#mandalorian hurt/comfort

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

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Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

[peppermint-toads]

synopsis: silly little mando nightmare hurt/comfort trope

cw: nightmares, mando almost dies, blood

You were covered in sweat, hair sticking to your neck and thin pillow. You thrashed and twitched against your cot.

“No,” you mumbled over and over and over.

In your dream, he was dancing between consciousness and complete cessation. You could hear him sputtering through what you assumed to be blood underneath his helmet.

He wouldn’t take it off. He wouldn’t let you help him. Using his last bits of energy, he held your wrists firmly, preventing you from taking his helmet off.

“Mando, you can’t- I have to take it off! You’re going to die!”

Your brain replayed how frantic you sounded. You felt his grip loosen with his last words.

“This is the way.”

The words made your ears ring. You were screaming. Your throat was burning and constricting, but your body wouldn’t wake. You were stuck in this limbo of reliving your worst nightmare, paralyzed in the darkness of the hull.

Warm hands wrapped around your biceps and shook you softly.

Your eyes widened as you tried to make anything out in the pitch black. You grabbed onto anything you could find, clutching onto cotton sleeves.

“Ma-Mando?” You asked breathlessly.

“Yes.” Came his modulated response.

“The doors,” you heaved. “They were-”

“You were screaming. I broke it.”

“Broke it?” You repeated back to him. Your hazy mind didn’t process his words right away. It took smelling the blaster smoke that was coming off of the control panel outside of your door to understand.

The cot dipped and creaked under the weight of his knees. He was careful with his hands, not sure where to place them.

“It-it felt so real.” You told him.

“How long?”

“Long. Since-”

“Okay.” He didn’t need you to finish. He knew when.

“They’ve been getting worse.” You admitted softly.

He knew you thought about it a lot, when you almost lost him. You hadn’t been the same since. He’d tried his best to comfort you, told you it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

But it seemed like words weren’t going to be enough this time. He’d never heard you scream like that.

He moved his hand down your arm to your wrist, unfurling your pointer and middle fingers from your tight fist. He guided them to his neck, right above his pulse that was still beating from the adrenaline.

He’d been knocked out before he’d heard you through the wall. His helmet was placed neatly on the floor next to his boots. He nearly tripped on it before pulling it over his messy hair.

He punched in code, after code, after code. Met with an error message each time. You screamed his name, screamed for him. Growing frustrated, he ran back to his hatch for his blaster, using it to disarm the locking mechanism permanently.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt the steady thumping of his heart. Eventually, your pulses synced and you took a deep breath.

You felt him move again. He rested his back against the cool durasteel of the ship, knees bending over the metal bar of your cot.

He didn’t ask, and he didn’t have to. He pulled you to straddle his thighs, and you curled into him. Your inner thighs pressed into the scratchy fabric of his boxers.

He held the back of your head with his palm, entire hand covering all of your hair. He cradled you close to his chest.

All of the tension and fear melted from your muscles and you cried into his undershirt. You didn’t know how long had passed, but you cried until you had a pulsing headache.

“It’s the kid’s birthday. The day we found him.” You sniffed.

“What?” He asked quietly, pulling your head away from his chest as if he could see you.

“The code. The code to my door.”

“Oh.”

“Can you stay?”

He didn’t think he’d be able to leave you ever again.

[wandasfifthwife]

Din Djarin | misunderstandings

Din Djarin x fem!reader

tw: pinning after each other, sorta confessions, misunderstandings, reader used to be mandalorian, reader gets a bit insecure, din is confused, mentions a past-gunshot wound, hurt/comfort, happy ending

a/n: idk if this fandom alive anymore but I still love this man sooo, enjoyment is wished upon whomever this lands upon. This is shit writing and I’m so sorry. I’ll re-read and edit later (if you read and enjoy this now… thank you for loving me at my lowest fr)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You’ve been on his ship now for almost a year, the months feeling like they were slowing down the further time went by. He originally treated you like a co, only asking what was needed, very obviously separating you from his personal life.

The ship had crashed some time ago, the both of you stranded on a desert planet for almost two months. Something had shifted, changed, and it got worse. The air felt thinner when he was close and your heart would pound.

You felt he cared to listen when you began to share small details about you like where you grew up, what scares you, how you got a scar on your forearm. You felt he began to change too.

“cyar’ika,” his tone is straightforward, “go to bed, you’re just straining your muscles now.”

It scared you when he began to use that instead of your name. You were too frightened to ask what it meant. The only tone he speaks in is monotone and he wears a helmet, it’s hard to read him. Everytime you think you begin to understand, you feel him slipping further away.

You hear a banging sound, one that happened because you drop the boxes from your grip.

“Was only trying to help,” you quip, stepping beside him to enter into the ship.

He shuts the door behind you, asking about the kid. You arrange the boxes so they’re out of the way, “he fell asleep minute after you left.”

He hums, the sound muffled slightly from his helmet. You stand near him to try and get the last package, though with the distance and your strength the box ends up falling to the ground and on your foot. You almost go still from the pain, chest growing tight as you tried to work through the pain. The mandalorian takes the box off of your foot as soon as it fell, a hiss sounding from him.

His body is tense when you try to walk, obvious pain showing on your face. He’s oblivious to how it cringes even more at the name. Sitting yourself down, you cradle your foot, tears coming to your eyes and you blink them away. The sight of tears startles him.

“Your injury, is it hurting that—?”

“No,” you cut him off, “I’ll be fine, I think it just bruised it.”

He offers you a hand, “ner sarad. Get off the floor.”

You swat it away and attempt to get up on your own. How stupid could you be? He’s only ever called you these names in an accusing manner. You had hope, but now that you’re looking back, you’ve lost it.

Last week he used it when you had gotten shot in the shoulder after chasing him for hours. About a month ago you remember him using his language in an angry manner when you argued.

A quiet sob escaped you, “why are you always getting angry at me?” You go limp when his hands come under you, lifting you so he can place you down on his bed. You’re stuck between wanting to push him away and pulling him closer to you. He works on removing your shoe and lifting your pant leg with a sigh.

“The words I’ve been using are terms of endearment,” he gently rubs his thumb over the already forming bruise, “cyar’ika means beloved.”

“I thought you were cursing my name out, using them as expressions of anger.”

“I started using them since you mentioned you were mandalorian once.”

He pats your thigh, getting off the ground to grab the medical supplies. You wince as he wraps your foot tightly, “I was, but we’ve never used those terms. We only called one another by our given name. I didn’t know those words existed.”

“And I’m a fool for assuming your clan was the same as mine.”

“Not a fool,” you smile at him, “you were trying to flirt and I interpreted it as sarcasm. I’m the fool.”

He stands, a hand coming to cup your cheek, “I can teach you, ner kar’ta.”

Your hand covers his, a shiver going through you at the warm feeling of his glove, “what is ner kar’ta?”

“My heart.”

[psychosith]

Talk to Me

Din Djarin x Jedi!Reader

summary: You, Din, and Bo have been asked to “take care” of the malfunctioning droids on Plazir-15, and the Mandalorians don’t know much about the Jedi’s involvement in the Clone Wars.

warnings: mentions of trauma/ptsd, panic attacks, child endangerment(?), mentions of war, mild injuries/blood, i can’t think of anything else but lmk if i missed something

a/n: this is based on a request from @otter-nonsense620! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve watched the Mando so this might not be totally accurate but… wtv. when i was writing this i was imagining the characters had feelings for each other but hadn’t confessed yet, but you can read this as platonic or romantic. Anyways, enjoy!

“Our constables are unequipped to confront battle droids,” the duchess said.

“Ah- former battle droids,” the duke corrected, looking pleased with himself. “They’ve been rehabilitated.”

You glanced nervously between Bo and Din. You wanted to be helpful to them and their cause, but hearing the words battle droid again for the first time since the war caused an unexpected spike of panic in you. The rest of the conversation with the duchess was muted in your ears, your mind running a mile a minute. Din’s husky voice in your ear brought you back to the present, “We’re leaving.”

You figured that Bo and Din had accepted the duke’s deal and your anxiety could only grow as you speak to the security officer and then the Ugnaughts. In the hyper loop on the way to the loading docks, you’re bouncing your knee and worrying the inside of your cheek when Bo takes notice.

“Hey,” she says, resting a hand on your knee, “what’s up, y/n?”

You look up from the ground to meet her eyes and find genuine worry, but dismiss her concerns nonetheless. “I’m fine, Bo. Don’t worry about me.”

She pulls her hand back and nods her head, yet you can still see a hint of concern as she resumes conversation with Din, who has paid no mind to your conversation.

You try to control your breathing as you walk through the loading docks, recalling your time in the Order. Battle droids of all kind are working various jobs on the docks, and you can recognize almost every model, having taken many down in the war. You’re following a line of centurion droids when you come to an access point headed by a B-1 model. It’s almost identical to the models that fought in the war, and you find yourself spiraling into a memory from years ago…

You knew a war was coming, but you didn’t know this was how. You, your master, and many of the other members of the Order had gone to Geonosis to rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi from Count Dooku. You remember being excited, as you were barely a teenager and this was your first official “battle”. The arena was packed, and you knew Jedi were scattered secretly throughout the stands.

When you finally ended up on the field, surrounded by droids, you began to grasp what was going on. This was war. You stood frozen as your friends and colleagues dropped dead in the sand. Dust was filling your lungs and blood covered every surface in sight.

A hand grasped at the bottom of your robes, and you looked down at the body. It was your master, collapsed at your feet with a nasty blaster wound in her side. You dropped to your knees and tried to stop the blood flowing from her wounds, the substance thick and warm on your shaky hands. A sharp ringing in your ears blocked out your master’s final words before her eyes glazed over. A large shadow loomed over you and you followed it to where a B-2 unit stood with a blaster aimed at your head. A scream was caught in your throat, unable to escape from the pure shock coursing through your veins. A green saber slashed through the droid just in time, and the jedi wielding it offered a hand to help you up. Your master’s blood coating your hands and robes, you ignited your lightsaber and moved to a proper fighting stance.

You were ripped from your memory when Din was thrown across the docks, likely by the centurion with an extended fist. The droid breaks out into a run as Bo starts firing at it. Your heartbeat rises in a crescendo as scenes from the war replay in your head and you are left useless to stop them. You’re struggling to breathe and sobs are shaking your entire body. Though you can hardly move, you begin to stumble back to the hyper loop and to the rooms provided to you by the duke and duchess.

Your hands are warm and you keep seeing your masters eyes in your head, staring dully into yours. Violent tremors rack your body and your skin is burning hot. You can almost feel phantom blood soaking into your robes, and you tear and paw at your sleeves.

You’re hysterical when Din finds you curled up against the wall. Tears stain your cheeks and you’re muttering hopelessly to yourself about “i wanna go home,” and, “i’m sorry i’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, Din doesn’t know what to do. He stands there feeling helpless as he watches you suffer. His body moves of its own accord when he crouches next to you and places a warm hand on your arm. Your gaze finds him with a sense of numbness in your eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, “I’m here.”

You say nothing in response but tears come back into your eyes and he buries you in his arms, letting you cry into his shoulder as much as you need. Din is the one to break the silence.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asks.

“It’s stupid,” you say.

“It’s not stupid, he says, “talk to me.”

So you do. You tell him everything. Your master, your many battles in the war, every time you brushed with death. A weight was lifted off your shoulders, and he was the one to hoist the burden. Din held you the whole time, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Then you told him why you were crying now.

“It’s just, seeing all those droids again…” you start.

“Y/n,” he says sorrowfully, “if I had known.”

“It’s not your fault, Din. You couldn’t have known.” you reassure him.

“I should have. You shouldn’t have to bear that all by yourself.” He thought for a moment. “I’m always here, you know. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone. You can always talk to me.”

You touch his arm softly, “I know that now, Din.”

Slowly, he starts to stand up and offers you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you in bed.”

He leads to to your bed and as you’re getting settled under the thick blanket, you feel the bed dip beneath you as he sits next to you.

“Scoot over,” he says, and you oblige. His arms go to wrap around your waist, and he pulls your body towards his in a comforting manner. He holds you this way for the rest of the night, and as you feel yourself drift into sleep, you know you are loved.

a/n 2: lowkey i hate this but i had no motivation also sorry to the person who requested this i reread your prompt and it said “trauma but hidden really well.” … oops. it’s already written so so sorry js message me if you hate it i’ll rewrite😭

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hi! How about a good old hurt/comfort whump type prompt like a "this is gonna hurt" or the more fluffy "hey, don't look at that. Look at me". Maybe with Boba Fett or Mando.

Din Djarin x Reader | 1.9k words

Content: Hurt/Comfort, detailed descriptions of pain and injuries, a lil fluff toward the end

Pain, unlike any you'd ever felt before, radiating from the point of impact throughout the rest of your body. That was all you could think about as you lay on the ground, blinking up at the stars and holding on to whatever may be left of your life.

Neither of you had seen the ambush coming, which made your efforts to fight against it that much more chaotic. Din was a trained and skilled fighter, and even he had been struggling. You, whose abilities paled in comparison, had stood no chance. You ran as soon as he told you to, and then within the blink of an eye, you found yourself flat on your back wondering whether death may be the better option.

It was impossible to tell how long you lay there... writhing, sweating, praying. You couldn't even scream, let alone comprehend the passage of time. Even one second of this pain was far too long. When he finally came, you swore you'd aged years.

"Stay with me..."

"Hang in there..."

He repeated himself over and over. Or perhaps your delirious mind was replaying his words over and over. You weren't sure how you suddenly ended up inside of a cave. You preferred the view with the stars, to be honest.

"Din," you croaked out through cracked lips.

You knew was around somewhere; you could feel him in the air that gently moved around you. But it was hard to tell if he was tending to you in any particular way as your whole body radiated. Pain, pressure, heat... it swirled in and out with your vision, your consciousness.

"This is gonna hurt," you heard him say at some point and it almost made you laugh. Hurt. You were well past hurt now, Djarin.

And then the pain got worse. Thank the stars you hadn't actually laughed.

Where before it felt like your body was expanding with hot, heavy air, now it was like an electric bolt was slithering from your leg across every other appendage. You could taste it. There were sparks in your eyes. Whatever Din was trying to do to help, it only seemed to be making it worse.

You must have blacked out. You were opening your eyes again but couldn't remember ever closing them. You felt weaker. The pain was still there, but it felt... hidden? Like someone had thrown a blanket over it, trying to hide it from sight. It was as if your body had decided it could no longer feel something that intense again.

You risked using what energy you had to lift your head. You wanted to see the damage, what all the fuss was about. It was your right leg, gnarled and twisted in a bloody mess. There was blood all over the ground surrounding you, definitely more than should be outside of your body. No wonder you felt so tired.

"What the hell..." you breathed out in shock.

Din was by your leg, alternating between work on some kind of split and adding stitches to keep the blood at bay. As soon as you moved, he immediately shifted over to get you to lay back down.

"Hey, don't look at that. Look at me."

You did, and there was something off about what you were seeing. Din's large brown eyes met yours, full of a sort of strained determination, a warrior's hope that if he just pushed a little more, a little harder, the fight would soon be won. His hair was matted to his head in a sheen of sweat, and flecks of blood - likely yours - highlighted one side of his jaw. It would have been a little hot in any other circumstances. You'd always wondered if he ever looked more haggard than the cool and collected beskar helmet ever let on...

And that's when it hit you. He didn't have his helmet on.

"I just have a few stitches left," he was saying, voice completely unfiltered. "And then I can tighten the splint and that should keep your leg stable enough to travel. The bone will take a long time to reset, but if we can make it to the ship, I can get you somewhere safe where you can heal in peace. I just need you to stay strong a little while longer."

You didn't hear a single word he said. He had a hand clasped under your neck, his thumb brushing soothingly just by your ear. His eyes were so beautiful. They pleaded with you to stay awake, to keep looking.

You were dreaming.

You must be dreaming.

You were unconscious, pulled into an unknown state of being where your mind conjured up pleasant, wonderful images to keep the pain at bay, to keep you alive and sane. That's all this was. Din would never remove his helmet, not even for you.

"Stay strong," he said, squeezing the back of your head just enough to be reassuring. "I promise I'll get you out of here."

Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared and you were faintly aware of the pain starting up again in your leg, but you didn't care. So what if it was a dream. Gods, what a thing to dream of. You clung to the image and let yourself drift away with it peacefully....

* * *

It was strange, all the different ways one could feel pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

The pain you felt when you woke again was definitely on the colder, number side, at least so long as you continued to lie still. It sucked, but it was a relief from what you'd endured before. Any movement that affected your general hip and leg areas, though, brought those sharp, prickly stings. So you did your best to limit your movements.

The view you had now was of the Razor Crest ceiling. You didn't remember the journey here at all. How had Din even managed? You shifted your hands a little. They were set at your sides and glided along familiar patterns of fabric, your own blankets. He had moved your cot out into the main hull, probably to better tend to you as needed.

Next, you tried testing your voice. You assumed Din would be up in the cockpit, trying to find a medical facility to take you to for better care. But something within you yearned to have him closer, to know you were not alone in this, that everything would be okay.

You could get out a few croaks, garbled groans that didn't resemble any known language. But that was all it took anyway. Din had been right there, just outside your field of vision. He came into view at your call.

He had his helmet on.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he was quick to reassure. A gloved hand laid gently on your shoulder but it didn't squeeze, no fingers caressed.

So maybe you had dreaming after all.

You felt a little disappointed, but that quickly passed now that you simply had him here with you again.

He brought some water up to your lips and helped you drink from it. You winced a few times as you lifted your head and jostled your spine, and therefore your hips and leg. But it was worth getting some hydration and helping bring back your voice.

"What the hell even happened," you managed to string together some words after you finished and settled back down.

Din's helmet just shook slowly, like he couldn't even comprehend the events. "It was all my fault. I--"

"Don't you dare say you should've seen them coming," you warned, knowing how he got with things like this. "And I wasn't asking about the ambush. What the hell happened to my leg?"

"Speeder bike. Caught you right in your side, fractured your femur. Worst bone to break. You're stable now but you'll have a long recovery time."

"Lucky me," you sighed.

"You lost a lot of blood, too," he added.

"Well, at least I'm alive," you offered, mostly to be dramatic. But a cock of his helmet and you knew those words carried much more weight.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "It was bad. I was... worried, for a while."

You didn't know what to say to that. If anything, you wished you could be the one to come to his side and provide him with comfort and healing. This whole situation was messed up.

Din sat back down beside you and you did your best to shift your head and keep him in view. He had his hands resting on the edge of the cot and his helmet was trained on them in thought.

"Do you... remember anything?" he asked timidly after a few moments.

You immediately remembered his face. The line of stubble along his upper lip. How his hair curled slightly along his temple. Those big, beautiful brown eyes....

"Bits and pieces," you responded. 

"Anything in particular?"

Now you were wondering if maybe it hadn't been a dream after all. He was acting like he didn't want to get caught for something.

"You really want me to revisit my trauma so soon, Djarin?" you teased.

"No, no, of course not," he quickly backpedaled and you both fell into an awkward silence for a minute.

You finally decided to pry a little further "...Why?"

"No reason."

"Hm." He wasn't giving you much to go off of. This was getting silly. "Well, come to think of it, I do remember something... odd..."

"Oh?"

His hand gripped the blanket anxiously next to you. You looked at his helmet and desperately wished you could see beyond it, to see how he felt so you could know what he wanted.

Oh but who were you kidding? You knew him well, just as he did you. You knew exactly what those eyes would be pleading for you to say, because you knew what was important to him. So you put him out of his misery.

"But you know, it's all so fuzzy. I was probably just hallucinating."

You slid your hand across to rest against his and gave it a short squeeze. He visibly relaxed and that made you just as happy as it would have been to hear him admit what had really happened.

"Okay, good. Um, I mean, that's... that's normal. You were in and out of it a lot."

Din let out a nervous breath but then gently twisted his hand around to hold yours properly.

"Were you really worried about me?" you asked.

He nodded his head slowly. "Yeah... yeah, I was."

You gave a comforting little smile and squeezed his hand again. "Well, thank you, for being there for me. And being here now."

"Of course. This is the way."

Normally you would've rolled your eyes at that, but now it was reassuring. Encouraging, even. In some ways, it symbolized a bond between you that you'd wondered would ever come. You'd been traveling together long enough, fighting together and dining together and making decisions together. Now you were helping each other live. He'd gotten you out of a firefight, pieced you back together, hefted you unconscious across a forest. And now he was staying, right here, right beside you, for no other reason than because he could.

And maybe, just maybe, he had given a little part of himself to you, too. Maybe on accident, sure, but meaningful nonetheless. You would hold that piece of him close to your heart, and keep it safe there for as long as you continued to live.

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[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 5}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian shows the considerate side of himself as he seeks shelter and a place to hide in wake of breaking the Code. You're internally battling with the implications of the kind behavior aimed at you, knowing it's all temporary until your return to a life of extreme captivity.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, light gore, canon typical gore, canon typical violence, pining, casual intimacy, the sight of din djarin's bare skin, descriptions of longing, ptsd, trauma, sa trauma, mental olympics, fighting, canon typical fighting, language

A/N: don't we all love soft! din djarin? because i sure as hell do. there are snippets of him in this chapter as things get a little more complicated between these two pining loons. SOFT DIN is here and i am thriving. i hope y'all enjoy this one, i certainly had fun writing it c: but HOLY CRAP, this chapter got away from me in the best possible way and two scenes i hadn't planned for are now some of my top five favorites i've written

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The Mandalorian just crouched there on the durasteel floor of the cockpit. Holding his hands down over the bacta patch that had quickly discolored with blood from your wounds the second it touched your soft body. There was blood stained into the skin of your stomach and ribs, some of it having trailed down to stain the waist of the pants he had allotted you. There was blood stained around your lips, trailing down your chin and had pooled in the crevices of your collarbone. It was smeared around your hands from when you had begun to cough it up down in the hold space. Prints of your hands were all over his armor, his newly minted armor, and his helmet. From desperately reaching out to him and pleading with him. He could see some of it thick and stuck to the visor he was peering at you through, you had begged for him to get to safety.

You had gone into the city to find his clan and to call on them for help on his behalf. You had been intuitive enough to know that the planet held something of importance to him and you sought it out instead of finding a way to flee. You had begged him to save himself and in turn the Child. You had done everything in your power to help ensure that he was successful with his rescue.

You had gotten hurt as a result of your efforts.

And that didn’t sit well with the Mandalorian.

The realization was heavy in his chest, as he stayed motionless on the floor beside you. Despite him taking you captive and intending to return you to your mother as the job instructed, you helped to secure his wellbeing twice now.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the deepest depths of his chest, he leaned over and carefully curled his arms around your limp form. He lifted the weight of you completely and tried not to jostle your body too much as he made his way down into the hold. There was no thought process behind placing you atop the excuse for a bed he had in the small quarters he retired to when given the chance.

