slopes. With each step, she ascended toward the heavens, seeking solace that seemed perpetually out of reach.

At the pinnacle of her journey, amidst the tranquil waters of the divine pool, Illa-ishi's child was born. Yet, there was no cry of life, no breath to fill the air. In a heart-wrenching moment, the lonely mother, overcome by despair, embraced the waters that had promised relief. She allowed herself to be consumed, seeking peace in the depths of the pool.

Kith, returning to find his wife and child lost to the pool’s embrace, was consumed by an anguish that eclipsed the stars. In his sorrow, he performed a deed both divine and sacrificial. In a resolute act, he harnessed the remnants of their life force, infusing it with the very essence of his divine being, and breathed life into the creation of the upper pool atop the Mountain of Mothers.

This upper pool, borne from his profound sacrifice, was destined to be a reward for those who completed the arduous journey together. It was a testament to the strength of unity, the enduring love that bound families and lovers, and the rewards that awaited those who surmounted the trials of life.

Yet, even in the splendor of his divine creation, Kith's sadness consumed him. He recognized the fundamental truth that Illa could not always survive, and that Noona may not always breathe. And so, the first pool, at the mountain's base, remained untouched, preserved as a sanctuary of rest and respect. A place where Illa-ishi, and Illa could find solace amidst the beauty of the Mountain of Mothers, where the waters whispered stories of love and sacrifice, and where their weary spirits could find respite beneath the endless expanse of the starlit sky.

In history there was only one illa-ishi who succeeded in birthing a breathing babe at the first pool, and she had birthed an evil so strong it was said to last generations.

You knew your heart, and you knew your babe. You had come here to rest.

—

The hike was hard. Din was breathing heavily under the weight of his armor and the burden of Grogu, who looked around the desolate landscape with a sad curiosity. How many skeletons had they passed? What kind of place was this? Why were you here? The guilt gnawed at him with each step he took. Why had he even gone to seek out pleasure from solitude in the first place? He thought back to that night…

The night was dark and heavy as Din sat alone in the dimly lit corner of the cantina in Mos Eisley, his thoughts consumed by a yearning for Grogu. The scorching sands of Tatooine outside were a harsh reminder of the precious time he had spent here with the child and Peli Motto. They had been moments of sanctuary, where the galaxy's chaos seemed miles away.

Nearly a year had passed since he'd entrusted Grogu to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a decision made with the best intentions. But that choice had left a void within him that he could hardly bear. Sleepless nights had become his constant companion, and the craving for both rest and peace had grown unbearable. And yet, he found himself agreeing to help Boba Fett in the midst of a brutal war, a commitment that seemed at odds with his desire for tranquility.

But in that cantina, he made a solemn decision. He had to seek out Grogu one last time, he had to give Grogu the chain mail that he had made for him. Just, as a way to protect him nothing more… He ran his fingers over its cool surface, a gesture that silently conveyed his unbreakable resolve before he pocketed the beskar.

As the night deepened and the alcohol flowed, he realized he had indulged in more Corellian Whiskey than he should have, knowing he needed a clear head for the journey that awaited him. But the whiskey's burn was a welcomed distraction, a temporary escape from the overwhelming pain of missing Grogu.

In the midst of his solitude, the cantina's atmosphere began to change. A group of scantily dressed women, draped in silks and adorned with gold, entered the establishment. They moved with grace and charisma, engaging patrons in conversation, flirting, and distributing holochips for a nearby pleasure house. Din snorted at the thought. When was the last time he even had time to fuck anything but his palm?

When was the last? He wondered trying to think back over the years since he’d acquired the responsibility of caring for Grogu.

Years. Actual, years.

In his inebriated state, Din found himself clutching the holochip, his steps unsteady as he navigated the narrow streets of Mos Eisley towards the establishment advertised on the chip. He had given in to a reckless impulse, fueled by a desire to escape the pain of missing Grogu, and a fleeting sense of excitement at the prospect of companionship, even if it was just for one night. The weight of the impending war, as Boba Fett had described it, loomed in his thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder if this might be his last moment of solace.

Entering the dimly lit and shady establishment, he was met by a greasy, overweight man berating a young child. The sight of the child sent a wave of unease through him, casting a shadow over his already troubled conscience. What kind of place was this, where children were exposed to such depravity?

"Not for sale!" the greasy man barked at Din, as if reading some unsavory intent in the Mandalorian's eyes, he shielded the child, pushing her back behind a tattered curtain.

“I wasn’t…” Din’s words faltered, the very thought of such exploitation sickening him to his core.

But the foreman, undeterred, eyed Din up and down, his gaze lingering on the gleaming beskar armor. “You’ve got money, I’ve got girls,” the man said, his voice oozing with a repugnant confidence.

Din struggled to find the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess, still reeling from the shock of seeing a child in such a place. He stumbled, his voice faltering.

The foreman, undeterred, went on, "I have a girl who just became available. She's not been with anyone, you'd be lucky to find a deal like her on this side of Tatooine." He reached into a box of hologram pucks, selected one, and placed it on the desk. Activating the hologram, he presented it to Din.

Din's gaze fixated on the static image, his eyes locked on the visage.. Strangely, he felt a deep pull within him, as if your image was both familiar and enigmatic, stirring emotions he couldn't quite place.

"How much?" Din's voice, though filtered through his modulator, held a heaviness, a mix of curiosity and longing.

"Four thousand credits," the foreman stated, avarice evident in his words.

“Four?” Din repeated, incredulous, his disbelief met with a dismissive glance from the foreman. “How much does she get?” he demanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

The foreman's look turned defensive, his response sharp, "Two thousand. My girls are lucky to get any at all."

Din's resolve hardened, and he leaned in, his voice taking on a threatening edge that he usually reserved for bounties. "I'll pay six thousand, and she gets four thousand."

The foreman's eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard, but a vile smirk soon crept across his face. "Deal. Right this way, sir," he beamed, all too eager to make the transaction.

The foreman led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways filled with disturbing moans and an overpowering, artificial perfume that hung heavily in the air. The cacophony of voices from behind the closed doors was a haunting reminder of the grim reality of this place, and the perfumed scent was a failed attempt at masking the despair that lurked within.

At the end of the corridor, the foreman unlocked a door and gestured for Din to enter. "I'll send her in," he grunted, closing the door behind Din.

Din stumbled into the room, the alcohol coursing through his veins, muddling his thoughts. He took in his surroundings, finding himself in a chamber that seemed a stark contrast to the rest of the establishment. A makeshift bed of luxurious pillows lay on the floor, richly woven tapestries hung from the ceiling, creating a semblance of privacy. Incense burned intensely, casting a hazy atmosphere, a chair rested by the door infront of a towering golden-framed mirror that rest to the right.

This must be a more expensive room, he thought, his mind reeling with the absurdity of it all. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he was truly doing here, and if this was the way he wanted to fill the void left by Grogu.

As the room's fakely lavish atmosphere weighed upon him, the door behind him swung open gently. He turned, his movements slow and heavy from his armor, to see you enter. Your form was meek, draped in a light blue silk garment that covered more of your body than the women he had seen in the cantina. Gold metal accents adorned your wrists, ankles, and neck, casting a subtle glow in the dim room.

Din's breath hitched as he observed you, his gaze tracing your figure from your feet to your face. Your flushed face and the nervous way you looked down at the floor beside him made it clear that you were unfamiliar with this line of work. He saw you absentmindedly running your index and middle finger along the material of your flowing skirt.

He couldn't explain it, but something about your vulnerability, the innocence you still carried despite the circumstances, touched him. For a moment, he entertained the thought that the foreman had lied about your experience, but as he watched you in silence, he knew that the greasy man's words were painfully accurate.

Din shifted slightly, causing your gaze to snap to him quickly. His visor concealed his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. He observed for another moment, considering his next move. Slowly, he began to remove his gloves. The process was deliberate, one finger at a time on the right hand of his glove, until he was able to pull it off, revealing his bare hand. His eyes never left yours as he started to work the other glove off, the tension in the room growing palpable.

Your gaze drifted from his visor to his hands, watching intently as the gloves came off. As soon as he removed the gloves, he walked to the chair by the door and set them down gently. Your gaze followed him as he approached, your hand never leaving the doorknob the entire time. It was as if you were waiting for him to make a move, to confirm the fear that had taken root in your heart.

Din stopped a few feet away from you, his gauntleted hand hanging by his side. There was something in his stance, a subtle softening in his normally rigid posture that made you feel he might not be the threat you initially perceived.

He straightened as he turned to face you, extending his tanned and calloused right hand as a peace offering. It hung there in the space between you, a bridge across the vast divide that had separated your worlds. The look you gave him that night pierced through his then-buzzed haze, and as your gaze moved from his visor to the palm of his outstretched hand, you ever so softly smiled.

Your hand moved slowly, with a slight tremble, as you placed it in his. Maker, it was so soft, so... loving. In a way, it reminded Din of his mother's hands. He remembered the feeling of her hands on his face when she would kiss him on the top of his head or brush his hair back. It was a memory buried deep, one he rarely let resurface in the harsh reality of his life.

He watched you, unknowingly holding his breath, as your eyes flitted from his hands back up to his visor.

That night was almost eight months ago, and in the span of those months, the galaxy had shifted beneath Din Djarin's feet. He had fought with Boba Fett, gotten Grogu back, found his covert and embarked on the perilous journey to reclaim Mandalore and his Mandalorian status. The weight of leadership, the responsibilities, and the relentless pursuit of his beliefs had clouded his thoughts, leaving little room for anything else.

As he walked through the dense forest, the guilt that had been gnawing at him grew ever more oppressive. He'd been so preoccupied with his own mission, his people's future, and the legacy of Mandalore that he hadn't even spared a thought in your direction. He had foolishly assumed that the foreman would handle any potential consequences of their night together, perhaps naively believing that you would choose to remain silent. However, what if you hadn't told the foreman? What if you carried something precious from that night, a part of him he was yet to know about? He had neither your name nor any means of contact, and that realization weighed him down like a camtono of beskar.

With every step, the burden of his guilt pressed down upon him, and he mentally berated himself for not knowing your name or sharing his. He deserved this guilt, for in his quest to rebuild his world, he had unintentionally left a piece of himself behind. If you were pregnant, how were you supposed to find him in the vastness of the galaxy? He couldn't shake the thought that he might be a father, and yet he had no way to reach out to you.

Lost in thought and oblivious to his surroundings, Din hadn't even realized that he'd strayed from the trail until a blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's silence, shattering the walls of his introspection. His eyes darted ahead, and the only thing he saw beyond the thick undergrowth was a rocky precipice. Steam rose from somewhere below, and the scream, unmistakably human, sent a chill down his spine.

—

After doing your best to set up a makeshift camp amidst the unforgiving terrain, the contractions began to increase in intensity and frequency. Drenched in sweat, your body ached with fatigue, and desperation for the comfort of the hot spring surged within you. In your birthing gown, you summoned every ounce of strength to embark on the journey toward the soothing waters.

With slow, measured steps, you made your way to the spring, determined to find solace amidst the throes of labor. The contractions continued to grip you, and you fought to maintain your composure, focusing on deep breaths as you moved closer to the source of relief.

As you neared the milky waters, the soothing sound of the waterfall dumping cool water into the far end of the pool filled your ears. The natural geothermal heat emanated from the earth beneath the water, warming the fresh, chilly stream. You gingerly lowered yourself to the spring's edge, wincing through the persistent contraction that clawed at your strength.

With immense effort, you managed to sit on the edge of the pool, your feet dipping into the perfectly warm water. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the soothing waters enveloped your aching limbs. Slowly, you eased yourself into the warm embrace of the spring, its shallowness just deep enough for you to sit comfortably, your head above the waterline.

The warmth cocooned you, providing the much-needed respite your weary body craved. In the midst of your struggle, the hot spring became a sanctuary, a place where the pain of labor met the healing balm of nature, and for a fleeting moment, you found solace amidst the turmoil, embracing the precious gift of warmth and comfort in the midst of the wilderness.

You had lost track of how long you sat in the soothing water, your fingers pruning as the serene ambiance of the hot spring washed over you. Contented sighs intermittently left your lips as you found a momentary respite from the relentless contractions. The world around you seemed to blur as the hot spring cradled you in its gentle embrace.

But all too soon, your tranquility shattered like fragile glass. A pained cry tore through the rocky landscape. Your eyes shot open, searching for the source of the distress.

Your gaze darted towards the rugged ridge you had labored to climb mere hours earlier. Two voices reached your ears, one male and one female, carrying on the wind. Panic surged through you as you observed a hand ascending the top of the ridge. Your heart quickened, and you realized there were people approaching, their presence entirely unexpected.

With haste, you sprung up from your spot in the spring, water cascading off your birthing gown as you clambered to the edge of the pool.

A man, seemingly oblivious to your presence, ascended the ridge, a pack strapped to his back. He reached the flat rock and extended his hand below him. Your bare feet met the cold, rough surface of the gravely rock as you hurried over to the edge, your heart heavy with empathy for the woman in dire need. Down below, on the third rock shelf, you saw a woman, her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her birthing gown stained with the evidence of her struggles.

“Isa a happis” (I will help!) you called out, your voice resolute, your determination evident. You easily crouched down next to the man, extending your hand to the one who was suffering. She gazed up at you, gratitude filling her eyes as she grasped your outstretched hand.

“Ona tice!” (On Three!) The man standing beside you declared, his voice strong and determined. You locked eyes with him, sharing the gravity of the situation, and both of you prepared to pull the distressed woman to safety. With a shared resolve, he began to count down, and on three, you pulled the woman up with surprising ease, your muscles working in harmony to lift her to safety.

Wide-eyed, she arrived at the top of the landing, blood staining her birthing gown, a visceral testament to the life that sought to enter the world. She cried out in agony, her body in the throes of birthing pains. Your attention shifted to the Illit, his face etched with desperation as he removed his pack, his hands trembling as he tried to assist his manna.

He grabbed her, his touch gentle yet urgent, realizing that there was no time to lose. Even as you watched, you could tell the baby was coming, the process inevitable now. The woman screamed, the sound echoing off the rocky walls, a symphony of pain and life in the midst of nature's raw beauty.

“Noona essa comesei ittina!” (the babe is coming now!) you urgently announce, your voice steady and commanding, as you motion for the father to cease his movements. He gazes at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and sadness, the emotions palpable in the misty air.

Your own contractions, once so overwhelming, are now distant memories as you shift your focus entirely to the woman and her impending delivery. You position yourself between the woman's legs, and she leans back on her husband for support, the bond of love and trust between them evident in the way they clung to each other during this moment.

With gentle but purposeful hands, you begin to move the gauze of her birthing dress out of the way, revealing the sacred space where the new life is making its entrance into the world. The sight fills you with a profound sense of awe and wonder, the beauty of life in its most raw and unadulterated form.

As you catch the first glimpse of the emerging baby, a smile naturally graces your lips, a radiant reflection of the profound beauty you are about to witness. You look up at the father, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding and connection as you prepare to assist in guiding their child into the world, an act of grace in the heart of nature's splendor.

“Noona essa comesei! Attari noona bassi?” (The baby is coming, the baby cloth?) you urgently conveyed to the father, the intensity of the moment hanging heavy in the air. He blinked, momentarily caught in the whirlwind of emotions before comprehending your words. With careful haste, he gently leaned his wife back, supporting her amidst the agonizing pains as he reached for his pack against the wall.

Desperation etched on his face, he hurriedly threw various items from the bag, scattering them around in his search for the baby cloth. Every passing second felt like an eternity as the mother cried out in pain, her body instinctively bringing forth the baby as your hand supported its head.

Finally, after emptying the entire bag, the Illit father's shoulders slumped in defeat. His frustration boiled over, and he struck the rock wall with his fist, a primal cry of helplessness escaping his lips.

In the midst of this despair, you remained calm, your instincts taking over.

“Asa Passi! Attara noona bassi!” (In my pack! I have the baby cloth!) you shouted at the father, your voice carrying the urgency of the moment. With a quick motion, you pointed to your own pack, signaling where the much-needed baby cloth could be found. Your other hand remained cradling the head of the newborn, offering support and comfort to the laboring mother.

You ran a soothing hand over her leg as she summoned her last ounce of strength, pushing with all her might, and then, in a powerful moment, the babe broke free into the world. The father, having located the cloth meant for your own child in your pack, rushed over, his eyes wide with anxiety. You accepted the plain cloth from him, wasting no time in wrapping the baby in it.

The newborn lay still and silent, not letting out the expected cries that heralded a new life. A sense of despair washed over you, and you shared a helpless glance with the father, both of you fearing the worst.

The mother's wails of agony resonated in the rugged landscape, echoing the heartbreak of a life not granted breath. The anguish in the air was suffocating as she reached for her still baby, her hands trembling. With a heavy heart, you gently transferred the infant to the mother's waiting arms.

She cradled her lifeless child, tears streaming down her face as she caressed the baby, whispering soft words of love and heartbreak. Her cries mingled with those of her husband as they shared the unbearable moment of loss.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tore yourself away from the heart-wrenching scene of the manna. You felt a surge of emotions, a profound sense of hopelessness, reminiscent of the day you had received the news of your own pregnancy.

—

The anguished screams pierced the rugged terrain, reverberating through the rocky expanse, and Din felt his heart plummet through the soles of his boots. Grogu, sensing the turmoil in the air, cooed softly from the safety of his sling, nestled beneath Din's protective hand.

Carefully and quietly, Din approached the edge of the rocky ridge, his heart pounding with trepidation. As he looked down into the precipitous drop-off, his eyes fell upon a scene that nearly froze his heart in his chest.

Down below, amidst the harsh and unforgiving black surface of the rocky cavern, he saw you kneeling, a stoic presence, between the legs of a pregnant woman who was hemorrhaging profusely. The woman's anguished cries filled the cavern, echoing against the unforgiving walls.

Din's eyes then shifted to a man, who appeared to be the woman's partner, desperately rummaging through a pack, panic etched across his face. You spoke urgently in a language Din didn't understand, the words punctuated by fear and sorrow. The man seemed to heed your words and swiftly abandoned his fruitless search, rushing over to another pack that lay nearby. The man retrieved a gray cloth from the second pack and hurriedly approached where you were crouched.

Din observed, his eyes transfixed, as you, kneeling on the rocky cavern floor, expertly assisted the pregnant woman. With a mix of awe and sadness, he saw you pull a beautiful, newborn baby from the crying mother, delicate and fragile in your hands.

His gaze lingered as you carefully, almost mournfully, opened the grey cloth. To his dismay, he recognized the symbol displayed on it – a mudhorn. It was the very same symbol etched onto his own pauldron, the only identifier that you could tie to him. He watched as you used the cloth meant for your child, his child, to wrap the now purple baby in the blanket with meticulous care.

Cries and sobs filled the air as he watched from his hidden spot on the high cliff above. His sounds were likely muffled by the nearby waterfall, but he felt Grogu pulling at him, desperate for attention. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to look away. He continued to watch, hidden in the shadows.

He observed as you struggled to stand, your belly full with his child, and as you respectfully walked away to what he could now confirm as your pack. He could see the pain etched on your face, the tears in your eyes, and he felt a pang of guilt deep within him. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Din had done a lot of things he wasn't proud of; he'd walked a dark and treacherous path. He had hated himself when he handed Grogu over to the client for a camtono of beskar, but now, seeing you here, in this vulnerable moment, he hated himself more than he had ever thought possible.

The symbol on that blanket, the mudhorn, was a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected. As he watched you cry softly, he knew he couldn't change the past, but he could choose a different path now, one that might bring redemption and peace.

—

Hours passed by as the mother and her lifeless baby lay on the rocky outcrop. The father, now solemn and determined, prepared the pack for their descent. He spared you a thankful glance as he gently helped the mother stand, their shared grief connecting them. With cautious and uneasy steps, they began their descent down the cliffside.

The mother cradled her unbreathing babe, her heart heavy with loss, as she slowly made her way towards you. With some effort, you rose to your feet and met her halfway. Tears welled up in your eyes as she kissed your cheeks in gratitude.

“Illa-ishi, missa.” (Lonely mothers, sisters.) she said mournfully, her words heavy with the weight of shared sorrow. She placed a gentle hand on your belly, a silent acknowledgment of your pain. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the moment, you couldn't hold back a sob, and the two of you embraced tightly. In that moment, she became your sister in grief, and your shared loss bound you together in a way that words couldn't express.

As she and her husband began their descent, you watched them with a heavy heart. The blanket you had intended for your own child now wrapped around her lifeless baby, providing some small comfort in their time of mourning.

Left alone once more, you couldn't hold back your tears as you watched the husband carefully guide his grieving wife down the steep cliff and out of sight. As they disappeared from your view, a profound sense of isolation settled over you, and you wept softly, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Returning to the healing waters, you couldn't help but notice that your contractions had inexplicably ceased. Confused but hopeful, you gently felt around your belly and were met with a delicate, reassuring movement from within. A smile, albeit a tearful one, graced your face as you carefully lowered yourself back into the pool, ready to embrace whatever destiny the Gods had in store for you.

The sun began its descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the landscape. From your elevated position, you had a perfect view of the sky as it transformed into a breathtaking canvas of purple, pink, and orange ribbons. As you smiled to yourself, entranced by the beauty of nature, an unusual sound suddenly pierced the tranquility of the moment, snapping your attention to the cliff edge. Your heart raced as you strained to identify the source of this unexpected disturbance, a sense of both trepidation and curiosity gripping you.

As if by magic, a form suddenly flipped up onto the solid ground level with the pool. A small, green being emerged, making noises that were nearly drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Yet, an overwhelming feeling of joy washed over you as you beheld the sight of this tiny creature toddling towards you.

Driven by curiosity and amazement, you pushed yourself up and out of the water. Your birthing gown clung to your body as you moved, but you paid it no mind. Stepping onto the rock, you slowly rounded the corner of the pool to greet the small being.

