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zoom-zoom-world · 6 days ago

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What Are We Doing?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Reader POV, Din POV

Summary: Moving is hard, but being in love with your roommate is even harder. Takes place after Season 3 when Din and Grogu have been living in their cabin on Nevarro. This is the seventh fic in my Sugar, Spice, and Starlight Series!

Tropes: Bakery AU, Grumpy vs. Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Fluff, SLOW BURN, Miscommunication (just gonna keep it going), Stubborn!Din, Forced Proximity, Idiots in Love.

Word Count: 7.2K

Warnings: Anxiety, Lil bit of cursing (3ish words?) Fluff, Angst, FLUFF, Miscommunication (I'm sorry?), Idiots in Love (That Are So Stubborn It's Killing Me), Grogu being a little cutie, Karga having the WORST timing in the world, The reader is really soft, likes to bake, and take care of Din and Grogu? Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Din being a little bit self-deprecating to himself? Din might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Din, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: The slow burn is burning...

Guide:

Cyare: Beloved

Cyar'ika: Sweetheart

Burc’ya: Friend

Reader POV

This is weird.

You think to yourself as you walk up the dirt path towards Din’s house with the sun on your back.

It had been a few days since he'd recovered from his cold, but you'd been back every day to make sure that he was okay. Cleaning around the house, making sure that he was eating, and taking care of Grogu while Din was asleep. Grogu had developed his own little version of Din's illness, sneezing and coughing occasionally, so you'd taken to walking around the house with him strapped in a make-shift sling on your body while you did little things in Din's home and Grogu slept soundly with his head on your chest.

But true to Din's word, he still wanted you to move in, which you still thought was a little odd.

Odder still was that it seemed like your relationship had changed.

In the week since you'd taken care of Din things had been different. On several occasions while the two of you walked through town, Din had reached for your hand, holding it in his as you wove through the crowds. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but you didn't care.

Not when Din was holding your hand like he didn't want to let go and you didn't want him to.

There was unfortunately a little part of yourself that missed the feeling of his skin against yours. His leather gloves didn't compare to the feeling of his rough, worn palm clasped against your own.

You were thoroughly confused by Din's sudden change, but you didn't ask him why he was doing it, because that might mean you would have to tell Din that you loved him and that wasn't an option.

And you were also afraid that he was only doing this because he was trying to again ward everyone off from coming near you whenever he wasn't around.

So you just let him do it.

Din is walking beside you holding an overloaded box of your books. How he was doing that by himself you didn’t know. It was heavier than you and Din acted like it weighed absolutely nothing, which was doing wonders for your imagination. It was difficult not to admire the way his muscles flexed under the Beskar as he followed you, but all it did was make you remember the glorious burnished skin of his arms that Din had shown you the other day when you'd stumbled into his home and he was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

You really were trying to forget that image.

The image of his perfect golden skin flecked with the occasional freckle, covered in the thin white crisscross of scars you wished to trace with your fingertips and know by heart. Which probably is why you were having so many sleepless nights, because each time you tried to close your eyes the memory of the strong feeling of Din's unarmored body wrapped around you and the sound of his honeyed voice slipping through the darkness of your bedroom.

It was getting even harder to pretend that you weren't attracted to him and that you weren't in love with him. Especially not when you had spent practically every waking moment this week with Din and now you were moving in with him.

Oh marvelous meatpie madness, I'm moving in with DIN!

You didn’t really know what you were to him. He’d continued to use the words Cyare and Cyar'ika more often over the past few days, and each time he did you were disappointed. He was calling you friend and yet he asked you to move in and he couldn’t seem to stop holding your hand.

Of course you were sleeping in the guest room not in his bed-

Your cheeks warm at the thought of sleeping with Din in his bed. The memory of the way his voice sounds without the helmet sending a wave of heat through your entire body.

“Are you alright? You’re unusually quiet.” Din says as you walk up the steps to the front porch.

“Yeah I was thinking.” You step into the living room and begin to maneuver down the small hallway towards the room that was now technically yours.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

You can’t help but notice that Din sounds a little disappointed when he asks that.