He made to lay you down in a comfortable position and brought a threadbare blanket to drape over you.

Pausing for a second, contemplating something in the quiet of the traveling ship. The blood on his clothes would seep into the fabric around you. The Mandalorian brought a hand up to the side of his helmet and activated the heat sensor vision, so as to not witness anything as he removed the stained and saturated clothing from you and replaced it with a fresh pair of pants and shirt. You looked small in his bigger clothing, but he didn’t attempt to replace the belt you had been using to hold the waistband of the pants up. Once you were changed, he took a newer and cleaner cloth and wiped the blood from around your face and neck.

The faint movement of your chest rising and falling with your shallow breaths grounding him, he stood there for a time he couldn’t measure before he snapped out of it.

Only then did he place the blanket over you and leave you to rest.

The marketplace was busy, it crowded, and it was making the Mandalorian think of the two resting people he had waiting back on the Crest for his return. You were still unconscious and the Child had been put down for a nap, still tired from the whole ordeal since the compound. Since the pod had been dismantled and ruined back on Nevarro, he placed the Child in his sleeping quarters alongside you but when unhappy noises had been made. He allowed for you to both share the bed, enough space for you both to not feel crowded. The small child hadn’t liked that, the bed too open and exposed for him to get comfortable, the Mandalorian contemplated.

The Mandalorian had taken a few moments to dig up an old cape, one that didn’t have too much damage done to it, and made a small hammock in the space above the bed. The happy babbling from the Child had caused something to stir in his chest, something akin to pride at having made something that caused those small sounds. He’d rather be aboard his quiet ship than out here in the hectic atmosphere gathering supplies. The sun was hiding behind dark clouds, signaling that rain was due soon.

He found more broth packs, easy to carry and only took water to be a meal. At least, a meal for you and something he could take on longer hunts. He also got some fresh fruit, with the thought that it would be a good snack for the Kid. Along with some kebab sticks with various meats roasted and spiked on them. He folded everything carefully in his satchel, the fabric of it weighed down and tugged lightly on his pauldron as he walked along the market streets. His visor swept over the stalls further down, searching for something. One last thing…

You roused slowly, body aching in a way you were both familiar with and had come to know meant a harsh encounter with a guard or a particularly hard chase following a violent encounter. It was dark, there was no light in whatever room you lay in and that sent alarms to ring in your mind, darkness meant anything could be waiting around you, waiting for you beyond it. That worried you, sent all of your instincts into a frantic buzz that began to drown out the pain you felt simmering just beneath your skin.

There were faint footsteps you could hear somewhere close, the sound of faint breathing above you.

The clothing you were in was loose, you were glad you were clothed after whatever had happened to you had concluded but they were foreign to you. Large, baggy, men’s clothing. The waistband of the pants twisted as you shifted a bit atop the bed you realized you were on. There was the sound of water boiling in a kettle and you were worried it would soon find contact with your skin should whoever was holding you became angered or annoyed with you. The only saving grace was that you weren’t cuffed or chained to anything, something that was a foreign feeling after it had been the reality for so long.

You moved to sit up and pain flared hot and bright in your middle. You let out a stuttered, surprised shout at the sudden hit to your nerves. Your hands came to curl around your middle, carefully to try and abate the pain. Through the fabric of your borrowed shirt, you could feel bandages. That was….odd. No guard or captor had ever tended to injuries they were the cause of before.

Suddenly the door to wherever you were being held opened and it allowed for a peel of artificial light to blind you.

You blinked furiously, eyes not able to discern anything in the sudden brightness. You didn’t say anything as the silhouette of a broad, large man in armor appeared in the narrow doorway. You ducked your head down and froze with your hands holding your middle, legs splayed out atop the mattress in front of you.

You couldn’t help but cower as they approached. That gave them pause.

“You’re on my ship.”

You didn’t look up at the figure as they spoke, or when they moved about the small space of the room to press a few buttons along the wall and soft lights above the bed sprung to life. Arms curled tighter around yourself and you hunched over your knees, having curled your legs up under yourself to take up as little space as possible. Tremors settled over you, your skin feeling very flushed and overheated all of a sudden despite the goosebumps that were almost hurting as they pebbled up. You bowed your head in silence, not speaking.

“Do…you not remember?”

You shook your head fervently, worried about upsetting the man as his armor glinted out of the corner of your eye. It was silver and shiny….and faintly familiar.

“You were injured, Greef Karga had a modified blaster gun that contained metal bullets.” The man inside the armor stood at the foot of the mattress pad you were on. “Landed a hit that did a lot of damage. Broke a few ribs and landed close to your lungs.”

Flashes of bright blaster fire and steam were a mental barrage that had you gasping and leaning your forehead down to rest atop the blanket that had fallen from your form at your fidgeting. Everything that had happened since leaving the compound as a captive to the Mandalorian flooded back to you in a wave of memories and harsh feelings of realizing how injured you were. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with a burn, your ribcage aching in protest at the action. You bowed your head once again, though in pain not in submittance.

“I apologize, jatne vod. My injury must have put you behind on traveling, I-I-I’ll pay for everything you used from your medical supplies, for fuel, anything wasted on me.”

A boom of thunder had the ship rumbling, and you jumped in response to it. The sound too similar to the explosions and storming of your old temple. Triggering. A second, nearly immediate boom of thunder had your entire form shaking and you brought your hands up to cover your head in an attempt to drown out the sound. There was a scuffling sound and all of a sudden, the Child was pressed up into you. He was burying his face in the fabric of your shirt, his small hands clenching it like a lifeline.

The heavy pattering of rain started to ping off of the metal of the ship.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight didn’t soften his heart, just a smidge. He didn’t hesitate, but he did consider the move of sitting on the edge of the small bed before he did. There was a loud crackling sound as the lightning brightening the sky as if it were a sunny day landed a hit on something and your body jerked in reaction to it. The tiny claws clinging to you tore through the baggy shirt you were donning, and you let out a stuttered gasp as pain flared harshly.

The Child was suddenly being pulled from you and you heard the clatter of his nails along the cuirass of the man’s chest. There was the sound of leather ripping as another clap of thunder sounded overhead, the ship rattling in its wake.

“I ap-apol-apologize, jat-jatne vod.” You felt a warm tingle in the back of your throat and a rush of dizziness overtook you. Your head swayed with the effect of it despite your best efforts to keep it steady and the lights of the space glowed brightly in a flare against your sensitive eyes. Then a trickle of blood came out of your nose, warm on your upper lip where it collected. You went to brush it away, but something moved to do so before you could.

A bare hand was suddenly in front of your face, a washcloth held in its grip. Your head shot up at the sight of the tan skin, veins and strong muscles in a shocking display. The back of his knuckles brushed your cheek as he brought the damp washcloth underneath your nose to wipe away the thick blood that had dripped down to your upper lip. You clenched your eyes shut, suddenly worried about the meaning of such a thing. Of the exposure of his skin, visible in the light of his personal space.

“It’s okay, I’m allowing you to see.”

Words seemed to no longer exist, they were fleeting in your mind but none were solid. None of them left your lips, unable to speak. Wind whistled outside of the ship, but you were deaf to it in the wake of your heart thundering in your ears. Your mind was frozen and so was your body. Even though his reaction to your earlier offer to trade for items when first coming aboard the ship, you couldn’t help but feel like he was about to strike up one in the wake of exposing a part of himself to you, no matter how innocent. It would make sense after all, you were in his personal quarters, you were in his bed, he had tended to your injuries with time and energy that he could’ve otherwise utilized in his attempt to flee.

He must’ve sensed the direction of your thoughts, his hand stilled as he finished wiping the blood from your skin.

“I will not put a hand on you beyond tending to your injuries. You don’t want me to, and I won’t breach that. This is the Way.”

You couldn’t help the minute tilt of your head that allowed the back of his hand to brush your cheek again. You flicked your eyes up at the black of the visor in front of you. His hand was warm on your sensitive skin, and it helped to settle the chill that had settled over you from what you were sure was a fever. The visor tilted down at the split second of contact, though no words sounded from the modulator, not even a breath. When you lifted your eyes up again, you let them linger a little longer, your lips pressed together and a drop of blood he hadn’t gotten was a metallic surprise.

The pressure built up in the air from the storm seemed to occupy the room, as if it had snuck aboard the ship and was surrounding you both in the confines of the small space.

The washcloth thumped quietly to the bed and his thumb came up to gently brush against your lips.

You felt a rush of heat on your face, goosebumps sprouting on your skin at the feeling of his skin on yours. His thumb rested fully on your bottom lip, as if he was unable to pull his hand away, as if he didn’t want to. The pad of it was soft, and you wondered how soft the rest of his skin was underneath the armor if this was just his hand. The thought of loss washed over you as you thought of him taking his hand back, of taking the softness resting against your lips away. Of the glove he normally wore being put back over and hiding his skin away from you. It was foreign and you felt the burn of shame for thinking such a thing. You turned your head away as you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath that stung in your lungs, the movement causing the back of his hand to caress your cheek.

After a beat, he proceeded to place the Child atop the bed beside him, his other gloved hand on a small back to reassure him that it was all okay. Thankfully the thunder had subsided for the moment, the quell of the storm temporarily abating. You went to reach for the small figure, but that same still naked hand extended toward you again with a fresh bacta patch and a tube of some type of cream.

“It’s a topical medicine that was recommended when I asked after your type of injuries.”

“Th- thank you, jatne vod.” You spoke to the cluttered wall of the quarters, eyes taking in the things the Mandalorian deemed important enough to keep close at all times. Keeping them off of the bare hand still exposed to you, you had already been greedy with your thoughts, there was no need to stare. Despite how much you wanted to, despite how much you wanted the feeling of that hand back on your skin. Shameful, pitiful, you realized. This man was your captor, he had all the power and you felt the pull of distaste bubble up in your throat. You would never know freedom again, would never have the choice of someone’s touch. It was a bitter realization in the wake of being faced with the urge for a gentle touch after catching a glimpse of it for the first time in your life.

“The ship can’t fly in such weather, we will remain here until the storm passes.”

With that, he stood from the bed and scooped the Child up. The armored man held the small form close to his chest with a strong arm, the hand that had been touching you was hanging at his side with a ripped glove in its grip. A compartment was opened on the wall close to the door and a new shirt, one not ripped as yours was now, was placed alongside the medical supplies. His steps were quiet as he left the small space. The door was left open behind him marginally, allowing for you to take a moment to yourself should you need to.

You gathered up the items he had placed in front of you and gingerly moved to get up off the bed. It took a few moments for you to get your bearings, your entire middle from the front to the back sore. The large bacta patch already covering your injury was large, spanning the entire left side of your ribcage. It had a stain that meant it was time to be changed, the corners of lit curling and lifting up from your skin as the adhesive began to lose its potency.

When you stepped out of the personal quarters, you were faced with the scene of the Mandalorian seated at the makeshift table with an array of food items scattered about it. He was handing small bites of the various things to the Child. Seeing what was being greedily shoved into the small mouth, what was inspected, and what was spit out in dislike. You watched for a moment, holding a hand to your left side as you slowly moved over to the remaining seat, as the Child was safely nestled atop the table.

There was a small pile of clothing atop the table once again, soft looking fabric that was black and glinted with a hint of some type of metal adornment. You wondered about it as you sat.

“He doesn’t seem to like the fruit,” You stifled a small laugh at the grimace adorning the small face, the sounds of distaste too cute as he babbled away. Your hand hovered over a cannister of green cubes, some type of melon you assumed. It looked so fresh and your mouth watered, you had always loved fruit of any kind. The fresh, bright flavors one of the small pleasures you awarded yourself in your life when you had the opportunity to. “May I?”

At the nod of the helmet, you carefully picked up a piece and popped it in your mouth. The tart, tangy flavor of it was refreshing on your tongue and you quickly grabbed another without asking in a bold move. Beside it was a cannister of small purple berries that looked similar to the blackberries you would harvest back on your home planet, though the taste of them was sweeter. The berries were slightly fuzzy, and when bitten into the flesh was almost translucent. You cradled a few in your hand as you took in the way the Mandalorian carefully removed bits of cooked meat from a kebab and handed them to the Kid.

Errant thunder rumbled overhead as you enjoyed a few bites, though nothing as striking or loud as those first few booms. Seems the storm had been passing over, traveling further into the planet to pelt down in some other parts of the atmosphere.

“Those clothes there are for you. They should fit you better than mine.”

“Oh! You didn’t have to do that, jatne vod.” You dropped the piece of sliced apple you had been about to take from a cannister. It was covered in a slightly spiced syrup that smelled delicious. You licked the stickiness from your fingertips and moved your hands to rest in your lap.

“I had credits in my…other pants. They are yours, jatne vod.”

There was only a nod from the helmet as you moved to stand, taking the clothing in your arms.

“May I use the fresher?” You bowed slightly as you addressed him, habits seemingly unable to abate in the wake of your partial freedom. While you knew you were still his captive, the obvious glitch in the entire situation was that the Mandalorian no longer worked for the Guild. You had looked over your file while he had been rescuing the Child, to see the specifics of what your mother had ordered in her desperation to find you.

She had requested that the Mandalorian specifically be the one to receive your tracking fob, to return you to her directly on your home planet. That no one else was to know of your disappearance in such explicit detail. You were unclear on whether or not he would be completing the job now that he no longer worked for the Guild, but you were hesitant to ask. It would be a breach to…whatever civil atmosphere had settled over the ship. He had brought food back, though he ate alone to adhere to his creed. He had allowed you to pick through the various canisters gathered on the table, though you had not helped pay for the food. He had tended to your wounds, though he did not have to. He had allowed you to rest in his personal quarters, though he did not have to forgo his own comfort. He had gone into town with the intent to purchase clothing for you, though he did not have to when you had been dressed in his own already.

It was dizzying, the shift in treatment from being bound in shackles and forced through the desert to this…. nearly domestic setting. You weren’t sure how long it would last, or if he was already traveling toward your home planet. It was mid rim, so it would take quite a long journey and you weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious for. You were afraid to ask questions, afraid to find out the answers.

Afraid to break the fragile ground you now walked on.

At the nod to your simple question, you picked up the bundle of clothing atop the table and made your way to the refresher.

You disrobed slowly, taking a mental tally of all the aches and pains that wracked your body. It was hard to take a full breath, it stung the back of your throat to take a shallow one, a lingering metallic taste there. Your entire middle was bruised and off color, you discovered as you pried the old bacta patch from your skin. The discoloration and bruising hid a bit of swelling and you could tell that two of your ribs were broken, on either side of a dark cauterized blemish marred into you. It was healing though, you were positive of that. The bacta having made the closure a dark pink of a scar as opposed to a scabbed over spot. Your ribs too, would be worse off if not for the immediate tending to them.

You were grateful, despite being confused about the aid. Despite the niggling worry in the back of your mind that he would still ask for something in return.

The warm water of the shower was soothing to your anxious mind and aching body. The ship powered up and you felt the slight shift in gravity as it took to the air. You stood underneath the spray until your legs began to feel weak, which admittedly hadn’t been all that long.

Once dried off, you put your bindings and underwear back on. Reaching for the tube of medication, you inspected the label. It was a cooling type of gel that was supposed to help sooth your muscles and make it easier to breathe. When you opened the tube, the smell was a little strong but you kind of liked it. A small dallop was spread around your injury and the effect was immediate. It was slightly cooling in a flaring heat type of way and tingly, and it certainly did help to open up your airways. You took a test breath in and smiled as it didn’t pull on your insides as much as it had done just moments ago.

The clothing that the Mandalorian had gotten you was…something that made your heart titter as you unfolded a beautiful cloak. It was hooded and made of a lightweight, black gauzy material that would protect you from the elements but wouldn’t weigh you down. It had a clasp around the parts that come to rest over your chest, it was a lightweight metal. The clasps were small, detailed flowers and a dainty but sturdy chain with a handful of links. The quality of it was amazing and you ran your hands over the fabric in a slight daze. It was a beautiful piece of clothing and something you were sure was more expensive than anything you had ever worn in your entire life.

Underneath it had been a small pile of nondescript black clothing. A tank top, a regular shirt, a pair of trousers that were more your size and length. There was also a pair of fingerless, leather gloves that came up to cover your wrists completely to about mid forearm. It was…too much. Panic flared in your chest, and it hurt to breath for another reason altogether. No one had ever shown you this level of…consideration. Instincts telling you that something was going to be required in exchange, despite the very opposite being voiced by the Mandalorian himself.

You brought a hand up to thumb at your lower lip, recalling the way his own had felt against it and you felt your face heat up at the memory.

Opting to change back into the larger, borrowed clothing, you exited the refresher with your newly gifted clothes folded neatly in your hands.

When you came out back into the hold space, there was a cup of broth waiting for you on the crate-table, small wisps of steam rising from it. You looked at it, getting lost in watching the steam reach out into the air until it vanished. You turned toward the ladder that led up to the cockpit and was startled to see the figure of the Mandalorian standing at the base of it. He was watching you and it made your heart jump in your chest, the thought of him waiting for you setting off your instincts to run despite not being physically able to.

You felt your knees bend slightly, as if gearing up to run and you felt foolish as you consciously realized you were aboard a ship traveling through space. There was nowhere to run.

“I’m going to keep an eye on the course, you can return to the bed with the Child. He’s in the hammock above it.” With that, he turned and climbed the ladder. His own cloak swayed as he disappeared from view without so much as a sound.

You moved to sit at the table, taking up the broth in a hand while you reached for your bag stored underneath it. You carefully put the clothing inside and the sound of clinking metal caught your attention. You dug around in it as you brought it to rest in your lap. The bag of credits you had swiped from that unsuspecting person back on Nevarro surprised you. You had thought the Mandalorian had just taken them from you when he had tended to your injuries. You set it atop the table beside the canisters clustered in the middle and sipped from the mug in your hand.

With the combination of the warm broth in your belly, the clean bandages over your injuries, and the topical cream that still smelled faintly of mint that was allowing for you to take easier breaths, you found yourself slipping into an easy slumber settled into the Mandalorian’s bed.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, though it felt like a significant amount of time had passed. The medicine and the full stomach allowing you to fall into much needed healing slumber. The door to the quarters was open and you sat up and gazed out into the semi-darkness of the rest of the ship. Footsteps approached the door through the space.

“We’re going to drop out of hyperspace soon.” The Mandalorian’s voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to disturb you should your mind be in more in the state of sleep than awake. You hummed as you felt yourself wake up a little more, the shifting of your legs underneath the blankets twinging from laying for so long. “Planet will be in view.”

You just hummed again in confirmation as you began to sit up, head lolling with the lack of energy you had in your recovering state. Your arms were shaky where you held yourself up on them to try and gain some bearings. You felt worn leather cuff a shoulder and encircle an arm to help you sit up completely, warmth seeping into your skin through it. He didn’t say anything as you slowly moved your legs to dangle over the edge of the cot, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort. He waited outside of the small quarters as you dressed. You opted for the cargo style pants, the tank top, gloves, and the beautiful cloak. You also took a moment to pull the hair that normally framed your face back with two small clips from your bag, leaving the rest of it to cascade down your back but away from your face to allow you to have full range of vision.

The Mandalorian took in your change of appearance before he held a light hand to one of your arms and your lower back as you ascended to the cockpit.

Once seated, he took up his spot in the pilot’s seat, the Child resting in his lap and looking over the controls and out the panels of glass. The small being seemed to have a fascination with the streaking lights of travel. You smiled to yourself as you watched the two be causally intimate with each other in only the way a guardian and their charge could be.

The ethereal, glowing lights of hyperspace disappeared, and the expanse of the glass paneling was encompassed by green.

The planet the Mandalorian was guiding the ship towards was covered in various shades of green. There were spots of bright cerulean that dotted the planet, but it was mostly the calming and comforting color of green, of trees. You audibly gasped, the feeling of warmth blossoming in your chest at the sight. You weren’t aware of shakily getting up from your seat or setting down the small pouch of soft dried fruit you had been trying to munch on or crossing the distance to stand beside the pilot chair and lean toward the view atop the controls.

“Jatne vod…”

You turned to look at him, a grateful smile lighting up your tired features.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight hadn’t made his heart kick into a faster rhythm in his ribcage.

“Now listen. I’m gonna go out there and I’m gonna look around.”

The Mandalorian instructed once he had securely landed the ship in a clearing far from what little collections of people that had been seen as you flew through the clear sky. He gently collected the Child and set him in the seat that had just been occupied. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Now, don’t touch anything.” He spoke sternly to the small being, though not unkindly. He turned to you, where you had gone back into the seat off to the left of his own. His voice was normal when he addressed you, no stern undertones, no warnings. “I’ll find us some lodging and then I’ll come back for you both.”

He turned back around and took on that stern tone once again.

“You stay right here. Don’t move.” The finger aimed at him was a laughable display, but you refrained from indulging, not wanting to offend the armored man who was trying to set the rules out for the little one. The small grunt of acknowledgement seemed to be all he was waiting for. “Great.”

He turned away and helped you to get down back into the hold with hovering hands. You sensed the Child following suit but didn’t say anything, rather enjoying the clear defiance of the instructions the man had just set in place from the small being. He could get away with it, whereas if you disobeyed… there was no telling what the outcome would be at this point. As the door and ramp got situated you watched as the Mandalorian waited for it to completely lock into place atop the dirt of the planet, the Child’s small form standing beside him as if that was where he belonged.

At the quiet cooing sounding from him, the Mandalorian heaved a deep sigh and turned back to where you had begun to retrieve your bag.

“Oh, what the hell? Come on, both of you.”

The three of you took off into the dense collection of trees, the forest swallowing your forms as you walked away from the ship. You took as deep a breath as you could without irritating your lungs, not wanting to pull or strain them in the wake of making some healing progress. The air was fresh and crisp, the all-encompassing scent of pine and cedarwood making you feel at ease. You placed a hand out to brush the leaves hanging low beside the small path and felt the coolness of them along your exposed fingertips.

You were silent as you followed behind the armored man a few paces with the Kid beside you. You kept glancing down at him, to make sure he was walking okay and not tripping over anything too big for him to step over. His head was swiveling around as he took in the sights and sounds of the forest. He seemed to like it as much as you did. You wondered what his natural environment was, what it looked like, what type of planet he and his kind originally hailed from. You had been too preoccupied with training and memorizing everything you could get your hands on to read as a youngling at the Temple to ask the only other individual like this that you had known. Your heart panged with old feelings as you recalled those lost in the chaos of that time of your life.