To your astonishment, you realized it was a baby, with wide, innocent eyes and a furious babble. The baby lifted its tiny hands towards you, and you couldn't help but crouch down as best you could, your heart filled with warmth. "Noona?" you asked the little creature with a soft, amused laugh. In response, the tiny being gave you a toothy grin, and it made you laugh even more.

Your attention, however, shifted from the small being to a pair of gloved hands gripping the side of the rocky cliff. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized those gloves, and heat rushed into your face. With wide eyes, you watched as a figure clad in silver beskar, a Mandalorian, lifted themselves effortlessly over the cliff face and stood there with an almost regal grace.

From your crouched position, you observed as the green baby waddled over to the Mandalorian and tugged on his shin armor. The Mandalorian, with his helmeted face turned towards the child, bent down to pick up the little one, and you couldn't hide the confusion that replaced your initial joy.

—

Din's eyes remained locked on your form as he swiftly pulled himself up onto the flat surface of the cliff. He saw you kneeling down, fingers outstretched towards Grogu, the shock etched across your face. But his gaze was drawn irresistibly to the wet dress that clung to your swollen belly, a stark reminder of your impending motherhood.

As he felt Grogu tugging at his shin armor, he silently bent down to pick up the child. Still, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he struggled to find the right words to explain this unexpected reunion.

“I... I had a dream,” he finally managed to say, his voice choked with emotion.

Your eyes softened, and he witnessed your composure crumbling before him. Your confused and shocked expression melted into a soft frown as tears welled up in your eyes. Before he fully registered it, his feet carried him closer, and he knelt down in front of you with Grogu still cradled in his arms. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hoping to offer some form of reassurance.

"Please... don't cry," he implored softly, the tenderness in his voice evident. However, he watched as you recoiled from his touch, your reaction sharp and violent, like a wounded animal cornered in fear.

—

"Don't cry," his voice was a gentle whisper from behind as he reached out to sweep your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear with his left hand. His thumb, soft and reassuring, brushed away a solitary tear that had collected in the corner of your eye, preventing it from descending down your cheek.

The cold, unyielding embrace of his armor pressed against your back, a constant reminder of his presence, as if he permeated every inch of the room. You lay face down on the makeshift bed within the opulent suite, placed there by him in silence. His helmet tucked against the back of your head as his right hand reached around the front of your body to work open your tight entrance. He smelled like musk, metal, and something floral.

You didn't know his name, and in truth, you knew very little about him. All you knew was that he had paid a considerable sum for your services and bore a mudhorn symbol on his pauldron. The hushed whispers from the other women in the establishment painted a picture of a bounty hunter, a formidable figure who held the favor of the new Daimyo. He was a source of fear and fascination, and the idea of him both terrified and intrigued you. But, above all, you craved freedom more than anything else, and this was a means to an end.

As the moments unfolded, you couldn't hold back the tears that escaped, mingling with a confusing mix of emotions. It wasn't bad; he wasn't unkind. In fact, you found him surprisingly polite. He had said nothing, just removed his gloves and led you to the makeshift bed, where he now pressed into your body from behind.

It felt fine, maybe even surprisingly good, but your stubbornness held strong. You were determined not to give the foreman the satisfaction of knowing you enjoyed the path you had chosen to earn your freedom. The thought of succumbing to pleasure and surrendering to the moment felt like weakness, and you clung to your resolve with unwavering determination.

However, as his fingers moved softly, so softly, you couldn't help but feel your resistance slowly crumbling. Each touch was skillful, and the sensations they evoked were impossible to ignore.

You could feel a pleasure building within you as he continued his careful thrusting into your tightness. His thick fingers curled slightly as his thumb worked your clit. His left hand rests by your head as he made sure to move any hair out of your face. You had no idea if he was watching you through his visor, but you had assumed so because he wiped your tears and told you not to cry. The build up turned into a tightness that needed to be released, he could tell by how hot you’d gotten under him and how your walls fluttered on his fingers.

He felt a pride well up in him at the knowledge that he still had the ability to bring a woman pleasure but also that you’d finally relaxed enough to allow yourself to feel this. He closed his eyes for a moment just to focus on how your walls felt around his fingers, he willed himself to listen to your body. Upon each drawback of his fingers he worked to spread your tight cunt just slightly- three, four, five more thrusts of his fingers and he felt you tremble under him.

His eyes snapped open, and he observed you biting your hand to stifle any sounds. He felt the flutter of your walls on his fingers as he stilled in order to relish in the feel your softness. He watched you come back from wherever you had gone in your high, his hand moving gently to caress the hand you had bitten, the teeth marks already leaving a faint purplish hue. As his thumb brushed over the marked area, he felt the slight tremor in your body, your vulnerability laid bare, and saw the glistening tears welling up in your eyes once more.

“Don’t cry.” he said again before moving to sit back on his heels. He admired your form, the way the flame lit room made your skin look like silk. You were totally bare to him, he’d undressed you slowly and carefully placed your clothing next his gloves on the chair. He was still fully clothed save for the gloves he’d removed. He watched as your form began to stir, and he carefully placed a hand on your lower back to keep you down. You immediately complied. With a sigh he slowly ran his hand down your back to the curve of your ass and to the back of your thigh. He could see the slick from your arousal glimmering in the soft light.

He could see everything, every intimate part of you, and yet he didn’t allow you the joy of seeing him. He couldn’t.

You sat, staring at the wall ahead of you, the seconds feeling like hours, with him seated behind you. The situation was embarrassing, and you could only hope he wasn't disgusted. You had assumed he was finished with you after whatever had just happened, only to be gently pushed back onto the bed, not harshly but rather in a silent, pleading manner. After a moment, you heard him stir behind you, and you froze, your ears attuned to his every movement.

You heard a soft rustling of fabrics and buckles. He came to rest on you again, with his left hand resting by your left hand. His right hand gripped your waist as he shifted you back towards him. This position shifted you more so your backside was resting against his thighs while your chest was flush with the pillows beneath you. He was able to bend over you more like this so he comfortably rested on his left arm above you.

His right hand left your waist and you felt the warmth of his hand in between your legs. You could feel the soft head of his hard cock turn to velvet as he ran it through your slick folds. You clenched the pillow underneath you as you braced yourself for the pain the other women had told you about. You felt pressure against your entrance and instinctively you tried to move away only to feel his hand move like lightning from between your thighs to your waist as he anchored you in place.

He didn’t say anything just held you there as he slowly pushed the head of his cock deeper into your entrance. His grip once iron on your waist turned soft as his thumb brushed circles into the skin there. Slowly he sank deeper and that’s when you felt it, the sharp uncomfortable sting. You tensed under him at the pain and you felt him freeze above you. His left hand moved to grab your face beneath him, turning your cheek so he could see you. You looked over your left shoulder to peer up at him, his cold visor returning your gaze. You couldn't help the tear that fell as you clutched the pillows.

"Don't..." his voice was strained through the vocoder, and you knew he was holding back, for you.

—

"Do not say that to me!" Your pained and thickly accented voice ripped through the air as you swatted his arm away. The green child yelped softly at your sudden movement.

Din's eyes widened. It was the first thing you had said to him. You hadn't spoken a word that night. He recoiled from you in shame.

He watched as you cried, emotions swirling within him like a chaotic storm.

"You shouldn't be out here," he managed to say as he stood abruptly, his words tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration. He glanced around, finally taking in the grim surroundings. Blood still pooled on the rocky ground where the woman had given birth earlier. Even worse, the remains of skeletons lay strewn about, their shattered bones mixed with the gravel under his boots.

"This is a graveyard, not a place for a woman in your condition to give birth," he grumbled, regretting the harshness of his words. The eerie desolation of this place was overwhelming, and he couldn't make sense of anything. The grim reality of death and birth intertwined in this forsaken corner of the galaxy was too much for him to bear.

Your face, your soft, beautiful, and glowing face looked up at him then.

"This is where I am meant to be," your broken voice hit him right in the chest.

For a moment, Din just stood there, his helmeted gaze locked on you. Grogu stirred in his arms and he set the child down. His gaze shifted from Grogu to the pack leaning against the rocky wall, the very same pack he had seen a man carrying at the market, with his wife in tow. It was the same pack he had witnessed being carried by the man who was desperate, carrying his bleeding wife. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place in Din's mind.

"Did you... carry that alone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked from you to the pack and back.

You huffed, annoyance coloring your features, and moved to stand. Din instinctively reached out to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You stood, resolute, and locked eyes with him through his visor.

"Yes. I am illa-ishi," you declared firmly, your words laden with meaning.

Din furrowed his brow, confused by the unfamiliar term. "Illa-ishi?" he repeated, the word alien to him.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he didn't understand. "I am a lonely mother," you tried to find the right words that could translate to Basic.

He continued to stare, his helmet giving away nothing. You huffed in frustration and attempted again, simplifying your words. "I am alone." you finally settled on, hoping he would grasp the essence of your situation.

Din just stared at you, seemingly uncomprehending. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and the green child peered up at you, as if offering a sympathetic glance. Frustrated with the language barrier, you turned to walk towards your pack and bedroll.

As you began to walk away, Din's gloved hand gently gripped your upper arm, stopping you in your tracks. You shot an annoyed look back at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

Din's gloved thumb moved soothingly circles on your arm, his gaze locked on you. He took a moment to search for the right words, his voice barely rising above a gravelly whisper.

"Is...is this mine?" he questioned, his words weighted with uncertainty, his voice low and husky.

Your eyes fixated on his hand caressing your arm, and tears welled up again, threatening to break free. You bit your lip in a futile attempt to hold them back, forcing yourself to look directly into the reflective visor of his helmet. You saw your own tear-streaked face in the cold, mirrored surface of the Mandalorian's armor, and it was a sight that turned your stomach.

"Yes. I've... never been with another. Only you," the confession tumbled from your lips, the words feeling strange and heavy in your mouth. Your body tensed, and you felt a sudden, sharp tightness envelop you, a contraction, your first since the bleeding mother had shown up. You gasp in agony as your knees buckle under you.

"Dank farrik!" Din's initial worry had given way to frustration as he cursed under his breath. He reached out and grabbed you, his gloved hands steadying you gently while Grogu made a sad noise from his perch on the ground.

"We have to get you out of here. Is there a medcenter near here?" His voice trembled with desperation as he crouched down to meet your gaze.

"What?!" You hissed exasperatedly through the pain, your frustration and agony making you bristle.

"Medcenter!" Din almost yelled, and his eyes widened when you shoved him away.

"Issa noona ibaniss a plantissia ata mountina as illa! As illa a ma a iss!" you shouted at him in anguish, your words foreign to his ears but laced with undeniable determination. (My baby will be born on this planet, at the Mountain of Mothers, like my mother and the one before her!)

Din stood there, still as stone, as your scream washed over him.

He looked at you, his gaze falling to your trembling hands, one of them wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself and regain control.

He was going about this the wrong way. You had climbed the treacherous cliff, your cloth bore the sigil of the Mudhorn, and your pack was identical to the ones the men had carried. You had a well-thought-out plan; he just hadn't been part of it.

With newfound determination, he approached you, taking careful, measured steps. Kneeling down beside you, he spoke softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"How do I help you?" he asked, his words breaking through the haze of pain that enveloped you.

You slowly looked up at him through your tears, your eyes locked onto his helmet. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mouth slightly ajar as you processed the situation. With a trembling hand, you pointed towards the spring nearby. "Take me there," you said softly, your voice heavy with the weight of your suffering.

In an instant, Din's strong hands found purchase under your knees and behind your back, and he lifted you with great care, not wanting to cause you any harm. You flushed with the ease of him carrying you, a thought flickering across your mind of how much simpler scaling the cliff might have been if he had been there. But you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on the immediate task at hand. You wrapped your left arm around the back of his neck and placed your right hand protectively over your belly, the hard surface of his armor uncomfortably pressing against your side as he carried you toward the inviting hot spring.

"I can go from here," you said in thick, broken Basic, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp.

Din regarded you, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to understand. His gaze alternated between the steaming water and your face. "You want to go in the water?" he asked, as if seeking confirmation.

"Yes, I can go from here," you repeated, pushing against him with a touch of defiance. His grip tightened, surprising you with its strength, and you nearly yelped in response. Shooting him a displeased look, you tried to assert your independence.

"What, and let you slip?" he asked, gazing at you through his visor before looking ahead. "No." He had made up his mind, and there was no arguing with the Mandalorian's decision.

As you were lowered into the hot spring, the initial shock of the water's heat gave way to a soothing relief. Din was surprised by how inviting it felt, and he understood why pregnant women sought refuge in such places. The water enveloped his boots and rose just above his knees as he carried you into the pool. You held onto him with a newfound intensity as he descended, afraid that he might lose his footing. Your disbelief mixed with gratitude as you realized the extent of his support.

Finding solid ground beneath the water, Din gently released your knees, allowing your feet to dip into the warm embrace of the pool. His hand slid from your back to your waist, ensuring your stability, and he positioned himself behind you in the water. You stood just below his chin, and if he desired, he could easily rest his chin on your head. His right hand remained on your waist, his gloved fingers splayed out on your side, providing you with a reassuring and protective presence.

A powerful surge of emotion overcame Din as he felt the subtle movements of the life within you under his fingertips. He stood there, motionless and transfixed, as you faced away from him, both of you submerged in the comforting warmth of the spring. His eyes traced the contour of your back, the gentle rise and fall as you breathed, and then slowly, as if compelled by an invisible force, he found himself resting his forehead against the back of your head, his helmet touching your soft hair.

He grappled with where to place his left hand, uncertain of the right way to provide comfort. His gaze drifted downwards, fixating on the water where he saw your dress floating softly as it began to soak in the pool. Carefully, he moved his left hand to the small of your back, gripping the back of your waist with a gentle touch.

In the midst of his turmoil, a soft, barely audible sob escaped his lips, and tears welled up inside his helmet, tracing their way down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he uttered, his voice broken and full of guilt. It was a plea for forgiveness, an attempt to convey the overwhelming regret that consumed him. He clung to your form, feeling the life inside you, the life he had a part in creating and then abandoned.

His wallowing in self-recrimination was shattered by the sound of your voice and the tender touch of your hand as it caressed his right hand.

"Don't cry," your words were soft and filled with sincerity. In that moment, as the tears flowed within his helmet, you offered him understanding and forgiveness. He felt worthy of neither.

#din djarin x pregnant reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #mando x reader #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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xxchumanixx · 1 year ago

Text

Matchmaker

The Mandalorian x reader

Summary: Greef Karga takes it upon himself to help two fools find their way together.

Warnings/Tags: hurt, fluff, comfort, mentions of character death, a little angst (but only if you squint), spoilers for season 3

Word count: 2.652

Authors note: Hello my loves! Just finished season three of The Mandalorian, and I can't help but write something for my beloved Din! Seriously, I love him so much.

Also, I somehow wrote this not in past tense, but present tense. Don't know how that happened, but I'm okay with it.

Enjoy!

"What's up with you?" Greef Karga speaks up, head tilted as he tries to analyze your face. Spurred by his words you sit straighter in the chair opposite his, hoping to mask what's on your mind from the clever man.

But he knows you, he knows the tell tale signs when somethings up with you, when somethings bothering you.

His eyebrows rise, and you sigh in defeat.

Of course you can't hide your feelings from him. Over the time you've known him now, he somehow became a father figure for you.

"Do you think he'll settle down, now that he has a home here on Nevarro?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. The likelihood of him settling down, is even smaller than him returning your feelings for him.

You love him, even if you've never seen his face before.

Greef snorts in amusement, sending you a smirk that says the same thing. Never would Din Djarin settle down - at least not in the near future.

"Why are you asking?" Greef questions, brows furrowed. "Are you hoping he'll stay with you?"

Eyes widening, you stare at the magistrate, who dares to chuckle at your reaction. "What?" he quips, smirking. "Do you think I haven't noticed the way you're looking at him?"

You're mouth opens to protest, but you can't manage to utter a single word. He's right, and he knows it too.

"Do you love him?" he wants to know more serious, leaning forward on the table between you. You choke on your breath, chuckling to cover up the uneasy feeling that's suddenly cursing through you.

You still though, sighing, before your head falls into your hands, elbows propped on the table. Wiping over your face you look at Greef, who patiently waits for your answer.

"I do." you reply, feeling the goosebumps creep up your bare arms. He nods, suspicions confirmed. "You haven't seen his face, yet." he points out, cocking a brow.

"Don't need to." you respond, shaking your head. "He could be a Gungan for all you know." he remarks, though grinning as you send him a pointed look.

"He once told me about the mandalorian marriage, how he would be able to remove his helmet in front of his wife." you explain, looking down on the table as your cheeks flush.

"Hit you pretty hard, huh?" he asks with a smile, but before you can answer someone speaks up from behind you, causing you to flinch in your seat.

"What hit whom?" Din wants to know, and you refuse to turn around, stiffening, as your cheeks go even more red.

Greef clears his throat, chuckling. "Oh, nothing, mando." he replies. "Just talkin' 'bout old times."

You are thankful for the older man's explanation, sending him a grateful look. He nods almost unnoticeable, before you stand up.

"I'm gonna go look for something to do." you tell them, briefly looking at Din, before your gaze averts again. Grogu stands behind him, cooing up at you.

"Oh, could you take him with you?" Greef asks, pointing at Grogu. "I want to discuss something with Din, that's not for the child's ears."

Din nods in approval, as you look at him questioningly.

Smiling down at the child you scoop him into your arms, before you leave the room.

Din looks after you and the child, even after the door has already closed behind you again. Greef clears his throat, averting his attention back to him.

"You want to discuss something with me?" Din wants to know, taking a seat where you had been sitting only moments ago.

He'd be lying if he said he wants a job - it had only been a few days since you landed on Nevarro again and settled into the cabin Greef had prepared for you three.

After the fight on Mandalore he is glad to have a break from the constant fighting and traveling.

He could tell you are too, finally being able to catch more than just an hour or two of sleep. The child is happier as well, being able to play with the local kids.

Greef folds his hands on the table, looking at Din with a sigh. Unbeknownst to the magistrate, he rises a brow under his helmet, looking at him expectantly.

"Do you plan on staying?" Greef asks, looking straight at where he believes Din's eyes must be. Din tilts his head, not sure what his friend is getting at.

"Maybe, why?" he gives back warily, brows furrowing. Greef only nods, leaning back in his chair. "And what about her?" he questions further, eyes still fixed on the warrior in front of him. Din licks his lip, feeling his heart rate pick up at the mention of you.

He'd love for you to stay with him, but he'd never make a move on it. You were too precious to him, for him ruining you.

"What do you mean?" he wants to know, leather creaking quietly, as his hands flex in a nervous manner. Greef huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know exactly what I mean, Din."

Din sighs, looking away. He in fact knows what the older man is hinting at, yet he tries to play dumb.

"I don't know what you mean."

Greef rolls his eyes, frustration seeping through, as he silently curses at the mandalorian. "Do you love her?" he asks him the same question he had asked you earlier.

Din's eyes widen under his helmet, as he believes he must have misheard him. "I have to go." he mutters, pushing himself out of the chair. "Do you love her?" Greef repeats louder, and Din stiffens, back turned towards him.

"'Cause if you do, you should tell her."

Din can't help but huff at his words, turning back around to him. "And why should I do that?" he demands to know, taking a step closer. "So she takes the first ship to another planet?"

"Because she loves you!" Greef responds angrily, standing from his chair. "Because she loves you and she asked me the same question earlier - Asked if you would stay, or if you'd leave her behind."

Din is taken aback by his words, body freezing.

His heart goes rigid in his chest, hands sweating, but he stays still. "She doesn't know me." he mutters, shaking his head. "She doesn't know your face." Greef responds. "There's a difference."

Din swallows, wiping his hands on his thighs, even though he wears gloves.

"She told me about the mandalorian marriage." Greef explains, licking his lip. "Said that you'd be able to take the helmet off in front of your wife."

Din winces, shaking his head again.

"She wouldn't want me." he insists, looking down. "Are you sure about that?" Greef responds, causing Din's heart to jump dangerously at the prospect. "She said she doesn't need to see your face to love you."

Din breathes in shakily, biting his lip, before his gaze meets his friends. Greef nods encouragingly, silently telling him to finally make a move on his feelings.

You are important to him, and he can tell that you are struggling with your feelings for Din. Pushing you two in the right direction is the least he could do for you.

Meanwhile, you are sitting with the child in between a group of kids. They had spotted you, asking if Grogu could play with them, and invited you to sit with them.

Din neares the group, already having spotted you due to the height difference - not because you seem to radiate under the sun, glowing like a goddess to him.

Of course not.

He stops behind you, taking a moment to watch the child jump on the numbers the kids had scribbled on the ground with chalk.

It looks like something out of a book, he notices. The peaceful and calm atmosphere seems strange to him.

Clearing his throat, he gets your attention, motioning for you to follow him with a tilt of his helmet. Asking the kids to look after Grogu, you stand up, following him.

He walks a few feet away, only stopping when no one's in earshot anymore.

"I'm thinking about staying." he begins, after a short silence. You nod, brows furrowing slightly. "How come?" you ask. He takes a moment longer to answer, gaze wandering behind you to the kids still playing with Grogu, before he looks back at you.

"Mandalore is still in reconstruction, and we will have to stay somewhere in the meantime." he explains, your heart picking up its pace at his choice of words. "We?" you ask, hope flaming up in your chest.

Would he stay with you, or let you stay with him, now that Mandalore is going to be rebuilt?

You had been spending time with the mandalorian for almost the whole while he was traveling with Grogu now, but never really had a place to stay at.

Except for Nevarro now.

"Grogu and I." he responds, and your heart cracks as he extinguishes the flame, before it had really become one.

Your face falls and you do your best not to let him notice, as you force yourself to smile, nodding with tears pricking in your eyes.

"Sure." you mumble, biting your lip, as you look down.

"And you if you want to."

You're heart stops at his words, gaze snapping back to his.

He swallows, heart racing in his chest. He's nervous, hands sweating in his gloves, as he tries to study your reaction.

"Really?" you want to know, fearing he'd take it back. But he nods, taking a step closer. "I talked to Greef." he admits, tilting his head.

