#healed by fire he gets Horribly Disfigured until a cross fixes him! it's so bad!!)

[gloriousmonsters]

just watched Amanda the Jedi's video about it and man, the cabin at the end of the world 🤝 horns: books that clearly state that if there is a God that causes horrible things to happen, it's the right thing to do to say fuck that God and his plans, which got movie adaptations that were like nooooo let's remove all of that God is fantastic actually ignore all the bad things

[hearts-hunger]

ciryc ca’tra (cold night sky): chapter five || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Series Summary: When you crash-land on a frozen planet on your way to Trask, you and Din work together to keep the Crest afloat and keep your little family safe under the cold night sky. || Part One of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of the attack, you and Din try and mend each other before you try to mend your broken ship.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst | Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: spiders, brief panic attack/ptsd

A/N: This chapter? God-tier. Din is the best husband in the whole galaxy bar none. He’s attentive, he’s soft, he loves to make you laugh. Chock-full of fluff and hurt/comfort, just the way I like it. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it too! ♡

You needed to be near to your husband.

Maybe it was the set of his shoulders as he stood out in the snow, looking towards the place where the X-Wings had gone; maybe it was the way you still felt his hand in yours, squeezing tight like it was the last way he’d ever tell you he loved you. You stepped carefully over the broken glass and crushed metal to get through the cockpit doors, one hand carrying your baby, the other carrying your blaster. The little silver thing shook in your hand as you held it in front of you, and you desperately hoped you wouldn’t need to fire it.

You came down the ladder and had to stifle a sob at the sight that met you.

Gruesome, disfigured spider bodies tangled with cords and wires on the floor; long, stringy webs shone on every surface from floor to ceiling. The floor was slick with ice and slime and webbing; some limbs still twitched where they lay, their faint clicking making you shudder with revulsion. You nursed a low whine of disgust and fear at the hateful things as you stepped over them, webs catching in your hair, your skin crawling with the thought of them. Your shoulders tensed with every sound, every faint sign of fading life from the things that had infested your home.

You wanted to take a gasping breath of fresh air when you stepped through the web-covered break in the siding, but the wretched spiders were everywhere, the acrid smell of the green fluid mixing with the exhaust from the Crest’s smoking thrusters. The body of the giant one was collapsed over the top of the Crest, its legs seeming to swallow the ship like it wanted to pull it deep into the ice with it as it decayed. 

You heard something scuttle across the rubble and swung your blaster around to aim at it, but before you even spotted it, it was reduced to a heap of ash by a shot from behind you.

You stood looking at it for too long, watching the way the smoke curled up towards the cavern ceiling; you jumped and let out a choked sob when you felt Din’s hand on your shoulder.

“Just me,” he said, like he was afraid to spook you. He put a hand on your wrist and eased the blaster down; he gently pried it from your fingers and holstered it on his own belt. 

“Easy, cyar’ika,” he said softly, pulling you towards him. You gave a pathetic whimper and leaned into him, felt his hand move to your back to hold you securely against him. Your chin quivered with sickness and emotion, and you weren’t sure if you were going to be sick or burst into tears.

Your baby gave a quiet coo, and your body made the decision for you as you finally started to cry. You leaned completely against your husband as sobs wracked your body, every bit of fear and hurt and tension shredding through you until you were so overwhelmed by it you couldn’t catch your breath. Din gently eased the baby from your arms and urged you to try and take a breath.

“Ok, cyare,” he soothed, deep worry coloring his voice. “Breathe for me, love. Try and take a deep breath.”

You sucked in a greedy, hitching breath, pressing your hands to your face, trying to tether yourself to something - you felt your whole body had gone numb, and you couldn’t breathe - 

Din took one of your hands in his and held tightly, like he had in the cockpit, and suddenly your breath caught on a groaning sob like the sound of purest grief. Gasping moans tumbled from you, and it seemed like you’d never stop. You wanted this to be over. You wanted to be home. You didn’t want your home to be a pile of rubble underneath a giant, lifeless monster.

“Din, I can’t - ” you sobbed, “I don’t want - I can’t - ”

“I know,” he said, and the grief in his voice matched yours even if he couldn’t give himself over to it like you were. “I know, cyare. It’s ok. Just breathe for me.”

He stood patiently with you, letting you hold onto him, murmuring words of comfort in Basic and Mando’a until you’d finally worn yourself out with crying. You scrubbed at your hot, tear-streaked face, your shoulders hitching with your stuttering breaths, dizzy and tired and more run-down than you’d ever been in your life.

“That’s it,” Din said gently. “Deep breaths.” He grunted a little as you hugged him tightly, trying to be as close to him as you could.

He ran a soothing hand up and down your back. “You’re ok, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

“Sorry,” you said miserably, his chestplate cool against your burning cheeks. You’d wasted valuable time breaking to bits like that, out here where you were most vulnerable to attack. You couldn’t imagine keeping a hold of yourself like Din was, and wished you could be stronger.