Beside you, the Kid cooed rather loudly and stopped along the small path through the trees. His focus was on something in the brush, his head tilted to the side a little in the cutest way imaginable. The head of a lothcat popped up and he startled, falling back on his little rump. You stifled a quiet laugh as he huffed and collected himself enough to reach a hand out to it. The fluffy creature leaned forward and sniffed at his little hand, eyes trained on his own. The creature seemed to approve of him and nudged its head against the hand in front of it with a loud chitter.

You leaned down beside his small form to reach out a hand to the creature as well. It brushed its soft fur against your hand and a loud purr filled the space between the trees. It spooked when the Mandalorian took his steps back up and a small twig snapped. It took off down the path and away with a swift trot.

The town was small, more a small collection of businesses and then personal homes that surrounded a tavern. The buildings were comprised of thick wicker bases, wood paneling atop that to create the dome like structures. It was slightly crowded, as it was midday and time for lunch. The tavern tables nearly filled as the smell of delicious foods cooking wafted through the air. You were on high alert as you realized people were watching your trio, both of you following the Mandalorian’s sure steps.

A lothcat was settled at someone’s feet but it was more orange than white compared to the one you had just encountered in the forest. The Child didn’t see the difference and he approached the creature, only to get hissed at, a snarl sounding low in its throat. The Child yelped and you quickly scooped him up into your arms. You kept your eyes low and your head slightly ducked as you took in the rest of the scene of the bustling tavern as the Mandalorian scouted out a table. Once an unoccupied one came into view, he reached out and took the Child from you and placed him in one of the chairs around the table. He waited until you were seated as well, before he took one of his own.

“Welcome, travelers.” An older woman with short hair approached your trio as she cleaned her hands off on a rag. “Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth for the little one.”

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty.” She spoke with her hands, as she glanced around the table before speaking again. Her eyes landed on you and you tried not to appear too outwardly uneasy at the direct attention for fear of drawing more. “Can I interest you in one as well? Or you, sweet little thing, look like you could use some food.”

You shook your head as you folded your hands in your lap and aimed your eyes down at the table.

“Just the one.”

“Very well.” You felt her gaze move from you and you let out the breath you had been holding. Direct attention was always difficult for you, reading everything and the Maker into it no matter what.

You focused your attention on reaching out with the Force to get a sense of the town, of the people here, the environment. Aware of the Mandalorian speaking further with the kind lady, but not distinguishing anything specific. There were no disturbances in the Force, though there was the prickling feeling of eyes trained on you specifically. You vaguely noticed that the armored man was standing and walking away from the table in swift motions, as you tried to get a deeper read on the people surrounding you. It was a little overwhelming, being in the midst of so much going on after being held captive at the compound for so long.

The noises and hum of chatter were loud in your ears, causing a slight ache to settle as the lower base of your head that had nothing to do with your injuries. Your whole body was tense, though you were sure it was hidden in the way you held yourself, composed. To anyone watching, it would just look like a guardian and her charge enjoying a nice meal. But you were as tense as could be, wound tighter than a coil. Your body protested it, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming fear of being out in the open like this. You were injured, not at full strength and had the Kid to worry about now too. The both of you would be targets for the rest of your lives, it didn’t matter if you were back to full strength and capabilities. And that terrified you.

You snapped back to full focus, letting go of the mental tether you had reached out to connect with the Force as the Child moved to take the bowl set down in front of him and dismount his own seat. You followed him as he seemed so sure of his steps out of the open bay of the tavern’s entrance and out into the small village.

As you rounded a turn around a building, the Child stopped and took a big sip from his bowl of broth, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sprawled on his back. The helmet was tilted back as he trained the aim of a blaster on one of the people who had been tracking your movements through the tavern. It was a rather broad and muscled woman with short black hair that fell into her face in a way that made you want to brush it aside, she was adorned in travel wear, metal plates of armor over her shoulders and forearms. She was laying on her stomach along the ground, facing the upside down Mandalorian with her own blaster trained on him. They were both panting, the effects of their scuffle obvious.

They both turned in unison to take in the sight of the Child standing calmly in front of you, sipping away as his food as if this was a normal occurrence. You just bowed your head in greeting, despite only having been away from the man for a few moments. The Mandalorian spoke, breaking the tension in the air.

“You want some soup?”

“Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor. Mostly ex-Imperial warlords.” The quartet of your group was back at the original table the Mandalorian had found. A cup of broth in front of everyone who didn’t don a helmet. You had pulled out a handful of credits from your pocket to cover the new round, not wanting to be rude. The visor of the Mandalorian was trained on you through the entire exchange and the kind woman from before thanked you and offered to fill your flagon with fresh water. You shook your head in a silent denial, wary of anything you didn’t see the source of. The only reason you ate the soup was because the Mandalorian deemed it safe enough for the Child, so it should be safe enough for you as well, by default.

“They wanted it fast and quiet. They’d send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started.” You wanted to nod along in agreement but held the action. You were worried about drawing anymore attention than was already aimed at the table.

“We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“Let’s just call it an early retirement.” She took a sip from her bowl as a way to lull the conversation down. It was obvious she had fled, had possibly participated in or allowed the occurrence of a riot herself.

“Look, I knew you were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That’s why I came at you so hard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“You look like you’ve been through it, you alright over there? You’ve been awfully quiet, barely touched your broth and you look like you need it most out of all of us.” She turned her attention to you. The table dynamics had you settled between her and the Child, she was on your right while your back was to the internal wall of the tavern. You ducked your head at the direct questions, eyes darting over to the helmet of the Mandalorian that was facing you as well.

“Vaabir not ganar baatir par ni, cyar'ika.”

Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.

You couldn’t help the term of endearment from falling from your lips despite not even looking directly at her, eyes trained on the far wall past her. The woman was everything you once were, and it was softening your heart just the smallest bit, while simultaneously steeling it. But not enough to carry on a conversation, let alone one in Basic that could be understood by anyone or anything listening in. If she once dealt with Imperials, you didn’t need her to get to know anything about you. She would most likely know of your wanted posters from long ago, whispers of the search for you that may or may not have faded with the death of the emperor and his guard. You didn’t want her to make the connection, any connection regarding who or what you were. 

“Gar liser jorhaa'ir, meh gar copad at.”

You can speak, if you want to.

The Mandalorian took your use of his native language as a signal that you were uncomfortable, looking to connect with him in a way that didn’t allow anyone else to be privy. For that you were grateful, you…weren’t the biggest people person as a child and you certainly weren’t now. Isolation making you prefer to be alone or talk very little when faced with interaction.

“Nayc, jatne vod.” You shook you head, hoping he would drop the conversation and go back to talking with the woman. The sooner they finished, the sooner you could get away from the village.

“Well, this had been a real treat,” The woman, Cara her name was, moved to get up from her seat. She  brought the bowl up to hold it in front of her middle, as if she was using it as a shield for either physical purposes or to hold her anxiety at bay. “But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on. And I was here first.”

She took the last sip from it before setting it down atop the table and walking off.

“Well, looks like this planet’s taken.” He looked down at the Child in front of his own bowl before he rested the length of his right arm on the table and gazed around the tavern one more time. Keeping tabs even after the scuffle, on alert for another in case it arose.

It was dusk by the time you returned to the ship. You had offered to put something together for a meal, while the Mandalorian checked over everything on the ship. He only nodded, in agreement of the meal or in an acknowledgement of you being able to do so. Either way, you busied yourself in the small makeshift kitchen space of the hold.

You set a bowl of rice and leftover kebabs down beside the Mandalorian after making sure the Child was tucked into bed. It was late and his eyes had begun to droop as soon as he had been fed. The armored man was busy tinkering away with something along the side of the Crest, he had two containers of tools beside him and you set the bowl atop one as you watched him work for a moment.

“Jatne vod, may I go and sit in the trees.” The sound of the wrench he was using stopped, the grating metal and metal ceasing as he turned his helmet to observe you. There was a bowl of food in your hand as well, a utensil placed carefully in it as you stood beside his little workstation set up. The sky was dark, but the lantern that he had atop the tools and the light from his helmet allowed him to see how tired you looked. You were holding a lantern of your own, though he recognized it as one he kept stored on the ship. “I won’t go far or out of sight, I promise.”

“You don’t have to ask me to do things.”

“Of course I do, I’m in your charge.” Your appetite was waning in light of the conversation, the sinking feeling in your stomach filling you up. “Until the job is done, you are my captor, I…shouldn’t even be asking to do things…it’s an…unusual dynamic.”

“The clothes and tending to your issues were necessary for your comfort and survival, those were unusual?”

“Jatne vod….it’s as if…n-nevermind… I’ll go back inside, I’m sorry for bothering you.” Tears were welling up despite your best efforts to stave them off. The words you had been about to speak would spark a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The reality of your situation was plain, you were the Mandalorian’s quarry, no matter how he acted towards you. The tears were of anger and annoyance at yourself for beginning to feel otherwise. The facts were the facts. You turned on your heel and quickly made your way around the ship and toward the ramp.

A hand gripping around your bicep stopped you and your cloak swished with the sudden stop. You turned to face the shadowed visor of the Mandalorian. It was moving closer and closer toward you until you felt the cool metal above the visor rest against your forehead for a few seconds. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact, the metal allowing your face to cool down from getting so worked up so quickly just now. When he pulled back, he aimed the visor at your eye level, though you had yet to open yours back up.

“Though that is the case….I want you to be… comfortable.” His voice was quiet through the modulator. A careful tone you hadn’t heard from him as of yet. It was…smooth and soft just like his skin had been against yours earlier that day. You wanted more of it, more of this, more of that, more of him. And that was wrong.

Feelings of delusion overwhelmed you as you read too much into the man showing you a bit of kindness, nothing really, in wake of living your life alone and then taken prisoner for so long. That’s all it was, it was all in your head and your heart was running with any thread it could to make this something that it wasn’t. He was capable of softness, as shown by his regret at turning in the Child. But you wouldn’t be so lucky, only catching glimpses of it for the remainder of your time with him.

“As long as it doesn’t affect me or the Kid in a negative way, you can do pretty much whatever you want.”

You nodded as you kept your eyes shut, not willing to open them and come face to face with the helmet leaning down to gaze at you. This….casual touching wasn’t helping to get your mind on track. You stepped back, away from him and you felt his hand release you. Your skin burned where his touch had been and you tired to shake the feeling away. You took as deep a breath as you could muster, not wanting to irritate your ribs, and exhaled slowly. You didn’t say anything as you walked over to the edge of the clearing facing the ramp and settled with your back to a tree and began to eat.

You ignored the lingering stare of the Mandalorian until he turned back to finish his maintenance. 

“Excuse me.” A pair of figures approached from the darkness of the surrounding forest. Their voices were light and innocent as they did so, speaking with respect. “Excuse me, sir.”

“There something I can help you with?” You weren’t surprised in the slightest when the Mandalorian spoke without breaking his concentration. He was elbows deep in the paneling of the ship, making sure everything was set to travel. Still leaning back onto the trunk of a tall tree, your empty bowls had already been returned to the makeshift kitchen space. The ramp to the ship was closed and you had been out here with the man for the better part of an hour. You had heard the two men approaching, their land speeder a little wide for the trail and overhung branches and overgrown brush had whispered against the siding.

“Uh, yeah. Raiders.”

“We have money.”

“So, you think I’m some kinda mercenary?” The Mandalorian walked around from where he had been securing something around the open panel below the landing leg of the ship. He was on the other side of it now, and continued to work without so much as a glance at the two figures.

“You are a Mandalorian, right?”

“Or at least wearing Mandalorian armor. That is Mandalorian armor, right?”

“It is.”

“See? I told him. Sir, I’ve read a lot about your people…tribe. If half of what I read is true…”

“We have money.”

“How much?”

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill. We’re krill farmers.”

“We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.” The Mandalorian finally turned to face them, giving them direct attention. He took in the bag of credits held high in one of their hands and began to walk along the side of the ship away from them.

“It’s not enough.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.”

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.”

“This is everything we have. We’ll give you more after the next harvest.”

The door began to hiss as it prepared to open, steam releasing as the mechanism lowered. You stood from where you had been resting close by, back against the tree and watching the stars throughout the entire interaction. The two villagers jumped at the sound, backing away as the ramp lowered. The mechanical groan of it doing so was the only sound in the clearing.

“Come on. Let’s head back.” One whispered to the other, watching as you silently approached and moved to stand behind the Mandalorian. You nodded at them in greeting, a sympathetic downturn of your lips telling them you weren’t in agreement with the denial of help. But you had no say in the matter.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection, to the middle of nowhere.”

You watched as the armored man was nearly up to the top of the ramp and inside the ship when he turned to them, his cape swishing with the movement. His helmet picking up the whispered complaint from the villagers. You didn’t envy them, if one was seeking out aid, surely traveling was nerve wracking in combination of being away from a threatened home.

“Where do you live?”

“On a farm. Weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.”

“In the middle of nowhere?”

They paused, unsure if they were being taken seriously now that the Mandalorian seemed to be paying attention. Unsure if they were being humored for a good laugh. Your brow furrowed as you took in the almost exasperated way they were answering questions now, you felt bad for them, truly.

“…yes.”

“You have lodging?” The Mandalorian glanced at you before focusing on the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Their tone changed to hopeful, returning to what it had been when they first approached.

“Good. Come up and help.” He turned back and entered the hold space, beginning to shift through the ship for things he would need.  

All three of them worked diligently, gathering whatever things the Mandalorian pointed out to them and placing them atop the land speeder they had used to traverse through the thick forest. The Child was already nestled atop it, big eyes watching the flurry of movement. There were a few cases of things and then your bag was brought over. The medical kit that had been in his quarters. You weren’t sure what everything was, but it was obviously important and couldn’t be left on the ship. You were unsure of how long the armored man planned to stay here but….it looked like a good chunk of time if the cases were any indication. You tried not to dwell on that for too long…

“I’m gonna need one more thing. Give me those credits.”

A guiding hand was hovering close to your back as you gingerly stepped up onto the older model speeder. It was suddenly wrapping around you when your side twinged and you lost your balance mid step up, its companion coming up to rest on one of your arms to help steady you. You let out a little ‘oof’ as your weight was suddenly being supported by strong arms. Your head was turned to say something to the Mandalorian but before you could even open your mouth, you felt them tense slightly as the muscles moved to lift you completely and place you up on the speeder.

“…thank you, jatne vod.”

You wouldn’t look at him as you settled down and brought your legs up and crossed them.

“Ready for round two?”

Cara quickly holstered her gun, grabbed her pack, and situated herself across the land speeder from you.

“Hi there, cyar'ika.” She winked at you, raising two of her fingers in a mock salute once she was seated with her legs stretched out.

You felt your face warm at the term of endearment even though she didn’t know what it meant. You were sure she was only repeating it because it was what you had called her back in the tavern during the day. The land speeder began to move as the Mandalorian sat down inside as well.

“So, we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?”

“They’re quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that’s a pretty square deal for somebody in your position.” He was leaning up against the siding of the land speeder, his legs stretched out before him. He was to your left, as if he was subconsciously shielding your injured side even under the cover of night, against anything that may dare to threaten your traveling group. The Child was seated in front of your own legs, folded up and crossed underneath you as you leaned back on a folded blanket to try and relieve some of the ache in your middle beside him. “Worse case scenario you tune up your blaster. Best case, we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle.”

The Mandalorian stretched out his arms and leaned back further to rest them atop the side of the land speeder, the move drawing your eyes to him. Something flared low in your middle and you willed it to disappear as quickly as it came. There was absolutely no reason why him getting comfortable should ping your radar like that, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t. It was jarring enough that your radar was even operational, at this point, if you were blatantly honest with yourself. You had long since lost the desire to feel touch and to seek out pleasure, not that you had done much anyway. The things done to you shutting it off for good long ago.

The ease and confidence of his words paired with his smooth motions bringing an arm close to you as it rested behind your shoulders had you closing your eyes in a long blink before you focused your attention on the stars shining down on you.

“And what are you able to handle?” Cara turned back to you. “I don’t see so much as a knife on you, but you’re traveling with the armored tank over here, essentially.”

“I can handle plenty.” Your voice was slightly pinched though mostly composed, not sure how to go about this type of conversation without giving away too much. But if you were about to spend an undetermined amount of time with the woman in the middle of nowhere, it would be best to tell the truth just a little bit. “But no, I don’t carry any weapons at the moment. I’m…currently in transport due to the instructions on my own fob.”

She coughed as the drink she had just taken from a flagon went down wrong. She turned wide eyes from you to the Mandalorian, seeking out answers as she tried to get her voice back.

“You’re a quarry?!”

“…yes.”

“She is.”

“Why are you trying to hide here on Sorgan if you’ve got credits to collect from turning her in?”

“I bet the Guild wouldn’t be willing to make good on this job.”

You could sense that she wanted to ask questions, to find out the details of what exactly the dynamic was and how this unusual situation came to be. But you didn’t offer her any words and neither did the Mandalorian.

The land speeder traveled on.

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taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

[mrskywalkers-chanelboots]

are you normal or do dinluke hurt/comfort fics make your chest physically hurt and long for love

[chaotic-iguana]

can I have din hurt/comfort fic recs pls and thank u

edit; stop LIKING THE POST HELP ME PLS REC.

[peppermint-toads]

din djarin asks you said?? what about a raging hurt comfort. like brink of death, Din is distraught at the thought of losing you type deal, maybe you’re tortured and he can’t get there in time and then you’re in and out of consciousness and he’s FREAKING tf out bc he thinks he’s going to lose you and it’s all his fault. basically some real dramatic shit?

an: i got carried away sorry hope you like it, pre-grogu btw

cw: actual torture, blood, be warned, 1.7k words

He prodded your stomach again with his blaster, holding it there so the metal barrel dug into your flesh.

“Where is he?”

“I told you,” you sputtered through a mixture of blood and saliva. “I don’t know.”

You wheezed, gulping down burning breaths through impacted lungs. You were suspended from the ceiling, durasteel binders held up with a chain that was bolted above you. Your feet dangled above the cold, concrete floor of the cell. You pointed your toes as best as you could to take some strain off your shoulders and wrists.

There were two stormtroopers in the small room and what looked like a lieutenant. It was hard to see the markings on his uniform with your blurry vision. The troopers had already battered your face and body, your under eyes starting to swell and bruise. Your lip was busted and you could taste the coppery fluid coating them.

A Galactic Empire general was on the run, seeking refuge with the rebels. Mando had picked up the fob and brought the two of you to some dingy casino on Nar Shaddaa. You were sitting next to one door, Mando at the other.

“Eyes?” He asked through the commlink.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, swirling your drink around with your straw. You were dressed in your best clothes and nicest makeup, Mando had told you it’d help distract the runaway general. You were bait, essentially.

You spotted him, stocky build, stringy blond hair, droopy eyes completed with purple bags. You were ready to get it over with, tired and the constant clinking and whirring of slot machines was about to push you over the edge.

You definitely weren’t as sharp as usual. Mando had been running you around the galaxy for the past few days, which meant no sleep, little food, no showers. You could’ve collapsed face first onto the illuminated table if you wanted. But he had promised. As soon as the bounty was secured, you could return to the Crest and he would buy you colo claw fish, roasted porg, anything you could possibly want. So, you pushed through and did as he asked.

You guessed the Empire caught onto yours and Mando’s little sting operation and decided to interrupt. Blaster shots rang through the dimly lit casino and biotic grenades exploded the walls. Only one thought flashed through your mind: Mando.

You glanced around through smog and blaster smoke, searching for beskar. You saw him. There were four stormtroopers on him, he was struggling. You opened your mouth to scream for him, but the blunt end of a blaster was slammed into your temple, and you were crumpling to the floor. You had woken up in a fog hours later, curled up on a metal cot in a holding cell.

You barely had time to lift your head to your pulsing head before the trio was storming in and suspending you in the air.

“You don’t know?”

You shook your head, hair falling over your face.

The lieutenant glanced at one of the troopers and nodded his head toward you. They exchanged short, firm nods, and the trooper stepped closer to you. He pulled a black rod from his belt, and flipped a switch. You flinched as the end of it jolted to life with blue electricity.

It buzzed louder and louder as he got closer. You thrashed in your shackles, caving in your stomach as far away from him as you could. He pushed the prod onto your bare thigh and you yelped, nerve endings crackling and searing with white hot pain. You swung in the air until the other stormtrooper forcibly stabilized you.

“Where is the traitor?” The lieutenant’s tone was far more insistent now, he was growing impatient. There were so many things you wanted to say, tell him he was the one who scared him off in the first place, but you could barely even open your eyes.

The lieutenant nodded to the trooper again. This time, he shoved the prod onto your hip bone that was barely covered by your underclothes. Your throat strained with the high pitch screech you let out. The thin skin covering your bone was far more sensitive to the pain.

It went on like that for what had to have been hours, days even. The same questions, the same results.

Finally, the lieutenant signaled the trooper to release your binds, letting your wrists free. They had no reason to worry about you escaping, you were barely alive.

Your body smacked against the ground and you grunted. You lifted your hand to brush over your rib cage and winced. You definitely had a cracked rib or two.

You caught a glimpse of the rest of your body, hardly believing what you looked like. Each prod had left a red, blistering center with purple veins blossoming outward. You counted six, maybe seven of them.

You lie on the ground, staring at the grate on the floor that swallowed up your blood with a gross gurgle. Your eyes couldn’t keep up anymore, and the warmth of unconsciousness overtook your body, finally letting you relax.

You dreamt of fond things; finally getting the huge, warm meal Mando had promised, the safe whooshing of hyperspace passing you by on the crest, but most of all, Mando. You were running through a meadow on some sunny planet somewhere. He stood firmly planted in the tall grass that was swaying in the wind. He got closer, and closer, and closer. You could practically feel the warmth of his chest on yours until you were startled awake by the cell doors sliding open.

A stormtrooper was on you quickly, gripping your biceps and trying to pull you up.

“Get the fuck away from me! I already told you I don’t know where he is.” You spat, using the last of your energy to meekly flail and scream and kick against his white, plasticy shins.

“Mesh’la, it’s me. You are hurt.” You didn’t miss the way his hands trembled around you.

His voice sounded a little different through the helmet, but it was still his. The burst of adrenaline seeped from your body, and you slumped back against the floor, knowing you were safe again.

“You look fucking terrible in that.” You flashed him a weak, red-stained smile before your head thumped back against the concrete, and he fell to his knees.

He shook you, whispering your name, willing you to wake up. Your eyes rolled open for a second and you coughed his name back.

He flung you over his shoulder, and thankfully you couldn’t feel the way the plastic armor dug into your ribs and hips.

He carried you through the massive Empire ship. The hallways were all dark, and they all looked the exact same, but Mando managed to expertly navigate through them somehow.

You didn’t wake again until you were back on the Crest. You couldn’t really move. You stared straight up, met with the steel ceiling; you were on the floor. You turned your head, taking in a sharp breath as you did. Half of the med kit was strewn across the floor. You chuckled, it made sense. You were usually the one patching him up.