You huff, now knowing why he came up with the topic in the first place.

"Of course, you have." you mumble, looking away from him. How much did Greef tell him? You should have known something was up, when he asked you to take the child with you.

He makes a sound like he wants to say something, but it gets stuck in his throat. "I like you." he then presses out, fists clenching at his sides.

He hates to talk about his feelings, never really having been good at it.

Your heart jumps, breath hitching in your throat as you look back at him. "I like you and I want you to stay with us." he adds, voice shaky even through the modulator.

You're not sure what exactly he means, goosebumps covering your arms at the prospect. "What do you mean you like me?" you ask, swallowing at the nerves bubbling up.

He sighs, helmet tilting downwards. "I mean that-" he sighs again in frustration, arms moving at his sides, as he seems to fight with himself, before he looks back up at you. "I mean that I have feelings for you, Y/N."

Your heart stutters in your chest, before it doubles its speed. Blinking rapidly, you try to process his words.

"I-I have feelings for you, too." you stutter, taking a step towards him. He inhales shakily, relief flooding him.

No matter what Greef had told him about your feelings for him, he still could have been wrong.

The relief momentarily blocks out the fear he's feeling, but it returns just as fast as it was gone.

"But I'm scared, cyar'ika." he voices, not giving you a chance to respond further, heart fluttering at the endearment. You had only heard it once before, and you were sure it meant something special.

"I don't want to bring you in harms way even further, because you'd be my weak spot."

You blush, still shocked at his confession.

"But the child is a weak spot, too." you remind him quietly, tilting your head as your brows furrow slightly.

"I don't want to end up like Paz." he whispers, voice cracking. "And another weak spot would only add to that possibility. When something happens to me you'd be left on your own. When something happens to you or the child-" he shakes his head, swallowing.

"I wouldn't know what to do."

You take another step closer, hand finding its way onto his arm, trying to comfort him. "Din, that won't happen." you assure him, trying to catch his gaze through the helmet.

"Paz had a son." he arguments, shaking his head at you. "His son lost his father." "He was a foundling." you retort, still feeling bad for the boy. "He'll learn to live without him, he still has a family: the other mandalorians."

Paz was a good man, he had sacrificed himself for his people, leaving behind his son.

"And what's with my wife, Grogu, kids of my own?" he questions. He's agitated, body trembling at the thought of disappointing you.

Your eyes widen at his words.

His wife, kids of his own.

He seems to notice what he said, a gasp leaving his lips, as his eyes widen as well. "I-I mean-" he stutters, panic creeping into his voice, but you smile at him.

"Din, you don't have to keep doing the dirty work for the rest of your life." you give back softly, silently hating that you can't see his eyes.

He snorts, taking a step back, so your hand falls from his arm. "And credits come flowing, sure."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "We will find something that's less dangerous. Aside from that I'm sure Mandalore will have a place for us, a job. We'd manage."

"You're saying that like it would all be so easy for us." he gives back, shaking his head as well. You nod, licking your lip. "I know it's not always going to be easy, but I'm sure we'll manage." you repeat, closing the distance again.

He falls silent at that, only staring at you.

He can't seem to grasp why you are willing to spend your life with him - a mandalorian, someone who's made more enemies than he can possibly count.

"And now let's get back to the point where you told me you have feelings for me." you rasp out, taking his hand in yours.

His hand tightens around yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he exhales shakily.

"Do you know how long I hoped for you to say those words?" you chuckle, smiling up at him. He huffs, shaking his head with a chuckle of his own.

"I was sure you wouldn't want me." he breathes out, licking his lip. You huff, smile widening. "You have no clue, Din." you tell him. "And even if I don't know what you look like yet, I'm sure I will love it as well. It's not only your face, Din. It's you - everything about you, the way you care for the ones you love and how you do everything to protect them. It's you I love, not only the face I have yet to see. And if I have to marry you to see your face, I can't wait."

He's stunned at your words, mouth agape even though you can't see it.

He's never heard such beautiful words directed at him before. Hearing them come out of your mouth, only makes them more beautiful.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum." he mutters, his voice soft. You tilt your head at him, not sure what he said. "It's mando'a." he says, and you swear you hear him smile under his helmet. "It means I love you."

You inhale sharply, eyes widening, and he wonders if he took it too far. "It sounds so beautiful." you reply, smiling broadly at him. He sighs in relief, smile returning.

"Ni kartayl gar darasum." you try to repeat it and he laughs, lightly shoving you at the way you mispronounce the words.

"We'll practice that." he assures you chuckling, wrapping his arm around you, to lead you back to the kids.

"For now let's focus on marrying so you can finally see my face."

cyar'ika: sweetheart

#the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x u #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars #may the fourth be with you #pedro pascal

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raspberrybesitos · 2 years ago

Text

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

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

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

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

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maker give him strength.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep it together, Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bashfulness?

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

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

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

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

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Friend.” Mando states.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

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

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

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

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

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

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

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

What was that?

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

Next week can’t come fast enough.

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

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

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

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

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

#fic: woven in the stars #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin series #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mando monday

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buckyplsmarryme · 1 year ago

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Redrum

Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: a little angst, blood, death, violence, heavily protective din.

Very fluffy towards the end. Also Grogu is mentioned but not present, we will say he is training with Luke.

The Din you knew was gentle. In your years of knowing him, you cannot recall a single time he has directed his anger towards you.

His touch, in every way he displayed it radiated comfort. Soft kisses on you forehead and nose, warm embraces to block away the bitter cold of the Razor Crest, tenderly holding your face in his hands as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. The way he softly grazed you, and the way he longingly stared. It was almost as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It seemed impossible to believe that the man who showered you with such love and affection could be such a ruthless bounty hunter.

However, you were not oblivious to this part of his life.

Even before meeting Din, you had heard stories about the Mandalorian and his battles. And although you had never seen him in action, you saw his enemies blood on his beskar, and the fear in their pleading eyes as he dragged them into the crest and threw them into carbonite.

“I’m sorry you’re having to see this sweetheart” He would mutter quietly as he quickly disposed of his bounties and ran to greet you. It had started to become a coming home ritual for him, seeing your sweet smile so excited to see him when he returned. And him muttering apologies of what you were having to witness.

“Din, I know what you do, and I know you do it all to keep me and Grogu safe and cared for” you would always reassure him, and you truly meant it.

Most of the bounty’s he was sent to hunt were not good creatures you often reminded him. And he was careful with the type of characters he agreed to capture for his employers, after all he was not some evil that enjoyed killing and hunting his prey.

That is until they threaten you.

He knew that you thought highly of him, he always told you about his hunts when he returned and let you tend to all of the wounds he sometimes endured.

However, he could not shake the longing of wanting to keep that side of himself hidden from you.

His sweet girl did not need to see the horrors that he displayed in battle. The last thing he would ever want to do is make you afraid.

…

Suddenly his thoughts of self doubt, and the ever present fear of you leaving him began flooding through his mind as he came down from his rage and looked around.

Panting and sore he saw blood all around him.

Blood on the dark sabor he was gripping tightly.

Blood on his helmet.

And blood on the floor spilling out of every person who now suffered the punishment of trying to take you away from him.

You looked up at him from your spot on ground as he was swiftly approaching you.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? He asked as he crouched down to your level, inspecting you thoroughly for any more wounds.

“No” you replied, “just my leg”

He had only brought you into the market with him, an activity you both had previously enjoyed as it provided you both with fresh air after being cooped up in his ship for long periods at a time.

There had never before been any problems. Especially on this planets market. He had wanted to thank you for everything you do for him, he wanted to find you a meaningful gift that you could hold onto forever. As your attention was glued to a fruit stand, he saw his chance. He told you he would be right back, slipping away to the booth just two over that sold jewelry.

He had stepped away for just one second, a mistake he would never make again.

He looked up quickly as he heard commotion and immediately ran towards the sound of your voice as he watched you being pulled away from him.

It took him no time to find you and your captures in an alleyway that they had pushed you into.

You were not helpless whatsoever and had put up a good fight until one of the men had shot you in the leg and carried you away.

When Din caught up and noticed the blood running down your leg he felt a rage that he had never felt before.

He did not hesitate for a single moment to kill every last one of them and he will never regret a second of it.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there” Din whispered as he stroked your hair and picked you up.

Soon you were back on the Crest looking into his beautiful eyes as he treated your leg.

He was being too quiet for your liking, and you knew the thoughts that were troubling him.

“Din I hope you know, I would not hesitate to do the same for you, and there is absolutely no reason for you to blame yourself” you said softly in an attempt to soothe him.

“I know my love, I just hate I was not able to stop them before they hurt you.” He whispered.

“And I hate that I lost control like that, there was no reason for you to see me act so brutally” he said sadly as he reached for your hand.

“It’s okay Din really, I was not afraid for a moment, I could never fear you” you said with no hesitation. And for the first time, the nagging voice in Din’s brain went quiet. You had seen him at his worst and still spoke to him in the most kind and loving manner that he had ever heard.

“it was actually quite nice” you suddenly blurted, blushing a bit before continuing “in fact Din, it was very alluring” you chuckled.

“Alluring” he questioned with a lopsided smile,

“The pain medicine is getting to you Y/N” he said as he kissed you.

“Thank you for saying those words Mesh’la, you have no idea how much I love you” he sweetly said as he pulled away.

“And I love you Din, I always will” you promised.

When he was finally satisfied with the treatment of your leg, and you were drifting off to sleep, he let himself rest in the comfort that he knew you loved him whole heartedly and nothing would ever change that.

As he put his arms around you and let sleep take him too, he vowed to never let harm come to you ever again, no matter the cost.

Thank you for reading:) something about this man going feral when you are in danger is just too good 😝

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin angst #din dijarin fluff #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fluff #angst #i love this man #give him to me

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annwrites24 · 6 months ago

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Organized by @dindjarindiaries for December 2024!

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: M, but all my content and my blog are 18+ only

Word count: 364

Tags (All parts): fluff, some angst, developing relationship, mentions of loss of parents, second person POV, no use of y/n, hints of smut if you squint.

Day Twenty-Two: Snowflake

Grogu is absolutely desperate to play in the snow, and it doesn’t take long before you realize you are basically powerless to stop him. Every time you look away or turn around, he’s gone, unlocking the door with his abilities and rushing out into the white drifts. You eventually get tired of following him and trying to scoop him up, and throw on your scarf to follow him outside.

Grogu seems fascinated by the snow. There isn’t much, just enough that your footprints are visible, but the grass underneath still pokes through in some places. It’s enough for the child, who wanders around and shoves his hands in the snow, scooping it up and letting it fall through his fingers with a look of awe. You call softly to him, and he comes over right away, eager to learn more.

Snow starts falling softly as you demonstrate all the possibilities of the snow. Snow angels first, and although Grogu loves the shape, you see him shiver when his ears hit the cold snow. You demonstrate how to build a small snowman, barely taller than Grogu, made with two large stones to mimic his eyes. Grogu loves that and spends a long time sitting in front of it and staring. You wonder why he’s so obsessed, but you doubt you’d get an answer. You don’t teach him about snowball fights, but only because you worry about the damage someone with his abilities could cause, and you are desperate to remain on the Mandalorian’s good side.

When Grogu starts to tire, you gather him up and bring him inside. He fusses, clearly protesting against this, but you hold firm. He settles a little when you reheat some soup and drag a chair over to the window so he can watch the snow fall. The snowflakes rest against the glass without melting; a few are so big you can see the patterns. You explain softly while you eat that each one is different, formed in the sky in the cold air and then falling down to the surface. Grogu watches with rapt attention as you speak, his huge eyes locked on the snowflakes pressed against the glass.

Find my other fics on AO3! Header art by me. I do not give permission for any of my work, whole or in part, to be fed into any AI generative program under any circumstances.

#dincember 2024 #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #flash fiction #fanfiction #ao3

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year ago

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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.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin x ofc #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #passenger

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kyberblade · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Xxx

Two years later….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din nodded. “Almost. Just need the-”

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

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

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

You smirked. “I see.”

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

“How did you not get an alert?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din finally muttered in disbelief, “Cara?”

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

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

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

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

The girl shrunk under the stare of three adults.

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

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

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

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

Sola tried a grin. “Whoops?”

The Marshal lifted the look to Din.

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

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

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

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

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

“And my comlink?” Cara tried.

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

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

You stepped between them. “Cara.”

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

“No.”

“She stole-”

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

“You’re one to talk,” Cara grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is no-”

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

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

“Later.”

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

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

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

“And one job turned into more….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xxx

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So are you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The young girl rolled her eyes at you.

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

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

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we don’t want another ricochet,” you mumbled, adjusting your armor for no good reason besides looking down and away from his judgemental visor.

Cara and Sola snickered from their spots across the table from you, the weight of Din’s stare beside you nothing short of stifling.

“If you stare any louder, Din, they may ask you to be quiet all the way on Coruscant,” you muttered quietly, adjusting your vambraces needlessly for the umpteenth time to hide the growing smirk across your face.

“I’ll just tell them it’s because of you, they'll understand. Garner sympathy.”

Only your eyes lifted up to glare daggers at his visor, his head tilting to the side teasingly as he held your gaze.

“The plan?” You groused, looking across the table with a sigh as your weight shifted to one side - away from the Mandalorian.

His tone was light, as if it held a smile, while he laid out the steps of the plan one more time. “Sola said they would be meeting her back at the market in an hour. She meets them as planned. The three of us follow her, and stick around in the shadows, as inconspicuously as possible-”

“Says the man who’s a walking mirror.”

Din didn’t even bother to look at you, only sighing at your remark, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he went on. “From there, we follow them back to their base of operations. From what we’ve heard, shouldn’t be too hard to get into. We get in, cause a little chaos, get them to release Sola from this…. Contract, then we leave as quietly as we came.”

“No one dies.”

Cara nodded at your words, Din nodding once in agreement, his body going stiff at your next statement.

“Even if we run into a Jawa.”

He took a deep breath to begin to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him, mocking his words from earlier.

“Later.”

Xxx

Spotting the culprits was easy enough. They weren’t sly about anything as they paraded through the streets with their puffed up chests, smirking as people scattered from them should they get too close. They hassled a vendor or two, shaking them down for a payout, and Cara grumbled beside you, gripping the buckle that showed she was a Marshal tightly through her poncho she wore to conceal it.

Before you could do anything, Din was hot on their heels, handing the vendors a stack of credits to make reparations as soon as the thugs’ backs were turned. They would try and insist he keep it, lightly shoving the money back into his hands, but Din somehow managed to sweet talk them into accepting every time, his head ducked down slightly, hand over theirs in a calming gesture. You wished you could hear what he said.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Cara muttered offhandedly. “Caring, soft almost. It looks good on him.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed softly. “That’s how he is with the kid. Grogu brought out a side of him I don’t think would have seen the light of day otherwise.”

She elbowed you. “Oh, I dunno. You’re pretty persuasive. Think it’d’ve come out eventually.”

You slid only your eyes sideways to look at her. “Why must you shit talk me?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll simply fade away. It gives me sustenance. I could go days without food, but teasing you? That simply wouldn’t do.”

Turning your head to peer at her incredulously, you spoke in a low voice after a long moment of silence. “I’m going to go stand over there,” you pointed behind you, “as far away from you as possible right now.”

Cara scoffed. “Good. Go. Your beskar'gam is drawing too much attention, anyway.”

With a grin, you began walking backwards down the street, keeping to the shadows. “Aw, you paid attention.”

Your friend glared at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A shit eating grin was across your face. “You’re speaking Mando’a….”

Cara huffed, her attention turning back to the street as she mumbled, “Last time I make that mistake.”

Stopping short, you stood up straight. “Aw, don’t be afraid to show your feelings, Cara. Feelings are a good thing. They make us human-”

“If you don’t stop talking-”

“Are you two done?” Din’s voice across the alley from the two of you pulled both sets of eyes his way. “They left a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, what with your bickering.” His head swiveled between you and the Marshal, judgment heavy through his visor. “Sola is with them, I gave her a tracker, slipped it to her when no one was looking while someone,” he looked at you pointedly, “wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was paying attention,” you groused, voice lowering as you kicked at the sand below your feet. “Just not to that.”

“She was talking about you,” Cara tattled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight, stretching like a loth cat.

“So were you!” You protested, also stepping into the nightlight, making Cara squint as she held up a hand as if to block the glare of the reflection off your armor. Swatting her hand down, you knit your brows at her. “It’s not that bright out here, don’t be dramatic.”

“Children. I’m surrounded by literal children,” Din muttered, turning and walking away exasperatedly.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you grumbled, following after him.

“Then prove me wrong,” he called over his shoulder. “Right now you’re worse than Grogu.” You gasped. “When he needs a nap.” Cara gasped. “And he’s hungry.” You both gasped.

“I take it all back,” Cara stormed past Din, her words brusque and aloof. “You’re the meanest person I know.”

“Person?” Your tone was incredulous as you sped up to fall in step with her ahead of the Mandalorian, head swiveling to land on him with a sly smirk over your next word. “Droid.”

Din stopped in his tracks and sighed, head tilting back to the sky just slightly with a gentle shake. “Oh, this mission is off to a great start.”

When both you and Cara kept walking ahead of him, the bounty hunter finally called out on a hiss, “Hey! Are you two done?”

“I don’t know, are we?” You turned on your heel to face him, hands on your hips as you planted your feet and arched your brows in question, almost accusingly.

Din bit his tongue before he turned this into a whole something else before this entire endeavor even got off the ground…. again. For the third? fourth? time. He’d lost track of how many times they’d gotten off track in the last five minutes alone, let alone today as a whole.

With a jut of his thumb to his left down a narrow alley, he tilted his head that way for emphasis. “Thugs’re that way.”

Both you and Cara hesitated for only a moment, weight shifting slightly from side to side before you dropped your hands from your hips with a huff and headed toward the alley, your Marshal friend in tow.

As you passed by Din, he muttered a low and amused, “Oh wise one.”

“I’ll tell Sola you said so,” you shot back in a low murmur. “She already knows I’m the smart one.” The alley was so small you had to form a single file line, and somehow you were in the front with Cara behind you, and Din pulling up the back.

“She just lets you think that’s what she thinks,” Cara hummed. “We all know it’s me.”

Din snorted. “It’s neither of you.” He shook his head at the two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him over their shoulders as they came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “I’m the one with the map and the tracker, remember?” He tapped the right side of his helmet with his index finger.

“Oh, will you just get in front and lead, you overgrown Tin Can?!” You hissed, flattening yourself against the wall to let him pass, the heat of the day still clinging to the wall at your back.

Cara rolled her eyes as she squished herself, allowing him through, but it was still a tight fit all around between the three of you. When Din passed her, his back against the opposing wall, she grimaced though he moved quickly. “Will you just get out of my face, Shiny?”

“What, you mean you don’t want to get to know me this well?” Din relaxed his weight a little, leaning into her slightly. “I thought we were friends.”

Cara shoved him with one arm toward you, making him laugh as he kept going, stumbling slightly from the impact. “We won’t be if you keep on that thread of conversation, Mando.”

Din stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head sideways as he muttered softly, “Hi, mesh’la.” Leaning his forehead into yours, he chuckled softly at Cara’s over exaggerated gag in reaction.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you grumbled, fisting one hand into his cowl as you ignored Cara’s groans, elbowing her in the ribs with your free arm when she continued.

“What was that for?!” She cried in protest.

“Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean you need to moan about it.”

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked away at the wall across from her. “Go be happy somewhere else. We have a job to do.”

Din sighed. “She’s right,” and pushed off the wall to get in front.

You held on to his cape from behind him. “No. No, she’s never right.” Cara landed a swift kick to the back of your boot. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being so wrong all the time!”

“Don’t make me speak Mando’a to you,” you grumbled. “Or how about Huttese? I also know Shyriiwook now, too.”

“How about you speak silence.”

Din snorted at the Marshal’s words from his spot in front of you, Cara huffing out a laugh from behind.

“When all of this is over, you both are gonna pay.”

“You don’t scare me,” Cara scoffed.

Looking over your shoulder, you arched a brow, holding up one hand by your face and wiggling your fingers. “Well maybe I should.”

Her face went pale, her steps faltering slightly as understanding dawned on her features. “You don’t scare me,” she repeated, her voice softer after she swallowed roughly.

You chuckled, turning back to face Din’s cape once again. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before you could answer, Din cut in, without bothering to turn around, “It's just her way of threatening to trip you. Don’t read into it too much.”

He no sooner said that than he was stumbling forward down the alley, reaching out to brace himself on the walls with his forearms.

“Look at that? My boot also works in mysterious ways.”

“What happened?” Cara asked, oblivious to you tripping Din with the toe of your shoe.

“Gravity. Don’t read too much into it.”

Grinning up at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet where he had stopped in front of you, you let go of his cape still in your grip. “Careful, Din. There’s gravity there.”

“What did he even trip on?” Cara’s voice was incredulous.

“Air? His ego? Pride…. The options are endless….”

“The foot of an over eager Jedi that’s about to be in her mouth if she keeps talking,” Din hissed, barely looking over his shoulder at the two of you, arms falling from the walls to his sides.

“How do you mean?” You scoffed, following after him as he began to move down the alley again.

“We’re here,” he said with a flourish, the small avenue opening up to a wide street brightly lit with several buildings that dead ended down on the right. With a swooping gesture, he moved to the left, making room for the two of you to step forward beside him, his visor following you closely before tilting to the side. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s right,” Cara mused quietly. “Your ego is big enough for all three of us to trip on.”

“At least it’s well deserved,” Din groused. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“You followed a map. That was attached to a tracker. A blindfolded bantha wouldn’t have had a much more difficult time….” You said offhandedly, surveying the area.

Din stared at you for a long moment. “That armor makes you mean,” he grumbled.

“It makes me wonderful,” you countered, eyes across the street on a conspicuous crate, narrowing when it jostled slightly. “You’re just jealous that it looks better on me than it ever did on you.”