“No, cyare,” he said, kind and yet firm. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You... we’ve suffered a great deal of fear and loss. You don’t have to apologize for feeling that.”

He tucked you protectively against him, one arm wrapped around you and the other holding your son. He gave a heavy sigh and rested his helm against your head.

“Mandalorians have a word - mirjahaal,” he said. “It means peace, or healing of the spirit. You say it to people who’ve suffered a loss or gone through something traumatic.”

“Mirjahaal,” you repeated. You had always loved the way Mandalorian words sounded, and held on to the way this word sounded strong and gentle at the same time.

Din hummed in agreement. “You can’t heal unless you feel the wound, cyar’ika,” he said gently. “And there’s no shame in being wounded.”

You let your husband hold you and offered your hand to your baby; he took your pinkie in a gentle grasp and cooed at you. There, with your little family held close in the protective circle of Din’s arms, you felt a little less of the terrible weight that had settled on your heart.

“Mirjahaal,” you said again, softly. You didn’t know how, but you felt things must get better; you would heal, and so would your family. You would be safe and have an abundance of peace. You knew you would.

You looked up at Din’s visor. “I love you.”

He gently touched his helmet to your head. “I love you too.” His grip tightened on your waist, and you lightly kissed the bottom of his helmet.

“We’re all safe, cyare,” he said, and you knew it was to remind himself as well as you. “We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly; the baby gave a quiet, happy babble.

Din’s laugh was wobbly through his vocoder. “I love you too,” he said, cradling his son closer to his chest. “You were very brave with mama, weren’t you, verd’ika?”

You smiled at the nickname, “little soldier” in Mando’a. His grip on your finger was strong, and you felt a wash of gratitude that he hadn’t been hurt. You didn’t know what you would have done if either he or Din had been injured, and felt profound relief that they were both safe.

“Come on,” you said, pulling away from Din just enough to take his hand in yours. “Let’s try and fix our home.”

Din let you keep your hold on him as you ducked back inside the Crest; you were thankful for his strength and steadiness as you took in the state of the ship with a clearer mind. It looked more hopeless than it ever had, a mere shadow of the safe, familiar fortress it had always been for your little family. 

“Haar’chak,” Din swore quietly. “This is... the worst I’ve ever seen her.”

You gave his hand a comforting squeeze. 

“We’ll fix her, Din,” you said, trying for confidence. You slipped your hand from his to reach down and pick up a box, saw a severed spider leg leaning against it, and bit your tongue to keep from yelling every curse word you’d ever learned from your husband.

You crossed your arms over your chest lest you be tempted to tidy anything else before the spiders were gone.

“I know it looks bad,” you said. “But we can handle it. We’ve...” You trailed off, your gaze snagging on the webs sticking from the ceiling to Din’s armor, and wondered fleetingly how covered you must be in the sticky residue.

He cocked his head at you. “What?”

“You’re just... covered in webs,” you said. He looked up and turned his head slightly, making the threads billow with his movement.

He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll have to scrub my beskar for a week to get everything off of it.” He gestured to you. “At least I have armor - you’re covered in it too.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Yes, I know I don’t have armor on, dearest. Thank you.”

His huff of a laugh was cut short, and you could tell by the sudden stiffness of his posture that something was wrong.

“What?” you asked, trying to tamp down the panic rising in your chest.

He held out a hand, like he might do to steady a skittish Fathier that could buck at any moment.

“Don’t freak out,” he said in a purposefully calm voice. Your baby was watching you with wide eyes, cooing with interest; all of a sudden you knew what it was, and your shoulders tensed with utter revulsion.

“Oh, kriff - get it off, Din, get it off, get it off,” you pleaded, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt a little scurrying movement on your shoulder and heard a tiny chitter, and you really and truly whined at the thought of the horrible thing on you.

 You felt Din’s hand swipe your shoulder, then heard a single blaster shot. You jumped and opened your eyes to see a scorch mark on the floor as Din holstered his blaster at his hip.

“It was that big?” you asked in dismay. You’d assumed he would just bat it away and step on it, but if it had been big enough to shoot at - 

“No,” he said. “But I didn’t want any more spider guts on my boots.”

You ran to him and put your arms around his waist, feeling your skin crawl. 

“It’s gone, cyare,” he said, though you knew he didn’t mind the hug. 

You shuddered. “I don’t care. I’m staying right here with you, forever.”

He chuckled. “Okay.” 

Your baby gave you a happy coo, delighted to see you so close to him as he leaned contentedly against his father’s chest, and you gave him a little smile.

“I love you, my little darling,” you said quietly, just for him to hear. He babbled and brushed his claws through your hair with intentional gentleness.