Why? If he cares about me living here only because he wants me to be safe, why does it feel like he's disappointed for another reason?

“No. I want to move in, but-“ You enter your new bedroom and stop so suddenly that Din bumps into you, the box of books in his arms jostling. “What is that?” You point with your free hand at a hand carved wooden bookshelf in the corner of the room. “That wasn't here the other day.”

Din had showed you where you'd be staying as soon as he felt like standing up without falling over. The room itself was quaint, but you loved it. Like the rest of Din's house it had a certain amount of charm.

The room itself was already bigger than the apartment you had been living in. Painted cream and held only a wooden chest of drawers made from a light colored wood, a mirror, a small bedside table, and a full-sized bed with a simple wooden headboard. There was a small bathroom attached which meant that you wouldn't have to use the communal one in the hall that Din used. You had tried to fight with Din about him moving into this room so he could had the attached bathroom all to himself, but he refused.

“It’s a bookshelf. I made it. You don’t like it?”

“You made me a bookshelf?” You whisper, surprised.

He didn't have to do that. He's already giving me a room in his house.

“You’ve gotta put the books somewhere. And at your apartment they were all over the place. Almost broke my neck trying to get the boxes out.” Din laughs, but you still can't look away from the wood that's been sanded down so soft it's like silk, standing proudly beside the small window that allowed the golden glow of the sun to seep through the thin curtains.

Tears prick behind your eyes the longer you stare at it, everything hitting you all over again. All your confusion and frustration over Din doing something so sweet, something that almost felt like he cared at you the same way you cared about him making the tears roll down your cheeks.

Din notices immediately and places the box of books on your bed. “Cyare? Did I do something wrong?” His tilts your head up to look him in the eye, the roughness of his glove against your chin comforting, but nothing like the feeling of his skin against yours that you longed for.

“No, you didn't.” You sniffle staring up into the opaque visor, seeing the reflection of your tear streaked face in the polished metal. “Just that no one has ever done that for me before.”

“Made you a bookshelf?”

You can only nod. “Thank you Din.” You hug him tightly around the waist, the metal of his chest plate cool against your cheek when you press your face against it.

“You’re welcome Cyare.” He breathes hugging you back.

Being in Din's arms always felt like coming home after a long day, as if he was made purely to wrap his body around yours. It only made whatever was going on between the two of you harder. You wanted so badly to tell him how you felt, but Din was Din.

He was so tightly locked away in that metal armor that you were afraid to tell him how you felt for fear that he'd push you away. And you couldn't lose Din or Grogu. You barely survived when Din didn't come in last week, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to face him if he laughed in your face after you told him you were in love with him.

How did everything get so complicated so fast?

"I-" Din clears his throat, pulling away slightly. "I also got you something."

"Huh?" You look up into his helm, confused. "You got me something? Din you didn't have to get me anything- you made me bookshelves." You say as you pull away and gesture to the shelves in question.

"I got it a few weeks ago." Din continues, but you notice his helmet tilt a little bit away from you, as if he's nervous, hands twitching slightly. "I was going to give it to you the other day, but you were talking to-" Din hesitates. "Your brother."

The mention of Ezekiel makes you pause. You remembered how Din acted when he saw you with Ez, how his shoulders tensed and the cold tone of his voice when he pulled away from you. There was still a little part of you that didn't believe Din when he'd told you that he was having "a bad day," because if that were true, then why had he continued to avoid you all week after? Wouldn't he have come in the next day?

But despite the memory of how Din acted when your brother was in town, you couldn't help but smile.

Each time Din brought you a gift from somewhere else you thought it was unbelievably cute whenever he'd get nervous about it. Mostly because you could imagine that his cheeks were heating with a blush and the thought that you made the big scary Mandalorian that other people avoided like the plague, blush filled you with an unashamed amount of joy.

He reaches into his pocket to pull out a small leather, hand-stitched pouch, and holds it out towards you.

"It's not going to bite me is it?" You joke as you take it from him, again wishing that it's his skin you feel when your fingertips brush together.

"Do you think that I would get you something dangerous?" Din sounds worried.

"No, I was kidding."

"Oh."