The bend of your elbow stung where he must’ve administered the bacta through an IV. The rest of your wounds were slathered with a layer of salve and covered with sloppy, rushed dressings.

You tried to sit up, but when your abdomen crunched you cried out. Mando had appeared by your side in an instant. He loomed over you, clad again in the beskar you were used to.

“You’re awake.” He stated, kneeling by your head.

“Thank you, for the,” you gestured towards your body, “patch up.”

“I used you as bait and you almost died. When I reached your cell, you were almost dead. If I had come one minute later, you would be dead.”

He said it like he was replaying the events in his head, confirming that he’d done what he’d done.

He’d like to believe he just didn’t want to be alone again after having you around for so long, that you were just another body aboard his ship. Really, though, the Mandalorian was growing to care for you, and it scared him.

“Mando it-it's not your fault.” You struggled to talk, still finding great difficulty in taking in a full breath. “I should’ve been more careful-”

“No.”

You recoiled at his tone.

“What did they do to you.” He demanded.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Can you be serious?” He begged.

That was the one time you felt like you needed to be strong for him, if you broke down, he would have lost it and you could feel it. You ignored your injuries as best you could, just talking to him, reminding him that you’re alive.

You shifted your weight to one elbow with a grimace, using your other hand to pull his bare hand close to your chest. Mando relaxed, feeling your warm skin and beating heart. You started to speak.

“After they left, the troopers and the lieutenant, I-I must’ve passed out. But, I saw you in my head, and I knew you were coming. I wasn’t scared for a second.” You smiled with fat tears welling in your eyes as you stared where you thought his eyes would be.

You pushed yourself to your knees, stopping midway to catch your breath. Mando had tried to help you up, but you pushed him off.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning awkwardly over his body. Slowly, he lifted his hands to wrap them around your back. You melted into him and he held you tighter. The stabbing pain in your ribs and stomach meant nothing because he was holding you so close. He cradled the back of your head and pressed your cheek into his shoulder.

“I thought I lost you.”

It was a choked whisper crackling through his vocoder.

“I can’t do it without you anymore. I need you here.” He admitted.

You thought for a moment, that you heard him choke down a sniffle. And out of the corner of your eye, you watched a salty tear roll down his neck and bleed onto his cowl.

“I’m not leaving, Mando.”

You’re not leaving.

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 1 - Lysa Kane

Din Djarin is happy on Nevarro. He has a home, a family, what more could he want? But when a woman turns up selling bread and cakes at his doorstep, how can he not fall in love? And how can he also stop her from getting hurt at the hands of her partner behind closed doors? Will the hero save the girl and get the girl? Warm and sweet fluff/romance/hurt/comfort fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

----

Din Djarin was content.

For the first time in his existence he needed for nothing. He was on a planet with clean air. He had a home, a ship, good friends, and even family.

The Mandalorian, who was sitting at a scrubbed wooden table inside of his cabin fixing one of the booster parts of his N-1 Starfighter, glanced through the open window to where he could see Grogu.

His son was playing near the pond, toying with the frogs that resided in it - his favourite thing to do while they had some downtime.

Din was happy that he now had a place for Grogu to just be able to be a kid. For here he could be safe without the worry of capture, or worse.

Din gave a chuckle as Grogu, using his powers, sent a frog spinning into the air before it fell into the pool once more.

Turning back to his work, his expression formed again into a frown as he scrutinised the device in front of him. He knew that eventually it would need to be looked at by Peli Motto and her team of droids. But he could put a temporary fix on for now, avoiding making a trip over to Tatooine without reason to be there.

It was likely that a job in that part of the outer rim would come up eventually, now that his role of Bounty Hunter was back up and running.

But since he had settled here in Nevarro three weeks ago, he and Grogu had only taken on one job and that had been a quick one, paying very little in return.

And as far as credits went, Din had used his last yesterday, picking up food and supplies to make him and Grogu’s home - a home.

His child didnt want for much. But despite the pair being set up with a few items of furniture, there was very little here, and basic bedding and utensils had needed to be bought. So that’s where his credits had disappeared to. 

Raising a kid certainly wasn't cheap. If it had just been Din here alone, he would have gotten by on the few items he had gathered during his travels inside a tiny storage trunk at the base of the Starfighter. But he wanted a better life for the child. And that, he realised, required buying things. And that meant, credits. Lots of credits!

Din gave a weary sigh, but as he did so, he heard another sound nearby.

A sound drawing nearer and nearer…

He lifted his head, eyes on Grogu, as he listened, his hand moving to his blaster which sat on the table nearby.

It sounded like a speeder.

Din was so far out of town and away from the usual roads between here and the Mandalorian camp, so it was rare to get anyone just ‘passing by’.

Getting quickly to his feet and placing the gun into its holster at his waist, he strolled through the door that led out into the yard where Grogu was playing. 

From here he had a good view of the path that led down to his home.

He saw his son look up from what he was doing to watch, as a small battered landspeeder juddered down the road towards them.

At first, Din presumed it would be someone he knew, come to see him. But as they hovered closer he noticed that this was no one he recognised.

The battered old speeder slowed to a stop a little way from his ship. His smart Naboo Starfighter seeming gigantic compared to this tiny vehicle. From here it looked ancient, with faded blue panelling on the outside. It had certainly seen better days that was for sure.

Nearby Grogu cooed, as Din’s hand tensed near to his blaster. Ever cautious of a stranger and what they might want from them.

But to his surprise, this stranger lifted off their visor revealing a length of loose, wavy hair, the colour of honey, and offered him a soft smile.

“Didn't realise there was anyone living out this far,” came the voice of the woman as she got to her feet, stepping from the landspeeder. “I never normally come this way, I was just trying to avoid a dust storm on my way back from Jawa territory”. 

She was clothed in a long light grey jacket that fell to the floor and an outfit of pale lilac beneath, practical for the bleaching dusty desert sands Din noted.

At her voice, Grogu got to his feet, waddling over towards the newcomer with interest.

The woman reached into the rear of the speeder and lifted the lid off a basket she had hooked onto the back.

“I’ve got fruit for sale, and homemade sweet bread, three different types,” she said in a carrying voice, revealing a bounty of colourful food beneath the cover. “You interested?”

Din noted that she was a little younger than he was, human, with kind eyes and a voice like bird song.

He had never lived anywhere long enough to be bothered by travelling salespeople, so the idea of someone calling to sell food at his doorstep felt novel. Quaint.

But right now this was not something he could afford. He would need to earn more credits for a luxury like this.

“Uh, we’re-” he began, but before Din could explain that they were not interested, Grogu had shuffled past him and made for the basket, bouncing up onto the speeder. And before the tall Manadalorian could do anything to stop him, he was already biting down onto a ripe horned melon greedily, the yellow juice spilling down his tiny chin.

“Oh,” uttered the woman in surprise, before blinking several times and giving a laugh, her entire face lighting up. “Where did you spring from, little guy?”

“Grogu!” scolded Din in a gruff voice, marching over, as the green child turned, taking a piece of dark sweet bread and shoving it into his mouth in one. “Grogu, stop!”

The woman laughed brightly, her golden hair tangling around her in the breeze,

“It’s fine, don't worry,” she said looking up at Din as he reached in and hurriedly pulled Grogu from the basket. “First sample’s on me.”

Grogu instantly whined, making grabby hands for the sweet delicacies over his father’s armoured shoulder.

“I’m sorry we don't have any money to pay you,” Din said, turning to the woman who merely smiled back.

She reached up and took one of Grogu’s clawed hands in hers, waggling it playfully.

“You must have that infamous Mandalorian sweet tooth,” said the woman gently, her eyes flicking quickly to Din, explaining- “The Manadalorians in the camp on the other side of the city are some of my best customers.”

Din stared at her through his helmet for a long moment, his eyes travelling over her face at this close proximity. 

She didn't look like someone from the Outer Rim. For someone who travelled through the harsh lava flats, on what sounded like an almost daily basis, she looked good. More than good…almost ethereal to him. Like a goddess. Like a mirage. Like a swirl of perfectly golden sand caught in a cool breeze.

Din internally shook himself, snapping himself from his daydream. All this, it was likely just the heat of the sun talking.

But the woman had already turned away from him, instead reaching into the basket before handing him a small piece of sweet bread wrapped in cloth.

“You can pay me next time,” she said kindly. “Cant have this little one going without now can we?”

Din could smell the sweet scent of the fruity cake, even through his helmet, as he took the food from her grasp and gave a nod.

“Thank you,” the Manadlorian uttered quietly,  as Grogu turned in his arms, reaching for the sweet bread excitedly. “You…uh…you live in the City?”

She gave a nod, as her honey coloured hair fluttered around her gently. “Yes. My name’s Lysa Kane.”

“Din Djarin,” the Mandalorian replied promptly. “And this is Din Grogu.”

The woman named Lysa Kane smiled, her marsh-coloured eyes meeting with his behind his helmet, despite her not realising it. “Good to meet you, Din Djarin and Din Grogu.”

She reached up and tickled Grogu under the chin, before turning and closing up her basket neatly and reaching for her visor.

Din took a big step backwards as she shot them both one last smile before pulling the visor over her head and hopping back into the landspeeder.

With a clack-clack-clack the speeder juddered to life and reversed shakily, before zooming quickly away.

Din continued to watch until Lysa and her landspeeder were just a speck on the dusty horizon, before glancing down at Grogu who was already munching his way through half the sweet bread in his hand.  

He placed his son gently to the floor, before standing up straight and lifting his helmet a little.

Continuing to watch the now empty horizon, he slowly lifted what was left of the cake in hand, and took a bite. 

Din Djarin gave a groan of pleasure at the taste, blissfully closing his eyes in satisfaction.

-

Would anyone be interested in me continuing this?

Please let me know if you liked it and want to be added to the tag list?

[lovelettersforthedamned]

🤞 - din djarin with the quote “why are you avoiding me!” (congrats on 300 again lovely xx ❄️)

--word count: 0.7k

--warnings: anxiety, slight mention of violence, mention of sex, set pre-grogu.

The Razor Crest reeked of an unbearable silence, that was close to driving you mad. Din was the culprit. Ever since he came back from his last hunt, you haven’t had a single conversation, and that was almost a week ago. You know that talkative wasn’t usually Din’s forte, but since you two have been together, not just partners, his time spent talking with you heightened. So the lack of affection and attention from Din was painfully obvious. 

You woke up to yet another empty cot, and each time you did, you woke up with a heavy weight on your heart that seemed to linger until you fell asleep. This constant routine kept your mind busy as you tried to get through the day with your normal activities. But even then, the anxiety of the unknown haunted you. You couldn’t take any more of it, you were going to go crazy if you didn’t solve this, and you knew he wouldn’t reach out first, so you took the first step. 

He was cleaning his weapons when you walked up to him, your hands clammy with nervousness. “Hey Din,” you start with a timid voice, “can we talk? I just have something on my mind.” 

He doesn’t look up at you, or even stop cleaning one of his blasters as he says, “Yes.” His voice is uncomfortably gruff. His tone lacks the warmth he usually carries with him, especially for you. 

His cold demeanor sparks something in your mind, a spark of anger, “Why are you avoiding me? What have I done for you to treat me like a stranger, Din?” Tears prick in your eyes as you raise your voice, the frustration has finally made its way out of your system. 

You turn around and start to walk away from him, until one word stops you in your tracks, “Cyar’ika…”. His tone is still sharp, but you can hear the crack in his voice breakthrough as he calls out for you. You wouldn’t usually stop, but you never realized how much you missed the way his name for you lingered in the air. 

Turning back around to face him, you still can’t stop the tears from running down your face. Wiping your nose, you take a deep breath and sniffle, “What?” A twinge of annoyance is still evident in your voice. The last thing you wanted to do was to stand there for any longer. You couldn’t handle this embarrassment anymore. 

He puts down his blaster, along with the cloth he was cleaning it with, and walks over to you. His steps were slow and careful, his helmet’s gaze trained on you. You stay still where you stand, watching to see what Din does next. He reaches for his glove, removing it and revealing his olive skin before reaching up to cup your face, softly brushing the tears off of your skin. 

As if on instinct, you melt into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his touch. “Cyar’ika, ni ceta. Something happened while I was out, and it scared me. It was—the thought of losing you came to my mind, and every time I saw you brought me back to that moment. I should have handled it differently, and I’m sorry mesh’la.” 

You can tell that Din was nervous too, even with the helmet on. “Promise me,” you hold the back of his hand, the one holding you, “promise me that next time this happens you’ll tell me. I will always be here. No one could take me away from you even if they tried!” His shoulders relax a little bit, but he’s still silent and you can tell his mind is still whirling. “Din, no one can take me away from you,” you whisper to him. 

You tilt your head forward, meeting the cool beskar halfway as you share a keldabe kiss. The anxiety is gone from the both of you, as you hold each other close. That night, you two make up for the time spent away from each other’s touch in more ways than one. 

--author's note: YES ANOTHER DIN FIC WOOOOO!! i so have a soft spot for this man. he's the best and i love my baby girl. thank you nonie for this request!! it's so delicious!!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog! i have a follower celebration going on! come join!!! ok, ily bye!!

[draculasfavoritewife]

Let Me Patch You Up

Summary: Getting your partner to sit still and let himself be taken care of has always been a challenge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mild blood/injury, Din tries to hide his wounds because of course he would. Lots of fluff, sensuality, and hella implied smut at the end.

Because I adore patching-up fics :) Especially when one person is far too stubborn for their own good and the other is a caretaker type. 'Nuff said.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

"I'm not mad!"

You can hear the sigh behind you, longer and heavier than a New Republic frigate.

"You sound mad."

"All I'm saying is they should've paid double for the extra abuse! Their intel was way off." You scowl and rattle the pouch of currency for emphasis. "I didn't sign up for this job to fistfight an Aqualish, Din. An Aqualish!"

"You came out alright." There's a layer of warmth there now, sunk deep under the weariness. "Wish I could have seen more of it."

"I'll tell the Kid the story later, I'm sure." You gaze down at the dark bruising creatively decorating your arms and midsection with a wince. "Good thing I'm not vain anymore."

"Makes you look tough." His tone is clipped as he leans on the switch to pull up the boarding ramp of the ship. You can imagine his jaw clenching beneath the helmet; for all his beskar, he must be pretty roughed up, too. Aqualish may be brutal, but at least they're still flesh and blood.

Enforcer droids don't suffer from such weaknesses as pain and fatigue.

"How're you holding up, Cyare?" You keep the query casual -- he hates being fussed over.

You've learned from many previous jobs that your partner, when injured, has to be handled as cautiously and cleverly as a twitchy Blurrg; he's just as liable as one to bolt or take a bite out of an unguarded hand.

"Fine." He turns to make for the cockpit, tries to disguise the fact that he's still leaning on the wall for support under the pretense of examining the internal wiring. "Wind knocked out of me. Some sleep and I'll be in top form again."

He pauses at the foot of the ladder and gazes upward, the distance to the pilot's chair suddenly seeming excruciatingly long. As he ponders the best way to proceed, his dexterous fingers absently seek out the end of the small blade buried in his left shoulder, and yank it out.

No sound leaves his lips, he's far too conditioned for that, but he can't hide from you forever.

"Din?"

"Hmm?" He's still studying the length of the ladder.

"Dank farrik, Cyare, you're bleeding." Now truly concerned, you throw your subterfuge out the window and reach for his arm. Sometimes even a wild Blurrg just has to be wrangled into submission after all. "I'm going to fix you up, Din, and you're going to behave for me while I do."

"But I can still --"

"No."

"But you're --"

"No."

"What if --"

"Stop protesting, Di'kut! I won't have you collapsing on me if I could have done something about it." You push him down -- somewhat gently -- onto a cargo crate in the hold, stepping down on the edge of his cape as you search for the medkit.

He glances down at your firmly planted boot, up at your serious face. "Really?" he asks dryly.

"I'm not taking any chances with you, my love," you inform him sweetly, reaching around his body to press the releases on his cuirass and pauldrons. "You have this unfortunate habit of disappearing to lick your wounds in solitude whenever I take my eyes off of you for a moment."

"It's worked this long, hasn't it?" he mutters gruffly, but he knows well enough by now to not protest and aid you in removing his vambraces and finally his shirt.

It steals your breath for a brief second as it always does, the sight of him half-undressed but with his identity still shrouded from you.

Mesmerizing.

Alluring.

A tantalizing mystery that one day you desire to fully uncover.

But you know now is not the time.

Your rapidly heating thoughts are interrupted by a squeal from Grogu as he shuffles across the floor to stand by your legs. His tiny clawed hands grip your calf as wide, frightened eyes absorb the canvas of smeared blood and old scars spread across the Mandalorian's broad chest.

"Hey, Kid," Din says softly.

"Your buir is okay," you tell the little one, lifting him up to set him on the crate beside his father. "Maybe you can make him stay put for me."

Din insists he's not too badly off to help you, and you know he's still not comfortable being completely at the mercy of someone else's hands, so you let him handle the smaller task of cleaning up his stab wounds while you cauterize them. You still remember the first time you watched him do it himself, how you hated the way he hissed and spat in pain every time the tool slipped or stuck on lacerations that were awkward for him to reach.

He'd never admit so aloud, but with your more delicate touch behind it, it's a fair sight less painful of a process than it used to be.

"Still think I shouldn't have knocked them around until they coughed up more pay?" You let your fingertips skate gently over the taut bronze skin before you, checking for any sign of tenderness that could indicate an internal injury.

"You hungry for more bruises?" He shakes his head. "I know I'm not. We got what we came for. Sometimes renegotiating is pointless, Cyar'ika."

"I guess." You're kneeling on the floor now, his broad thighs on either side of your body as you finish closing up a slash to his abdomen, its rough line trailing down to his belt. Your hand tenderly follows the new scar, drifting over textured skin.

His muscles harden abruptly beneath your light touch, and it makes you smirk. He's always been a little ticklish there; it's an unspoken weak spot of his.

"What's really got you so worked up?"

Even exhausted he's still as sharp as ever.

You let out a long breath. "When are you going to stop trying to hide from me when you're hurt?"

That surprises him. "I don't...."

"Don't deny it. You tried to fly this heap of scrap with a knife embedded in you, Din."

"I would have taken care of it sooner or later."

"Probably later!"

He's staring, helplessly trying to figure out why his habits have disturbed you so deeply. "I haven't died yet," he points out in a monotone that would be hilarious under different circumstances.

You lean into his midsection, cheek resting against his ribcage. The familiar scent of sweat and slight charring from the cauterizer calms you, bringing with it delicious memories of sleepless nights and long, hot showers. Your choppy breaths even out as you search for the best words to express what you want to tell him, and your hands massage into his lower back, drawing a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan from him as aching muscles finally loosen to your persistent kneading.

"You're the closest thing I have left to aliit," you murmur at last, catching a shiver from him at the movement of your lips against his chest.

Still so sensitive to touch.

"As you are alor of our little clan, I would follow your way in all matters." You lift your eyes to meet that gleaming ebony visor, seeing the forward tilt to his helmet that means he's truly listening to everything you say, not merely hearing.

"Yet as the one I would consider my riduur, in soul if not by ceremony, you must know that even my respect for you is overridden by my own selfishness. I can't let you be careless with your life, ner'kar'ta. Even a beroya needs a cabur sometimes."

His hands, finally ungloved, slowly drift up to cradle your face, roughened fingers burying themselves in your hair. "I...will try, Mesh'la. Understand this is all still strange to me. But I do not want to cause you pain. Or be a burden on your worries. I will fall back into old habits some days, so I just ask your patience."

Relief wells up within you, and you all but let yourself fall into his lap. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do if you ever --"

"K'uur, ner'cyare." He shushes you and leans back against the stack of crates behind him, taking care not to crush Grogu who has been playing with his cast-off armor. "No more of this talk. I just want your touch for a moment. Gedet'ye."

Lying half on top of his reclined body, you exhale, telling those stubborn thoughts to let go of you for now. There will always be time for fear. The times in between hardships and fears are the rare ones, these sparse moments when you and your Mandalorian are gifted with a small respite from the inherent challenges of your lifestyle. These blessed breaths in which all that exists before you is the little aliit you have formed together, and his warm skin beneath your palms, and his heart beating beside your ear.

"Like this?" you hum, pressing your lips to the center of his chest, taking in the cherished taste of him, tracing the story of his life from the faded scars beneath your kiss.

"Jate?"

There's a shudder in the answering breath that rasps through his vocoder. "Jatne," he confirms, fingertips digging into your shoulder blades.

You keep kissing him, losing yourself in his deadly, battered body, and the way that his caresses answer your searching mouth.

As you push forward to go for his throat, however, you suddenly find his powerful legs pinning you in your place, holding you back from the kill.

"What -- ?"

"Hold, Cyar'ika," he grits out between his teeth. "No more."

You stop struggling against the iron hold of his legs. "Oh! Am I hurting you?"

"...No...." He jerks his head meaningfully in the direction of the Kid, who is still playing among the boxes. "But you can't tease me like this with him in the room. That's VERY unfair of you."

Catching on, you smirk and pull back out of his grip, not missing the way he almost thinks about not letting you go so easily. "Who said I was teasing?"

He huffs. "Then we really need to stop. Poor Kid's been traumatized enough in his life." A calculating look passes over the visor, sliding from you over to Grogu and back again. "Though I might be able to get him down for a nap."

You push him all the way down and straighten up, lifting the Kid in your hands. "Better let me, then. He gets clingier when he can tell you're impatient." You nudge his leg with your knee as you leave the hold, ignoring his disapproving stare.

"Besides, you need to cool down there for a bit, Djarin."

He knows you're flirting hard when you use that name for him. And it's just a tiny bit cruel of you to leave him all alone like that, simmering in his thwarted frustration.

Half an hour later, your small charge finally dozing off, you let yourself into Din's cramped quarters, realizing only too late that you've walked right into a trap. It's dark as the belly of a sarlacc in here, and you're pinned between a wall and a heavily breathing Mandalorian before you can even react.

"You're late, Mesh'la," he growls close to your ear, his scruff scraping your cheek. "And you know I get...restless...when I'm kept waiting."

"Oh trust me, I do." You melt into his trapping embrace as his mouth starts to blaze a trail across your flesh; inhibited by his creed in the light, Din more than makes up for his inability to reciprocate once the lights have gone out and all bets are off. "But be gentle, Cyare."

"A little Loth-cat once told me she likes it rough."

There -- the tempting threat of teeth skimming the base of your throat. You can't keep yourself from trembling slightly with anticipation.

"Just don't reopen any of your wounds, Din, I'm serious."

"To hell with that." A couple skillful maneuvers and you're laid out on his bed, still locked in his arms. "Now, are you ready to finish what you started back there?"