“Yes, nice pets,” Din said, like he had when teaching the baby to pet the Tusken Massiffs. “Be gentle with mama’s hair.”

You couldn’t help a laugh, but were reminded of the thing that had just been in your hair a second ago.

“See if there are any more on me,” you said, dreading the possibility.

Din leaned forward a little to check your back. “No, you’re fine.” He pulled a few strings of webs from your hair. “Have you ever considered shaving your head?”

You looked up at him. “It’s that bad?”

He considered the lock of your hair tangled in his fingers. “It’s... going to take a lot of dedicated brushing, I think.” He looked back down at you. “Not that I would know. Perks of an extremely religious upbringing.”

You gave him a wry smile and found yourself very relieved and comforted that your husband was joking with you.

“Thank you for slaying the beast,” you said. “All of them.”

“My pleasure, cyar’ika.”

He looked around at the interior of the ship, a low sigh coming through his modulator. “The only way I can think to get us out of here is to just fix the cockpit. There’s no way I can make enough of a repair of the hull to make it usable.”

You thought of the damage the cockpit had sustained and felt its repair alone was an ambitious goal; with the state of the Crest and your limited knowledge of mechanics, you agreed with his assessment that the majority of the ship would be nothing more than scrap metal until you could get it to a shop.

“We’ll get it fixed, Din,” you said. “Surely there’s someone on Trask who can help.”

He nodded. “I hope so. I’d really like to take it to Peli, but we can’t make it to Tatooine before we do some patchwork.”

You thought fondly of the short, curly-haired mechanic who’d become as good a friend to you and Din as any you’d found on your travels through the galaxy. If she and her droids were here, Din would have the Crest as good as new in short order, and your baby would have the company of one of the many people he’d charmed within the first few moments of meeting them.

“Though I should thank her for getting me into this mess,” Din said, an edge of uncharacteristic surliness to his voice. You knew he was just tired and overwhelmed, and tried to be kind when you responded.

“It’s not Peli’s fault that we’re here, my love,” you said gently, pulling a few threads of webbing from his pauldron. “She wanted to help a friend, and really, we owed her for helping us find someone to take us to the other Mandalorians.”

He gave a resigned huff. “Somebody to take us to the Mandalorians won’t do us much good if we don’t get off this kriffing planet.”

“Well, good thing we are getting off this planet,” you said. You looked up at him without judgement, but you wanted him to know you weren’t going to indulge his grumbling.

He sighed, and you saw how his shoulders slumped a little.

“You’re right,” he said, weary. “Sorry. I’m just...”

You would have kissed his helmet, but it was so covered in webs that you settled for tapping it gently where you knew his mouth was.

“I know,” you assured him gently. “And you don’t have to be all sunshine and starbursts for me, you know that. But if you start doing down the path of doom and gloom, we both know I won’t be far behind.”

He breathed a laugh. “Can’t have that, can we?” he asked. Then, very tenderly, “Thank you for keeping my head on straight, ner kar’ta. I couldn’t do this without you.”

You beamed at that; he only ever called you ‘my heart’ when he was very pleased and proud of you, and you were happy that what little help you could offer in the grand scheme of things had been that important to him.

“You won’t ever have to,” you reminded him. “I mean, I’ve stuck with you through a giant spider attack. There’s really not much worse you could throw at me.”

He gave a wry hum of agreement. “No, I guess not.” He looked around at the tangled spider bodies that had begun to close in on themselves, and you knew him well enough to know he was grimacing under the helm.

“They are pretty awful, aren’t they?” he asked. “I’ve dealt with some questionable creatures before, but I think these take the uj'alayi.”

Just the mention of the dense, sweet Mandalorian cake was enough to make you start daydreaming about it. “I could go for some uj'alayi right now,” you said dreamily.

He chuckled. “When we get the Crest back on her feet, I’ll make you some,” he promised. “But for now, I guess we can eat our fill of roasted spider.”

He waggled his fingers towards you in imitation of the creepy things, and you batted his hand away with a laugh.

“That’s disgusting,” you said, and he laughed too. “I’d rather share the frog eggs with the baby if it came down to it.”

Din tried to muffle a laugh but it ended up just sounding kind of strangled, and not a second later did you hear the quiet croak of the frog lady from behind you. You looked wide-eyed at Din, struck with sudden embarrassment like a youngling talking about someone behind their back on the playground, and he merely cocked his head at you. You knew he was trying not to laugh under his helmet, and you gave him a petulant shove against his chestplate.

“Good thing we have some rations left, right, cyare?” he said, intending to be overheard.

You tried for a withering look but couldn’t quite manage it; his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter and you couldn't help a grudging smile at how his mood had improved.

“I’m so getting you back for that,” you said in a low voice.

You knew he was smiling at you; you could always tell with Din.