The tone of his voice made you imagine a bashful smile, and you wanted to see it so badly. The small taste of Din's voice that you’d heard this week only made you long for more. You wanted all of Din, not just the pieces you saw when you were together.

He doesn’t want all of you.

The little voice in your head whispers, as you remember the way Din keeps calling you his friend.

But why doesn't he treat me like one?

You shake off the unwelcome thoughts as you reach inside the small pouch and feel cool metal against the tips of your fingers.

The necklace catches in the sunlight when you pull it from the bag. It's beautiful, a long silver chain, with a circular silver pendant the size of the tip of your thumb. It’s imprinted with the symbol of a Mudhorn, exactly the same one that sits on Din’s right shoulder.

“Do you like it Cyare?” Din asks gruffly, leaning his head in your direction.

“Yes! Thank you.” You beam up at him. “It’s beautiful, it’s just like your armor!”

"Yes."

"But I-" You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to think of a way to phrase this. "I don’t think I can accept this Din."

He stiffens. “Why not?”

Din's heart stutters to a stop in his chest. For you to not accept this meant that you were not accepting his courtship of you, that you were refusing to marry him. Of course you didn't know that, but Din was determined to try his hardest to find the courage to tell you, even if it took him a few months… At least now you were going to be in his house and he wouldn't have to worry about you in the city, but Din wanted more.

He wanted all of you all the time and more than that, he wanted to give you all of him, even though the thought of confessing that to you scared him to death.

Truthfully, Din was already worried that you were having second thoughts about moving in to his home. He had noticed today that you were a little quieter, more subdued, as if you had something on your mind, but you hadn't told him. And all he worried about was that he was doing too much, and now it was scaring you away.

"It must have been expensive and-" You begin to babble. The other gifts Din had gotten you were not as fancy as this one. The small carved figurine, the shell from another planet, a rock- even the hand embroidered apron didn't seem to have been something that Din paid a lot of money for. But this?

You were almost seventy percent sure that this necklace was made of Beskar, and it wasn't a secret how rare and how expensive Beskar was. You didn't want Din to spend all of his money on you, not when he had a little one to care for.

"I mean- You could have gotten Grogu something, new clothes or shoes, or paid for something important-"

"This is important.” Din says firmly. “I want you to have it."

The sigil of the Mudhorn catches in the sunlight again, and there's something scratching at the back of your mind, some inkling, some feeling that you were missing something. All of this seemed so out of the blue.

The bookshelves, Din's reaction to seeing you with your brother at your shop, his continued emphasis on you living here with him and Grogu, Din always bringing you gifts, and now this?

A necklace made of Beskar that had his clan sigil on it?

You knew a little bit about clan sigils. That they were an extension of family- so for Din to give you this seemed a little odd.

"Din?" You whisper, looking up from the necklace.

"Hmm?"

“What are we doing?”

"What?" Din's helmet tilts to the side in confusion.

“Is this weird that I’m moving in? I mean you’re my friend but-“

“But?”

“You hold my hand and you build me bookshelves and you always bring me things back from wherever you go. You walk me home and come with me to the market. And this necklace is beautiful- I love it, but I’m kinda confused.”

“Why?” Din reaches out with his glove to gently cup your chin, thumb curving up over your cheek. You gasp softly with the contact of his hand against your face.

See even this! This isn't a friend thing, this is-

The feeling of his eyes on you makes your heart stutter an extra beat and your mouth go completely dry.

“I- I mean you keep calling me Cyare and I know you told me that it means friend, but it kind of feels like we’re more than friends and I-“ You bite your lip. “I don’t really know how I should feel. Because I kinda- I mean I-“

I love you.

Din breathes your name.

There’s a loud knock on the door and the sound of Greef Karga’s booming voice shouting something indiscernible from the outside of the house fills the air.

Din lets out an audible sigh. “I told him not to bother me today." He grumbles more to himself than to you.

You did find it a little humorous that for someone who never wanted Karga around, Din certainly didn't say no as often as you'd expect him to.

"Din please I-" The tears had begun to prick at your eyes again, a lump of frustration lodging itself in your throat. You're trying so hard not to tell him that you love him at the same time that you are, while also trying to understand what this is. But you can't finish your sentence, instead you stand there with Din's hand on your cheek waiting for him to explain.