“Yeah. That’s it,” Din agreed sarcastically, his weight shifting to one side as he followed your line of sight. Pressing the side of his helmet, he immediately went into planning mode. “I’ve got two heat signatures.”

“Matches up with what I’m sensing. Two life forms. A whole mess more inside.” You took your blaster from its holster, its gears whirring to life. “Everyone set to stun?”

Hums of agreement came back at you along with nods in your peripheral.

“I’ll go in on the right while you two take care of whoever is lurking over there,” Cara gestured across the street with her blaster. “Sneak in that side door and start clearing until I find Sola and slip her a blaster, then we’ll find this boss.”

“I’m in,” you agreed, while Din nodded in agreement beside you. “Let’s go, Tin Can. We have some thugs we need to introduce to beskar.”

Xxx

Storming the place was easy. These thieves didn’t know the first thing about defending their home base.

Getting out on the other hand…. That was proving to be more difficult.

You pulled up behind a wall, tucking your arms into your chest as tightly as possible to make yourself a smaller target, your blaster held between both hands at the ready.

“You said this would be easy!” Din yelled from his mirror position across the hall. Well, almost mirror. He leaned on one shoulder, blaster held up in the opposite hand near his head. His whole body looked just on this side of casual.

“I said no such thing. You did,” you countered, trying to mimic his posture subtly. “And on that note, Cara was the one who said you and I should go in together, so this is all-”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Cara’s voice carried from down the hall, the first word elongated as she slid across the floor on her hip to avoid flying blaster bolts to finally land next to you before popping up. “Don’t you dare drag me into this lovers tiff. Nuh-uh.”

Both you and Din spoke in tandem, “This isn’t-”, “We’re not-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sola said dismissively, jogging up easily behind Din, a singe mark on the shoulder of her poncho.

Din stood up straight in an instant, took her arm in his hold gently to examine it, turning her every which way to get a better look. “What happened?”

“Told the boss I quit.” She grinned proudly before it melted into a grimace. “He didn’t take it so well.”

Blaster bolts zinged down the hall between the four of you, streaking the air in vibrant shades of purple and red, even an errant green here and there.

“If I could just use my saber-” you started, cut off by the unanimous voices of your friends.

“No!”

Letting your head lull back against the wall with a gentle thump, you rolled it in aggravation before facing the others again. “And why not?! I’ve saved your asses so many times!”

“Close quarters!” Cara was gesturing with her hands while she spoke, referencing the hall. “Too many people!” She gestured between the four of you. “Laser sword very bright! Very hot!”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. “I singed one corner of your tunic. One!”

“And that was one too many,” Din countered, popping around the corner to let off a barrage of shots before coming back for safety.

“This was my favorite,” Cara said forlornly, looking down at the smoldering fabric.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“No you won’t,” Cara scoffed. “You can’t afford my tastes-”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here!” Sola’s annoyed voice rang out louder than the blaster fire, pulling all three gazes her way.

Din was the first to break, turning back to lay down cover fire once again around the corner. “Kid’s right,” he grunted, before letting off a shot that was accompanied by a pained scream at the end of the hall.

“I thought we were set to stun?” You hissed.

Din looked down at his blaster and shrugged meekly, flipping it back to stun. “Sorry. Old habits….”

“I know I am,” Sola said matter of factly, pulling you back to the topic at hand. “Now what’s the plan?”

Stepping a little closer to the corner you were tucked behind, you holstered your blaster. “The plan is for you all to eat your words tonight.”

“What are you doing?” Cara’s worried tone sounded at your back, Din’s incredulous one to your left. “Mesh’la, come on, don’t do something-”

“To save our skins?” You finished for him, looking up into his visor with a determined glint in your eye. “Watch me.”

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stepped out into the hall where the blaster fire had died down just slightly. The few earrent bolts bounced away from you as if they were hitting a force field. Confused whispers from the enemy preceded a pickup in the rapid fire, bolts flying at a new frenzy, none of which came anywhere close to touching you or your friends.

Lifting your hands in front of you, the bolts began to stop, hovering in mid air inches from your face, your hands, some several feet from you. The room glowed with multi-colored plasma bolts hovering above the floor. As the shots died out, silence filling in the blanks left behind, the corner of your mouth twitched up in an amused smirk.

With a small twitch of your index finger, all their blasters were disabled with a tink.

When you opened your eyes, the blaster bolts that hung suspended all immediately flew the other way, back toward the senders, but in such a way that they wouldn’t hit anybody.

Within an instant the group of thieves at the end of the hall were left cowering, curled away from the stranger approaching them from the opposite end of the hall. Some blinked wide eyes while others scrambled back, all of them surrounded by smoke swirling around from the black scorches left behind from the blaster bolts.

“I think we win,” you said calmly, walking toward them slowly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” One rogue thief said, jumping to his feet, blaster aimed at you.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, not even looking at him.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he looked at his blaster in confusion, pulling the trigger a few more times before shaking it incessantly. “Oh, well.” He shrugged. “I have this.” He pulled a spare from the back of his pants.

In two seconds flat Din had stepped forward and shot him with a stun bolt, dropping him to the ground.

“Like I said,” you pulled the active blaster to you with the Force, disengaging the firing mechanism like you had the others before tucking it into the back of your own pants. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t need another one,” Din groaned. “That makes what, seven now?”

You scoffed. “Not nearly.” With a dry chuckle, you shook your head. “Try three.”

“Including the knife?”

“Oh, yeah! The knife. No, that’s four.”

“Guys!” Cara cried, walking up to stand on the other side of you. “Seriously?”

“What?” You looked at her a moment before cutting your eyes toward the thieves still looking on in silence. “I’m just recounting the weapons I’ve won from our various missions! I see something I like, I take it.”

“These guys don’t care.” Cara gestured to them with her blaster.

“No…. But I do.” You turned to look at the punks with a broad grin. “And something tells me they want to keep me really happy. Right?”

They all nodded vigorously. All but one. He got to his feet as he said, “Oh, kark this!” He was no sooner on his feet than Din had hit him with a stun bolt, dropping him into a heap of limbs where he stood.

“At least you remembered to use stun this time,” you threw over your shoulder towards Din, never looking away from the band of thieves still looking on wide eyed at your little party of four.

“Yeah…. But I’ve been known to forget things real fast,” Din mumbled, shifting his weight just slightly to rest easily on one leg. The way he held his blaster would make anyone think he’d gone soft, but you knew if someone made a wrong move, they’d be down in an instant.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” Cara stepped forward, her Marshal voice in full swing. “Sola over here is out. I don’t wanna hear of any of you within spitting distance of her ever again, do you hear me?”

Most of them nodded, wide eyed at the Marshal. All but one. It’s always one, you thought with a smile and gentle shake of your head.

“And what’re you gonna do about it? Marshal?” The way the punk said her name dripped with so much sarcasm and venom, you were surprised Cara was still standing. If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now. “You don’t even live here, so how are you going to enforce anything?”

To his credit, he looked slightly afraid when you and Din took measured steps forward while Cara spoke.

“I have friends all over. I don’t think you want to find out just how far my reach can go…. Young man.”

Cara winced slightly on the last words and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing. The way her eyes darted over to you, however briefly, with a mighty rise and fall of her shoulders told you she knew she’d never hear the end of this.

He scoffed. “Like I’d believe any of that.”

“But you’d believe blaster bolts levitating in space then flying the wrong way?” You challenged, taking another small step forward.

The kid scoffed again.

“You believe this?” Din was striding forward, his vambraces whirring to life as the flame thrower charged up.

Reaching out with the Force, you disengaged his vambrace as the wall of fire just started to lick at the toes of the boots of the insolent kid.

“Not now, Mando. I think he gets it.” Shooting your eyes over to the kid before looking back into his visor, you saw him glance over to find the teen cowering behind the others, mumbling apologies.

Din strode over to you, keeping his body facing the group of adolescents to make them think he was still a threat, which he was, but you knew him well enough to know he was looking at you now and not them, his head turned just slightly.

“Turning off my vambraces now, huh?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You shouldn’t be frying teenagers, Din. It’s not nice.”

Leaning closer to your ear, his voice hummed through the modulator, something in his tone different this time. “Later,” he promised again.

You grinned, winking at Cara as she rolled her eyes and walked off with an over dramatically gagging Sola. “Can’t wait.”

Xxx

Back at the hangar, the four of you tried to move as quietly as possible, to not wake a sleeping Peli.

“I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I could ever repay you-”

Placing your hand on Sola’s shoulder, you smiled down at her when her big eyes looked up your way. So much like the first time you met her all those years ago. “There’s nothing to thank. That’s just what families do.”

“We help each other,” Cara agreed, stepping up behind Sola and putting her arm around her shoulders. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she added with a grin, “And yeah, sometimes we want to murder each other, too, but….” She looked at Din. “It comes and goes.”

“Mostly comes,” the Mandalorian muttered, adjusting his belt before walking off toward the ramp of the Crest. He stopped at the foot of it, withdrawing a vibroblade from his boot before he turned around and walked back. “Hey, kid.” He offered Sola the blade. “Take care of yourself.”

“You bet I will,” she mumbled around a grin, flipping the blade in her palm with expert precision that had your brow arching. Upon closer inspection, she saw a mudhorn upon the hilt. “That’s the same symbol that’s on your armor….” She looked over at your saber. “And your….”

“Like I said,” you pulled her into a hug. “We take care of family.”

“Where’s my mudhorn?” Cara groused.

Din extended a blaster with a freshly etched mudhorn he had tucked into the back of his belt to Sola as he looked at Cara, head tilted just so. “Hidden with your act of valor. Go find it.”

“You’re mean,” Cara shoved his shoulder.

“You’d get tired of us anyway,” you mused in response to Cara, wrapping your arms around Din’s waist in what seemed an innocent manner, then lightly pinching his side in admonishment, smiling at his slight groan in response. Before he could get his own arm around your waist in retaliation, you pinned it to his side with the Force, smiling up at him smugly when he grunted in unamusement.

“I already have,” she agreed, looking down her nose at the two of you.

“No you haven’t,” Din countered tiredly as he turned back toward the ship, heading up the ramp.

“What do you know?” She called after him.

“Everything!” His voice came from inside the ship overlapping your muttered, “Nothing.”

“Not enough,” you amended with a grin, meeting Cara’s eye as she returned your smile. “He doesn’t know nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I love teaching, then.” She laughed, offering you a hug before she turned to leave the hangar. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You coming kid?”

Sola hesitated in her spot in front of you. “But I don’t…. I don’t wear armor.”

“Verd'ika….” You reached out and rested your hand on her shoulder. “Ad’ika. Cyare'se. Daworir’ika. Ka’ra’ika…. Almost all of my nicknames for you had something to do with little.” (“Little soldier. Little one. Loved ones. Little stink. Little star.”)

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can see that,” you smiled softly. “Tal tomad.”

She pulled a face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Blood ally.” You reached out and pinched her scarf between your finger tips. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“What…. What does that mean?”

You smiled. “I need to come with a protocol droid….” She laughed. “Warrior greater than armor. It means armor isn’t everything.” Moving your hand from her scarf to rest on her shoulder once again, you felt Din come to stand behind you, his reflection beginning to morph in Sola’s watering eyes. “It’s who wears it.”

Xxx

As you watched Cara and Sola walk out of the hangar, Din pulled you to the side gently.

“Speaking of armor, you don’t have any now, either.”

Looking down at the armor still very much on your frame, you looked up at his visor and blinked at him once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He shifted his weight, hands resting on his belt in his default I already explained this pose. “I’m about to meet up with Boba in a few minutes. Need the armor so I can give it to him.”

You matched his posture, ignoring his indignant head roll. “Oh right. For this super secret thing for me I can’t know about.”

Din nodded once. “You got it.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned and made your way up the ramp of the Crest, not bothering to turn around as you grumbled, “You’re awful.”

“I know.” His tone was nothing short of beaming.

Xxx

The next day, the two of you were up with the suns and beginning work on the Crest with a handful of Peli’s droids.

The woman herself had appeared after a while, but she obviously was not intended for morning hours.

Peli had disappeared into the shaded depths of the hangar, citing paperwork of some sort, but her snores could be heard from the main landing area.

One thing led to another, and the work on the ship was forgotten in favor of brushing up on footwork with two chosen weapons.

The hanger sung with the clashing of beskar on kyber, his spear standing resilient against your purple blade.

The pit droids were hard at work on the Crest to try and cover up the cacophony of battle sounds rising up into the air.

As it hit a new fever pitch, you and Din drawing close together after some particularly fancy footwork, the glow of kyber straining against beskar painting your faces in a soft illuminated glow as you pulled closer still, you smirked.

“I think that means I win, Mandalorian.”

Din scoffed, his modulator popping with the sound. “Nayc. A’nuhunla,” he drawled, his voice low. (“No. But funny.”)

Pulling back from one another, you huffed out a chuckle as you began to circle each other in assessment, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Give it to me in Basic, Mando.” Disengaging your saber, you stopped dead in your tracks, arms dangling limply by your sides. “I’m too tired to fight and translate at the same time.”

“Gar Jetii’kad,” Din pointed to the now bladeless hilt in your hand. “Nau’ur kad.” (“Your lightsaber.”) (“Light up a saber.”)

“Din-”

But he didn’t let you finish, his hands tightening around his spear as his weight lowered, ready to charge. “Kad’au, Jetii.” (“Lightsaber, Jedi.”)

“Ne'johaa,” you mumbled, igniting the blade and lowering yourself into a ready stance to match. (“Shut up.”)

Once you were set, you stood straight up again, smiling softly when Din let his lowered weight relax as well in aggravation, his modulator hissing in annoyance. “This was just supposed to be for fun. Some training, maybe. Not-”

“Kad,” he almost barked, before launching at you. (“Saber.”)

“Mir’sheb,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you blocked an overhead blow from his spear, squinting your eyes as sparks flew from the impact. (“Smartass.”)

He took a minuscule step closer, pressing his weight into you and making you bend back slightly. His voice was low and mocking, but strained to show his struggle against your strength as you continued to push back. “Only for you.”

With a shout, you pushed him off of you with a last reserve of strength.

“That’s it. That’s it. I’m done.” You held your hands up by your head. “No more.” Twirling your saber as you stretched your wrist, you tilted your head from side to side. “You’ve got some unresolved issues with only using the stun back there at the hideout or something,” gesturing to him with a swooping hand gesture, you ignored his snort and slight shift of weight, “but I’m done with all your nonsense.” Turning away you took a deep breath and disengaged your saber, mumbling under your breath, “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.” (“I want a bucket of booze.”)

The next thing you knew you were flat on your back, sand flying out around you as the Mandalorian stood over you, flipping his spear back to its resting position with a flourish. All you could process as you blinked up at the cloudless sky was heat, grit, and what?

“I think that means I win…. Manda Jetii.” (The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.)

Eyes flying to his visor, you had to squint at the glare of the suns off the brilliant metal. You could only blink up at him, taking his hand when he offered it and helped you up. After a shared moment of simply staring at one another, he turned to survey the hangar, repeating your words from earlier. “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.”

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face.

Her very, very, very distraught face.

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought.

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit.

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you.

“No.”

Peli somehow materialized beside you, everything about her bewildered and distraught. You let the two arguing tin cans go as you turned your attention to your friend, the final zap from the droid to Din’s thigh before it rolled off not going unnoticed.

Pointing every which way with each new statement, Peli began to protest. “I was- They were- You just-” Her hands slapped down to her sides, her face pulled determinedly. “That’s not fair!”

She turned to her pit droid crew. “Why do I get all the defective droids in this town?” They began to prattle but she cut them off. “You guys couldn’t fix the wrong side of a bantha.”

Reaching out with your mind, a twitch of your foot sideways ever so slightly, and one of the compartments at the back of the Crest flew off, the wiring inside plopping out like the ship had drunk too much spotchka the night before and now had something to prove.

“It’s alright, Peli. It wasn’t all you.”

“You bet your beskar it wasn’t!” She turned a look on Din. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that massive spear sticking out of the side of my ship.”

Din had the decency to look sheepish, turning his gaze to stare across the hangar, hands on his hips.

“Now I’ll have to track down the Jawas to find enough ancient parts to fix this hunk of junk.” She smacked the hull closest to her with her palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a panel fell off to her right with a clatter.

Leveling her gaze on you, a shudder ran down your spine as Peli stared at you in silence. Finally she spoke again. “You. You’re going to help.”

“And you,” she pointed at Din. He pointed at himself in question and she nodded, maintaining the accusing jab of her index. “Yes, you. Mandalorian.” Din tilted his head curiously. “You are going to go to the cantina to look for a job to pay for all of…. this!”

Peli gestured wildly to the sparking Crest behind her.

You winced at the singe marks left behind by your saber, beside the puncture mark from the spear as it had let loose from his hands and flown across the hangar. Its beskar body still stood proudly from the hull, glinting in the afternoon sun.

Reaching up high above her head, Peli jerked it from the body of the ship with a grating screech of metal on metal. Green goo began to shoot from the new opening, coating the sand of the hangar around her feet in several inches in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at it before bringing menacing eyes up to glare at Din.

“I’ll be at the cantina,” he mumbled, turning to leave without anymore fuss.

“I’ll…. Be here, I guess,” you mumbled, catching Peli’s death stare out of the corner of your eye. “Pick me up some of those blue cookies on your way back?”

“Really?” Din stopped, cocking his head at you.

“Yeah!” You shot back. “The kid isn’t here, so I don’t have to share them.”

“Who says I don’t want some?”

You scoffed. “Experience.” Crossing your arms, you stared at him. “Besides, who says I’m sharing regardless?”

Din took a step back toward you, his voice lowering playfully. “I could make you….”

“Cantina!” Peli hissed.

You’d never seen Din move so quickly.

Xxx

Peli had dragged you out to the large rolling fortress of the Jawas after she had given her pit droid crew a stern talking to.

You couldn’t make eye contact with them as you stood just behind her and listened to her admonishments. Their judgmental stares from their single ocular lenses could be felt even across the hangar.

Looking over the wares, you were just glad Din wasn’t here. Jawas would be dropping like flies if he were. He really had a problem.

Bringing your scarf up to cover your face, wrapping it around your head to keep it secure and protect you just a layer more from the suns beating down and sand blowing in the rough winds, you squinted at an old astromech tucked away in the back near the ramp.

“What about that one?” You asked, pointing to it.

The little hooded figure helping you turned, exclaiming something when he realized what you were asking about, then began talking a mile a minute and gesturing even faster.

Holding up your hands, you cut in, “Yeah, yeah, hold on little guy,” your new Jawa friend grunted at the name as you turned to call for help. “Peli! Get over here!” Waving your hand to gesture her over, you hoped it’d help her find you a bit faster.

You saw her curls before you saw her, turning your way and quickly weaving through the junk as her grumbling got closer and closer, but the exact words were never quite clear enough to understand. “What?” She finally asked in exasperation when she was about ten feet away, a power coupling in one hand and…. Something else in the other, you didn’t know what it was, but it had a lot of exposed wires and reminded you of an eyeball on a stick.

Pointing to your little robed shadow, you smiled at her. “Translate. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she focused on your small companion, nodding as he went along. “He says you want that R2 unit.” She turned her focus back to you, hands on her hips, eye on a stick still tightly grasped in one hand, “Any particular reason? I have plenty of good droids back at the hangar….” R5 started tweeting and blipping in concern, making her roll her whole head over to look at the droid on her left. “Oh, keep your dome on. I didn’t mean you.” She gestured to the droid with the eye-stick lazily before her eyes cut over to you. “Unless….” R5 let out a mighty whoop before rolling away.

Chirping and blooping from the R2 unit pulled your attention back to the matter at hand, watching in amusement as it rocked from side to side quickly on two of its three legs. Its shiny dome twisted back and forth as it let out shrill beeps and whistles, a lone raspberry cutting off the tirade before it focused on a Jawa coming up to stand beside it.

As the tiny cloaked figure reached out to adjust the restraining bolt on its front, one of the droid’s front compartments sprung open in the blink of an eye, a surge of electricity arcing through the air and making the Jawa scream. The little scrapper jumped back, stumbling as its cloak began to smoke, strings of Jawaese getting lost in the wind as the tiny thief marched back over to the droid and swiftly kicked it near its treads.

“Stop!” You ran over, holding up your hands to try and intervene, turning to Peli with a pleading look on your face.

She tossed the junk in her hands onto the ground, doing a double take for the eye on a stick before deciding against it and made her way over to you, thrusting the odd part into your chest as she passed by. With a roll of your eyes, you tucked it into the bag of parts to make its way back to the hangar that was slung across your shoulders.

The bag was over half full, and getting heavier by the minute, but you’d yet to see anything resembling a part you recognized go into the satchel. At this point you think ninety five percent of what she had picked up wasn’t even for the Crest, she was just exacting her revenge on Din. And you had no problem with that.

Peli tilted her head as she listened to the Jawa go on a tirade. Eyes flickering between the tiny robe with eyes and the droid, she finally looked back over her shoulder at you. “He said this droid is just a problem. It’s memory hasn’t been wiped in too long, so it’s developed an…. Ah, well,” she quirked her eyebrows, her hands landing on her hips as she studied the droid. “A strong personality.”

The R2 unit blooped before zapping the Jawa again, a warbling whistle following after in what almost sounded like a taunt for more.

“Stop,” you said again, taking another step toward the feisty astromech. It was very hard to not smile as you studied the round dome, its light blinking red and white at you rapidly as it scanned you up and down, finding something it trusted enough to calm down. It didn’t zap a third time, but it kept the utility equipped, sending a surge down the line when the Jawa got too close again as a warning.

It reminded you of Din. It even kind of looked like him. You had to really try to contain the smile as you thought of his reaction if you said that out loud.

The head tilt.

The finger.

“Later.”

The body was the typical white of most R2 units, though obviously worn and aged, some pockets of rust peeking through here and there along the edge, along with carbon scoring like it’d seen some firefights. With a darker silver dome, close to the color of your vambraces, you could tell it had received repairs along the line, the contrasting metals denoting different eras in its lifetime.