"Dank farrik."

You smirk at his sighed expletive, pulling him in closer until you can feel the softness of his damp curls falling across your chest.

"Now remember, you can't complain about being stiff tomorrow," you chide through a kiss to the top of his head. "I tried to tell you to take it easy."

He shrugs. "I've lived through worse. And it was worth it."

"Mmhmm. I definitely won't deny that." You stretch out your own depleted limbs, sure that the tapestry of bruising will look worse come morning. But he's right. Times like this make all of it worth it, the moments in which he is not Mando'ade and you are not dar'manda, but simply two people alone in a brutal galaxy, who love each other deeply and don't get to tell the other as often as they deserve to hear it. When it's just you and your beroya in the dark, relying on skin brushing skin to see and wordless exclamations of love to take the place of eloquent poetry, all of the struggles are worth it.

This life and its pitfalls are never easy, but you have him, and he is what matters.

"What are you smiling about?" you murmur, as his full lips break into a rare grin against your chest.

"Only that maybe it would perhaps benefit me to come to you more often when I'm injured." His voice is silky, deceptively innocent as a hand strokes its way upward to find your jawline.

"After all," and he leans into a chaste Keldabe kiss even as his touch once again turns suggestive, "I can tell you, none of my solitary patch-ups ever ended with anything like this."

You arch into him and claim his lips with your own, smiling into his mouth.

"Then you can consider this possible incentive for the future, Djarin."

Di'kut = Idiot

Aliit = Family/Clan

Alor = Leader

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Cabur = Protector

K'uur = Hush

Gedet'ye = Please

Jate/Jatne = Good/Best

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 15}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Moff Gideon's troops close in on your position as you try to make an escape.

Word Count: 12.5k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, fighting, fight scenes, conflict, emotional trauma, emotional manipulation, physical manipulation, coercion, manipulation, reader goes momentarily mute, emotional outbursts, argumentative language, din raises his voice, din yells at reader two times, loss of temper for both reader and din, moff gideon gets his own warning, description of injuries, blood, descriptions of nausea, concussions, minor character death, major character injury, angst, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a name that is sparingly used for plot points, if i forgot anything please let me know and i'll add it!

A/N: so, this happened nearly immediately after i posted the last one. had the general scenes of this chapter outlined for ages, but it took a darker turn than even i anticipated. this chapter is dedicated to @sawymredfox for allowing me to bounce ideas off of them! i don't know what to say other than, i'm sorry and please feel free to (kindly) yell at me if you need to

ao3 || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“We need to move.”

“Who put you in charge?”

“I’m sorry, do you speak Mando’a? Do you know the customs and cultural presets for interacting with them on their own terms, in their own setting?” One last tear trailed down your cheek and you roughly wiped it away. Trying your best to keep the heated gaze you shared with the older man.

Neither person said anything as you walked past them to take the lead, ad’ika cooing after you with one of his small claws. He began to wriggle in Cara’s grip, unhappy with the woman holding him, a cry breaking the silence of the darkened tunnel. She tried her best to keep him secure against her chest, but he pushed at her, little fists thumping hard. He kept his gazed trained on you, another bellowing cry gaining volume the further you walked away.

“I think he wants you, cyar’ika.” Cara called out, unsure of what else to do. She followed after you, steps echoing all around. You turned with a blank face that quickly softened as you looked down at the child. Heart thudding as you reached out for him, he practically threw himself at you, jumping from Cara’s hold and toward you. You caught him with a small huff, trying to keep a solid hold on him as he buried his face into your neck and whimpered.

“I’ve got you, ad’ika.” You murmured, away of Karga watching you, something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. With quiet words, you secured him in the bag he had been handed to Kuiil in during your separation and adjusted it over your shoulder. You fixed it to rest along your left hip, his weight barely anything as he kept one hand wrapped around the hem of your tank top for comfort.

The tunnels were deserted, no sign of recent occupation or life, traveling further into them. You couldn’t have been making progress, the winding underground world expansive and deliberately set up to deter people from finding the pockets of life hidden within. With a frustrated sigh, you shined your vambrace’s flashlight on the walls around you. Trying to catch a glimpse of anything scribed along them, using the red of it to pick up on anything gilded in hidden ink.

You wished for the helmet Akiz had left to you, for the cover of it and the different visor settings to aid you in your search. But you had lost it, like you had everything else. It was hopefully still secured in the chest buried in the remnants of your hideaway deep in the desert of Tatooine.

Maybe…maybe it was time to return there, with ad’ika, if you ever managed to get off world. Place the pendant Din had gifted you along side it. Remnants of a life you had tried to start over twice now and unable to maintain. The sacrifice of two Mandalorians weighing you down and urging you to hide away once again. The threat after you, after you both too strong to fight and overcome.

An explosion overhead had you reaching for the child, hand firm on his small back as he fussed.

All three of you turned toward the direction you had just come from, wary of the tunnels beginning to cave in and trap you. Your breath hitched at the sound of twin steps, the unsteady light dancing o the wall as figures approached and rounded the corner you had just turned.

But it wasn’t soldiers or Mandalorians intent on protecting their space, nor civilians running from the fighting and occupation of the city overhead.

It was IG-11, leading and supporting a weak Din.

Your body wouldn’t move, mind going blank as Din’s amor glinted in the low light of the tunnels.

Cara rushed forward, a smile breaking out on her face. Karga right behind her as she reached out a tentative hand to his cuirass. His helmet bobbed, unsteady on his feet and balance shot as he swayed from the light pressure. He didn’t say anything as she curled an arm around his back and took the brunt of his weight. Light emanating from the side of his helmet swinging around as he jostled from the movements.

“Want to lend a hand here?” She looked toward you, frozen in your spot.

When you didn’t say anything, eyes avoiding looking directly at the armored figure and fingers twitching with the urge to reach out an ensure he was real, he was alive, he was right in front of you; Karga took point.

“Do you know which way to go?”

“No. I don’t know these tunnels.” His voice was still raspy, a scratchy quality that prickled the skin of your back as it fell on your ears. Secure in his pouch, ad’ika cooed in response, ears wiggling as he watching his guardian with wide eyes. When the helmet raised and focused on your completely, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care that his light was shining directly on you. “I’ve only entered from the bazaar. Mesh’la, have you found any clues?”

You turned your back on him and began to walk, not trusting your voice. A grunt of pain displayed through the helmet, Cara murmuring quiet words to ensure he was okay enough to move. When he agreed, she adjusted his arm over her shoulder and began to follow after you.

“She’s been quiet since we left you behind.”

“Well, if we get the smell of sulfur and we follow it, it’ll lead us up to the plains where the river flows.

“The Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.

“Ugh, this place is a maze.

“Stop.” He sounded more clear than he had as of yet. Slowly pulling away from Cara, flanked by them both as they prepared to catch him should he fall. “I can stand.”

“The bacta infusion is working.” IG-11 assured and it eased your heart a bit, to know that the man had taken help from the droid, even if he hadn’t taken it from you. But bacta could only do so much, mentally making a note to pick up more the first chance you had. If not in the controlled city, then on the next world as soon as the ship was docked and you ensured he would be okay while in your absence.

“I’ll try to find tracks. Mesh’la have you found any up there?” Din tried to call out, rasp to his voice stirring concern in you, it swirled alongside the dark tendrils keeping their hold on you. Amalgamating into an uncomfortable weight carried inside of you as you continued to press on through the tunnels.

When you didn’t answer, only stepped out from the middle of the space, did he see what you had been faintly following without even knowing it. He slowly walked forward, still limping slightly, though he did seem a bit steadier on his feet now.

“We’re close.” He pointed towards your feet, his visor allowing him to see the highlighted trail of footprints from someone within the last few hours. You leaned away from his touch to brush your arm as he stood beside you, helmet watching your downcast face. He whispered your name, voice cracking on the feel of it through his sore throat. He reached out for you again, gloved hand barely brushing the side of your cheek before you were pulling away and moving behind the rest of the group.

He could only watch in concern when you removed the bag ad’ika was settled in from your shoulders and handed it to a willing IG-11 to hold. Words stuck in his own throat as he wanted desperately for a moment alone with you to talk things out and comfort you. But time was a luxury none of you had, if the sporadic explosions from up above were any more of an indication of the predicament. 

With a sigh that crackled through the modulator, he began to move once again. A few winding tunnels and turns revealed pockets of life as furniture and barrels began to fill the underground space in pockets.

He came to a slow halt, flashlight making a pile of Mandalorian armor visible right in front of him. It took up most of the current tunnel, the visors of the helmets glinting in the direct light as he stared at them. You held back a gasp at the sight of them, keeping some of your focus on the empty, dark space behind you lest you had followers.

The click of Din turning off his light was loud in the tense silence, the air charged with the emotions he was feeling at such a hopeless and painful sight. He approached the pile slowly, steps stilted as the bacta worked to get him somewhat healed. He kneeled down in front of it, shoulders slumped, and head bowed.

Ad’ika cried out, picking up on the armored man’s emotions. Fussing in the hold IG-11 had on him though he didn’t try to detach.

A helmet was between his hands, lifted up for him to gauge it better. When he was still for longer than a few heartbeats, Cara inched forward and leaned down toward him.

“We should go.”

“You go. Take the ship. I can’t leave it this way.” Somber voice spoken through the modulator, it had you stepping forward but you thought better of it. Not sure if he would welcome your presence beside him at the moment, the memory of approaching a broad figure wearing blue armor replaying in your mind. It was the catalyst for the scene in front of you, Din hunched on the ground, the helmet of one of his fallen gripped in his hands. More evidence of fallen warriors piled in front of him. And it felt like an omen, that it wouldn’t be the last loss for the man to experience. It couldn’t be, not as long as you were with him. As long as ad’ika was with him. Targets marked on your backs, welcoming more conflict, more battles, more gunfire, more loss.

“Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?” Anger flared in his voice, words biting as he turned toward Karga. His legs were stable as he harnessed his anger and closed in on the surprised man. He didn’t move against the approaching man, completely taken off guard by the pile of armor just as everyone else. You felt that same pull of darkness thrum, the memory of Akiz passing too sharp in your mind, striking through you and leaving a chasm for the pull to fill. Dark energy flowed into the chasm, brimming over the edges of it, beginning to take more space in your psyche.

“No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended, and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They’re mercenaries. They’re not zealots.”

“Did you do this? Did you?” Surging up, the helmet clunked to the ground. Din was on Karga in a second, dominant hand coming out to push at the older man’s chest, words demanding and furious.

“No!” Was all the older man could shout back, knowing he was no match for even an injured Mandalorian in close combat. The hand not holding fast to a blaster came up to try and placate the approaching man, though he didn’t make an actual move to push back.  

“It was not his fault.” A woman’s modulated voice broke the tension suddenly. Din turned around slowly, peering into the darkness that it came from. It was as if he recognized the voice, because he made no move to raise a weapon up. Cara startled, as did ad’ika. But you stood still, unwilling to make yourself a target lest the person be a threat.

“We revealed ourselves.” A tall woman appeared from the mouth of a tunnel that jutted off from this one. Her helmet glinted gold in the low light, small horns a decoration jutting along the top. She was dressed in a deep red, the armor painted over a dull brown outfit of leggings, a skirt, and a long-sleeved shirt. She had a shorter cape about her shoulders, though it was made of thick brown fur.

She was completely calm, voice controlled and the cadence in line with those who seldom used Basic.

She leaned down to retrieve some of the armor, motions precise and almost leisurely.

“We knew what could happen if we left the covert. We were made aware of your situation by that one there hiding among the shadows. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted.”

She explained easily, no remorse or malice in her tone. It simply became a part of what happened, something she would carry silently with her. A part of her history that would one day be a verse in her song, but for now it was something that she must take in stride and move forward.

But you weren’t so collected.

You felt nausea rise up from your stomach and into your chest, recalling the way you had tracked the blue armored man and approached him. You had only wanted to help, only wanted to ensure Din hadn’t walked into a death trap in his escape with ad’ika. You hadn’t meant for the chain of events to end like this. With so many dead and now lost to the never-ending fight against the Empire. The fault for it once again. Adding another regret to the long list you carried with inside yourself.

They had already lost so much, very life eradicated from their home world, an entire culture nearly wiped out. And you had played a part in it, once again proving those who manipulated you right. You were capable of dangerous, powerful things. Breathing shaky, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the pile of armor. The beskar began to rattle, the tendrils that wrapped around your psyche tightened and pulled. Causing you to crash to your knees with a painful gasp.

“Did any survive?” As Din carefully asked, you untucked the pendant he had gifted you from your pocket, the cord he had used to keep it around his neck secured to your belt. You clenched your hand around it until the beskar it was made up bit into your palm, the pain centering you in a way that you both hated and were grateful for.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off world.”

“Come with us.”

“No.” She continued to load pieces of the armor to the cart pulled up behind her, an inkling of the reason on the tip of your tongue. “I will not abandon this place until I have salved what remains.”

Din followed her, turning to enter the space that opened up to the left. Cara and Karga shared a look before they turned to you, moving to follow him when you didn’t look up from your spot on kneeled on the ground, hand still gripped tight around the pendant hanging from your belt.

The forge nestled in the middle of the space was quiet, the soft hush of the constant fires a small comfort to the man who followed behind the armorer of his people. He watched silently as she began to feed pieces into the forge and melt them down.

“Bring her to me, I wish to speak to her.”

Din obliged silently, walking back out into the main tunnel. He kneeled down in front of you with a few heavy pants of exertion, hands reaching out for you but he thought better of it and voiced a soft call of your name to garner your attention. Your head snapped up, eyes filled with tears and a shadow of regret in them. They glinted in the low light and he worried what it meant.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ You took a deep breath in, voice cracking and filled with emotion. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die. I just- I just wanted to help. You were outnumbered beyond capability and I was too weak to fight.”

“You did help, mesh’la. You approached them for help, and they rallied to heed the call. This is the Way.”

He reached out for your hands when he noticed them clenched into tight fists, digging his fingers beneath your own and relieving the tension. The mythosaur pendant was revealed and he watched as it fell to rest against your thigh. “Please don’t hurt yourself, you don’t deserve it.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly into the visor, guilt rolling off of you in waves. He could feel the trembling of your arms as he gripped your hands, trying his best to gently pull you up with him as he stood. You probably helped him get back to his feet as much as he had done for you, sharing in the simple task that was too much at the moment. He dropped the contact as soon as you were both on your feet, not wanting to push you or make you uncomfortable. It was obvious you were still reeling from what happened in the cantina. From him not allowing you to heal him and urging you to save yourself. But it would have to wait, the discussion of the day, for you two. To occur between closed doors and with secured privacy for you both.

“She wants to talk with you, the Armorer.”

Following behind him, you watched the way he was moving gingerly, focusing on pulling up the weight of his legs to move forward, his arms nearly motionless at his sides. The woman was standing before the impressive forge, silhouette bold. 

“Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

“This is the one.” Din motioned to the bad being carried by IG-11, ad’ika preened under the attention, glad that his guardian was back alongside him. Even if the young being could sense the pain and discomfort the armored man was in. That he was pushing through to continue to protect him, to shield him from those threats with which he had directly challenged all those days ago after first meeting him…

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?”

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.” Din’s response was even, polite.

“From the mudhorn?"

“Yes.”

“It looks helpless.”

“Ad’ika is injured, but he is not helpless. His species can move objects with its mind.”

“Ad’ika? It is unusual that you’ve deemed it a nickname. Have you bonded?”

“….a little. But Mesh’la-“

“Another nickname, how…personal of you.” Her interest was piqued, the tone of her voice lightening a smidge. Almost as if her lips were quirked up in a knowing smile.

“I gave him the nickname, he will not communicate his given name with me and it’s made things easier as time moved on and we traveled with him in our charge. In…burc’ya’s charge.” You spoke up, hoping you weren’t overstepping any unspoken rules. You had never interacted with this woman, but your experience with previous Mandalorian Armorers had been different. They had held high, important positions in the culture but something about her seemed….more. She was the head of her faction, if you had to guess. A guiding member of her own covert, if her remaining behind to care for those in death as she had looked after them in life was any indication.

Children of the Watch, Akiz would describe them, had described them to you. He had been a part of that faction of Mandalorian culture as well, though his covert had been wiped out before his time on K’ath. Where your paths crossed and your time together was solidified in the stars. Their practice of the culture more in tune with the religious scripture. Stricter adherence to the mentality of concealing one’s identity, that they were all of one identity.

Tension existed between them and the general population of Mandalore, you had noticed even as a child, due to their beliefs. It wasn’t anything that caused conflict, thankfully, just a strained interaction or two depending on how individuals reacted to the knowledge. Mandalorian’s were accepting people, an accepting culture for the most part. But there were bad seeds and ill notions as with any large population.  

But he had been nothing but loving and kind to you, giving you a chance at a life you wouldn’t have had without him responding to your distress call and rescuing you. The same for Din, despite having been his target of capture to return to your mother in a business transaction. The man had overlooked his responsibilities in order to allow you freedom, saved by a selfless Mandalorian once again. Gifted his intentions of personal pursuit, a connection that was proving to be so much more than either of you could have guessed back in that desert compound….

“I know of such things. And she is the one who did so when another appeared to defend its fallen mate?”

“Yes.” He nodded to you, signaling that it was indeed okay to respond to the woman’s rather direct and simple questions.

“Elek, vod.”

Yes, ma’am.

“Gar jorhaa’ir Mando’a.”

You speak Mando’a.

“Elek, ni kar’taylir jorcu be ner cabur. Akiz Noves.”

Yes, I know because of my guardian. Akiz Noves.

“Gar cuyir a evaar'la solus.”

You are a foundling.

She moved with an easy confidence, pulling more ladles of molten beskar from within the forge. Taking them to her work bench and pouring it into a set of molds she had laid out. Taking from the old to create new, a cycle that allowed for her culture to persevere.

“Nayc, ni cuy be a nuarra. A kaysh ogir par ni tion’tuur ni gaa’tayl.”

No, I am of a different Creed. But he was there for me when I needed help.

“Tion gar gal?”

What is your name?

“Noves, gifted to me from my guardian. San, is my given name.”

“And you hold the same power?”

“Yes.”

“The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

“He’s an enemy?” Din seemed surprised, while he may only know what he did of them through you, you hadn’t mentioned that those who followed his way of life and yours were sworn enemies. He looked over to you, the woman taking notice of the shared look between you both as you slightly shook your head to assure him that you hadn’t been deceiving him all this time. He wouldn’t have believed it of you, with how things had developed between you both, the connection you two shared. Surely you would’ve told him if the child was a being typically raised with a disposition toward his own.

“No. Its kind were enemies in the sense that battles took place throughout history when ideals did not align. But these two individuals are not. It is a foundling.” She turned her back on to the line your group made in front of her and began to move about the workspace. “By Creed, it is in your care. And she is your key to reuniting it with its own kind should she not want the responsibility herself.”

Items in her grip as she tilted her helmet toward you, another question sounding from her.

“You are sworn to the Jedi Creed, are you not?”

“I…I was. I no longer adhere to either side of the Force. I am sensitive to it, can wield it.” It was an honest half answer, the morality of the question too detailed to get into at the moment. Something you weren’t sure anyone who wasn’t Force sensitive would even begin to understand. But you wanted her to know that you weren’t trying to deceive her or her authority. You were simply being as plain as you could with her, knowing it would mean a great deal to Din for you to do so. That you didn’t want to anything other than show her the respect she deserved.

“You allowed her aboard your ship, share your wares with her as an equal. She can aid you in this mission. Your journeys are intertwined, it was almost as if the Maker knew and set your paths parallel. This is the Way.”

“I have stated my intention of courtship.” Din announced, completely honest with the woman leading the conversation. He respected her, deeply. It was obvious in the way that he stood, at attention despite his injuries no doubt making it hard for him to even concentrate and stand up at all. He should be resting, a luxury you knew all too well was something out of reach when the lives you led seldom allowed for it.

“And have you accepted?” The visor settled into the gold of her helmet was trained on you fully now, watching you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

You could sense the stillness of Din across the room, his breath baited as he waited for your answer. It would be so easy to lie, to cut the ties between you both that have developed in the wake of losing control. The connection intense enough to influence the balance that had taken you years to find within yourself, all-encompassing and completely terrifying. The confession he whispered to you as he lay injured echoed in your ear, the return of it on the forefront of your mind. Feeling heat blossom in your chest as you recalled the emotions he stirred in you, all the good, you nodded in affirmation. Knowing the importance of declaring such a thing to the woman before you. Of declaring it to Din plainly, even in the wake of the day’s events.

“Yes, he means a great deal to me.” You breathed out, conviction obvious, the sentiment behind the words not lost on you.

“Hey, not that this isn’t exciting information, but these tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan.” Her lips quirked again, similar to how they had done when Din admitted to you knowing his name, that he had shared it with you and allowed you to use it.

“If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats.” She turned her attention back to the forge, extending a long handled ladle into the depts of it and retrieving out the molten beskar of the armor she had carefully placed in it moments before.

“I think we should go.” Cara urged, not wanting to become trapped beneath the city as the troops above figured out a way into the tunnels. However winding and confusing they were, it was only a matter of time until they closed in on your position. Especially if you weren’t moving. You had a better chance out in the open landscape, could hide out somewhere and bid your time until nightfall. Get back to the Crest or manage to steal a ship from the city outskirts.  

“I’m staying, I need to help her, and I need to heal. Mesh’la can take ad’ika and go with you, hide out until we can reconvene.”

“You must go. A foundling is in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father. This is the Way.”

The room stilled, it was obvious Din wanted to argue his point, but he remained quiet. His need to provide for his people an integral part of the man that he was and he was being instructed to leave the only known surviving one behind. You weren’t sure if you would be able to do so either.

“You have earned your signet.” She walked over to him, a metal plate in her hand and a small welding tool. She fastened it to his right pauldron with quick work. When she stepped back, it was revealed to be the skull of a mudhorn. While you and Din gazed at the addition to his beautiful armor, she moved about the space with admirable concentration and ease.

She walked back to her work bench, retrieving the molds she had filled earlier and removing the now cooler metal. She gathered them with a pair of tongs, moving to plunge them into the vat of water used to set pieces. After a few moments, she deemed them perfect and pulled them out. Wiping them down and taking the mallet to a few places, she revealed her work to be a pair of pauldrons.

She held the armor out to you.

“When a Mandalorian courts, that is a very important bond.” You stepped forward at her beckoning, allowing her to fasten the pieces of armor to your shoulders, her gloved fingers moving your cape out of the way with careful motions. Feeling the presence of Akiz watching over you as she did so. You closed your eyes, immersing yourself in the feeling of being accepted by the woman, by the leader of Din’s covert. Of being folded into Mandalorian culture once again. Thankful for the endless kindness and protection its people had provided to you throughout your life.