And just when you think that Din is going to answer, he raises his other hand to clasp your cheeks between his palms and he tilts his head downward to press his forehead against yours.

You gasp in surprise. You knew what this was, what it meant to Din.

He had shown you the night he killed the Transdoshan for you, told you that this was how Mandalorians kissed while wearing a helmet, but it was so completely out of the blue, and so surprising that you forget how to breathe. The helmet fogs against the warmth of your skin, the few precious moments that Din presses his forehead against yours lasting a lifetime. You raise your free hand to lay solidly over the right indention of his helmet, where his cheek would be, wanting this to last a few more seconds, not wanting him to pull away, trying to reaffirm something, anything in his mind that you want this, that you want him. The smell of Din is all around you, something metallic mixed with the hard smell of leather, gunpowder, and spice.

Familiar and comforting.

You look up into the helm, smiling softly into the visor, feeling the warmth of Din's gaze, the eyes you wished to see with every part of your being focused on where you stand.

Something inside tells you that Din is smiling back at you.

Is this really happening?

"I promise-" His voice rumbles up through the solid chest-plate, his gaze focused on your face through the silver helm. "That when I come home we'll talk." Din whispers, still not moving his hands from your cheeks and his forehead from yours. “I promise you, Cyare.”

The use of the word "home" makes your heart jump and buckle in your chest. It's a reminder. This is your home now as much as his, had felt like home the first moment you walked through the front door a week ago and found Din sick. But with the feeling came something else, a prickling anxiety and confusion at Din's continued use of the word 'Cyare,' even after he had "kissed" you.

"Okay." You breathe softly into the space between the two of you.

Din pulls away and takes a step back, letting your hand fall from his cheek as he does, but he lingers in the doorway for a moment. "Do you like the necklace?"

"Yes."

You did. It was beautiful in every way. Delicate, dainty, but made from the same impenetrable silver as Din's armor. The same metal you were sure that Din had built a wall around his heart with years ago. You wondered how long he had pushed other people away, how long he had used his armor to keep out what you so desperately wanted to give him.

"Do you accept it?" There's a heaviness to the words, some riddle that you can't understand.

"Accept it?"

“A minute ago you said you couldn’t.” Din’s voice shifts into something that sounds like worry.

“I-I do.” You nod your head. “I’m just worried that you spent so much money on me when you could have gotten something for Grogu.”

“Grogu doesn't need a necklace."

You can hear the humor in his voice, but it does little to stop the continued confusion you still had over this whole situation. You wished that Din could just tell Karga to go away and stay with you to ease your nerves.

He turns to go.

"Din-" It slips out before you can stop it and his helmet turns back in your direction waiting for you to finish. "I-"

The three little words were on the tip of your tongue again, each one haunting you like a bad dream. You were so afraid of telling Din how you felt, so afraid to scare him away that it felt like there was a vice squeezing your chest.

You lose your nerve, face falling. "Nevermind."

"I promise that I'll be right back cyar'ika." Din says again, his shoulders tense. "And we'll talk."

"Okay."

He hesitates for another few moments as if he wishes to say more, before he turns and vanishes down the hallway, the heavy footfalls against the smooth wooden floors like distant thunder over the plains.

Please don't go.

Reader POV

Grogu coos softly, running his hand down the worn binding of one of the books you gave him moments ago to make him think that he was helping you unpack, his little nails scratching against the spine.

In another world you would smile at him and laugh, maybe ask if he wants you to read to him, but right now you weren't feeling up to it. Your frustration and inner turmoil was reaching a head, and at this point you were trying to keep yourself from storming out the door, finding Din, and demand that he tell you what this was. You knew that Karga needed him for something, but you wanted him to explain what was happening to you.

You needed Din.

I always do.

And he'd been gone for hours which did little to ease your anxiety.

“What are you doing?” The hologram of your brother projects from your holopad watching you sort through the box of books on your bed.

“Unpacking." You say.