The bands along its body that contained the attachments and along the sides of its legs were a warm coppery color, while the panels along its head were a dark gunmetal gray that reminded you of the Crest.

Altogether it was a patchwork of parts, but it made something beautiful to you. Like when the suns hit the sand just right and caused a reflection in the distance. This droid was a mirage, a shadow.

“What’s wrong with it?” You interrupted the Jawa currently on another tirade that made Peli look like she was struggling to keep up. Getting down on one knee, still a good distance from the droid, you stared into its lense as it studied you once again.

Your friend turned to face you more fully. “What do you mean, they just told you. It hasn’t-”

“No, why hasn’t it moved?”

Peli asked the question, turning to look at the droid as she listened to the answer, its lense now turned on her.

“He said the tread on the right foot is broken. They have it out here because someone is coming to pick it up to wipe the memory. Its-”

“Not anymore,” you said quietly. “It’s coming with me.” Getting to your feet, you began to walk away, stopping when several Jawa voices began to follow after you, each more insistent than the other. You looked at Peli, brow raised in question.

“They say you can’t do that. It’s already a done deal. Now they’re asking if you want any of the other droids, they have an-”

You turned, looking at the gathering of red glowing eyes blinking up at you expectantly. Keeping your voice even, you made eye contact with each pair as you spoke. “You will release the droid into my care.”

A string of Jawaese was mumbled back to you, which you assumed was just them repeating your words, so you went on.

“Remove the restraining bolt, load it in the speeder, and let us go on our way.”

As they mumbled again, they broke off into groups to do what you said.

Tapping the leader on the shoulder, you held firmly when he turned to look at you. “And it won’t cost anything.”

He nodded before going to join the others.

“How did you….” Peli’s voice dripped with amazement. ��Can you-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me-”

“No, Peli.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and facing the Jawas as they loaded the droid who whistled happily while they worked. “I’m just saying-”

She stopped when you slowly turned to look at her, brow arched.

“Yeah, no, forget about it. Not important.”

Xxx

As you unloaded the droid at the hangar, once it was down on the ground, you knelt down slowly to inspect its injured foot.

“I’m just going to tilt you a little bit to get a better look, okay?”

The pit droids began lowering some type of harness down to help you, but the droid began to rock back and forth, protesting loudly as its dome swung back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands placatingly, gesturing for the other droids to stop. “No lifts. I’ll do it myself, but you’ve got to trust me. It’ll feel a little strange, but you’re completely safe, I promise. Alright?”

The droid bleeped in agreement after a moment of hesitation, and without further hassle, you nudged it slowly onto its side, floating at the proper angle, held just right by an unseen force. As it moved into the proper placement, the R2 unit blooped an amazed sound.

After poking at the tread for a moment, you wrinkled your brows. “This isn’t broken. What did they mea-”

You were cut short when the tread on the other foot whirred to life where it still rested on the ground, spitting sand in your face in a rapid fire. As you drew back quickly, swatting at the sting settling into your eyes, you just caught a glimpse through your squint of the droid falling the rest of the way to the ground with a screech, your concentration broken.

Before you could really react properly, the R2 unit had popped upright, all manner of Binary curses and colorful language beeping and whistling as it whipped out the zapper it had used earlier on the Jawa, sending a warning jolt down the spine while rotating in a circle to keep all the advancing droids and Peli at bay.

Then it started to lift off with some sort of propulsion, a victorious squeal echoing off the hangar walls that was all too soon followed by the sound of sputtering exhaust. Its lense pointed down, watching it all unfold, a quiver of fear warbled out of its voice box. The flames keeping it afloat flickered then died, sending it hurtling to the ground with a scream.

You were just able to stick out a hand, focusing enough to catch it inches from the ground. “I got you!” As you lowered it the last few millimeters back onto the sand, you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing into the warm earth beneath you with a quietly muttered, “I got you.”

“Well, that was a first,” Peli announced loudly, amused, as the R2 unit looked at you, a spurt of oil suddenly spewing onto the ground as it moaned in distress.

“It’s about right on track for me, honestly,” you huffed, laughing as you got back to your feet.

The droid quaked as you got closer, worried coos softly filling the hangar.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” you spoke softly, coming back onto your knees a few feet from the R2 unit. “That was actually kind of impressive.” You smirked, watching as the trembling stopped. The droid was silent and you smiled a bit broader. “I would expect nothing less, honestly. It’s what I would do in your situation. Hell, I have done it a few times….” The droid whistled softly in amusement.

You laughed, feeling victorious when it wheeled a bit closer to you.

“I have, too. I live a very extraordinary life, my friend.”

A questioning bloop.

“Yes, I said ‘friend’. I consider you that, not anything less.”

A series of beeps and whistles, the red light blinking much more slowly now.

“I do speak Binary. Very observant.”

A raspberry.

You laughed, and it was followed by the closest sound a droid can make to the sound, a series of trills.

“Can we start over?”

The droid wheeled closer, bumping its front foot into your knee gently before wheeling back slightly as if to say, ‘go on’.

You introduced yourself, reaching a hand out toward the droid. A panel sprung open on its front, the zapper coming out without a charge, making you arch a brow at the unit as it tittered playfully. The panel closed before another opened, and a small three pronged metal hand extended, closing around two of your fingers and shaking them in jerky movements as it beeped and blooped away.

“R2-B4?” The droid whistled in confirmation, releasing your fingers and closing the panel. “Can I just call you Bee?” A beep that sounded like ‘yes’ and also meant ‘yes’ in Binary chirped happily, filling the hangar. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bee. How about we get you tuned up, into a nice hot oil bath, run a few diagnostics to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be, then starting tomorrow we can-”

Some angry bloops and bleeps filled the air, while she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“No, no, no! No memory wipe! That’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She stopped rocking, but her lense scanned you up and down rapidly, her light flashing between red and white faster than you had seen yet. “You don’t know me yet, so I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to do that to you. That won’t happen so long as you are here. With me. With us. That makes you you. I don’t want just a droid, I want you, Bee.”

Reaching out your hand, you rested it lightly on her dome and an affectionate beep came out quietly.

“I just meant to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be. You deserve it, friend.”

It was at this point Din came walking back into the hangar. He stopped short when he saw the new astromech snuggled up so closely with you, the disarray of the hangar floor with the spilled oil and obvious scuffle, and Peli with her army of droids behind her and new eyeball on a stick waving around animatedly as she greeted him with a smile.

“Mando! Finally!” She walked toward him. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

The look Din leveled on you through his visor was nothing short of stifling. “Try me.”

Xxx

Once Din had calmed down enough to not shoot the new droid on sight, and Bee had calmed down enough to not zap the Mandalorian on sight, you sat down to explain the situation to Din as the astro unit underwent an oil bath.

“I don’t know, Man- Din.” You pulled a face at yourself as he chuckled at the slip up. “It just felt like I was supposed to, and she….” You looked straight into his visor. “The voices stopped when I saw her. Everything did. I don’t know.” Looking down to the table top to your right, you began to fiddle your fingers aimlessly. “I swear you won’t have to-”

“Okay.”

“Now don’t just- what?” You shook your head to dislodge any sand that may be plugging your ears and causing you to mishear because you could have sworn he said…. “Okay? ….Okay? Did you just say okay?”

Din laughed softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward onto your knees, getting closer to him and peering up with scrutiny for an agonizing minute. “What did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he rested his hand on his thigh. “Got you a present.” His head tilted to the side as you sat up a bit straighter. “Still gonna look at me like that?”

Eyes going wide, you sat back and matched his posture.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a snort. “I met up with Boba last night, as you know, and after going to the cantina, he caught up to me with the finished product.”

Din reached over and pulled a tarp off a crate to his right, how you’d missed it you had no idea, especially since the item before your eyes still sang with the same signature as his armor had.

A jetpack.

Raw beskar and durasteel glinted under the twin suns, polished to perfection and ready to earn their first scuff marks.

“Din…. No.” You looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Reaching for the pack, he groaned slightly with the effort, sighing once it sat in his lap. “I couldn’t look at you in that horribly fitting armor one more time, and it was just taking up space on the ship.” He set the heavy gift in your lap. “Now I don’t have to lug you around anymore.”

Scoffing, you leaned in closer to him, batting your lashes. “Don’t lie, you like lugging me around.”

He tossed his head side to side. “It has its perks, yes, but now….” He gently nudged you back with a finger to your shoulder so you were sitting normally in your seat again. “Lift yourself, mesh’la.”

Sitting up straight as you held the jetpack in your lap, you traced its curves with your hand. “I don’t know whether to be offended or say thank you.”

Meeting the gaze of his visor through your lashes, he simply nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, let’s get you fitted and flying - but first, I have to sync them with your vambraces, or else you might-”

“Let me guess,” you sighed, relaxing back into your chair with a thump. “Or else I might blow something up?” Din nodded once in confirmation, and you mirrored him. “Some things never change.”

“And some things change all the time….”

“Well that was cryptic.”

“Fennec found a contact for me that might know where the Armorer is. Where the covert moved to.”

Your eyes went wide and you froze, halfway to attaching the jetpack between your shoulder blades. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s a job, but I head there in two rotations-”

Your face fell flat, along with your tone. “Excuse me, what?”

“Are you broken?” You arched a brow in question at him. “You haven’t moved since I mentioned the Armorer and you’re repeating yourself.”

With a huff of disbelief, you let the jetpack to the ground beside you with a gentle thud, and faced him once again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re insane?!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“See?” You gestured to him. “A perfectly valid reaction.” Din huffed, his head tilting to the side in annoyance as you went on. “First off I was excited for you, but then you go and say something crazy like you’re going alone?”

“Well I just assumed….”

“Go on,” you deadpanned, smiling slightly when he trailed off, swallowing roughly.

When he never did, you sighed heavily and forged on for the both of you. “Since I’m your wife,” you began, eyes cast down to the sand, ignoring the way he tossed his head back with a groan, “I think it’s only right I go with you.” You looked up to meet his visor. “Not to mention I continue to save your skin daily.”

“One time. I….” He held up one finger. “That was. I let that slip one time with Peli and it was an accident.” He huffed, staring at you for a long moment. “You're never going to let me forget that are you?”

You grinned. “No.”

Xxx

The two of you landed at the front of Peli’s hangar when you saw an unknown droid approaching in the street from where you were training in the air.

“Oh! Pardon me!” The courier droid raised its hands up in surrender.

Reaching out, you lowered Din’s blaster. “You have a problem,” you mumbled. “You need to ask questions first, shoot later.”

Din grunted. “That’s not how I work.”

“Well, maybe you need to upgrade your circuitry, Tin Can.”

Both Din and the courier looked at you.

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is a Mandalorian, not a droi-”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter. “What’s the message?”

“Oh. Yes.” The droid reached into a bag fastened to its hip. “You have a holo from a Greef Karga? It’s marked sensitive/eyes only. I suggest you watch it someplace private.” Leaning around to look behind you into the vacant hangar, the only other soul being R5 rolling past with an offensive blip, the droid then looked back at the two of you. “Or just stay here.”

Taking the device from the droid with a smile, you were surprised when it didn’t just leave.

It reached back into the satchel and procured another device. A puck. And handed it to Din.

“What’s this?” The Mandalorian asked dryly, looking at the small device in the droid's hand as if it were the most confusing puzzle in the galaxy.

“Courtesy of Greef Karga…. once again.” When Din made no effort to move, the droid looked between the two of you. “They go together. I assume they offer some explanation. Otherwise, I have nothing to tell you about them.”

Din sighed, taking the puck and shutting the hangar door before the droid could say another word.

A muffled, “Oh. Well, good day, then!” Came through before the retreat of mechanical footsteps was heard.

“That was rude!” You mumbled, turning to go deeper into the hangar, but freezing when you saw the info spinning above the puck in Din’s hand.

No.

No it couldn’t be.

Quickly activating the comm, you let Karga explain what you already feared.

“If you’re playing this message, you’ve already opened the puck. Yes. I know. I was just as shocked, too.”

There, in letters as big as day was your name.

“It was issued by the head of some small town crime group on Tatooine. Said you decimated their numbers yesterday?”

Din grunted. “Nobody died. What do they mean decimated?”

“I’m not issuing the puck to anyone, but be on the lookout. It could make things…. Difficult.”

The comm went dead, and all you could do was stare at the puck in Din’s hand, the info being presented to you but truly not being absorbed as all you could do was watch and blink.

The puck displayed your picture, slowly spinning with all your details next to it.

Name: Eesra Kesyk

Last known location: Tatooine

Known associates: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Peli Motto, Sola Kei, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker

Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan, Luke, Ahsoka? For some small time group on Tatooine, they had really gone out of their way to find info on you….

Your gut sank.

Unless….

You shook your head. There’s no way this went beyond a small town crime lord on a backwater planet. No way.

Focusing back in on the list, you squinted to read the fine print it was in to have everything fit on the little readout.

The rest was just details, date of birth, previous work…. reason for bounty.

“Are they serious?”

Unlawful use of star cruiser in restricted airspace, failure to comply with law enforcement, breaking and entering, damage to public property, battery and assault….

Din thought this was all very funny. He was practically giggling by now, snorts of laughter trickling out of his modulator as he stood to your right.

He’d tried to stop under your glare, he really did, but it just wasn’t possible, little snickers escaping here and there.

“Who knew I married such a horrible person?”

He did this from time to time. Brought up his little misstep with Peli where he’d called you his wife, leaning fully into the absurdity and embracing the silliness you often tried to pelt at him mercilessly by saying it himself first.

Rolling your eyes, but unable to contain the small grin climbing up your face, you looked back at the puck and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into, Tin Can.” Tilting your head at the readout, you pursed your lips. “And we’re not actually married, no matter what you said to Peli. You’re not ready for all of this.” Making a swooping gesture to yourself, you ignored his mocking snort of amusement.

You stared at the list for another loaded minute of silence before going on. “Besides, half of these aren’t even true!” Gesturing to the list with one hand, you turned to look up at his visor, brows raised. “Unlawful use of starcruiser…. When did we even leave the planet?”

He was still chuckling warmly as he turned to you. “Did I? Know what I was getting into, I mean? I don’t know about that, mesh’la.” His chuckle grew louder as your face fell into unamusement. “And are you sure? Only half?”

Turning to face him fully, you raised one hand to wag a finger in his face teasingly. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps coming back.”

Pulling you into his arms, he hummed contentedly. “And I always will come back to you.”

Copying his hum of satisfaction, you reached up and grabbed his cowl like always, tucking your face into the fabric and taking a deep breath before turning to the side to look at the holo once again with a sigh.

“They got my name wrong, though.”

“Did they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you smiled. “Eesra Djarin of Clan Mudhorn…. That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

He groaned softly. “I-”

Bleep!

Din grunted in mild annoyance as Bee rolled up the ramp, stopping beside the two of you and trilling animatedly. “Not now, Scrap.”

Bee let out as close to a matching grunt of displeasure a droid could make, flipped out the electrified arm on her front, and waved it at Din in warning.

“See? This is why I don’t like droids,” Din grumbled.

Rolling forward bit by bit, backtracking just slightly in between, she pried her way into the small amount of space between the two of you, making you step back just slightly to make room.

“Well, hello there,” you mused quietly to the metallic dome whose lense was looking up at you, smiling back at the tiny bloop in greeting. “May I help you?”

She babbled away in Binary animatedly, charged hand still extended toward Din in warning as she rolled ever so slightly closer towards you, tilting forward just a bit and causing Din to grunt as the forward motion pushed the bottom of her housing into his shin guards with a ping.

“I’m sure R5 didn’t say all that. What are you getting at?”

More beeps and whistles, this time containing squeals as her lense switched between red and white rapidly, almost faster than her sounds, as she animatedly continued her story.

“Wow,” you finally said when the droid stopped, staring at you expectantly.

“What did she say?” Din tilted his head at you.

“No idea.” You looked up into his visor. “All I caught was something something BD said and then Peli, Jawas….”

Both of you started to chuckle softly, Bee looking between you as she rotated her dome back and forth, a bloop of disappointment before a raspberry of annoyance, and you couldn’t shake the growing grin on your face if you wanted to.

After a moment she reached out just a little further and zapped Din with the electrified arm, tittering a laugh as she rolled away at speed as Din chased after her after crying out in pain. “Ow! Get back here, you rolling scrap heap!”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the opening of the ramp to the Crest, and watched the scene unfold in Peli’s hangar.

Droids, a mechanic, and a Mandalorian all running in circles after a goal you weren’t quite sure of. All that was clear was Din was losing.

You were home, with the people you loved.

Looking to the side, you saw the bunk of the Crest open, the child’s hammock still strung across the top. The corners of your mouth pulled slightly down.

Well, almost everyone.

You were a clan of three.

No, it was more than that.

You were also a family.

And someday, you’d all be back together again.

Someday soon.

You’d find a way to bring it all back to you.

Adjusting your weight slightly, you bumped something on your vambraces in the process causing the jetpack between your shoulder blades beginning to whir with an increasing hum. Flames began to sputter at its base with a growing roar, sending a wall of heat down the backs of your thighs as it prepared to lift you into the skies once again.

“Din?” You called, quietly at first, staring over your shoulder at the new death trap strapped to your spine, then more urgently, “Din!”

He was already jogging up the ramp toward you, his posture easy and relaxed. “Calm down.”

A quick glance behind him showed an amused Peli and her circus of droids, all of them tittering in amusement. Bee rocked back and forth in glee at the foot of the ramp before rolling back to the others.

“Calm down?” You repeated in bewilderment, watching him disengage the jetpack from your vambrace with a single button push, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Calm down?!” He began to chuckle, his hand skimming up the inside of your forearm to lightly grab your elbow and push you further into the ship as you went on. “I was almost a flying projectile and you-”

You hadn’t noticed the way he’d nudged you backwards completely out of sight of the rest of the hangar until your spine sealed along the bulkhead by the weapons locker, the lights of the cargo hold going to half brightness with a deft swipe of his hand over a control pad to your left.

Half, but still plenty bright to see.

“Din?”

Taking in your new surroundings, you looked back up to see him taking his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. His helmet came next, the quiet hiss of the mechanism causing you to screw your eyes shut. The familiar sound of beskar thunking onto the metal floor of the Crest made them close even tighter.

Din chuckled softly, the unmodulated sound tickling your face with his warm breath. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly you blinked your eyes open, looking up to see warm brown eyes, and the sweetest smile waiting to meet you. “I still forget.”

Winding your hands up into the curls at the base of his head, you smirked when he let out a contented sigh through his nose.

After a moment of simply holding the other’s gaze, you muttered quietly, “Hello, brown eyes.”

Din was on you in an instant, his groan of annoyance muffled against your lips as you laughed softly into the kiss.

“You always have to ruin it,” he mumbled, crowding you further into the wall, his bare hands coming to cradle your face and making your eyes slip shut at the contact. “Nu-uh. Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

Fluttering them open, you tried very hard to keep them that way. “Sorry. It’s not every day a Mandalorian is half naked in front of me. I’ll try harder.”

“Half naked?” He tilted his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours, one brow arching up in question.

“For you, a helmet and gloves is the equivalent of a-”

Din was back on you again, this time growling in mock frustration against your lips as you laughed a bit louder. The upturn of his lips gave his amusement away, though.

Pulling apart just enough that only your foreheads rested against one another, the two of you held that moment together for quite a while. Simply breathing the other in, and existing in this quiet moment before the storm.

Before you left to find more Mandalorians.

More Mandalorians.

Now that was going to be interesting.

After a moment, you rolled your head to the side slightly and peeked up through your lashes to find his eyes closed.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for you both to speak in tandem, “Open your eyes.”

“I will if you will,” you were quick to retort.

Warm brown eyes met yours once again as the setting suns’ light poured in through the open ramp somewhere behind him, painting the cargo hold of the Crest in vibrant shades of gold, orange and red.

Din smiled softly, pressing his forehead further into yours, using his hands at your cheeks to maneuver your head back a bit and into a better angle for him to lean his forehead into. “Only for you.” His fingers began to move up and thread into your hair. “Always for you.” It was hard to tell where he stopped and you began. “Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” He pressed his forehead even further into yours, his lips ghosting over your own with each word. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

“Gar cuyi ner yaim. Ner yaim'ol. Ner yaim'la.” The light of the day was fading, much the same as the two of you were melding into one another, practically becoming one being, all his hard edges blurring where your soft lines began. The Crest began to fill with long shadows as the lights in Peli’s hangar kicked on, filling the cargo hold with just enough extra light to see. (“You are my home. My homecoming. My comfortable.”)

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, and he melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your palm, his voice a low rumble. “Ni ratiin yaimpar gar.” (“I always return to you.”)

In the quiet moment, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek bone slowly back and forth before finally whispering with a smile, “Open your eyes.”

Once he was looking at you once again, you pulled your head back just a bit and tilted it to the side. “So, where are we going to find the covert?”

He went stiff. “We?”

You sighed, laying your head on his pauldron. “It’s been how long, and you still haven’t learned that I’m always going to come with you?”

Din looked at you with a matching sigh. He tilted his head at you, his weight shifted to one leg, his hands on your waist moving you along with him. “You sometimes stay here when I go out on a job and help Peli work on the ship. It’s almost done after what Gideon tried to do- er, it was until today.”

“Exactly. So after this last massacre, I don’t think Peli wants to see my face around here anymore,” you laughed, making him shake his head and let out a huff of laughter. “I think Boba would give us a lift to wherever.”

“And then how do we get back?”

You smiled as you closed the small space between you, speaking softer as the situation began to feel more delicate. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Why are your ideas usually half baked or somehow involve fire?”

You closed the distance between you yet again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, and pressing your forehead into his. “And yet they always work….”

“You get lucky sometimes,” he groused half heartedly before he returned the gesture, a warm ungloved hand spread across your back, the other moving up to the back of your head to tuck your face securely into the crook of his neck.

You weren’t about to pull away as he held you there gently. Turning your face towards him where it rested on his shoulder, your nose brushed against his neck, and his grip grew tighter. Glancing up towards his face, you thought back to a time in the bar when this all started when all you could see before the helmet obstructed your view was a small sliver of skin that bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

Now you had an unobstructed view….