“I’ll be on my guard, cyar’ika,” he said amusedly, assuring you he was looking forward to whatever you’d cook up to get back at him with. You felt a brief, hesitant desire for your husband, something you were sure would have burned much brighter if your circumstances had not been so dire. You hoped that once you got out of this mess, you could take a breather of sorts - maybe drop the baby off with Omera and go back to Naboo for a long weekend in the sun. 

The thought of your home planet’s warmth only made you feel the cold of this planet more sharply, and you allowed yourself a little sigh as you were brought back to the reality of your situation.

“Alright,” Din said to both you and the frog lady, and you knew he’d felt the end of your short reprieve as well. “I’m gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit. It’s the only thing I can pressurize.”

You’d never minded being in the cockpit before, but you’d also always had the option of roaming the ship. You idly wondered how long it would take to get to Trask, considering lightspeed was out of the question, and began to mentally prepare yourself for a lengthy trip with a toddler who wasn’t used to being so cooped up.

“If you need to use the privy, do it now,” Din suggested. “It’s gonna be a long ride.”

He handed the baby over to you, and your son gave only a slight coo of protest before he snuggled into your arms. You wished you had somewhere to take him to let him run around for a bit before you settled in the cockpit, but there wasn’t a single place in or around the ship that wasn’t in smoking ruin or littered with spiders.

Come to think of it, there really wasn’t any place for you to go. You looked up at Din.

“Can we stay with you while you work?” you asked.

He shrugged. “If you want to. It won’t be very entertaining.”

You gave a tired wave of your hand. “Fine by me.” Dozing in the passenger seat while Din worked on the repairs seemed luxurious compared to the events of the past few days.

You turned to the frog lady, intending to ask if she’d like to come up with you, but she had set herself to the task of gathering the smaller spider bodies and tossing them outside. You cringed as a limb broke off one when she picked it up, but as much as you had all disliked them when they were alive, they didn’t seem to faze her now that they were dead.

Din stepped forward as she put her weight into dragging a larger one towards the split in the hull, his body language tight with almost comical unease.

“You don’t have to - ” he started, but she gave a dismissive croak and muscled the spider across the floor. Both you and Din reacted with wincing aversion, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Ok then,” your husband said quickly, clearly content to let her continue if she wished and unwilling to continue watching her do it. He steered you towards the ladder. “We’ll be up in the cockpit if you need anything.”

Like he always did when you went up the ladder with the baby in hand, Din let you go first and hovered protectively to catch you if you slipped. You never had, but you didn’t mind indulging that particular habit for the sake of his nerves. You actually appreciated it then, with webs and slime covering each rung - Din’s hand on your thigh was steadying as you fought to overcome your reluctance to keep a firm grip on the sticky ladder.

The cockpit was covered in webs too, and Din kindly swept them from your seat before he started pulling them from the instrument panel. You felt a little guilty as you sank into your chair, watching him set to work - you were achy with exhaustion, and you knew that for all his armor, he’d gotten battered and bruised in the fight with the spiders and was running on only a few hours of broken sleep. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you offered. You didn't know the first thing about mechanics, but maybe there was something you could do for him.

His chuckle was affectionate. “No, cyare, that’s ok,” he said gently. “You rest.”

Before he hunkered down to work on the dash, he unscrewed the little silver handle from the gear shift and dropped it into your son’s outstretched hand.

“Be good and play quietly,” Din said to the baby. “Let mama rest.”

The baby cooed in agreement, settling in your lap and turning the ball over in his hands. Din gave your knee a slightly distracted but affectionate pat as he knelt in front of the instrument panel, fishing through the toolbox to find what he needed.

You leaned your elbow on the dash and watched for a few moments; there was something soothing about the way Din was so methodical in caring for his ship. You’d sat with him during repairs or routine maintenance countless times while you were courting; he’d let you chatter away about anything and everything while he worked, occasionally asking a thoughtful question or laughing at a funny memory you recounted. You’d fallen in love with him while he worked on the Crest, and you rested in that love now as he worked diligently to keep you and your baby safe. 

“I’m gonna fall asleep,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against your propped-up arm. Your exhaustion was finally catching up to you now that the adrenaline had faded, and your eyes fluttered shut as your head nodded a little.

You heard him turn towards you. “You don’t look that comfortable, cyar’ika.”

You gave a light shug, re-settling your arm around the baby. “Take me somewhere with a huge, Varactyl feather bed when you get the ship fixed.”

He chuckled. “Okay,” he agreed. “Do you want me to take the baby from you?”

“Only...” You yawned. “Only if he looks like he’s going to fall off my lap.”

You felt him run his knuckles lightly over your shin. “Goodnight, cyare.”

You nodded, feeling yourself fade fast, knowing you were safe and taken care of. “‘Night. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said. You heard the soft whir of one of his tools start up again, and moments later, you drifted off into a dearly needed sleep.

Read chapter six!

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