Your brother had called maybe twenty minutes ago to ask you how to make sweet rolls, and even though talking about baking usually cheered you up, right now it didn't. All you could think about was Din and the "kiss" the two of you had shared. You could still feel the chill of his helm against your skin, feel the sharp but smooth indention beneath the palm of your hand where it rested against his cheek, and you could feel the lingering flutter of the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

The necklace was now hanging from your neck, the cool circle of metal resting against the soft skin between your collarbones as a reminder, proof that what had happened really had, and that it wasn't some fantasy you'd imagined. It really was beautiful, polished to a shine and not too heavy, perfectly balanced.

But what does it mean?

“Unpacking what? Where are you?” Ezekiel squints his eyes as if he can see more of your surroundings, but you knew that he'd only see you standing with a book in your hand.

“I moved today.” You sigh as you stack another book on the pile you were transferring to your bookshelf.

The bookshelf Din made for me. The one that he made me because he's such a good friend.

Your chest tightens again.

The memory of Din "kissing" you had been welcome, but you didn't understand why he used the word "cyare" after, as if he hadn't kissed you and that was just a friendly thing he did.

After he gave me a necklace. A NECKLACE.

A necklace seemed like something that you would give someone who was more than a friend, but again, you weren't sure if you were only mistaking Mandalorian customs with something else.

“You moved? Where? To the shop?” Ez looks confused.

You expected him to be. The last time he was here a week ago, you'd told him that you were thinking about moving into the shop instead to save some money. That was before Din had asked you to move in with him. And you hadn't exactly wanted to tell your brother you were moving in with Din, especially because Ez didn't like him.

“No. My-“ You pause trying to think of what to call Din. “Friend asked me to move in with him.”

Because that's all he is.

“What friend? Wait the Mandalorian? What’s his name again?”

“Din.”

"The jerk?" Ezekiel frowns at the memory of when he first met Din.

Honestly, you didn't blame him for not liking Din given how Din had acted when he was in the bakery and now you weren't sure it really mattered. Before you had been excited for them to meet, because Ez was the only family you had left and you thought that there was a possibility that something was going to happen to between Din and you.

Now you weren't sure at all.

“He’s not a jerk, he was just having a bad day.” You defend, using the same excuse that Din had when he apologized to you.

Even saying it out loud to your brother sounded stupid.

Ez rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “Flimsy excuse. But He asked you to move in with him? Are you guys together?”

“Nope." You say sharply, stacking another book on top of the pile with a loud 'smack'. "Friends, just friends."

"Ooookkkaayyy. What's wrong?"

“Nothing."

"Something's wrong. I can tell."

“It’s complicated.”

"Try me."

You hesitate as you pick up the stack of books and begin to place them on the bookshelf one by one. There was a part of you that couldn't believe that Din had made this, given how smooth the wood was, and how seamlessly it all fit together. It made you think of his perfect kitchen, your dream kitchen, the one that reminded you of where you grew up with your grandmother, the one you'd been lusting after since the first moment you saw it in Din's home.

Like Din's arms.

Your cheeks flush slightly with the thought, remembering again what it was like for Din to hug you when he didn't have his armor on last week and how you longed for the gentle caress of his ungloved hands against your skin.

"I'm not really sure what we are." The words come out before you can stop them. Maybe it's because you're so frustrated or maybe it's because the only person you have or want to talk to is the only person you can't talk to about this because he's so-

Din.

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then how is it complicated?” Ez asks, lounging back in his chair. His hair falls forward around his face, reaching his shoulders in unruly dark curls with the movement and Ez reaches up to push them away.

“I don’t know he’s kinda guarded. Doesn't say too much about that kind of thing. But he does things that feel like more than friends and it’s starting to confuse me.” You turn back to your bed where the holo-pad sits.

You couldn't tell if he was back at his small home or if he was in his ship. You figured that it must have been getting late where he was just as it was getting late here.

Thinking about the time only made you worry a little bit about Din coming back and think about the conversation the two of you are going to have.

“Like what?”

The last person you wanted to talk to about this was your brother. In fact, you'd never had anyone to talk to your brother about in the past, there'd only been Din. Just Din in a sea of other men who never made you feel anything at all, which basically meant that you couldn't compare him to anyone… but it really was a desperate times call for desperate measures situation.