….Of unruly dark curls long overdue for a trim….

….Golden skin dusted with a light facial hair that had the slightest hint of grays peppered in….

….Kind, warm brown eyes that looked at you with so many promises….

….A nose that had definitely been broken once or twice….

….And a smile that took your breath away.

You turned your head up fully towards his face as you pulled away just enough to look at him straight on, and he turned his gaze down to meet you with a slightly playful tilt of his head like before.

“I’m just that good.” Your hands fell to rest on his chest plate. “Now let’s go find your people.”

“Let’s go find our people,” he corrected.

With a gentle nod, you pulled away slowly after a moment, turning towards the ramp with wide eyes as what just happened sunk in.

Our people.

Din walked past you, looking over his shoulder once he was on the ramp. “Are you coming?”

Our people.

Turning your head slightly to the left, you saw he had stopped, helmet back on, gloves securely fastened, and every bit the Mandalorian you had met all those years ago, only now he stood waiting for you, hand outstretched in invitation.

Mine.

You smiled, walking forward and taking his hand. “Moff Gideon couldn’t keep me away.”

Xxx

Yes, I gave her a name. Eesra Kesyk. (Ee-sruh Keh-sick) Let’s face it, Mesh’la is still what’s going to be used 99.999999% of the time, and “you” the majority of the rest. But we’re going into a part of the story with a whole lot of other new players and I wanted to have something to call the reader besides “you” and nicknames. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sorry. But, it’s my story, and that’s what I chose to do. I have a plan, so if you’ll bear with me, thank you, and I hope we can see it through together. ❤️ Plus, Din still just calls her *sigh* or “stop it!” 99% of the time, so…. 🤭

Xxx

Tags to come!

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

INEVITABLE [8]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: language, violence, death, injury, mentions of blood, angst

word count: 5,135

Summary: It was like fate or destiny had planned from the beginning for you to be on the run from the law. With the words ‘I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold’ adorning your rib cage you always wondered what was worse: Knowing you were bound to being wanted or realizing your soulmate was a cursed bounty hunter. You had a mission to finish and no bounty hunter, soulmate or not, was going to stop you.

[a/n: i'd like to point out that i got this out TWO DAYS sooner than i thought i would. am i patting myself on my back? yes, yes i am. again though, i am sorry it's taken me forever to update this one.]

[previous][next]

08: BUT YOU'RE STILL A TRAITOR

"the true pain of betrayal is that so often our love lingers on even after the damage is done. it is to both carry a wound we cannot bear and yet cannot find the heart to close. to be betrayed by one we have trusted and loved is to be drawn tight between love and devastation, and not know which way to turn." -beau taplin

Thyreps’s moon was never meant to house living creatures. That’s the conclusion you came to as you and Din braced against the whipping winds. Grogu had stayed behind with Ari and Din had tried to get you to stay back as well— a prospect you told him was not going to happen by any means. That left you struggling to cross the barren plain trying to keep sulfurous sand from burning your eyes. Din had wrapped an arm around you and chose to walk a step forward. It made it so the beskar coated man was working as a human shield against the winds. It felt odd to have him nearly wrapped around you, but you couldn’t deny the benefits. Sand wasn’t battering against your skin, and something about the weight of his arm filled your belly with butterflies. You chose to ignore the latter.

Din yelled something, you barely heard his voice, and shook your head, “What?!” He tried once more. You pointed to your ears. “Din, I can’t—”

He suddenly altered the path you were both following and the dim light filtering through the sandy wind darkened as Din dragged you into the mouth of a cave. You felt your entire body relax at the shelter.

“I said we need to wait here.” Din pulled his arm back. “Going any further in the storm isn’t going to help us. We can pick up when it dies down.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.” You shook your limbs and clothes as black sand fell around you like a halo. Din reached forward and he brushed your shoulders and back to help knock the residual sand particles off of you. “Must be nice in all the beskar right now.”

Din shook his head, “Not really.” He tugged at the collar covering his neck and you spotted the same black sand falling from the folds. “It somehow got down my shirt. I can feel it.”

“Do you need to take some armor off and shake it out?” You asked and thumbed over your shoulder. “I can keep watch.”

Din hesitated, only for a beat, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

You turned around to give the Mandalorian his privacy and stared out at the dreary landscape. You couldn’t see far out over the plains due to how dense and wild the winds were. At least sitting where you were, the sound wasn’t so overwhelming. You could actually hear the hiss of Din removing his helmet and his muted movements as he tried to rid himself of sand just as you had been.

“Sand, uh, it’s just the worst, isn’t it?” You called out. It was the only thing you could think to say in the moment and you realized it had been a desperate attempt to hear him speak sans helmet.

“Yeah.” Din grunted and you took in a quiet, sharp breath at the sound of his smooth voice unhindered by modulation. You liked the way he sounded at baseline. It hadn’t even dawned on you how much you might like his spoken word raw and unfiltered as it was now. “As many times as I’ve been on Tatooine, I’ve never had this much sand collected in my gear.”

“The wind is intense.” You commented. The fact that the conversation was focused on the weather seemed rather silly to you, but you’d continue this small, pointless talk for hours if it meant getting to hear more of him. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Have you?”

Din hummed, “Hoth is pretty bad sometimes, but at least there it’s just snow and ice.”

“That sounds just as bad if not worse than sand.”

“It isn’t. Trust me.”

Finally, you heard the hiss of his helmet being locked back into place and he called out for you that it would be fine for you to turn back around. Din leaned against the cave wall with one knee drawn up and an arm resting on it. You wandered over and sat against the same side as him only a few feet away. Far enough that you weren’t touching him, but close enough that you could if you just reached out to him.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” You asked.

“Hopefully only for a couple hours.” Din shrugged. “I’m not too familiar with this place’s weather habits. I had hoped to go the rest of my life without stepping foot on this kriffing moon.”

You shot him a sheepish grin, “Sorry I got you dragged here then.”

“No, no.” Din stiffened and shook his head. “I didn’t mean⏤ I don’t mind it now. This is actually nice.” He paused then cleared his throat. “Not the storm or being stuck in a cave. I just meant, I find it… easy to be with you. Socially speaking, of course.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he had gotten himself worked up, “Don’t worry, bucket head. I think spending time with you is easy too.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence just listening to the howling wind. It lasted until a thought occurred to you and the words fell out of your mouth before you had the forethought to stop them.

“What’s it like not having a soulmate?” You asked. Din’s head snapped to meet yours and you only realized then that it could be deemed a ‘sensitive’ topic to some. You shot him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I just remembered you said you didn’t have one and I got curious.”

“No, it’s okay.” Din replied. “I don’t mind the question. It just caught me off guard.” You waited patiently for him to speak once more because you could tell he was lost in his thoughts. A small chuckle slipped from your lips. It was funny you knew that so easily. You hadn’t spent all that much time with the Mandalorian in hindsight, but you understood his silences. Finally, Din spoke up, “I have a soulmate.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “What?”

“I… I didn’t mean to lie to you.” Din replied. “Saying I didn’t have one came easier than admitting the truth.”

“Did you lose them?” Your voice took a softer tone. You had your own issues with the concept of soulmates, but you wouldn’t wish that kind of loss on anyone. One of the girls you had been stuck under Viktor’s thumb with had met her soulmate and lost her. The Twi'lek woman said it felt like a piece of her had been demolished— as if an actual portion of her soul had been burned to ash and all that remained was a gaping hole in her chest as a reminder of what was once hers.

Din paused. “In a way.” He shook his head. “I lost them before I ever met them.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He clarified, “I decided a long time ago that I was better off without a soulmate. I never gave it a chance.”

“We’re more alike than I thought.” You said with a forced chuckle. The knowledge that Din had a soulmate sat bitter in your belly. It shouldn’t. You had no claim on him. He was your first real friend outside of your life as a slave and that held significance to you. That must have been the reason why a weird jealously crawled up your spine.

“Mirdala runi.” Din said, calling your attention back to him. He had shifted closer you realized, so the two of you were side by side. “I want to talk about—” He came to an abrupt pause and you watched his entire frame stiffen as he stared out the mouth of the cave behind you. You called his name, but it was drowned out by the sound of blaster fire. “Down!”

Din had grabbed you with ease and shoved you to the ground with his heavy body covering your entire body. His beskar plated form enveloped every inch of you and you could hear his quiet, modulated grunts as flashing red bolts of blaster fire pinged off his armor.

You began to pat at his sides, barely able to move with how firmly he had you pinned with his body, but you found his blaster and pointed it blindly to the mouth of the cave to fire a covering shot. It must have been enough to slow the onslaught of incoming fire because Din shoved up and rushed for the mouth of the cave. You flipped over onto your belly, pausing in your firing, in time to see Din draw the hilt of his saber. It came to life with an eerie dark glow. He had mentioned he carried the dark saber which honestly hadn’t meant much to you at the time, but now you could see why it had the pomp and circumstance it did.

You jumped to your feet and rushed back out into the storm to help as you could. The wind made it difficult to see, but you could make out Din tearing through three smugglers. Blaster fire opened behind you and just barely clipped your arm— burning through the sleeve of your jacket and singeing your skin under it.

With a cry of pain, you whirled and fired Din’s blaster. It took you a moment to see the smuggler with sand stinging at your eyes, but when you did you fired a bolt directly into his chest. Another smuggler was approaching, you spotted him struggling through the winds searching for his friend, and without preamble you lifted your weapon and fired at them as well.

Hands clamped down on your shoulders and you screamed in alarm. Din’s voice in your ear immediately calmed your panic. “It’s me. Are you alright? I heard you cry out.”

“I’m fine.” You shook your head and called out over the howling wind. “But I have sand in my eyes. I can’t see shit.”

“Bury your face into my shoulder.”

You didn’t understand his instruction until Din suddenly scooped you up into his arms. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck, your wound screaming pain, but you listened to his previous orders and buried your face into his shoulder. Even with your face down, you still closed your eyes in hopes to relieve a bit of the stinging. Din began to walk, you could feel the swaying of motion, and you assumed he was taking you back to the cave. Moments later, the hissing of an airlock caught you off guard.

Din set you inside a covered land speeder designed for the terrain. He closed the door behind you and momentarily you were reprieved of the sound of the wind. With stinging eyes, you watched Din walk around the vehicle before sliding into the driver’s side. When you were both settled, Din turned to you.

“Jacket. Off.” He grunted.

He must have seen the blackened hole in your jacket. While you struggled to shrug out of it, Din tore off his gloves. Half out of your jacket you paused in surprise and stared at his hands. His naturally tan hands were large and you could see calluses on his palms. It wasn’t until he was pulling you closer that you snapped out of it.

“It really is fine.” You commented.

Din shuffled around the space until he grasped what must have been a canteen. He unscrewed it, sloshing it a bit, then held it up to your face. “Smell. Is it water or something else?”

You took a whiff and caught no real scent. “Water, I think. It’s definitely not alcohol or anything.”

“Good.” Din’s hands suddenly settled on the side of your face and the contact made your breath hitch. “Tilt your chin up.” As he said the command, he used his hand to help you do so. When Din was satisfied with the angle of your head, he held the canteen up. “Try to keep your eyes open I need to wash them out.”

“Do they look that bad?” You asked.

“Keep your eyes open.” He simply repeated.

Din began to splash the water over your eyes and you hissed at the worsened stinging. The gritty feeling that had lingered under your eyelids began to wash away and with it so did the burning. Din set aside the empty canteen and you let your head fall back to a neutral position. Before you could wipe at the wetness on your face, Din cupped your face and used his fingers to carefully wipe away the sand particles that clung to your damp skin.

You stared into the t-shape of his dark visor and found yourself wishing you could see his eyes. His warm hands on your skin brought a comfort you had never felt. Nobody save for Viktor had held you like this before, and this was entirely different. Viktor would hold your face in his hands and peer down at you with a possessive ownership. His grip had felt suffocating. You couldn’t even see Din’s eyes yet you knew that wasn’t the case here. His grip was soft. He cradled you like something precious to hold⏤ tenderly, as if you would shatter if he was not too careful.

“Din…” You said in a voice softer than you meant.

“I’m sorry.” He replied quickly, almost like a knee jerk reaction, but he didn’t release you.

“For what?”

Din paused for what felt like an abnormally long time, “I…” He shook his head a bit. “I don’t know.” Your lips twitched up as a laugh bubbled out from your chest. At the sound, Din’s hands seemed to marginally tighten around your face. You felt his thumb drag over your cheekbone. It left a trail of fire against your skin as he drew lines down to where the curve of your bottom lip sat. You sucked in a short, quiet breath at the firm feel of his thumb tracing your lower lip back and forth. If you didn’t know better, you’d say Din was trying to memorize the shapes of your face with his touch alone. “You’re beautiful, ner mirdala runi.”

The compliment caught you off guard entirely, but you couldn’t deny the warmth that filled your chest at hearing it in his voice.

“I know I shouldn’t say that, but…” Din’s voice trailed away.

“Why not?” You asked. “Why shouldn’t you say that?” Din didn’t reply, and you continued to just gaze into the endless void that was his visor. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth suddenly very dry, and then added, “Because… Hearing it from you, I… I don’t quite mind it.”

You had spent a lifetime being objectified by men and women you crossed paths with. Years being ogled at by Viktor. There hadn’t been a moment of it you didn’t hate. But, just like the act of holding your face in his hands, Din was different. The words, when they fell from his lips, felt like a comfort. It wasn’t about a claim or a method of seduction. He said it like a man in awe⏤ like a man in the midst of worship on his knees before a deity.

“I… I want⏤ I need to talk to you about something.” Din said suddenly. He paused then shook his head. His hand fell from your face and you missed the touch almost immediately. “But we should finish this mission first.”

“Um, okay.” You nodded curiously. As much as you wanted to know what was on his mind, or where that had been leading, you acknowledged that he made a good point. The longer the two of you stayed on this maker forsaken rock the more danger you’d be in.

Din turned in his seat and began to flip switches and buttons on the dash to start up the speeder. You settled in your own seat and kept an eye out the front window searching the horizon for any sign of danger. It didn’t take long to get to what must have been the raider’s base and Din drove the speeder into a makeshift garage.

“I don’t see anyone.” You said. “Do you think we got them all out in the storm?”

“I doubt it.” He hummed. “Stay alert.”

The two of you climbed out of the speeder and began to search the stockpile for what it was that Ari had asked for. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for, but you read the crate labels aloud for Din to judge while he searched his own side. You spotted a label that used the word ‘core’ which was a good sign. You cracked open the lid to see a series of blue glass orbs sitting in a stack of soft crate filling.

“Hey, Din.” You called out. “I might’ve found them.”

Din hurried over and tugged you away from the box with a nod. “Yeah. That's it.” He pushed you to stand behind me. “I’ll load them up. I don’t want you to touch them.”

You resisted the urge to remind him that if one of those volatile orbs did get activated and go off, standing behind him wasn’t going to save you. Beskar or not. Din locked the crate and picked up the box, which was longer than it was tall, and carried it over to pack into the back of the speeder. Din motioned for you to climb back into the vehicle, and you glanced around before doing so. This seemed much too easy. The second the thought drifted through your head, you cursed yourself for allowing it to come to life. Din climbed into the driver’s seat and you forced your mind to any other topic. The last thing you wanted to do was jinx the two of you on the home stretch.

The Razor Crest was in view and you began to feel hopeful. You were so close to accomplishing your goal. More than just finishing your personal mission, for the first time in ages you were thinking of what happened afterwards. You wondered if Din would let you continue to travel with him and Grogu. It felt silly and foolish to actually place trust in someone you hadn’t known for very long, your life experience told you it was a bad idea, but from the beginning Din had felt different.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a sudden flash of red. It took only a second for you to register the familiar sight of blaster fire, but that second was a second too long. The speeder’s front right tire exploded and Din turned the steering wheel hard to offset it, but the speeder hit uneven terrain and then the rough winds aided in flipping the speeder over.

It happened quickly after that. You blinked and suddenly you were hanging upside down in your seat. Another blink and your world was spinning as the speeder flipped head over tail repeatedly. Luckily, the vehicle landed upright and your seat belt had managed to keep you tied to your seat relatively safely.

“Are you alright!?” Din yelled. His hands were ripping off your seat belt frantically. You didn’t necessarily feel injured, which was a miracle in itself, but you were still dazed. You offered a small nod, and Din wrapped his arm around you to drag you out of the speeder.

It took a moment to realize Din wasn’t sticking around for a fight. He was dragging you through the whipping winds as far away from the speeder as he could. “Din! Din, the cores!” You cried out. “We need to⏤”

“We need to get further. Can you run??” Din cried.

You glanced over your shoulder and could see the shadowy shapes of whatever raider who had fired at you digging through the smoking carcass of the speeder. “Din⏤” You began again, but Din grunted and scooped you up and began to run. He activated his jet pack, using it to speed over the terrain rather than in the air, but the winds were working against you. “Wait⏤”

Behind the two of you, the deafening sound of an explosion took you off guard. The cores. The volatile cores. Fire filled the air, and even from the distance you were at the blast still knocked you and Din to the ground. The second the two of you hit the ground, Din lost his grip on you. You groaned against the ground. Sand filled your mouth, mingling with the metallic taste of blood from where you had bit down on your tongue, and your ears were ringing so loud that you couldn’t even hear the sounds of the roaring wind.

Shakily, you pushed up onto your elbows and sucked in a shaking breath. Gloved hands wrapped around your arms and helped pick you up. “Thanks!” You yelled, all the sound still muted. “Din?” Your eyes were narrowed to try and block out the sand in the air. The Mandalorian was wavering in front of you. You reached out to grasp his arm and that’s when you noticed it. A large, twisted shard of metal from the speeder had pierced Din in the side⏤ right under the edge of beskar armor on his back. The ringing in your ears faded just in time for you to hear a groan of agony, even over the winds, before Din collapsed in front of you. “Din!?”

In a panic, you tried to visualize his wound, but with the sand storm you could see nothing. You hooked your arms under his and began to drag him toward the Razor Crest. Between the weight of his broad body and the heavy beskar he wore, it was a slow process. With every pull of him, visceral fear crawled up your spine and latched itself into your mind. The last time you felt fear like this you had been kneeling over the dying body of your best friend⏤ a man that Viktor had killed in front of you just because your friend had the audacity to care for you. Not again. Please, Maker, no. You couldn’t lose another person. Not like this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to drag Din up the Razor Crest’s ramp and into the cargo hold. You wasted no further time and began to strip Din of his beskar. You’d leave his helmet on, but you need the area around the wound to open so you could work. You scrambled to grab Din’s first aid kit and dove back to the ground. Your hands were moving on autopilot. After giving him an e-bacta injection, and then pulling out the shard to fill the wound with the bacta gel, you knew you were overdoing it. Rather safe than sorry though.

It was only after the fourth application of the bacta gel did he stop bleeding. Din laid on the ground motionless, but his breathing was even and his heartbeat was steady. You fell back on your ass and sucked in a shaky breath of your own. Your hands were trembling, stained with his blood, and it felt like all your nerves were frayed.

“It’s okay. He’s okay.” You whispered under your breath to try and convince yourself of the fact. Still, he needed better medical care than you could provide. You pushed to stand, closed the ramp, and then climbed up to the cockpit to get the Razor Crest off the ground. You were by no means a pilot, and in these kinds of winds it was even more difficult, but you managed to get up and off the damned rock. Once in space, all you had to do was set Ari’s address into the system and the ship did the rest.

Being in motion made you feel better. You were on your way to a city that would have an actual Healer. Someone who could ensure Din’s injuries wouldn’t leave him with permanent harm. You rose and hurried back down to the cargo hold. He looked miserable lying on the cargo hold half undone. You cleaned your hands, then took a clean rag to begin to clean his skin. You hoped that wiping away his blood would make you feel better about his state.

This was the most skin you had ever seen of him and it felt like a violation. Once you got him cleaned up enough, you'd lay a blanket on top of him to preserve his decency. Midway through cleaning, your eyes landed on a string of scribbled words against his skin. His soul mark. A part of you urged you to look away. Soul marks were personal, and he had never given you permission to look at this. Hell, he had only just admitted that he had one. However, familiar words gave you pause.

You read it once. Twice. Three times.

‘Would you really arrest your soulmate?’

It felt like someone had picked up the twisted metal shard from the speeder and shoved it through your chest. A storm of various emotions swirled in your mind and suffocated you. Liar. You were crying, and you didn’t even register it until you tasted salty tears trail down your face and reach your lips. He lied to you. You scrambled back from his body and tried to suck in air. You couldn’t breathe. Din lied to you, and you couldn’t breathe. Your lungs were pulling in air, but none of it was satisfying.

Liar, liar, liar.

Anger was burning through your veins, but it wasn’t at Din. No. It was toward yourself. This was your fault. You knew better than to trust someone.

When Din’s eyes blinked open, the first sound he was able to produce was a groan. His body ached. Every inch of him was sore and miserable. The last thing he remembered were the cores going off. Din had tried to get you far enough away to avoid the blast site but based on his injury he had failed. You. Maker, please let him be the only one hurt. He tried to shift, to rise, but it occurred to him that half of his aching came from the way his arms were twisted behind him.

Din lifted his head. He was on the Razor Crest, in the cargo hold, and he was sitting up against the ladder up to the cockpit. A beat of confusion passed before he tried to move again and realized his hands were locked behind him and wrapped around the metal of the ladder. Dank ferrik. Had the raiders caught them?

He glanced around and his eyes landed on you. You were sitting on the floor by the closed ramp door. Din released a sigh of relief. You looked relatively unharmed, and you weren’t tied up as he was. Wait. He shook his head, “Mirdala runi, what…” His groggy mind was beginning to connect dots that had been vaguely floating around in his mind. He had been injured. Din remembered the hot pain of metal tearing through his skin. His beskar chest piece had been removed and his flight suit peeled away. A blanket rested on his shoulder covering him up, but under the blanket his entire torso was bare. His torso was bare. Oh no. “Wait, please, I⏤”

“Stop.” You said in the coldest voice he had heard from you.