The weight of the armor was foreign, beskar being known as one of the strongest and most dense metals in the galaxy. But it was also comforting, akin to being wrapped up in the arms of someone you trusted.

“And though you are not to be riduurok just yet, that makes you a part of his clan. A clan of three.”

She fastened a twin signet into your right pauldron, mirroring the way she had done with Din.

“Thank you. I will wear this with honor.” Reverence coated his somber tone, aware of the importance of finally being given such a symbol from the leader of his covert. The importance of the Armorer gifting you the set of pauldrons, his signet. That it was not given lightly, nor without thought.

“I will as well, your craftmanship is inspiring.”

“While you still follow another Creed, you have been folded in our own, it is a great honor.”

An explosion sounded overhead, too close for comfort. The commotion broke the scene, calling everyone back to reality in a harsh way.

“IG, please guard the other hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

Heeding the woman’s command, the droid handed the bag in its hold to Cara.

“Hang on. I don’t do the baby thing.” Ad’ika squealed happily as he reached out to wave his claws in her face. She moved to hand the bag over to you, but you held your hands up in surrender.

“He likes you, accept it cyar’ika.”

“I have one more gift for your journey.” The Armorer announced. Moving behind Din and toward a chest that was up against the wall of the workspace.

“Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

“When I was a boy, yes.”

“Then this will make you complete.” She turned around, revealing a purely silver beskar pack. It was beautiful, the details of it amazing as you looked over it. Din seemed to be taken aback by such an offering, his voice low when he thanked her.

“When you have healed, you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

“I understand.”

“Ensure that he is completely healed before he begins, it is your responsibility to care for him until he is recovered. Do not allow him to harm himself with his notion of impatience. As I’m sure you’ve picked up on it in your time together.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you stepped forward, placing a hand atop Din’s left shoulder. You nodded an affirmation of the woman’s words, teasing quality to them as she displayed how well she knew the man standing between you.

Any remark you were about to make was lost as the sound of blaster fire echoed down the tunnels. Far too close for comfort. There was a loud thud, before the form of IG-11 appeared in the mouth of the workspace. Two blasters in its grip it turned to the group and assured that the threat had been taken care of.

“More will come. You must go.”

“Come with us.” Din breathed out, not a question but a silent plea of the woman before him.

“My place is here. Restock your munitions. Both of you.” When you didn’t follow the man’s steps toward the cache of weaponry, he turned to you with a tilt of his helmet.

“Mesh’la, take what you need.”

“I-I can’t. The armor is already-“ You stumbled over your worlds, overcome with meaning behind declaring your intentions with Din. With the pull toward the dark pit that had opened up inside of you that took conscious effort not to fall into its pull every second since it formed.

“You are a part of this, you’ve been accepted into the covert. You have a right to the supplies offered for battle.”

“IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it.”

“Now, go.” The Armorer held out the jet pack for the droid, ensuring it was secure before bidding you goodbye. “Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey.”

“Thank you.” Din followed after the others, allowing you a moment alone with the Armorer as you moved to stand in front of her beside the forge.

“Thank you, vod. I-I have no words to express my gratitude.”

“You are welcome, anyone who intends to become riduurok with one of our kind is accepted as one of our own. Though, I’m sure you know of such customs from your guardian. Do you still carry his armor with you?

“I have his helmet, he gifted it to me upon his death. The rest was lost in a plasma explosion. I’m sorry for not being able to deliver it to his home planet or another covert to recycle.” You bowed your head, sincere in your words.

“I hereby give you permission to alter it for yourself, should you wish to don it in battle. I will not enforce the rule of anonymity on you that the rest of us follow. Look out for him, he…means a great deal to our covert, what remains of it. He was the sole provider for many years while we stayed hidden in the shadows for our own protection.”

“I will, I swear to you.”

“Go, may our paths cross again, San Noves.” She reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, nodding at you before turning her back on you.

After what felt like far too long, the tunnels finally opened up into a wide chasm. The space filled with a flowing river, lava making up the currents as it slowly moved to the east. It was a mesmerizing sight, beautiful in the way it glowed red and orange through the crust of volcanic rock that began to harden along the top.

The heat from the river was intense, making the air too dry to breath in without feeling a sting in your lungs. You worried for ad’ika in Cara’s hold. His smaller body struggling with the new environment.

Both men dashed forward, inspecting the abandoned vehicle hovering above the river at the bank. A motionless droid was covered in hardened lava, the rock encasing the entire figure save for a part of its front and the top of its head. It looked like it had been abandoned a long while ago, days, perhaps weeks at this point if the city had been overrun for as long as Karga described. The bottom and body of the vehicle seemed to be in good shape, but more hardened lava had bridged the space between it and the shore, locking it into place.  

Both men began to push at the boat, trying their best to loosen the melding of it to the makeshift dock of the riverbank. You and Cara shared an exasperated look at their efforts, knowing there was no way one man at full strength and one at half would be able to shift it.

Din showed his growing frustration by surging up and kicking at the side of the speeder. He stumbled from the reverb of his action, and you rushed to wrap your arms around his shoulders and catch and prevent him from falling completely. There was no telling what it would’ve done to the partial recovery he had made. You didn’t want him to lose consciousness again or irritate the injuries he was fighting against. It didn’t matter how well the bacta was working, he could always make the problem worse. To the point beyond a general healing spray and that…that wouldn’t be good. You doubted he would allow you to take him to a med center, even if it was run primarily by droids. Especially if it was run primarily by droids.

“Come on! What’re you doing?”

Din pulled from your grip, nearly shrugging you off in his move to retrieve a broken piece of piping that was scattered on the bank.

“Let’s try this.” Thankfully Cara had the same train of thought as you did, that it was futile to try and force the vehicle to separate from the shoreline. She adjusted the large blaster in her hold, keeping one arm wrapped securely around ad’ika.

“You guys mind getting out of the way?”

When the bolts didn’t work to detach the speeder, you held your hands out and harnessed the power curled up inside of you, feeling it in full force as you controlled it to focus on the body of the vehicle. A low whine sounded from deep in your chest as it didn’t budge, urging you to shift your focus on the rock keeping it tethered in place. It was silent for a moment, Din stepping up beside you to assure you that it wasn’t necessary for you to do so. His words were cut off by the metallic groaning of the boat prying away from the shore to float freely in the river.

He curled a hand around your shoulder, silently praising you. As he stepped forward to board, his gloved fingers trailed down the beskar protection you had been adorned with, almost caressing the signet fastened proudly into the metal. He held out a hand to help you bridge the gap between it and the heightened shore. Your heart thudding with a few heavy beats as you took it and boarded alongside him.

Mechanical beeping and whirring had all four of you turning with blasters raised toward the ferry droid that had suddenly activated. The rock attached to it crumbled away as it activated and stood. It was tall, towering over even Din, moving to displace a metal oar from where it had been hidden among the rock.

“I don’t suppose anyone here speaks droid?”

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go.” IG-11 translated.

“Down river. To the lava flat.” Karga spoke strongly, his voice holding an air of command to it, ensuring that there was no confusion to be taken by the new droid.

Minutes passed, a lot of them, your anxiety humming as you kept your head on a swivel to catch any warning signs of an ambush, of any swarms of soldiers erupting from within the tunnels sparse openings and out into the underground one that the river flowed through.

The skittering of small rodent like creatures along the shoreline caught your attention, more than a few of them pausing in their activity to gaze at you as the speeder past by. They were cute and ad’ika seemed to agree as he raised his claws from within the bag and waved at them. They chittered at him before moving on, unsure of what to make of the odd sight of your group traveling downstream.

“That’s it! We’re free!”

“No, we’re not.” A gloved hand pressed to the side of his helmet, displaying a view for Din that he described for everyone else. “Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

“They were ordered there to prevent us from escaping, even if we didn’t take this route. Moff Gideon wouldn’t chance it.” It had to have been him ensuring he didn’t lose you to the wilds of the planet, the landscape endless and easy to secure a hideaway. With the sun setting in mere hours, you could be lost for the night, enough time for your group to figure out a way off world.

Commanding the droid to stop the speeder from traveling down river was fruitless. It merely chirped and beeped, not heeding the sudden flux of words aimed at it. When it didn’t seem to understand anything, Karga fired on it. But that didn’t seem to stop the momentum of the speeder, now floating of its own accord toward the mouth of the tunnel, toward the sunlight and waiting ambush.

“We’re still moving.”

“Looks like we fight.”

“There are too many.”

“Then what do you suggest? Cause I can’t surrender.” Cara hissed, setting the bag down atop a seat in the bed of the speeder. Ad’ika gurgled, hands reaching up for someone, anyone to pick him back up. You were about to reach for him when IG-11 stepped forward to take him in its arms again.

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child and the Sith.”

“Not a Sith.” You hissed out, pinning the droid with a glare, lava spouting up around the speeder. Some of it splattered up against the side of the vehicle, the metal steaming as it melted under the contact.

“Apologies, I was inferring from-“

“You inferred wrong.”

“Understood. This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.” Din was quick to put a pin in that idea, not willing to give up the extra set of hands.

“That is not my objective.”

“We’re getting close. Saddle up.” Karga pointed towards the entrance mere yards away now.

“I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What are you talking about?” Confusion in his tone, Din faced the droid head on, trying to understand exactly the point it was trying to make.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

“Are we gonna keep talking, or get out of here?”

“I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the child.” IG-11 reached down to hand ad’ika over to Din, the armored man taking the bag with steady arms. Quiet thuds of tiny hands against his cuirass displayed the child’s delight.

“Wait. You can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to watch the child. That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right?”

A pause.

“That is correct.”

“Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

“Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The child will be lost. The woman will be lost.” IG-11 began to cross the width of the speeders bay, toward the right side of the vehicle. “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved, in which I survive.”

“Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just come up with a…” Din’s words trailed off, no other solution coming to mind for him to voice.

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care.” Head turned toward the armored man, waiting for confirmation. “If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

“But you’ll be destroyed.”

“And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No,” He sounded almost…remorseful. You could feel the conflicting emotions wafting from him, read it in the stance he had, the way his shoulders were set. “We need you.”

“There’s nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

“I’m not…sad.” Din argued weakly.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.”

IG-11 reached out a hand and caressed the tip of ad’ika’s ear in a parting gesture.

“What’re you doing?” Karga demanded as you all watched the droid step out from the deck of the speeder and down into the slow-moving river. The metal of its legs hissing at the sudden barrage of temperature. The mechanics tried to hold out as it trudged forward, flames licking up the sides slowly.

A pulsating alarm began to beep, a chasm in the chest piece opening up the second IG-11 was outside the mouth of the tunnel. A blinding explosion erupting seconds later. The screams of the waiting soldiers hurt your ears, the flash bright even behind shielded eyes. The speeder continued on, moving through the cloud of smoke and ash that lingered in the air.

The bodies of the dead soldiers were scattered and you tamped down a flood of memories from the last time you had been at the sight of such a directed attack on them.

There was no time to revel in the defeat, the screeching of a TIE fighter hurtling through the air and right at your groups position. Moff Gideon not giving up even in the face of losing another faction under his command. Cara and Din raised their blasters, prepared to shoot his ship from the air. It was not a match for the focused fire he laid down as the ship swooped low, though no hits landed directly over you.

“He missed!” Cara shouted out, hope coloring her words.

“He won’t next time.” You spoke evenly, wanting them to understand the situation at hand. The only way this was going to end was with someone’s death. Be it one of yours, all of yours, or Gideon’s. The conflict would drone on until the threat was eradicated, you just hoped that your side was the one that came out victorious.

“Our blasters are useless against him.”

“Hey, let’s make the baby do the magic hand thing. Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing.” Karga waved his hand frantically in the air, prompting ad’ika to follow his command. But all the child did was wave back at him, cooing all the while with a curious expression.

“He doesn’t have that type of control.” You reasoned, not wanting to rely on ad’ika’s powers when thwarting the flame thrower had taken so much from him.

“He did it back in the cantina!” Karga argued, brow furrowed at his lack of understanding the nuances of something that could really help in their favor.

“He was emulating me, he doesn’t really have an understanding of harnessing his powers like that.”

“Give him some credit, jeez.”

“He needs to rest, he’s overwhelmed!”

“Then I’m out of ideas. If you refuse to use it yourself.”

“I never said I refused, I need a clean line of sight.” You looked over your shoulder, worried for ad’ika as he cried out at the heightened emotions between all four of you. You leaned down to rub a hand over his small back, ensuring he was snug in the bag. You tried to push a good feeling through the connection, wanting to comfort him in any way. A strike of pain rained down from the crown of your head and ad’ika’s small claws dug into the front of your tank top.

“I’m not out of ideas.” Din interrupted your harmless bickering, something in his town making you turn to him fully.

“Here he comes!” Distant roaring signaled that the ship was maneuvering and about to return.

Din set his blaster back in the holster on his hip. Reaching down with a grunt of effort to lift up the jetpack that had just been gifted to him, confirming your suspicions. There was no way he was healed enough to maneuver through the air with it, that he could pick it up so quickly and focus with his head having been cracked open. The phantom feel of his blood thick on your hands making you shake them out.

“She said to wait until you were healed!” You rushed forward and cupped your hands over his shoulders, hoping a gentle touch would help to convince him not to go through with what he was thinking. Urging him to listen, to consider that it was too much of a risk that he didn’t need to take. “You’ll injure yourself further, it’s not the only option.”

“It’s what we’ve got right now.” He reasoned calmly, chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to move about like normal. He was feeling the weight of his full armor, you suspected, the jet pack adding to the struggle to keep up and focus.

The ship swooped low, too close for comfort, firing out in a wide line around the river’s edge. With a shout you stretched your arms out, the ship pivoting heavily to the right. The unexpected movement caused the remaining blasts to hit along the mouth of the tunnel. Deep rumbling signaled the collapse of the tunnels inside, the support of the opening damaged, sheets of broken rock crumbling into the river as the natural structure dissolved.

While you had turned your attention from him, Din had successfully docked the jet pack into the back panel of his armor. Eyes roving over the sight of him completely pieced together, you felt your heart skip a beat. Admiring the image he created against the expansive landscape, armor glinting in the lowering sun in a beautiful way.

And you couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t.

Recovering from the manipulation, the TIE fighter was soaring directly toward you. Din was standing at the front of the speeder, stepped up on the lip of the vehicle. The engines on the TIE fighter lit up, whirring as they settled on their target. Din’s broad silhouette backed by the incoming threat sent chills down your spine. You blinked rapidly, his figure morphing into the image of a taller man, adorned in a deep blue armor instead of his pure beskar. The explosion of the shots along the ground as the ship neared shook the ground, dirt and pieces of the volcanic rock rising up high into the air. At the last second, before the shot inevitably hit the vehicle, Din bent his knees.

Without a look back at you, he took off into the air.

A cable flew from his vambrace at clicked onto the top of the ship, whipping the man forward as it surged past. You cringed, worry for his head flooding you. If he were to lose consciousness that high up in the air, got tossed off the ship….

You could only watch with the breath stolen from your lungs as he was whipped around, unable to gather his bearings. But he did, finally, jetpack sparking to life, and he grappled a desperate hold onto the body of the ship.

It suddenly began to spiral, controlled surely by a concerned Gideon. You gasped out, hands coming up to your mouth as you watched the body of armor crash into the wings of the ship, scrabbling to keep hold and not get tossed off.

“He’ll be okay, cyar’ika. We have to have faith in him.”

She had spoken a moment too soon because his body was flung from the ship, hurling through the air without a tether.

“No!” Voice hoarse, you scrambled over the errant items inside the space of the speeder. You jumped from the bed of the vehicle, onto the rocky shore of the river and began to sprint. Halting a few yards into the vast landscape, you held both your arms out and focused on the sight of a falling Din. The speed of his fall slowed, allowing him to swivel his head to take in the sight of you so far down below trying to aid him.

His arms flailed as he tried to help align himself as he tumbled through the air, thankful you were doing what you could to slow his rapid descent. As the TIE fighter lost a wing to a sudden explosion, flames and black smoke billowing up, did Din finally manage to engage his jetpack. As soon as he landed clumsily on the ground beside you, grunting at the force of the landing on his body, the ship crashed to the ground just beyond the small crest of a ridge.

Not even a second passed before you were rushing off toward it. Passing by Din with a focus he had only seen when you were in battle. Brows furrowed and eyes alight. Your name being shouted behind you as your legs carried you as fast as you could. You could faintly hear the scuffle between Cara and Din, her catching him as he tried to follow after you, warning him to be careful and that you could take care of yourself. That he had to trust in you that you wouldn’t go too far.

You panted, feeling immeasurable power surge through you. But it wasn’t the pure side of the Force you typically harnessed.

“That was impressive, Mando. Very Impressive.” Karga praised as he approached them. Din had convinced Cara he wouldn’t run after you, allowing her to focus on the child in her grip. Small claws reaching out for the armored man. Extending a shaking hand out, Din allowed the child to grip his gloved fingers.

“It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up. And Sarad’s set at an exceptional rate for a newcomer should she be interested.”

“I can’t speak on her behalf.” He gazed out at the landscape, in the direction of the ridge. He could make out with the help of his helmet, that you had just scaled the top of it, disappearing on the other side. You were upon the crash of the ship.

“Let’s get this speeder running, we can pick her up on the way back to the city.” Cara suggested, not wanting to leave you out in the plains along for too long. Agreement rang out, and they all loaded back up into the vehicle, Din slumping into a seat.

“Let’s go get your girl, Mando.”

“She’s not a possession.” Din hissed out, annoyance flaring.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Don’t read into the phrasing.”

The speeder was slow, mechanics lagging from being exposed to the heat of the river for so long.

Silence tense as it trudged across the open land.

“Her saber turned red.”

Din remained silent, not wanting to delve into speculation over what it meant.

The others seemed to understand that it wasn’t their place, even if they were simply showing concern for your wellbeing.

“You have no control!” You swung your saber, the hum of it lowering in pitch as you cut into the shoulder of the man beginning to crawl through the broken glass of the ship’s viewpoint. The body of it was smoldering, flames licking over the expanse of it, the result of the charges Din had managed to fasten to it.

“You’re weak. You will always be weak. That’s why the pull to the dark side is so strong in you. It can sense that you need guidance, that you need control. And it will take everything from you as it transforms you in its image.” Gideon huffed out, surging forward despite the blood seeping into the fabric of his clothing.

“You’ll fall to it, you’ll give into it with no one to guide you. And you’ll turn that innocent, unsuspecting child in your image. You will experience nothing else, only darkness and destruction and the death of those around you.”

He tore himself out of the debris, standing to his full height and engaging a blade that hummed in much the same way as your lightsaber. It was lined like a true blade, black that gave way to bright white of a kyber crystal housed in the handle.

It stopped you in your tracks. The bright glow of it captivating you, whispers seeping from it and tickling your mind. So distracted as you were, you could only step back with each approaching one of his. Your own weapon hanging low at your side, crackling in a response to the enchanting blade in the man’s hand. 

“Couldn’t save your beloved guardian and you’re not going to be able to save your delusional Mandalorian now. I will have his head if it’s the last thing I do. I will have the head of your precious child if it’s the last thing I do. They will die, they will both fall. You won’t be able to save the man you love. Again. It means more to me than anything to bring them down and take what I want from your lifeless bodies.”

You exhaled heavily as you plunged your saber out. The harsh crack of the blades connecting echoed across the plains. You merely blocked his attacks, gauging his style and still too enamored by the twin pulls of the dark tendrils wrapping around your ankles and that of the weapon in the man’s possession. When it glided across the armor you had been gifted, you snapped out of your defensive reverie, teeth gritting as you returned the gesture.

He grunted when you sliced into his shoulder a second time, arm going limp at his side as the blade cut into the space between his own armor that allowed for movement. His eyes widened as he realized you weren’t going to succumb to the energy wafting from you, that it wasn’t overpowering you in the way that he had anticipated, that he had seen before as you struggled against it. Unwilling to succumb to the pull of it, the almost sentient energy. You were harnessing it. And he allowed a smirk to pull at his lips.

“So predictable, dear San.” He pressed forward, holding his useless arm to his side. Taking the injury in stride if it meant that you were crumbling. “Falling into the same traps time and time again. So easily manipulated. When will you learn that there is nothing more for you than the title of a Sith?”

Your blade crackled, gaining intensity to its glow, white tinted at the base of it. The red seeping into the entire thing, casting your face in the light.

“There is no love for someone like you. Not of a parent, not of a guardian, not that of a partner. You were born to this, the rise to power with the dark side. Nothing else will come to you, your foolish Mandalorian will see your true nature soon enough and abandon you. His history suggests he only cares about his people, his Creed. What could he possibly want from you, so steeped in emotion and vulnerability.”

Swiping at his feet, he stumbled, cape fluttering as tried to catch himself on his knees. But you were throwing him toward the rubble of the ship with an outstretched hand. He could do nothing as he felt the energy wrap itself around him and command his body as if it was its own. He cried out as the broken metal of the frame bit into his back. The snap of his armor against it was loud. Gasping suddenly as he couldn’t breathe in, the air stolen from his very lungs.

Wide eyes turned to you, hand clenched in a fist as you constricted his airways. Watching with an unnerving calmness as the blood vessels in his eyes began to bleed, the veins in his neck began to bulge, his dark skin taking on a ruddy tone as he struggled.

With heaving breaths, you dismantled the TIE fighter down with your saber until it was nothing but a pile of smoldering metal and broken glass. Barricading the man inside.

Just as you began to distance yourself from the ship, the speeder from the river appeared over the ridge, moving toward you. Sighing, you waited for it to stop at the bottom before trudging on. Not risking it getting too close to the flames and smoke of the TIE fighters remains.

“You should get checked out, ad’ika too.” Your words were flat as you approached the group of them alongside the speeder. Din was leaning heavily against the side of it, helmet slumped, the bottom of it resting on his cuirass. Everyone perked up at the scuff of your approaching form.

“No.” Breathless, he could barely get the word out though it sounded strong to your ears through the modulator. The mechanics hiding the way his expression was pinched and his eyes were blinking rapidly against the pain reverberating through his entire body. You could sense his discomfort, the way his heart was beating irregularly, attuned to him in such a personal way enhanced through the pulse of dark energy flowing through you still.

You sighed, frustration building up at the recollection of how he could barely move mere hours ago and his refusal to let you try to heal him. Gideon’s confident words echoing in your head, incessantly.

“I’m not letting you fly without medical clearance.”

“Let me?” His helmet rounded on you, surprise through the modulator. The glint of the sun on the visor mirrored how his eyes did so underneath as he pushed away from the side of the vehicle. “I’m a grown man.”

“Yes.”

“All I need to do is get back to the ship.”