Because who else am I gonna talk to about it? Grogu? That might be a little above his level.

Your only other friend was Din, and he wasn't back yet and you still weren't sure how you were going to start the conversation with him. You were hoping that he'd be the one to start the conversation, given the fact that he was the one who said the two of you would 'talk.' Not to mention he had 'kissed' you so maybe, just maybe he would start it.

You look down at where Grogu is playing with the book, opening and closing the front cover. He holds it up to you as if he wants you to read to him, cooing softly. His little ears perk up, dark eyes wide with curiosity.

You didn't want to say no to him, it wasn't his fault that you were so out of sorts, so you sit down on the bed making yourself comfortable. Grogu crawls across the handmade quilt that you'd put on the bed as soon as you got there and into your lap, holding the book in front of him.

“I mean- He walks me home from the bakery at night and to the bakery in the morning, he brings me back little things when he goes off planet, he holds my hand when we're at the market, and he asked me to move in because he said that it would make him feel better knowing that I was safe!" You sigh in frustration. "And today he kissed me!"

"He removed his helmet?"

"No, he just pressed his forehead to mine."

"Ew." Ez scrunches up his face. "TMI."

"You're not helping." You sigh as you gently rub Grogu's ears and open the book to the first page so he can look at the pictures.

“I don't know what to tell you little sis, it sounds like he likes you. Especially if he-" Ez shudders. "Kissed you."

“I know! But he keeps calling me friend in Mando’a and I don’t know why.”

I shouldn't have let him go. I should have made him sit down while I went out there to tell Karga to go home.

“He’s calling you Burc’ya?” When your brother says the word you shake you head.

“No.”

He purses his lips. “Then what word is he using?”

“There’s two.” Grogu makes another small noise to signal you to turn the page, so you do. One of his little hands is resting on your hand where it holds the book. His nails scratch slightly against your skin, but it's familiar and you can't help but pull him in closer to you.

“What two?” Your brother presses.

“Cyare. Sometimes he says Cyar’ika.” You shrug.

Ez snorts so loud that the hologram flickers, his face splitting into a smile.

“What?”

“Did he tell you those meant friend?” He wheezes out in between laughs, doubling over in his chair.

“Yes?”

What is so funny? Why is any of this funny?

By now your temper had begun to flare again, and given the fact that you never, ever, got angry it seemed pretty significant.

I didn't bring this up just so he could laugh at me! I wanted him to help me!

"And he’s been - HA- bringing you little gifts whenever he leaves and comes back?" Ez chokes out, his body convulsing with the force of his laughter.

"Yes. Ezekiel what is so funny?!"

Grogu reaches up for your pendant, grabbing it between his three fingered hand, toying with it while he looks at the pictures in the book, completely oblivious to what was happening.

You watch your brother's gaze lock on the necklace. “Did Din give you that too?”

“Yeah, when I moved in today. Why?”

“Is it his clan sigil?” He leans forward to examine the imprinted sigil of the Mudhorn.

“Yes? Ezekiel I have no idea why you keep asking me all these questions and why you're laughing! What does it-"

Ez interrupts you before you can finish the question. “So he’s calling you cyare and cyar'ika, has been bringing you back little gifts from wherever he goes, he asked you to move in with him, and he gave you a necklace with his Clan sigil on it?”

“I swear if you ask me one more question Ez I'm going to-"

This is it. This the last straw. I'm going to kill my brother.

First, you’d have to find someone who was willing to fly to the Outer Rim and second you'd probably need to get a step-stool so you could be tall enough to reach his throat to choke him out, but you were going to do it!

But he isn't phased by your threat. "I'll be there tomorrow."

Shock ricochets around your head like a thunderclap. "What? You were just here? Why are you-"

“I’m bringing Max with me.”

“Ez for the love of-

“I gotta go baby sis. See you in the morning.”

“Ezekiel!” You shout, but his image flickers and then disappears from the projection, leaving you in the silence of your new home.

Damn it.

Grogu gurgles in your lap, holding up the book for you to see. You glance down at the child, noting the way his big black eyes focus on you, a happy smile on his face.