Even in the beginning, when you were nothing but snark and sarcasm you still had warmth in your voice. Din felt his chest ache. “Please, just let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you played me for a fool?” You asked.

“No, I⏤”

“That you lied to me this entire time?”

“Please⏤”

“I trusted you.” You snapped. The words were filled with agony, broken and hoarse, and it felt like he had been stabbed all over again. Regret, shame, and guilt filled every atom of his body. You shook your head, “Why would you⏤” Your voice cracked and you forced yourself to stop. Din leaned forward, but his restraints held him back. You pushed to stand and shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”

He could feel you slipping away. He could feel himself losing you. And though he knew it was well deserved after his lie to you, Din still couldn't fathom it. He called out again to you, “It was a mistake. I wanted to tell you the truth. I⏤ I tried to tell you.” Din thrashed against the restraints. It caused his injury to flare and burn, but he had to get free. “I should’ve told you ages ago, I know that.”

You walked over to the control panel and opened the ramp. Light filled the cargo hold and Din recognized the tarmac of Thyreps. No, no, no. You were going to slip away. Worse, he knew where you would go. You were going to find Viktor and the thought of you facing those monsters without any backup filled his soul with ice water.

“Don’t go.” Din was thrashing more desperately now. “You can hate me. You deserve to hate me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but please let me help you. Don’t go alone. Please!” You paused in place and Din thought maybe, just maybe, his pleading was getting through to you. Suddenly, you began to walk toward him and for a brief second Din felt a flutter of hope in his chest. You crouched down in front of him. “Ner mirdala runi, gedet'ye.”

You reached forward and he felt your fingers brush against the words fate drew on his skin. Din sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation. Goosebumps raised on his skin. You traced the words with the tip of your finger. The feel of it was addicting. “What does that mean? What you’ve been calling me.”

“My clever soul.” Din answered softly.

You chuckled, but the sound was one of devastation. With you this close to him, Din could see how red your eyes were from crying. You pulled your hand away from his skin and Din tried to follow only to be stopped by his restraints once more. “Apparently, I wasn’t clever enough to see through this charade.”

“No, please, don’t⏤”

“You were right, Din.” You said with a voice of finality. “You're better off without a soulmate, and so am I. Consider me dead and gone. Don’t come after me.”

You shoved up to stand and without another word or a backward glance you walked out of his ship and out of his life. Din screamed after you. He roared until his throat was hoarse, and he knew the metal of the restraints were digging into his skin and rubbing it raw but he didn’t care. Din was devastated, and he only had himself to blame.

mando'a translations:

Ner mirdala runi: My Clever Soul Gedet'ye: Please

TAGLIST (closed):

@onceinamando @hrtsforpascal @lil-dragon-draws @harriedandharassed @aheadfullofsteverogers @elfamosotoga @the-anchored-sailor-girl @garbo-lesbo @moonlqghts @stokeholdsblog @morks-watermelon @http-onie @chonkercatto @xalphafox @pedrojoe @zarahbronstein @cockscombkingdom @ale0m @shelbyteller @fallinallinmendes @grandtheoristpeach @perilous-pasta @love-the-abyss @kneelforloki @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @marvelouslytrekking @lady-winchester @liadamerondjarin @vampseddie @guccistardust @smexy-bucky-waifu @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis @keepingitlokiii @catharinaroxastova @andreasworlsboring101 @theclassicvinyldragon @your-slutty-gf @i-cant-write-for-shit @ponyboys-sunsets @honeybug-victoria @godesspsyche @cookielovesbook-akie @adoringanakin

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #female reader #soulmate au

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jennaispunk · 6 months ago

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Ballroom Blitz

Summary: Din Djarin gets more than he bargained for when he attends a party celebrating the New Year on Plasir-15.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Rating: G (it’s fluff)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/Tags: fluff, Din is soft for his girl, teensy bit of jealous!Din, established relationship, shenanigans, Grogu being Grogu, brief mention of vomit, holiday party gone wrong, brief mention of a fight and minor injuries, takes place after season 3, the Razor Crest is back because I said so.

A/N: After many false starts, here is my contribution to @beefrobeefcal Festive Failure 2024 challenge. I did my best to channel the inner chaos and I hope I did you proud, Beef!!

I had the epiphany for the plot of this story when I heard the Ballroom Blitz by Sweet on the radio driving to my work Christmas party (hence, the title of this story. The song is one of my favorites, an absolute bop, and I will blast it in the car every time it comes on. Sorry not sorry). I yelled some vibes into the notes app on my phone as I drove and the rest is history. I dove way too deep into the Star Wars/ Mando universe for this (a lot ended up on the cutting room floor), my apologies for any piece of Star Wars lore that doesn’t jive (please don’t come for me). I used a bit of Mando’a and have translated where needed (I think we all know the meaning of cyar’ika and mesh’la by now).

Moodboard by me. Dividers and banner by @saradika-graphics

The large doors of the grand meeting room slowly open, and the droids usher you inside. You cling to Din’s arm as the two of you, with Grogu is his pram, make your way toward the Duchess and Captain Bombardier. This was the first time you had been allowed to go on a mission with Din and your first time meeting royalty.

Feeling terribly underdressed for such a special occasion; you clench your free hand into a fist to calm your nerves. The knuckles of the hand holding Din’s elbow begin to pale as your grip tightens.

Din looks down at your death grip and tilts his head toward your ear.

“Relax, cyar’ika.” He whispers through his modulator. “They’re just people.”

A half-hearted smile plays on your lips. This is so far beyond anything you ever dreamed of growing up on Loth and you want to make a good first impression.

“Duchess…Captain…”

Din greets the royal couple with a curt nod, and you curtsy.

“The Duchess and I can’t tell you how grateful we are for you coming to our aid once again.”

Captain Bombardier’s voice booms and you bite your cheek to keep from giggling at the theatrics of it all. They really are an odd couple. Your attention is drawn to the opulence of the room, the ornate decorations and tapestries; it all feels a little surreal.

“Thanks to you, our celebration of the New Year tonight can go on as planned. We’d love for you to join us for party.”

The last word snapped your attention back to the conversation you’d been too occupied with other things to pay attention to.

“A party?”

Your eyes go wide at the sound of your own voice. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Clamping your mouth closed, you press your lips into a tight line.

The Duchess smiles warmly, putting you at ease.

“Yes, a party. We celebrate the coming of the New Year on Plazir-15 with a celebration to rival any in the galaxy. Music, food, dancing…we have it all.”

Your eyes light up at her description. The party sounds wonderful, so different from any other party you’ve attended. Thinking on it, you don’t know that you’ve ever been to a proper party before.

“Thank you for the generous offer, your majesty,” Din voice is clipped and direct. “But we really need to-”

“Nonsense!”

The captain cuts Din off mid sentence, not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.

“Surely you can spare a night to celebrate. You’ve earned it…and we insist.”

Even through his armor and helmet, you can tell Din is annoyed. You’ve been together long enough to read his tells. You desperately want to experience this party, and you turn to him with pleading eyes.

“Can we…please?” you ask softly.

Din’s sigh is audible, and you smile. He can’t deny you, no matter how badly he wants to. He’s powerless against your puppy dog eyes and that childish pout.

“Alright.” he grumbles.

Grogu squeals but you keep silent. You’re not going to make a fool of yourself in front of your hosts. You turn to Din and give him a devilish smirk; you’ll make it up to him later, back on the Crest.

The duchess giggles and claps her hands.

“Excellent! You’re going to have a wonderful time.”

The excitement you felt immediately dies when you realize that you have nothing to wear. You can’t go to the party wearing leggings and a tunic.

The duchess notices your crestfallen expression and takes your hand in hers.

“Come with me, my dear. We will find you something gorgeous to wear.”

She links her arm in yours and drags you away.

“Tis the kriffin season.” Din mutters as you walk away.

The breath is stolen from Din’s chest as you descend the staircase. You look absolutely radiant in your silver sequined dress. The dress fit you perfectly, showing off your figure and shapely legs. He always thought you were beautiful, but this was another level. Seeing you all dressed up made his heart pound.

Din was never one for parties. He preferred to keep a low profile. Spending a quiet night at home with you is what he’d prefer, but he’d do anything to see you happy.

Your small hand slips into his larger one as you reach the last step. Although his face is concealed by his helmet, you know he’s smiling.

“Mesh’la.” he whispers.

All it takes is that one word to make your cheeks burn. Hearing the language of his people always felt special, like a secret only the two of you shared. He’d been giving you Mando’a lessons in preparation for your upcoming riduurok, and you jump at that chance to use it.

“Vor entye, ner kar'ta.” (Thank you, my heart)

Your hand rests against the cool beskar of his helmet, gazing into his visor imagining the color of the eyes that you know are laser focused on you right now.

“It’ll be good for us.” you tell him with a small smile. “You need to relax…we both do.”

The two of you had been traveling for weeks now, the longest you had been away from your little home in Nevarro since you moved in. You wanted a few hours to enjoy something other than playing games with Grogu on the Razor Crest. Not that you were complaining, you wouldn’t trade your time with Din and Grogu for anything; but it was nice to get to experience something different.

The welcome droids push the doors to the ballroom open and your immediately assaulted with the most bizarre spectacle you’ve even seen.

Enormous arches glistening with holographic displays and shimmering banners from dozens of different star systems capture your attention. The room is filled with species from all parts of the galaxy: Ithorian, Rodian, Togruta, and more you don’t even recognize.

Music is coming from the corner of the room, played by a band similar to the ones you’d seen in the cantinas on Tattooine. A group of creatures you couldn’t identify in flashy clothing were gathered around a floating table, cheering and shouting. A Devronian was performing some kind of trick with fire, using a combination of blasters and flamethrowers to create a dazzling display. You hardly knew what to look at next.

Din found a table near the perimeter of the party, where his back would be to the wall. He was always on alert, always watching for potential threats. As much as you wanted him to, he couldn’t let his guard down; he had to keep you and Grogu safe. He would relax once all of you were safely on the Razor Crest and headed home.

Never before had you seen anything like this; and you were a bit overwhelmed in the best way. Grogu babbled happily in Din’s arms as he took in the lights and sounds. Seeing him so excited made you happy, at least the two of you were having a good time. Grogu reaches out his arms toward a table filled with every type of food imaginable.

“I’m going to get Grogu something to eat. Do you want anything?”

His voice snaps you back to reality. You look over at him and shake your head.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Grogu immediately reaches for the first thing that catches his eye as they approach the table. He closes his eyes, and force lifts a fruitcake. The loaf float precariously through the air.

“Grogu. No.”

Grogu’s ears dropped and the fruitcake landed with a thud. His attention was quickly diverted to the various delicacies spread out before him.

As they make their way through the crowd, a large, boisterous figure in a leather vest staggered into them. The man reeked of cheap alcohol and arrogance.

"Watch where you’re—"

Din’s words fall on deaf ears, the stranger was already stumbling away, unaware.

Din shook off the stranger and arrived at the table to find you engaged in conversation with a twi’lek who wasn’t subtle with his flirtations. A tickle of jealousy flowed through him; you were his and he didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Din, this is Reess Tarkul. Reess, this is my betrothed, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded curtly and before he could tell him to get lost, Reess stood.

“I was just keeping your lovely companion here company. I hate to see beautiful woman left unattended.”

You knew Din’s muscles were tense, even if it wasn’t visible to anyone else.

“Your concern is admirable, but I assure you, my eyes were always on her.” Din growled.

The fingers of his right hand twitch and you immediately stand. Reaching out, you cover his forearm with your hand.

The band comes to a discordant halt as shouting filled the air. Two creatures you’ve never seen before begin pushing and shoving, one of them sent flying, colliding with one of the dancers, dousing him in a blast of liquid, instantly extinguishing his flames but causing him to slip on the slick floor. He collides with another performer, and then, in a chain reaction, a series of decorative lights fell, sparking and sending a cascade of short-circuiting wires across the floor.

Panic rippled through the crowd and there was a mad rush toward the door. You were separated from Din during the chaos. You fought, but you’re swept up into the crowd. Pain shot through you as an errant elbow connects with your cheek, knocking you to the floor. The room spins as you try to get your bearings.

Strong arms wrap around your middle and haul you to your feet. It’s not until you feel beskar against your skin that you realize Din is the one holding you. Using himself as a shield, he pushes his way through the throng with you tucked safely behind him.

A loud siren sounds causing everyone to freeze. The small fire had been extinguished and other than a few minor injuries, no one appears to be seriously injured. Helper droids disperse through the crowd and begin to clean up the mess and guide the partygoers toward the doors.

“Everyone!”

Captain Bombardier’s voice carries over the crowd as you and Din search for Grogu.

“Fear not! This is but a momentary hiccup in the festivities. Please join us in the garden for the fireworks!”

Din pushes past the crowd, gripping your hand tightly. He’s not letting go of you until the three of you are out of here. Happy squeals fill the air and both of you turn to see Grogu happily inhaling the last hunk of the fruitcake he’d been eyeing all night. Brown, red and green splotches adorn his hands and face, and crumbs litter the table around him.

“There you are, kid”

“Patu!”

Grogu raises his arms, and Din scoops him up, holding him out to inspect the damage.

Grogu giggles happily and then vomits down Din’s chest. The brown sludge slides down his beskar and your shoulders shake with suppressed giggles as you take Grogu from him. He cleans the mess the best he can, then turns to you.

“It’s time to go.” he grumbles.

You nod in agreement. There’s been more than enough excitement for one day. You wince as you try to smile at him, there’s going to be a hell of a bruise on your cheek in the morning.

Fireworks light up the sky as the Razor Crest takes off. Grogu is nestled safely in his pram, sleeping soundly. It’s a shame he fell asleep; he would have loved the dazzling show.

You reach for Din’s hand as you hold an ice pack to your cheek with the other. What a wild night. No words could adequately describe the spectacle you just witnessed. You’re good on parties for a while.

Din turns toward you and squeezes your hand. All three of you are safe and on your way home, and he can finally relax. He sighed as he looked at you. It was his job to protect you, and although you weren’t seriously hurt, he felt like he’d failed you somehow.

“Does it hurt much?”

His voice is soft, even through the modulator. He’s feeling guilty about you getting hurt. You can feel it in the way he’s holding your hand, hear it in the cadence of his breaths.

You return his squeeze with one of your own. You want to tell him not to worry, but that’s like telling the sun not to shine. He’ll always worry, always try to protect you; and you love him for it.

“Not too much. You’ve punched me harder than that trying to teach me self defense.”

His gravely laugh floats through the cabin. Your ability to bounce back and roll with anything that comes your way amazes him. You were his perfect match.

The silence settles between you, and your eyes close. The soft hum of the Crest lulls you into a twilight; your limbs begin to feel heavy, and it won’t be long before sleep calls you. Soon you’ll be back to your little home with the two people you love the most.

The events of the last few hours play in your mind, and you laugh softly at the absurdity of it all.

“That was some party.” you murmur.

Din groans. It was some party, alright. He’d be happy to never attend a party again.

“No more parties for a while, okay?”

Din presses a few buttons and sets the ship into hyperspace.

“No more parties…”

You mumble your agreement as you begin to drift off to sleep. Taking a break from parties sounded like a good plan.

#festive failure 2024 #ballroom blitz #din Djarin #din dijarin x reader #fluff #long live the Crest #the mandalorian

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burnwater13 · 3 months ago

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Din Djarin looking down at the work bench where his vambrace is resting with Grogu looking on. Image by me.

A puzzle or a mystery?

“Grogu? Have you seen my left vambrace? I was certain it was in my room last night. I can’t find it any where.”

Din Djarin hated saying those words, but he knew they had to be said. He had taken that vambrace off before he took his boots off because it had gotten caught up on his second layer and was pinching his arm. Typically he only took his boots off and the back plate when he was on Nevarro. The bed he had just didn’t work with the backplate and he hated sleeping in his boots. When he was out following up on a bounty fob, that was one thing, but in the privacy of his own home, in his own room? Nope.

His son trotted right over to him and shook his pale green head. Nope.

Dank Farrik!

“Okay. Well, help me look for it. It didn’t get up and walk away, so something must have happened to it.”

Yes, like it’s owner getting older and more forgetful. They’d spent a long time following that lead on an Imp Remnant in the far Outer Rim, practically in Wild space. Too many days without sleep. Too many nights without a proper meal. Too much time spent worrying about those Imps just trying to trap Grogu into coming to them. It had been a nightmare.

Add having to repair the N-1 again, again, to that mix and the Mandalorian was as exhausted as he’d ever been. Maybe he’d left the vambrace on his work bench? He hadn’t checked there yet because it seemed absurd that he would forget walking out to the shed that housed the bench and taking it off and leaving it there. He never left his armor anywhere but in the room he occupied when he occupied it.

He had honestly been surprised that Grogu had shook his head so readily. No hesitation. No thinking about it. No squirming. Those were his very well established tells for the small inaccuracies Djarin sometimes caught his son in. Grogu resented them being called lies, so they had agreed to refer to such misbehaviors as being less than accurate. Given that Grogu’s eyes had grown wide at the mere mention of the vambrace not being where it was supposed to be underlined his apprentice’s innocence. Grogu had been surprised that his dad had actually misplaced something as important as that piece of armor. Now they both had to find it.

“Grogu, do me a favor and go through my room. I’ve looked at the stuff in there too many times already. I might just be refusing to see it.”

Grogu nodded his head, his ears bobbling with the motion and trotted off to do as he was told. Din Djarin was glad that he hadn’t argued about the task or even tried to negotiate parts of it away. That often occurred when they were going over chores or bounty hunting assignments. A reflection that Grogu was just as concerned about the missing piece of armor as the Mandalorian was. Uff. Now he felt old.

Rather than focus on that feeling, Djarin began a systematic search through the rest of the cabin, including Grogu’s bunk room, the privy, the fresher, and all the cabinets and storage trunks they used to organize their belongings. Grogu came out to the main room and watched him do that part of the task. It was obvious that he hadn’t found the vambrace either.

“Okay. Thank you. Um… do you think you could find it with the Force? I don’t know if you can do that sort of thing, but if you could try?”

As soon as he said the word ‘Force’, Grogu had plopped down on the floor and assumed his meditation position. He closed his eyes. His breathing became slow and regular. Djarin could hear nothing other than the sound of his own heartbeat, which was annoying.

It may have been five minute or twenty five minutes later, the Mandalorian couldn’t really tell, when Grogu finally opened his eyes and waved to get his dad’s attention.

“You know where it is?!”

Wow. Why was he still so surprised that Grogu could do amazing things with the Force? He’d seen his son do all sorts of fetes that couldn’t have been done through plain strength or technological advantage. He should have been used to it by now.

Grogu waved for the bounty hunter to follow him and Djarin did just that. He followed Grogu out of the cabin, off the porch, around to the side his room was on and pointed at the ground. At first he didn’t see anything, even when he used his sensors and then he just lifted the helmet up enough so he could study the ground with his unaided human eyes and saw them. Footprints.

They didn’t belong to Grogu, or any human or other bi-ped the Mandalorian knew of. They looked like loth cat prints, except the cats retracted their claws when they walked. These definitely had claw marks. That meant the Kowakian Lizard monkeys weren’t to blame either. Based on what he saw, it looked like the critter had at least six legs, but there was no brushing of the ground to suggest a long tail, like a the fire lizards that they sometimes found near the lava flows.

Grogu pointed in a direction and Djarin nodded. Whatever the critter was it had headed toward the N-1 and the shed. They followed it’s trail as quickly as they could, although the Mandalorian knew it was hours old and the critter could be anywhere. That’s why his sensors hadn’t been particularly useful. The trail had actually gone cold.

Grogu pointed at the shed and waited for his dad to move. Djarin appreciated that. He had his side arm, but felt silly pulling it out. Why would a critter hang around the closed shed? His sensors still didn’t show any sign of it. He still had to lift his helmet to see the paw prints. Whatever.

Din Djarin stepped forward and opened the shed the door a sliver and peered into the dark space. Then he pushed the door all the way open and sighed when he saw his vambrace sitting on the workbench. Dank Farrik! He must have been so tired he just walked it out there and forgot to put it back on. He needed to get some rest.

He picked it up and slid it onto his arm and noticed a little bit of something flutter to the ground. Grogu trotted over to it and lifted it up using the Force and had it float over to his father. Just as Djarin was about to scold his son for wasting effort that way, he saw the item. It was a board dried leaf and it had writing on it.

“I noticed that your device had a problem and brought it out here to fix it. I hope you don’t mind. Thank you for leaving the extra helping of scrapings on the trash heap. They were delicious.”

What the heck?! Some critter had been at their trash tip and somehow realized his vambrace had a problem? And to make matters worse managed to gain entry into the cabin, into the Mandalorian’s room and retrieve it, leave the same way it entered and brought it out to the shed and fixed the thing?!

Now Din Djarin knew he was too tired. His mind must have made that all up. He handed the leaf back to Grogu.

“Tell me what that says.”

Grogu looked at his dad and sighed.

“Am friend. Fixed problem. Thanks food.”

“Grogu, I think I need a vacation.”

Grogu nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Yup.”

#grogu #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars

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din-miller · 2 years ago

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To Be Without You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gn!Reader

Word count: 715

Summary: Comfortember day twelve – dreams

Warnings: nightmares, mention of child death, hurt/comfort

A/N: you can’t get Comfortember without pain. That’s my justification for this. Also this is a day late by 13 minutes and that’s because I spent the usual three hours trying to name this shit.

You’ve been here before, on this desert wasteland, air dry and lungs full of sand, but it wasn’t like this last time. You weren’t staring down at the broken bodies of your husband and son.

No, they didn’t die then, before, you had saved them. So why are you screaming for them to wake up? Begging for them to open their eyes, pleading with the Maker to take you instead.

No, they hadn’t died that day.

So why does this feel so real?

Then, after a heartbeat, Din’s yelling your name but his lips are closed and cold. Blue like the beach you got married on.