“Then you’ll go alone.”

“…you’re staying behind?” Hesitancy clear through the modulator. His back was to you, having turned to take in the smoking pile of what was once the TIE fighter in the distance.

“To help them free the city, yes. To ensure everyone is safe. To get supplies and more bacta for you. Whatever else we may need to combat your injuries.” You softened, features displaying the exhaustion weighing you down. Your hands were fiddling with the pendant he had given you, the shine of the beskar in the sunlight bright between your fingers. “I…I would really appreciate it if you humored me and got a scan done at the med center. Just…just so we know what’s wrong and how to heal it.”

“I’m fine.”

“But I’m not.” He whirled around quickly, too quickly, his footing unbalanced at the motion, and he stumbled. The question of what was wrong on the tip of his tongue when you trained your shining eyes on his visor. “Din, I- I need to know you’re okay. Truly okay. Please.”

He turned back around, unable to take in the sight of the earnest concerns falling from your lips, the tears threatening to fall.

He didn’t take his gaze from the distant crash sight, helmet overlooking the scene through different lenses, ensuring that the threat was truly eradicated.

“I can’t look after you if you don’t let me. And before you say it’s not my job, Din, it is. You made it so when you announced your intentions to court me with the Armorer.”

“You think I have regrets in doing so?” Timbre of his voice low, a warning in his tone that sent alarm bells ringing in your head. The first real conflict between you both, weighing heavily in the tense air.

“No.” Was your immediate answer, truth behind the word though it was spoken in a tight voice.

“Do you?”

“No! I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s it, I’m not…I’m not trying to do anything except for that but if you think I’m trying to get your kriffing helmet off so I can see you when you’ve explicitly told me you didn’t want to and I know the customs then then-“ You scrambled to remove the beskar fastened around your shoulders and thrust it into his chest. You hadn’t even wanted to say those things, furl the accusation at him along with the armor, but something compelled you to. Anger striking harshly and taking hold. Manipulating you into succumbing to it, the feeling of a pit opening inside your mind. Dark and beckoning. He swayed back with the force of it pressed to him, modulator crackling as he realized you were completely serious. “Maybe we were foolish to entertain the thought. Leave. Just go, Din.”

“Mesh’la-“ His knuckles popped as he held the armor in his hands, wound as tight as he could ever remember, a thrumming low in his head that was steadily gaining momentum and making it hard to focus. He could feel the energy flowing from you, see it in the twitching of your muscles and the lack of control you seemed to have over your words. It was unlike you, to raise your voice, to be so unwilling to hear him out, to take his words into account. He was trying his best to keep up but he wasn’t handling it well, he knew that. He…he felt so nauseas and dizzy and he just wanted to rest.

“I have a name.”

“San, I didn’t- I don’t think that. I did not say that, do not put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not exactly saying anything now are you!”

“Because I don’t have anything to say! It’s been a long day and I just want to return to the ship.”

“I think maybe we should all just- not calm down!” Cara rushed to say at the heated looks her way. The intensity of them unnerving her. “Not calm down but put a pin in this and get back to the city.”

“Fine with me.”

“I’ll meet you back at the Crest.”

Din took a few steps away from the speeder, preparing to take off with the aid of his jetpack once again.

He paused as you gasped out, trembling hands causing you to lose your hold on the speeders edge as you tried to climb in. Clenching his eyes tight and taking a deep breath, he walked back toward you. His hands didn’t linger when he helped you board this time, taking a seat at the back bench and facing out toward the plains.

When you sat down on the other side of the bench, he slowly moved to fasten the armor back to your shoulders. He silently thanked the Maker that you allowed him to do it, allowed him to fasten his signet back onto you. He wasn’t one for outward expressions but it eased his heart that you still wanted to display in even in the wake of an argument. The gravity of you choosing to wear something that signified him was not lost on him, words of a time past where you had cried out that you would never submit to anyone again echoing in his mind as the speeder traveled on.  

“Are you going to talk to me?” You knew you should give him some space, give him time to process the events of the day. To rest and feel more like himself. But you couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight the push to confront him, emotions a whirlwind inside your chest. Dark pit opened up right in the middle and tainting everything that you were. You watched on as if you weren’t in your own body, as you continued to push the man’s buttons until you both snapped.

The silence was heavy, his shoulders tight underneath his armor, hands busy searching for something within the panels making up the walls. For what, you weren’t sure. He had been silent the entire walk back to the ship, to where you had moved to closer to the entrance of the city while he underwent a general scan to ensure his injuries would heal completely. It had taken a lot of convincing, and he hadn’t been too happy with the way you begged him. Though he knew you hadn’t done so to intentionally manipulate him. You were just concerned.

It was just that he was accustomed to dealing with injuries on his own. Returning to the covert for serious things he needed help with. The migraine building in strength overwhelming him in the worst way paired with your insistence on sticking around for the rest of the day irking him. He knew it was unjustified, that he should find it endearing that you cared so much about the city and those within it, but he wanted nothing more than to retire to his personal space and put as much distance between the planet and himself as possible.

“Din, your skull was cracked open. You-your brain was exposed, and you wanted me to leave you there to die alone!”

“I didn’t want you to see it, to have to go through that, to carry that with you!” He turned sharply, voice a rumble as he realized there was no getting out of this conversation. He had hoped you wouldn’t bring it up so immediately, that you would approach him in a calmer manner when you could sense he was willing to talk.

This was unlike you. To yell and holler, to berate him with accusations. You were scared, he realized. And the dark pull of the Force was making you lash out. His actions had scared you beyond comprehension and control, you didn’t know how to cope with that chasm opened up in your psyche to allow for the tendrils to spark to life and the pit to open up. He didn’t fault you, though he did have an issue with the way you insisted on confrontation.

Emotions too bold overcoming him as he paired them with the words you had whispered to him as he lay dying in the rumble just hours ago.

“That’s not your choice to make!”

“I am not arguing about this!” He snapped, unable to quell the urge to match your volume.

“Too bad! You don’t get a say in that either!! You have to talk to me, please, just…help me understand.”

“You know the Creed, you know it’s an honor to die in battle. If I was willing to give up my life, it’s not your place to tell me otherwise.”

“Din, I could’ve healed you, I could’ve tried. I could’ve saved you.” You weren’t crying, body too worked up for even that, hurt and fear twisted into an ugly thing and making you something you weren’t.

They will die, they will both fall. You won’t be able to save the man you love. Again.

“I was ready to die.” He didn’t break the gaze he had on you, reading the emotions flitting across your face. “I was ready to die for you both to get to safety, for all of you to make an escape.”

“So you’re allowed to sacrifice yourself for me but I can’t do the same? That’s bullshit and you know it. Not allowing me to take on what I could’ve so you could live another day doesn’t warrant even a conversation?”

Anxiety was like a layer too tight skin over your entire body, making it hard to take in a full breath, to concentrate past the throbbing of your head.

“I could’ve saved you.” You repeated, lips pulled down in a frown, trying to keep the tears at bay, the trembling of your lips prone to give you away. “You-you said you loved me and then wanted to die. I could’ve saved you. I could’ve, I couldn’t, I-I-“

All of your breath left you in a sudden gasp and your words cut off as you snapped your mouth shut, teeth clacking with the motion. You tried to breathe in through your nose, but a wave of nausea overtook you and you clamped a hand over your mouth. The lingering scent of sulfur twisting your stomach. It was an ill-timed realization paired with how suddenly acutely aware of how intense you were being, how overwhelmed you were on already shot nerves. That it was the dark pit pulling you inward, inch by inch, dark temptations reaching out and wrapping around more and more of your legs while you could do nothing to fight it.

“Mesh’la…”

“I need a minute, please, just…give me a fucking minute!” You shouted, flinging out a hand toward the approaching shadow. Toward the rampage of memories plaguing you. Your voice raw as it tore through your throat. There was a sharp clang of metal on metal, but your mind was overrun by the barrage of screams and pleas overtaking your ears. The hum of your blade as it shown red all around you, reflecting in the dead eyes and on the metal walls of the ship you had destroyed in your grief. Of the wreckage caused by the crash, bathed in the sickly color.

Red, red, red. It was everywhere, all over the walls, all over your hands, your clothes, the warm feeling of it saturating you and seeping into your skin. The sight of it burned into the very synapses of your mind, pooled underneath the body of a man you loved, pooled underneath the body of a man you were in love with. Your ears began to ring, all sound muffled.

Nothing else will come to you, your foolish Mandalorian will see your true nature soon enough and abandon you. His history suggests he only cares about his people, his Creed.

Your chest hurt, heart stuttering as it tried to regulate itself in the wake of your hitching breath, unable to take a full one and calm down. The world tilted on its axis, and you went with it. Falling physically to the ground, mentally down into the void taking over more of your psyche until it was all you knew. Vision blacking out. As it did, the entire ship lurched. It took a moment for the mechanical software programmed into the ship to correct the trajectory.

All Din could do was watch as your unconscious form fell from where you had flung him across the hold, body pinned to the wall as your mind broke in a way he had been trying to prevent. Everything fastened to the walls and the panel covers had been vibrating with the force of your words and emotions, harnessing the Force unconsciously as you tried to confront him. As soon as your body hit the durasteel floor, muscles going loose did the hold you have on him diminish and everything went still.

He slumped down, backside hitting the ground, body aching all over.

It was only a moment until one of the engines began to spark then groaned. The ship lurched again, alarms beeping, lights flickering, spurring him into action. Din rushed up to the control room, remorse for having to leave you unconscious on the floor of the hold.

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[pomplalamoose]

to love from afar

🌛bonus chapter🌜

Master Luke Skywalker x reader

summary: An experimental continuation of chapter 1; explores the possibilities of your Master returning your feelings.

word count: 5,908

(basically a fan fiction for my own fan fiction, however if you'd like this to be the true outcome after the first part, you're welcome to of course <3)

read the first chapter here or on AO3🩵💙

You're sitting cross legged on your bed roll; facing you is a simple pair of black pants, neatly folded and looking very inconspicuous.

Yet you are staring at them like they caused you personal harm, like their burden is physically weighing down upon your shoulders.

Being very well aware you're being dramatic doesn't change the fact you have been procrastinating returning the pants, your Master was generous enough to lend to you, for nearly a week now.

The injuries caused by your embarrassing fall down a hill have healed nicely, only a few faint lines still visible where sharp edges cut deep.

And while you are very thankful for your Master's care and attention following directly after, your dreams now only ever circling around how he held you in his arms and briefly touched your cheek, you haven't dared to initiate any kind of contact since then.

When before you were shy and a little standoffish you are outright avoiding him now whenever you possibly can.

And although your heart aches with want and still you crave his praise, his good will, even a smile, you feel as though you would simply go up in flames should he ever bestow his attention upon you again.

The shame, after coming to the conclusion that he knew about your most intimate feelings, your thoughts and dreams all along, too strong to release into the Force.

And you tried. You really really did try.

It is delaying your training after all, keeping you up at night, sneaking up on you during meditation or dinner, haunting your every waking moment.

It's eating you alive and the constant fear that he too will sense this, should your mental shields crack, has exhausted you.

Breathing in deeply and then slowly out again, you make an effort to view your situation differently.

Master Skywalker is kind and understanding.

What are you so afraid of?

He does not deserve your fear.

All this time, it seems, he was aware of your crush that developed into more the longer you stayed with him and the others, and yet did he ridicule you?

Did he punish you?

Did he send you away? Did he tell you to let go of those feelings, make them out to be unbecoming of a Jedi?

No. Of course not. And, you tell yourself, he never would because that's why, among many other things, you would surrender your very being to him.

Even after your last conversation just outside his rooms, when he offered to work on your mental shields with you, he did not do so as a reprimand, but because he genuinely wanted to help.

And even though you sense his disappointment towards your current antics and failings during his lessons, he remains nothing but patient, allowing you to keep your distance, never overstepping your boundaries, not forcing himself on you.

He does not deserve your fear.

Not when he explicitly told you more than once how he cared and wished only the best for his students.

He must have known about your feelings for a long time.

So why would his stance towards them change now of all things?

With sweaty hands you pick up his pants, your heart beating fast as you press them to your chest and make your way outside to search for him.

When you carefully reach out with the Force to locate your Master's current whereabouts, you find your shields already lowered.

You sigh in defeat. Eventually you will have to ask him about his offer to work with you on that.

The afternoon sun is warming your back and slightly soothing your nerves as you make your way into the near woods where you suspect his presence.

Indeed, you soon are able to find him sitting in a small clearing, seeming to be deep in meditation.

At first you are relieved to have an excuse to leave again but then your stomach sinks; you don't know when you'll be able to gather your courage to try again, if at all.

The longer you avoid this, the worse it will get.

But interrupting now?

Maybe you could just place the pants next to him and then make for a run?

He would know, of course, who put them there.

Possibly he'd seek you out after.

No, you decide, it's better to get this over with and just wait until he has completed his exercises.

Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, lost in thought, you don't realize your Master's eyes lazily tracking your every nervous twitch and movement.

Neither do you see his lips curl upwards into a sly smile, or the momentary gleam in his gaze, uncannily resembling that of a predator ready to strike.

His voice, though, is warm and velvety soft, when he speaks, as if to not scare you away.

"Oh hello, what a lovely surprise. I hope I have not left you waiting for too long?"

Unable to do anything but stare, immediately having fallen under his spell again, you shyly shake your head.

Slowly extending his arm in your direction, he beckons you closer and of course you obey. You would never think of doing otherwise.

"I'm very pleased to see my little way ward sheep return to me. Sit with me, Padawan."

Doing as he asked, you awkwardly lower yourself to the ground some distance away, face burning as the nickname echoes in your head.

Your Master, however, does not seem satisfied.

"No, that will not do, Padawan. Do you wish to throw my pants across the clearing? I thought your manners better than that."

Patting the ground directly in front of his crossed legs, like someone would to lure a puppy, he looks at you expectantly.

In disbelief you can't do much but blink at him, sheepishly shuffling across the grass when he doesn't relent, eventually coming to a stop only a few meters away from him.

He shakes his head, again tapping the ground in front of him with growing insistence.

"M-Master...that's hardly-"

You stop mid sentence, suddenly not so sure if it'd be wise to openly question his wishes after basically ignoring him for a week.

Lowering your head you kneel where he wants you to, fussing about invisible flecks of dust in your lap, studiously doing the most to distract yourself from his broad chest right in front of your face.

With a deep exhale he unfurls his long legs, resting them on either side of you, strategically caging you in.

"Very good. Although it would have been easier to comply right away, don't you think, Padawan?"

Without waiting for an answer, he continues.

"Let's take a moment to practice, yes? I believe you will benefit from this greatly."

Then, abruptly pulling you out of your confusion, his voice suddenly turns commanding.

"Look at me."

Startled your head snaps up immediately and you're rewarded with a smile.

His commanding tone however, does not change.

"Hand me my pants. Good. Now say: thank you dear Master, for lending them to me."

"Th-Thank you, dear Master, for lending them to me."

"You are most welcome, Padawan. Repeat after me: Master, what could I possibly do to repay you?"

Is he teasing you? Blinking up at him you obey nevertheless.

"Master, what could I possibly do to repay you?"

For a long moment he has you pinned with his gaze, then leaning forward, his hair tickling your cheek, he whispers in you ear.

"Mmh aren't you lovely, Padawan. There are indeed a few things you could do for me. And you will, won't you? You are always so well behaved, always eager to please, isn't that right?"

Barely daring to breath you've grown very very still, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You must have fallen asleep earlier without realizing. This has to be one of your silly dreams.

Will he ask you for a kiss now? It would be so easy to oblige too, just a quick turn of your head and you'd be able to touch your lips to the corner of his mouth and then-

"Padawan. I asked you a question."

Oh. Maybe not a dream then?

"Uhhh yes, Master?"

Leaning back, he slightly tilts his head.

"You weren't listening."

It isn't a question.

Your thoughts temporarily strayed very far away and he knows, surely having a very good idea where to as well.

You briefly check your shields. They are down.

Damnit.

Avoiding his gaze you concentrate instead on the smooth skin just above his collar.

"I apologize, Master. It won't happen again."

You notice the way his Adam's apple moves when he huffs a laugh.

"It isn't wise to make promises one can't keep, my Padawan. But I will let you get away with it this time. Now, back to my original question-"

"I remember, Master!", you interrupt excitedly when the fog in your brain momentarily lifts.

"You wanted me to do something for you, did you not? Am I not right?"

"I guess I can let that count, yes.", he answers calmly, clearly amused at your sudden eagerness.

Determined now, to further please him, unbeknownst doing exactly as he foretold, you don't shy away this time, waiting for his directions.

This isn't going as bad as you feared!

Yes you embarrassed yourself many times over a span of what? Ten minutes? But you don't seem to be in trouble and that's all that matters to you.

You're rather stupefied when he gets up, suddenly towering over you.

Still kneeling on the soft grass you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him, not understanding right away he expects you to get up as well.

So when you simply remain at his feet he raises his eyebrows, his expression awfully close to the gentle exasperation you dislike so much.

"What is it, Master?", you ask, rather insecure now.

A sigh.

"When was the last time you had a full nights rest, Padawan?"

Furrowing your brow you try to think.

You find you don't know and neither are you able to comprehend why he's asking.

"M-Master? I don't think I understand, I-"

You break off when he leans down, taking hold of you under your shoulders and hoisting you up.

"I shouldn't be so surprised.", he says under his breath before fully addressing you once more.

"Come along, Padawan."

Humming softly to yourself you follow after him, still unsure of his motivations.

But now that he has mentioned it you realize you are very tired indeed.

Mmh, why did he ask about your sleep again?

You can't say you are able to tell, not when your limps are so heavy all of a sudden, your brain for once nicely quite and fuzzy.

Slowing down your steps to yawn, you decide to take a quick break; right over there that mossy spot looks very comfortable.

Your Master, however, seems to have different plans, swiftly taking your hand in his and pulling you along before you can sit down.

"Please, 'm so tired, Master!", you whine but are quickly soothed when he gently squeezes your hand and tugs you closer.

"Yes, my Padawan, I know. Just a few more steps, okay? See, we already made it out of the woods. And right over there", he points, "is where we want to go."

Reassured you happily follow after him, already too spaced out to worry about clearly being led towards his rooms, when you suddenly recognize your friends voice calling from afar.

"Master Skywalker!"

Sounding quite distressed, they quickly draw nearer.

"Master Skywalker, have you seen-"

Immensely relieved they are abruptly coming to a halt when they see your smaller figure close to his.

"Oh thank the Force you found them! They simply disappeared and we were so worried something had happened!"

In the distance you are able to make out your other classmates.

Are they talking about you? Why are they so worried? How could anything have happened to you while you were with your Master?

You swiftly dismiss your questions when you hear his calm voice responding, your friend evidently relaxing as well.

"Everything is alright now. I will look after them and make sure they get the rest they need. You may let the others know as well."

Absentmindedly nodding along you are simply content to hold your Master's hand.

This is wonderful. You wouldn't mind this moment lasting forever.

"Of course, Master. Is there something, anything, we can do to help?", your friend asks, eyeing you suspiciously as you cling to him, possessively hugging his arm to your chest.

You giggle.

In hindsight you'll wisely acknowledge that sleep deprivation is not a good look on you and so are eternally thankful for your Master's patience, who simply smiles and shakes his head to send your friend on their way again.

"Come on now.", he then says to you.

When you eventually arrive in his living space, he makes you sit on his comfortable cushions again.

"I will be right back, don't leave!", he tells you sternly and you hear him tinkering around in his kitchen.

That's also about the last thing you perceive, because then, quite surprising yourself, you are pulled into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

When you slowly return to the world of the living, you have no idea where you are.

Neither do you know for how long you were out, nor what day or time it is.

It´s very quiet but somewhere, in the distance, running water is audible.

Spotting a window, you climb out of the unfamiliar bed, you were resting in, to look outside.

It seems to be late in the afternoon, close to dusk and you spot a few fellow students working in a pretty little garden.

One sees you as well, waving cheerily and you relax again, returning the greeting.

Good news: you are not on a foreign planet like you momentarily feared.

That'd be rather stupid too. Force, what is wrong with you.

Surely someone has to be around, making dinner or tidying up after their training, who you can ask how late it is.

However peeking out of the bedroom and then around the orderly near rooms, you happen upon nobody. Strange.

Normally most of the Padawans spent their early evening inside their quarters and yet there is nobody to be seen, not a sound to be heard.

Even the water, you suddenly realize, has fallen silent.

You can't even tell who lives here, a very obvious lack of personal belongings, like a cloak or a light saber, confusing you.

Deciding to quickly check out the missing rooms before heading out, you make your way down a short corridor and throw open a door to the left.

Only to be faced with your very wet, very naked Master.

The shriek leaving your mouth, rivals that of a krayt dragon going in for an attack, only rising in volume when your Master steps towards you, not even remotely bothering to cover up.

Without thinking you slam the door shut in his face, continuing to screech.

The picture of his nude body burning itself in yor brain not even close to calming you down.

"OH MY GODDDD!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!"

In your shock you inadvertently fall back on your home planet's way of speaking, releasing a wild string of curses that your mother definitely would not approve of.

You can't believe that just happened.

This is horrible.

This is way worse than anything that ever happened to you in your life before.

Faintly you can hear laughter before the wooden door opens, revealing you Master. Still gloriously naked.

Screaming yet again, you quickly shield your eyes like you would to block out the sun, the sight of him too much to endure.

"Cover up. PLEASE!!! Jesus Christ."

"Oh gladly.", comes the amused voice of your Master.

"You will have to step aside though, I don't keep my clothes in a bathroom. Do you?"

You feel him placing two warm hands on your shoulders to gently steer you out of the way.

"No! Of course not!", you reply, your voice a tad too loud.

"I'm very glad to see you out and about again. And you seem to be doing much better too.", he says conversationally as you hear his footsteps proceed away from you.

How is he so calm?????

Peaking through your fingers and then fully lowering your hands when you realize he stepped out of sight, you release a breath.

"Master, I'm genuinely sorry for raising my voice at you just now. And also horribly so for catching you off guard.", you blurt out, feeling like you might burst from sheer embarassment alone.

His answer is another laugh.

"Oh really? I´d say you were the one caught off guard, not me. I was very well aware you were coming my way."

You are scandalized, your heart still racing.

"But why didn't you say anything?! You could've locked the door or told me off, Master!"

"And withhold you from learning an important lesson? I don't think I ask too much, my Padawan, by expecting you to sense other people in a building."

"B-but Master! I- That´s not fair! I was still half asleep, I-"

Entering the corridor he fixes you with a stern look you would normally quiver under but right now...

Without meaning to your eyes lower to where a pair of still open pants are hanging from his hips, revealing...quite a lot.

Horrified you immediately tear your gaze away, your cheeks heated and burning.

"M-master, please, this is hardly appropriate."

Only when you hear the rustling of fabric and then a zipper do you dare to look at him again.

To your dismay he chooses not to put on anything else, instead moving around you and leaving you standing there like rooted to the spot.

"No, I will not put on a shirt.", he says over his shoulder, answering your unspoken question.

"This is my home and I quite enjoy relaxing after a day full of work too."

Turning to to look at you, he motions you to follow.

Then

"You seem to have a different opinion after sleeping in my bed for over a day? Care to elaborate?"

That stings but you're too stupefied to answer.

You slept in HIS bed, in his actual bedroom and didn't even realize?

He laid you down IN HIS BED?

Yes exactly, you remind yourself, and as if that alone wasn't enough you thanked him by walking in on him just stepping out of the shower, disrespecting his privacy and getting an eyeful of his big-

"Shields up.", comes the stern command.

"I am far from insecure but some things I'd rather my Padawan not think about too intensively. Even though I´m quite flattered, of course."

You hear the smirk in his voice but the shame you managed to keep at bay since finally getting some rest, comes back with full force; your eyes are burning and you turn away so he does not see your face.

As always you can't hide your feelings from him though and immediately hear steps moving towards you.

But oh, you try.

Pressing the heels of your hands tightly over your eyes like a petulant child, you simply avoid to grant him a look at you, even when you feel him gathering your head between his big palms.

"I apologize, Padawan. I'm an awful tease and I took it too far this time. You have every right to be upset with me. Please don't take this to heart."

His thumbs start to caress your cheeks, wiping away stray tears that somehow made it past your hands.

"I truly am sorry. It was not my intention to make fun of your weakness or the feelings you may have regarding me."

Gently he maneuvers you to sit, and, kneeling before you, he pulls your stubborn arms aside.

At first you try to struggle but then quickly give in, his strength far exceeding yours.

"Yes that's it, good girl.", he murmurs.

"I promise that nothing I said came from malice or was meant as an accusation. In truth I did not know how to approach you about a certain topic and I misspoke. Can you forgive me?"

You nod, and the smile he gifts you for an answer makes your heart skip a beat.

He is so beautiful to look at, it hurts.

"I'm not.", you say sadly and he frowns.

"I'm not a good girl.", you explain.

"I- I try so hard, I really do, but I can't keep my thoughts and feelings separated from my training. And It's ruining everything! I simply can't concentrate anymore. I mess up every single thing I try. I'm a horrible disappointment! A hopeless case. And look what a mess I've made, I-I- how am I suppossed to ever look you in the eyes again?“

Hyperventilating , you have to break off and to your embarrassment start crying in all seriousness now.

This is not the first time that happened, of course, but it's different this time; your face is getting blotchy all over, your eyes are swelling and your body shakes with awful sobs you can't conceal.

"I don't deserve to be here.", you cry.

"Not at all. I will never become a Jedi, not when I'm blindsided by that silly, stupid, ridiculous crush. I'm even a burden to the others. I can't continue like this, I can´t! I should lea-leaveee!"

Your Master's expression, worried and compassionate before, now grows sad.

"Oh my dear Padawan, no. Don't speak ill about yourself that way. Come to me, let me hold you. Yes. Very good."

Pulling your trembling body off the seating cushions and arranging you in his lap, he gently presses you close.

"My sweet sweet girl. Hush now. Everything will be alright. It will all be okay. We will find a solution to this, yes? You are not alone and you are not a burden. To anyone. Do you understand?"

His words only make you cry more and you desperately sling your arms around his shoulders.

"Shh shh shh, I won't let go. I won't. I will hold you until you feel better, okay? You are not alone. It is important to me that you understand this. You don't have to speak, just nod."

Your face buried in the crook of his neck, you nod your head yes.

This you can do.

Anything he asks from you, you will give.

"Good. Very good.", he coos and then you are both quiet for a while; except for your occasional sniffles nothing can be heard.

You don't know for how long you two keep sitting on the floor of his living room.

It is like for one rare moment time has stopped and allowed you to simply exist in his arms.

Eventually the steady stream of your tears slows to a halt and you don't feel as miserable anymore.

Just empty and tired.

"Master?", you ask shyly, not yet daring to remove your head from his shoulder to look at him.

To your relieve, he doesn't insist on it and you can feel his chest rumbling when he hums in acknowledgement.

"You said there was a topic you wished to speak to me about?"

Apprehension sneaks up on you again as soon as you utter your question, your fatigue not hindering your mind at worrying.

After your emotional outbreak and everything said, will it even be relevant anymore? When it is unsure whether you might leave anyways?

"Yes.“, he answers

"I planned to after you found me in the woods but then you fell asleep as soon as I sat you down."

Your body grows tense and he reacts immediately.

"None of that. Don´t be afraid, I will not scold you. I'm simply worried. You have not been sleeping well for quite some time now, have you?"

He is worried? About you?

You bite your lip and shake your head no.

This seems suffice as an answer and your Master continues.

"Mmh I thought as much. As much as it hurts me to say this, I can't have you continuing your lessons like this, Padawan. You are bound to repeat accidents like the one last week and it's my responsibility to see that nothing happens to you. Especially now that you seem unable to do so on your own.“

At this you start sobbing again.

It is one thing to have thought about and suspected this yourself, but an entirely different one to hear your Master, the person you want to make proud above anyone else, coming to the same conclusion.

"I still believe that you are capable of becoming a great Jedi, make no mistake. This is not a race or a competition; you may take as much time as you need.

And that's what I believe you should do. Take time for yourself, Padawan. And, when you are ready, I will be more than happy to take you back on as my student."

You know he means well but your heart breaks all the same.

"Are...are you sending me away, Master?"

He sighs and briefly holds you closer.

"Yes...and no. In truth I am conflicted about it myself. Possibly putting a greater distance between this planet and me would be the wisest direction for you to take.“

He slightly has to speak louder then, to be heard over your helpless whimpers.

"But a very selfish part of mine does want you to leave even less than you do."

Raising your tear stained eyes to his, you look at him confusedly.

"W-what?"

Momentarily turning his head away, you see a muscle work in his jaw as he contemplates what to say next.

"I did not lie when I said I cared for you. I care for your wellbeing as much as for you as a person and I do not want harm to befall you any more than I want that to happen to the others.

However..."

He breaks off, thinks for a second before speaking again.

"In truth t has become increasingly harder to block your...thoughts."

"Oh no, Master, I'm so sorry, I'll make it stop I promise!", you cry.

"I-I didn't know this put a strain on you. I never wanted that, I never, I- I'll leave. I will! You will feel better then!"

You try to get up from his lap to do just that. Even with your mind reeling and body aching you are still set to remove his burden, even if it tears you apart.

Already you are planning what to pack and what to leave behind, your thoughts far away.

He is not letting go of you however, and you find yourself struggling against his grip more and more as sorrowful sobs spill out of you.

"Master, what- let me go. Please. Please don't make this harder than it already is. Don't hurt me so, please."

It's when he grips you around the waist and starts easily shaking your body like a doll, that you come to again, startling at his loud voice.

"LISTEN TO ME!"

Never before has he raised his voice at you or on anyone as far back as you can remember and you still, staring at him with wide eyes.

What did you do wrong? Never have you seen him this upset.

"Listen. To. Me. You misunderstand."

His laboured breath fans across your face, as he's wrangling with himself to calm down.

Then, suddenly leaning forward, he kisses you. Hard.

Caught off guard you let out an involuntary yelp but he doesn't seem to mind, instead jumping at the opportunity to enter your mouth with his tongue.

It's impulsive and heated and slightly disgusting, his lips meeting yours with such fervor, your head starts spinning.

You would have lost your balance would it not have been for how tight he is holding on to you and so you cling right back to him, holding on for dear life.

There are teeth and spit, his hands and his hot mouth all over you; it feels like you are being devoured, eaten alive, wholly and completely consumed by his burning desire, utterly hopeless at the face of it.

When he finally sets you free again, allowing you to suck in desperate gulps of air, you are a moaning, gasping mess.

Light headed and giddy you feel like you're floating.

Desperately wanting to be as close as possible to him, to feel him again, you try reaching his lips with yours but he withdraws, turning his head away abruptly.

"M-Master..."

"No. Don't say anything. Please."

When he looks at you again you notice he is out of breath as well, fixing you with a hungry gaze before reining himself back in.

"Your thoughts trouble me because I have grown fond of you myself. How can I distance myself from them, from you, when you cry out for me so sweetly? It is wrong for me, as your teacher and Master, to act on such urges and I apologize for doing so now.

Yet I do struggle. How am I supposed to look the other way when you are suffering and hurting not only physically but emotionally as well? When I know I could ease your pain with the simplest of actions? When all I would have to do is reach out and take?

Breathing in deeply he wipes his hand over his face.

"I won't let you leave. I can't. Where would you even go, all alone? You need someone to take care of you. You do. But I no longer can be your Master either."

At a loss for words you can only stare up at him, as he gently detangles your limbs from his and then quickly rises, leaving you behind.

Silence falls upon the room once again, but when before it was calm and comforting it is now pressing down on you, like it's stealing the air out of your lungs.

You want to run after him, call out for him, but, too deep in shock, your body simply won't follow your orders.

Outside the sun has long gone, darkness descending all around you.

You should go, you tell yourself, the only thought that rings out in the hollow of your heart.

But where to? Outside or away?

"I won't let you leave", you hear your Master´s words repeated in your head.

Then why did he leave you?

You don't have an answer for any of your questions, too numb and exhausted to care.

Slowly you get to your feet, carefully feeling your way through that dark.

Your hands reaching out, they make contact with what seems to be the entrance and you know you made it, are just about to turn the door knob when all of a sudden there comes a voice.

"Wait."

With a startled squeak you whirl around to be faced with a tall figure standing across from you; of course you didn't sense your Master's approach and your first instinct is to be horribly ashamed.

However that quickly fades, the least of your worries, when seemingly out of nowhere the room lightens up and you are able to see him fully, completely clad in black again, donning his robes like an armor.

Abruptly it feels like the last hours and weeks were nothing but a dream; as he stands there looking at you, he once again is the perfect picture of the strict and compassionate Master.

His suit and boots perfectly in order, his hair in place and his features calm and belying the emotions, he displayed just a few minutes ago, he looks like he did all those years ago when you saw him for the very first time.

That day, unbeknownst to you, but not to him, you fell in love.

And looking at him now you never were so sure you still are, the same feelings, that came to the surface upon your first meeting, clawing their way up with such force that it hurts.

He steps towards you then and you fight the urge to throw yourself at his feet, to apologize to beg, to cry, to worship, to do anything to convince him to let you stay with him. To make him allow you to exist in his presence.

He has too! He said so himself. He wouldn't let you go. He can´t.

"Master...", you breathe into the quiet.

"Not to you anymore.", he says with something akin to regret in his eyes.

"I have made my decision and it is final. You no longer are a student of my academy."

He might as well have punched through your ribcage, brutally ripping out your heart, tearing its strings; it would have hurt less than this.

You simply stare, too shocked to even cry. Your body reacts like under remote control, your brain shutting down.

"...I understand."

Quickly turning away you grab the door handle with desperate fingers.

You need to get out of here as fast as possible.

Not a single second longer will you be able to bear this humiliation.

The door, however, doesn't budge and it takes you a moment to realize it's because a big hand is easily holding it shut above you.

In an act of desperation, you reach for it with unknown bouts of desperation, gripping it tightly to rip it away, to let you free.

The hand surprisingly moves, but only to wrap itself around the back of your neck and turn you around, pressing you flat against the hard wood.

Your Master's stare is unwavering, sending chills down your spine, nearly scaring you in its intensity.

He lowers his head to speak into your ear, his voice husky.

"No. I don't think you do."

Stepping away and pulling you along, the grip he has around your neck leaves you no other choice but to comply as he finally opens the door, leading you outside.

As your chest quickly rises and falls with your attempts to gather enough of the cool night air, his demeanor gentles, his hand wandering up to stroke your cheek

"It has grown late. Go back to your room, lay down to rest. I expect to see you again tomorrow."

You bristle and shake off his touch.

"I- I don't understand. What- I'm not a student here anymore, I'm not your Padawan. You said you made your decision. That distance between us would be what is best."

He looks at you and at first doesn't respond, as if waiting for you to catch on.

You don't know what you are supposed to catch on to.

"I also said", he begins slowly

"that it is in no way appropriate for a Master to act on his Padawans's feelings."

You blink in disbelief, something that feels a lot like anger arising in your chest.

"Yes. Why do you have to rub that in? I understand. I UNDERSTAND you don't want me and you never will! You-"

With an exasperate sigh he tilts his head.

"Are you my Padawan?", he asks.

Too indignant to care about your manners, you wave your finger in his face.

"Well noooo, I'm not! How can you be so unbearable CRUEL, making me repeat it again and again and- oh."

Oh.

Leaning down he cradles your face in between his hands, leaving a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

"Go to bed, sweet girl. I'll be here in the morning."

[chaotic-iguana]

hello, friend <3 I’m sorry if this is weird but recently I’ve been feeling like there is not a lot of gender neutral readers out there. I was wondering if you could write something where Din is trying to see why the reader is feeling down one day and they have this little heart to heart between them. I don’t like telling people what to do but I love reading your work! Thank youuuu <3

Bodyguard

Summary: Reader hasn’t been feeling too great lately, and they’re surprised when Mando asks about it.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn! reader

Warnings: just a lot of fluff

hello! not weird at all; im non binary myself and go by she/they and i feel the same!! this is such a cute prompt i love it hehe (and don’t worry, im a sucker for requests pls keep sending). thank you anon , i hope you like it

masterlist.

Today just wasn’t going well. The baby seemed to be in a particularly devious mood, pushing things off shelves and flinging his toys all over the ship. You had scrambled to fix things; put others back in their places, but he’d just do it again. 

You loved him; he’d burrowed into your heart in the past six months you’d gained employment on the Crest with its peculiar passengers. A Mandalorian and a green ‘baby’ who was somehow thirty years older than you. You liked both of them, assuming a pseudo-maternal role with the child as its sitter, while you had a fairly amicable relationship with his dad. A little standoffish and took some getting used to, but overall he hadn’t been hostile or aggressive towards you so far, no matter how rough he was with his bounties. In fact, you had almost taken a liking to your quiet, straight-forward companion. He paid you generously, and even if he wasn’t the most friendly employer you’d had, he tried his best to go above and beyond to ensure you were comfortable on his ship. He’d seen you shivering in your cot one night on his way to the fresher, and at the next stop a pile of plush, fluffy blankets rested on your bed. When you tried to pay him back, he just feigned innocence. 

Biting back a curse and jumping back, you groaned as the bowl of broth in your hand slipped and got everywhere, from your clothes and hair to the floor all over the cockpit. Muttering, you’d taken a quick shower and changed your clothes - but when you checked the pantry it turned out that the broth was the last ration you had. 

Mando had been on his bounty hunt for over three weeks now, and while you were used to him being gone for long, you weren’t particularly inclined towards going on a supply run alone on a planet he’d warned you of saying it wasn’t known for its safety. And while you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you just couldn’t put the child in that kind of danger. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a fistful of dried berries you’d picked up at the last stop. Atleast the child was fed. 

But it seemed that he was missing his father, because midway through flipping a chair like a rag doll, he burst into blubbering, inconsolable tears. Even after cradling him for three hours, shushing and cooing to him softly, his sobs weren’t dying down; just getting worse. You had bought him a toy a while back, but it was forgotten underneath your cot, so you bought it out as a last hope to calm him - and thankfully he was so enamored by the mirrors stitched into the side that he forgot his desperation for Mando for a while - before the crying started again. 

You rocked him until he cried himself to sleep, tears of your own building in your eyes at the helplessness you felt. Just before you were about to curl up in your cot, you heard the ramp being lowered and the pleads of a bounty cut short by the hissing of the Crest’s carbonite chamber. A feeling of warmth passed through you at the fact that he was finally back before sleep took you. 

Hours later, you woke in a cold sweat, panting. Your palms were clammy, your tunic clung to your skin, and your cot felt too stuffy to lie back in. Running a hand through your hair in frustration, you stepped out and began fumbling in the dark to climb your way up to the cockpit, nearly tripping over a toy on your way to the pilot’s chair. 

“What are you doing?” A modulated voice gruffly interrupts your thoughts, making you gasp and turn in your seat. Pressing a hand to your chest and willing your heartbeat to just calm down you’re safe it’s just Mando, you squint your eyes against the shadows of the room to spot a single familiarly glinting flash of beskar. 

“Nothing, just couldn’t sleep very well. How was the hunt?” You speak softly, mindful of the baby who tended to be an extremely light sleeper. The thumping of footsteps sounded from in front of you, getting closer. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s close enough for you to be able to make out the ‘T’ of his visor now, and you look at it as you shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’ followed by an excuse that sounded hollow even to you. “Are you not happy here?” His tone seemed softer, more hesitant somehow, even despite the helmet he wore. 

You shook your head again, more vigorously this time. “I don’t actually know what’s wrong. Yesterday was…” you trailed off, sighing softly before continuing. “ I just keep thinking that the Guild is going to catch up with me - even though I know you helped clear my bounty. It feels like the weight on my chest is still there, like I’m living on borrowed time and any minute now, someone’s going to take their favor back and just end it. End me. And it keeps me awake on the worse days, even though I know how stupid it is. It’s not about being here. I love the child, and the Crest - it’s the first home I’ve had since that fucker put a bounty on my head - and I’m happy here, I am. I just-I don’t know. Sorry. This probably isn’t what you wanted to-“

“I asked. I wanted the truth. You were on the run for a very long time when I found you. Don’t be hard on yourself for struggling to settle in.” He came even closer, his right hand twitching as if he was fighting the itch to move it. After a beat of silence, he brought it up to your shoulder awkwardly with the stiffness of a man who clearly hasn’t done this before. You gaped at him, puzzled. Never before had this many words come out of his mouth in one go. A deep inhale crackles through the helmet, before he starts again, impossibly gentler this time. His words come out in a rush at first, as if he were having trouble with maintaining speech for this long. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? You pulled a blaster on a guy in the middle of a market when I couldn’t see the knife in his hand as he charged at me from behind. The protection goes both ways. We’re a crew now, we take care of each other. No one’s taking you out without having to get through me first, okay?” Your eyes widened as they searched his helmet as if one would a face, waiting for any movement at all. Did he mean it? But the helmet remained impassive, as helmets generally do, staring back at you unmovingly. 

You gulped, dipping your chin while maintaining eye contact with the visor. “Thanks, Mando.” Another beat of silence, and then a grin made its way onto your face. “So you’re saying I have a big, scary Mandalorian bodyguard now?” You want to wince, crawl away from the words that just slipped out of your mouth. You just teased a Mando- one who also doubled up as one of the best hunters in the Guild. The Guild which tried to kill you countless times in six years. He was also double your size and could likely snap you in half if he tried. And you just… made fun of him after he was nice to you. Either I’m going to die in the next few minutes or he’s gonna throw me out in space or something. He’s been nice so far, but I’ve also been super professional. Fucking bodyguard? Really? He was trying to help you, idiot. 

To your neverending surprise, neither of those scenarios played out. He just went silent for a second before a laugh choked out from the modulator, shocking you with how warm it sounded. And the butterflies that fluttered low in your stomach at the sound of his amusement. Shaking his helmet, he lifted his hand off your shoulder - making you instantly miss its warmth, even with the glove - and chuckled again. 

“A big, scary Mandalorian?” He tuts, cocking his helmet. “Didn’t seem too scared of me last month when you told me to shower before holding the kid.” Laughter echoing in his voice, he watched you scoff in mock offense. 

“You were filthy, Mando. He could have gotten sick!” Okay, even I can hear the chiding in my tone now.“Sorry. For being bossy. ‘Course I can’t be, cause technically you’re my boss but-“ 

“You were right though. It’s good that you aren’t scared of me. Makes you better company.” You raised a brow at that, smirking even as your stomach began doing somersaults. 

“Y’ think I’m good company, Mandalorian?” Your eyes started drooping as you spoke, the last word coming out slightly slurred. He heard the sheer glee dripping from your tone, tired as you sounded, making him huff and walk back towards the hatch.

“Maybe. Go to sleep. I’ll get your blankets.” 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings

[wild-lavender-rose]

Hi, I'm sorry if I misunderstood but I wanted to request something from the hurt/comfort prompts. I thought about Din x fem reader (or gn) with this prompt: 🌺Person A is exhausted and littered in bruises and painful little injuries (from a battle, fight, accident, etc. is up to you). In concern, Person B insists on taking care of and bandaging up the little wounds which Person A dismisses. Not wanting to push Person A, Person B begins placing small kisses on each wound. The tender love of this action makes Person A’s eyes start to water as they fight back tears. I just thought that it fits him. Sorry if I did something wrong. Have an awesome day. Take care <3

P.S: Your writing is SO GOOD!!!

No you don't misunderstand anything, and thank you for the compliment, it means a lot to me :)

"Hey, hey," Din's bare hand to your cheek guided your gaze to his. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." You winced and pulled away, sitting further back in your chair as you glanced over at Grogu. "Not in front of the kid."

Din grimaced but said nothing, instead turning and walking out of the room entirely. You sighed, thinking that the matter was settled, and were just beginning to assess the blood on your leg when Din returned carrying a med kit.

"Din, I'm fine,"

"No you're not." The medkit thumped on the table. "Just sit still."

"Din,"

"Sit still and let me take care of it or tell me what happened."

You set your jaw and tried to give him a look, but the pain was too much, and truly you were too weak to care. Finally, you nodded, slowly taking off your jacket as he opened the medkit and knelt down before you.

"How bad?" He asked, eyes glassy and concerned as he began to ease up the hem of your pants to assess your bloody leg.

"It's nothing, I prom-" you hissed as the ship's cool air hit the deep gash on your knee.

Din swore in a language you didn't know.

"It's not that bad."

"Be silent!" He ordered, grabbing some equipment off the table and starting to work.

For the next several minutes it was silent between you except for Grogu's worried gurgling. You slumped back in your chair and tried not to wince, hiding your face in your hands.

Din noticed, his hands pausing. "Hey,"

You didn't resist as he reached up and pulled your hands away, allowing him to cradle your face in his hands. Din looked into your eyes, searching. Then he pressed a kiss to your cheek and the bruise beginning to form there.

Your breath stuttered as Din slowly began to kiss every bruise and cut he could see. The delicate action brought tears to your eyes. When Din looked up at you again his eyes matched yours, glassy and scared. "Sorry I yelled at you." He whispered.

You shook your head hard and began to cry, sliding off of the chair and down into his arms. He held you tightly, kissing your forehead, stroking your hair, holding you together even as you fell apart.

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