The yelling became louder, more persistent, more determined and you closed your eyes, letting your mind focus on the words circling the air around you.

Arms wrapped around you, strong and unwavering and you don’t understand how you’re being comforted when there’s no one around you.

The arms tighten and your eyes fly open, four walls surrounding you; a soft white, nothing like the red specks across the desert sand.

“Cyar’ika you need to breathe.”

It’s Din again. His lips are open as words flow out of them, mute to your ears but they look nothing like the cold ones burned on the back of your eyelids for decades to come.

But look is not enough, no you need to feel the warmth. Which is what you do, the desperate reassurance has Din gasping in surprise, body flying back onto the bed and you wasted no time crawling on top of him.

He lets you lead the kiss, understanding that you need this. You let the anguish inside you bleed into his mouth, letting it mix with the love he’s pouring into you.

It’s enough.

Din pulled back but the warmth of him never left as his forehead touched yours, “We’re all okay. Whatever you saw, we’ll get through it I promise.”

You believe him. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this dream and you know it won’t be the last. You fold yourself against his chest, matching the slow breathing pace he’s set for you. In and out, in and out, once more before a horror creeps up your body and settles in your mind, stealing all the air in your lungs, “Where’s Grogu?!”

“In his room,” Din sweeps his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tears you don’t remember letting fall, “I’ll bring him to sleep with us once you calm down.”

“No, no I need to see him now!”

Din sighed but didn't try to put up a fight with you. He’d lose and you both know it. He kept you tucked against his chest as he sat both of you up, “Do you want to bring him in here or should I set up the pull out couch in his room?”

His arms don’t let go of you as you leave the bed and mumble into his shirt, “His room. I don’t think I can sleep in our bed right now, it’s too much.”

“Okay, I’ll set up the futon for us.” Din said softly, guiding you to your son's room.

You don’t fight off his hands but you do shake your head, “You should go back to our bed. It’s better for your back.”

Din huffed, almost offended, “I’m not leaving you.”

You’re first to enter Grogu’s room, needing so desperately to see him alive, unharmed. You crouched down beside his bed, careful not to wake him as Din started setting up the futon for the night.

“Hey,” Din whispered, hand landing on your shoulder, thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion, “The beds set up.”

“He’s so tiny,” You whispered back, tears building back up but you won’t allow them to fall, “I always forget how tiny he actually is.”

“Knowing our little guy he’s probably bigger than most kids his age,” Din pressed a kiss to his tiny green head and then did the same to yours, “You need to sleep, cyar’ika.”

His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the bed as he held you protectively against his chest, letting you breathe in the scent of his person and the soft chamomile that fills Grogu’s room.

“Don’t let go?” You asked.

“Never.” He promised.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x gender neutral reader #grogu included fic #justice joy writes #tw child death #married couple | the mandalorian #din is my original husband and it’s a shame I haven’t posted more fics #tbh they are all wips currently #comfortember

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endzithefangirl · 2 years ago

Text

Public Transport

Authors note: I don't know how I even came up with this.... In a lot of pain right now, so I made this to cope with the pain

Summary: After being called 'a Mandalorian no more', you try to help your Mandalorian on the public transport starliner.

Warnings: The obligatory English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader honestly kind of fluffy-it's domestic stuff, real cute

Word count: 4.2k

You could tell that Din was hurt. The Armorer has deemed him 'a Mandalorian no more'. And all because two years ago he took off his helmet in front of you and Grogu. And now, two years later, he just got you back, but lost his people. Not to mention that the Razor Crest was at Peli's in pieces. You walk around the city, headed for the public transport starliner. You are headed to Tatooine to see how Peli is doing with fixing the Razor Crest. You and Din have barely spoken since he told you what happened with the Armorer. You don't want to push him to speak. You have Grogu in his wrap on your chest as you walk towards the public transport ship. Something starts beeping as Din walks up.

"You are going to have to remove your weapons"A protocol droid told Din

"I'm a Mandalorian, weapons are a part of my religion"Din said clearly annoyed. After some back and forth with the Droid, Din reluctantly put all of his weapons in a box, including the controversial darksaber.

You sit in the public transport starliner, a family of Rodians in front of you. You look at Din. He's still hurt by what the Armorer said. You don't pressure him. Instead, you look around in awe. You've never been on a public transport ship.

The journey from Coruscant to Tatooine is a peaceful one, and although you try to be considerate towards your wounded companion, he can see the curious spark behind your eyes. As you take in the surroundings, he looks over at you, the mask hiding his emotions, but his eyes showing a little surprise. “You’ve never ridden a starliner?”

"No. It's so big. And there's so many people!"You say, your eyes looking around like little kids. Your enthusiasm is endearing, so Din leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Well, a little hint from a veteran. If you don’t want anyone sitting next to you, just cough a few times, really loudly, and watch the entire area clear out.”

"Yes because people haven't been avoiding sitting next to us because of your Armor"You say with a slight smile. The hint of humour sends a smile across Din’s face, a subtle reminder that this Mandalorian knows how to loosen up, even just a little bit. He looks over at you. “This is still all so new to you, isn’t it?”

You nod as you see a droid come up next to you

"What would you like to eat?''The droid said. Grogu's ears perked up at the sound of food. You look at Din. Your expression is half confused and half excited...

“What do you think, little one?” Din asks Grogu, who starts nodding his head enthusiastically. “Two orders of fried bantha nuggets, two slices of bantha bacon, and 4 blue milks, please,” the Mandalorian says. The droid gives you the food. Grogu stares at it, eyes wide and full of excitement. The droid continues on to the next customers. You take Grogu out of his wrap and get him situated to eat

"Do you pay more for the food?"You ask Din, not knowing the answer. Din watches you as you set Grogu up to eat, smiling slightly as he watches you interact with his little companion. He glances back down at his food before replying to your question. “It’s all included, if that’s what you mean. They give us all a meal with our tickets.

"Really?!"You say. You put the plate in front of Grogu, making sure to only put bite sized regulated portions in front of him. You swear this baby would eat a live Bantha if it could. Grogu looks up at the plate of food with a wide smile, eyes shining, just waiting to get his little hands on that bantha bacon. Din reaches out a hand, grabbing one of the nuggets and bringing it down to Grogu, where he holds it out to him, watching in amusement as the little one leans in and takes a big bite out of the piece of fried meat.

"Can I eat it too?"You ask.

Din smiles as he sets some fried bantha nuggets in front of you on your plate. “Here you go. But be careful, it’s hot,” he says, keeping a close eye on Grogu, whose mouth is full of hot, crunchy goodness. Grogu and you eat in silence. You make sure that Grogu doesn't spill or eat too fast. Grogu doesn't like the fact that you're not letting him eat everything in one go, but he doesn't complain as he sees that he's still getting the food. Din just looks at you, not saying anything. Before you know it, your plates are clean, and Din is gathering up your empty dishes. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, Grogu looking up at you with that same smile as before. He reaches up to your face, grabbing one of your cheeks. “Grogu,” he says, trying to get your attention.

Grogu looks at Din.

Din doesn't like that he has to be the 'bad cop' parent, whilst you get to be the 'caring' parent. But Din doesn't know how much Grogu actually loves him and looks up to him. Grogu looks at Din, wondering what his father doesn't like now. Grogu gives Din a look that says 'why can't I poke my mother?'.

As Grogu keeps poking at your face, Din leans in and places his hand on top of the little one’s head, moving him away from you. Grogu makes a noise of disapproval, and Din turns to you to offer some sort of explanation. “We don’t touch people without their permission, little one,” the Mandalorian says, now sounding a lot more serious than before. Grogu makes a noise that seems to mean something along the lines of, 'But it’s my mother!'

Grogu looks at you, trying to get you to side with him. As you're giving the empty plates to the droid, you turn back to Grogu, knowing exactly what he meant

"Grogu, listen to your father."You tell your little green monster

Grogu makes his disapproval known with a loud pout as he leans against you, holding onto you while he sticks his tongue out in Din’s direction. Din gives his little charge a stern glare, making it clear to the little one that he will not be swayed.

"Grogu...''You warn. Now, Din is always scolding him. For his own good of course. But Grogu knows that if you scold him, then he has to listen. You don't do it often, you're more willing to let the little womp rat do what he wants as long as he's not hurting himself. Grogu backs down, giving his father an apologetic look. Then he looks at you as if to ask if he can poke you.

"Yes, you can poke me. Thank you for asking"You tell him, following the parenting strategy his father is trying to use. Grogu smiles softly and pokes at one of your cheeks with a giggle. Din glances over at you, trying not to let the small smile reach his face. He knows you have a soft spot for the little one, and is impressed by the way you’re being more strict about his behaviour. When he’s about to look away, you catch him looking at you, and although he tries to hide it, there’s a slight red tint to his cheeks.

"Are you okay?"You ask him. You know he's hurt by the leader of his people calling him 'a Mandalorian no more'. You can see it hurts him. You want to make sure he's okay. And if he's not, you want to be there for him.

“I’m fine,” Din says, keeping his voice steady, although some hesitation can be heard in his words. There is little question that the decision made by the Armorer has hurt the Mandalorian, despite his claims to the contrary. He glances over at you and Grogu, before looking back out of the window, trying to find any distraction for himself in the outside world. You put your free hand, the one not holding Grogu, on his hand. You say nothing. It's just to reassure him. To say: I'm here for you. To say: You are no less of a Mandalorian to me. The touch of your hand feels both tender and familiar. With Grogu on your other side, Din can feel himself surrounded by the two most important people in his life, and it makes his heart beat a little faster. He takes off the glove of that hand and holds your hand. He doesn't do more. He goes back to looking out the window. You decide not to push further. You let him have a bit of space. He needs it.

His hand feels comforting in yours, warm and yet rough from the hard work he puts into his weapons and armour. It’s not your first time holding his hand, but the warmth of it seems much more noticeable to you. Din still hasn’t looked back your way, letting silence stretch out between the two of you. We sit in silence for a while. It wasn't tense or awkward. Suddenly, a little kid from the Rodian family in front of us turns around. He waves at Din. Din looks at the kid, and then turns back to the window. Grogu waves at the kid, clearly wanting to make friends. You smile at the kid too

Din is visibly tensing up as the Rodian family’s child tries interacting with him. His grip on your hand tightens, and it feels like there’s a lot more pressure now. He’d rather not interact with strangers, but he doesn’t want to seem rude either. As Grogu sees the Rodian child waving at him, he starts to bounce up and down a little, trying to get the Mandalorian’s attention.

"Excuse me?"The Rodian mother turns to ask us

"Yes?"You answer. You want to allow Din to keep in his thoughts, so you shall leave him to himself and deal with the friendly family by yourself. Grogu looks over at the Rodian boy with an expression of excitement and anticipation, clearly wanting to meet him and get the chance to make friends. When the boy’s mother asks something of you, you can feel Din tighten his grip on your hand just a little bit.

“Is it alright if our son goes over to yours and says hello?” the Rodian woman asks.

"Oh uh... Sure. As long as he's gentle."You say. You see the little Rodian boy get out of his seat and come to our side. Grogu moves to play with the little Rodian. Thankfully, the Rodian boy is gentle and doesn't seem to cause problems. Grogu is absolutely filled with excitement as he gets the chance to meet a new friend. Din watches as the two of them move over to each other, Grogu using the few words of Rodian he still remembers to try and communicate with his new friend, while the Rodian boy is amazed by the little creature standing in front of him.

“Your little one is adorable,” the Rodian mother says with a smile, trying to compliment you and your son.

"Oh thank you! What's uh your son's name?"I ask the Rodian mother politely

“His name is Rodo,” the Rodion woman replies proudly, looking down at her little son and smiling, a mixture of pride and love clear in her eyes. Grogu is trying his best to communicate with the little Rodian boy, but isn’t able to put his words together in a way that allows them to communicate the best they could. Nevertheless, he still seems overjoyed at the chance to make a friend.

"Oh"You turn to the little boy "hi Rodo. Thank you for being gentle with my little one" You say to the Rodian boy

Rodo smiles up at you, and Grogu leans in to hug the little boy, who hugs back and smiles. Din stays quiet in the background, his mind a mystery to you at this moment. You glance back to check on him, but he still seems withdrawn, not wanting to get involved with all the socialising. The Rodian mother calls her child back to her. Rodo and Grogu wave at each other, big smiles on both the boys faces

"Thank you for letting him say hi. He was so interested in you little one"The Rodian mother said. Then she glanced back at Din

"Oh no problem. He's very well behaved"You compliment the mothers parenting

The Rodian mother thanks you for your kind words, and although Grogu doesn’t fully understand what’s being said, that doesn’t stop him from smiling widely when you and Rodo wave at each other. Grogu looks up at you with such a happy and innocent expression, and you know that no matter how tough things might seem, you’re always going to have love in your life. Din looks away, avoiding you, but you’re more than used to seeing his closed off side. He seems a little more relaxed, but still not very talkative.bThe Rodian mother seems to want to engage in conversation with you. You don't mind as long as they don't bother Din. Maybe it's just two parents chatting?

The Rodian woman seems to be a naturally talkative person. The type who just enjoys communicating with others. She starts asking you questions about your home and about Grogu, with your answers filling the silent air between you two. Din sits quietly in the background, looking out of the window and avoiding the conversation.

“And I don’t mean to be too nosy,” the Rodian woman says, “But why are you two travelling alone? Why isn’t your husband here?”

"Oh uh I'm not travelling alone"You tell her.

You don't have a husband, but... You guess the closest thing to that is Din. The Rodian woman gives you a funny look, but you decide not to mention the fact that you aren’t actually married to the man sitting in the corner. “Well, where is he then?” she asks, with a slight confusion in her tone.

Din seems annoyed by her line of questioning, and you are almost able to feel that tension in him as he turns to look out of the window, trying to distance himself from the conversation.

You subtly point to Din, trying not to loop him into the conversation. The Rodian mother looks at the Mandalorian, whose eyes are still glued to the view out of the window. He doesn’t say anything, and his body language makes it clear that he doesn’t want to join the conversation. “Him?” The woman asks, giving a confused look.

"Uh yeah" You say hoping she won't ask too many questions

“Ah. And is he your husband?” The Rodian mother asks.

"Yes"You say not having time to explain the complicated unlabeled relationships between your 'family' members.

“Huh” the woman looks at Din strangely, pointing to him as he's still looking away from the conversation, clearly not interested in engaging. “Oh, alright then,” the Rodian woman says, deciding to move on to the topic at hand. She looks at the little Rodian boy, whose eyes are filled with admiration as he looks at Grogu. “So, your little one here,” the Rodian woman says, referring to your own son, “How old is he?” She asks.

"Uh... Two"

Technically 52. But you can't say that. Mentally you guess Grogu is two...

“Ah. And how come he’s so small for his age?” the Rodian woman asks, clearly not entirely aware of the more bizarre aspects to Grogu’s aging. All she’s going off of is what it looks like from the outside. You know that Grogu is much more than two years old, and his size is a direct reflection of his species and their biology.

"He's a... Different species. They are smaller"

The Rodian woman seems to accept your reasoning as she nods again. “Well, he’s adorable,” she says, her tone filled with a bit of amusement. She looks over toward Grogu, who is trying to communicate something to Rodo, with the two of them clearly having trouble getting their point across to each other.

"Thank you"The Rodian family turns around after that and continues their conversation in their language. You run to Din, noticing that he kept his hand gloveless.

You take his hand again and don't say anything. You just rub the back of his hand in reassurance

With Grogu safely in your care, you have a moment alone with Din. As soon as you rub your hands against his, he glances over at you and gives you a smile, clearly appreciating the gesture. He shifts his hand to rest on top of yours, his fingers gently holding your hand in place. While his expression remains stern, there’s something about that small moment between the two of you that feels almost intimate.

"How are you doing?"You whisper to your 'husband'

"I'm fine." His voice sounds tired, and he looks away from you to avoid eye contact, but something about the way he holds onto your hand reveals a vulnerability in his expression. You can tell that he's not in the best of moods, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it in detail.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Din says without hesitation. His grip on your hand tightens a little bit, and he seems more than a little bit tense. "It's nothing."

"Okay. I won't force you. I just... I want you to know that this doesn't change anything, to me at least. You're still my Mandalorian. You always will be."You tell him quietly. Din doesn't look back to you, but you can tell that he heard what you had to say just by the brief, subtle softening of his expression. He's always valued your feelings, and hearing you voice support for and reassurance for him is always something that makes him feel better.

"Thanks." His voice is soft, and it seems like he genuinely appreciates the kind words you just told him.

You keep gently rubbing his hand, not trying to pressure him into talking more. You rather just let him know that you still love him. You play with Grogu a bit, as well as let him jump over to play with the Rodian boy again. Din doesn't seem to mind the things around him, but every time you let go of his hand for a second to help Grogu, he almost grabs your hand again. It's his quiet way of saying 'don't leave me'. And you won't. You take his hand again each time. Din’s grip on your hand seems to be somewhat of a reflex at this point, his body automatically reaching out for you every time it doesn’t feel your presence there. He seems relaxed as you play with Grogu and the Rodian boy, though he doesn’t join in on the play despite you trying to include him. He’s always been a bit antisocial, even when it comes to playing, and he’d much rather see you and Grogu happy than worry about him.

After a few hours, you are about half way on your journey. You need to take Grogu to the bathroom

"Is there a bathroom here? I need to change Grogu."You ask Din. You're not sure if public transport starliners have bathrooms, it is your first time on one.

“Yeah, there’s a bathroom by the back,” he says, pointing to the back wall.

"Okay, I'm going to go with Grogu, we'll be back in a few minutes"You tell him. You let go of his hand and take Grogu to the bathrooms. Suddenly the Rodian boy turns back. He waves at Din, but Din barely acknowledged it

"Excuse me sir?"The Rodian told Din

Din looks over at the Rodian child, whose smile turns to confusion when he sees the Mandalorian looking at him with an annoyed expression on.

"Uh... yeah?" Din asks, clearly not wanting to talk to the little boy. The boy seems a little hesitant to interact with Din. "Your wife is so pretty!" Rodo said with a giggle

Din could tell that the young Rodian waited for you and Grogu to leave, probably too scared to say it in front of a pretty woman.

Din's face softens as the boy mentions you, and he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thanks," he says to the young Rodian, although there feels like a bit of hesitation in his voice. The Rodian boy seems a bit surprised that the Mandalorian isn't angry at his compliment, but he seems thankful for the more positive reaction. The Rodian boy turns back to his seat, and then silence hits again. With the Rodian boy safely back in his seat and far away from him, Din sighs, finally calming down a bit. He looks over to you and Grogu, who seem to be having fun together by the bathroom. A small smile crosses his face, and as you both walk back to the seat, his hand comes out to take yours again.

Grogu waves at his dad from across the aisle.

With Grogu out of the bathroom, and Rodo safely back in his seat, Din finally settles back down, and his body seems to relax again, though not fully. He leans his head against the headrest and closes his eyes, seemingly wanting to take a break from everything for a while. You and Grogu sit back down and Grogu gives you a look.

"Ask your dad if it's okay."You tell the little one

Grogu pulls at his dad's arm, clearly wanting something. Din opens one of his eyes to look at Grogu, trying to see what the little boy wants. Grogu is clearly trying to get Din’s attention, and he seems like he wants something. Din looks at you, wondering what you think he could want, a little bit of trepidation in his expression.

"He wants to give you a hug, but I remember you are strict on teaching him to ask permission before touching."

Din nods, his stern expression softening for just a moment. He looks at Grogu, then slowly nods again.

“Sure,” he sighs, “He can come over here.”

Grogu smiles, looking a little happier at getting his father’s approval. He gets up from his seat and runs over to Din, holding his arms out as he wants a hug. You look at your boys for a moment.... Din taking Grogu and letting the little womp rat hug him

Grogu pulls away and then goes back to you. Uou look at Din, a smile on your face. Din finally relaxes, his expression returning to normal. He leans back into his seat, sighing, and you wonder what’s on his mind. He looks over at Grogu, who is hugging you and rubbing against you, clearly wanting his father to pay attention to him. Grogu reaches his free hand over to Din, wanting to also interact with him. Din looks at Grogu’s small and adorable hand for a moment, then he reaches out his hand to gently caress Grogu’s cheek.

"I'll try to follow your parenting techniques. I promise"You tell Din

Din looks over at you, his expression revealing just how appreciative he is of your willingness to follow his parenting techniques and ideals.

“Thanks,” he says, his soft voice sounding much less stern, and his eyes having a slightly softer look to them, “I know you’ll do great.” You see Din's hand move away from Grogu and then grab your hand again. He puts it back on the armrest, holding your free hand. You don't complain, in fact you continue rubbing the back of his hand.

"He's so cute when he sleeps''You quietly comment a little later on, as the green baby sleeps on your lap. Din looks over at Grogu, feeling his chest warm as he sees the little boy sleeping peacefully against you. “He is.” His voice sounds a little softer, and he stares at Grogu for a moment before looking back at you. “He’s cute most of the time.” His voice has a little bit of a teasing tone to it, which causes Grogu to shift and open one of his eyes.

"Hey, don't let him fool you too. One of us has to be able to resist his cuteness, or we'll spoil him too much...." Din laughs, looking back at you. You see Grogu look over to you with an adorable smile on his face, and he lets out a cute little laugh.

“Yeah, I think it’s a little too late to resist his cuteness.” Din looks over at you and smiles softly. “You’re right, though. He’s a little cutie, but he’s also very misbehaved. Spoiling him will definitely not end well for any of us.”

"You're better in that department. You're the strict parent. I'm too much of a softie...."

“But you’re also his mother. Grogu needs and loves your affection and love, just as much as he does mine.” Din glances over at Grogu again, and Grogu’s look changes as he reaches a hand up and touches Din's chin.

“He knows he can be cute and get himself out of trouble,” Din says with a small smirk. “But he really can’t resist a hug from you.”

"I love him so much"

“I know,” Din says, giving you a genuine, soft smile. “I do too… And I love you…”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the book of boba fett

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