It tugs at something in your heart to see him look at you that way, it always did. You loved Grogu more than you loved Din, cared for him like he was your own. You figured that somebody had to. Yes Din was a good father, but you wanted to take care of Grogu too.

Grogu didn’t understand why he could feel your emotions jumping and changing so quickly, ones that didn't feel good to him. Emotions that felt almost sad. Grogu didn't want you to be sad, because he was afraid it meant you were going to leave. And Grogu wanted his mother to live with him and his father.

He coos again softly and nestles into your chest, one of his little hands wrapping around your thumb.

"What's wrong buddy?" You ask him with a sigh.

It was fruitless to try and figure out what Ez was going to do, so it meant you were stuck waiting until tomorrow for him to show up with his friend Max in tow. You'd met Max a few times. He was like your brother, always joking around, never took anything seriously, but he was kind to you, sweet.

Grogu touches your cheek, blinking his dark eyes at you, a silent question.

"I'm okay."

You weren't.

Din was still on your mind. He was always on your mind. There didn't seem to be any escape, and truthfully you didn't want to.

"Are you hungry?" You ask Grogu, pulling him up to stand on your stomach, bracing him back against your knees. You had gotten groceries with Din earlier, so there was actually food in the house. And you couldn't remember the last time that Grogu ate. "Come on I'm starving."

Besides, maybe cooking would take your mind off of Din…

Doubtful.

Din POV

The walk home seemed longer today, perhaps it was because Din was exhausted from listening to Greef Karga or perhaps it was because he was eager to get back to you.

The wind rushed from the East, fluttering through Din's cape, and rustling through the small bouquet of flowers in his right hand. He meant to have some at the house this morning when you first moved in, but he figured now was as good a time as any to get you some.

Din hated the way you looked when he left. He could practically feel your anxiety and frustration soaking through the air of the room when he walked out. And Din knew that he probably should have told Karga to go on a long space-walk without a helmet, but… Din was nervous.

He chastised himself.

He was a Mandalorian! One of the best warriors in the galaxy. He'd faced un-winable odds without bating an eye and without feeling fear, but one look from you made Din feel like he was stripped bare. As if you could see beneath the armor that hid him from the rest of the world, as if you saw and knew the things he did and didn't care.

Din couldn't imagine anyone doing that, accepting the kind of person he used to be and…

The kind of person I am.

Din knew that you should run away. That he should have been the bigger person and ignored you that the day he met you in the bakery when Grogu wandered into your shop, that Din should have stayed away, but he couldn't.

It was an addiction, you were an addiction, and he didn't want to stop.

And now you were going to live with him.

Having you here was perfect, felt cosmically correct. This week when you'd made him soup and nursed him back to health, Din had felt things that he didn't think he could anymore. And when you lingered in his home, cleaning, cooking, and taking care of Grogu, Din felt his heart fluttering in his chest, felt the weight lift from his shoulders for the first time in his life. The weight that settled the moment he set out on his own all those years ago, when he walked the path of the Mandalore and his hands stained with the blood of those who stood in his way.

The same hands that you took so gently in yours, fingers smoothing against the rough patches, holding them between the two of you and gazing up at him with the same trusting smile that made Din feel like he'd swallowed an exploding star.

Everything about you was so different from him and yet Din couldn't stop going to you.

Each time you smiled at him, his tongue gained a hundred pounds and sat in his mouth like a dead weight. Each time he saw you in one of those soft fluttering dresses you always wore, his mind short circuited. Each time you touched him and said his name, it made Din lost all semblance of control.

The same control that he tried to hold to tight whenever he was with you, the control that seemed to waver in the night when everything was quiet and Din tried to sleep but all he saw was you behind his closed eyelids, all he felt was the soft curves of your body in his arms, and all he heard was the sound of your voice whispering in his ear.

When he arrives home there is a meal on the stove you’d made beneath a covered plate waiting for him, but Din isn't hungry. His own anxiety over what he's about to tell you is tying his stomach in knots. Din couldn't understand how around you he was reduced to a bumbling buffoon and why the hell he never seemed to be able to say what he was thinking.

Din had never been really good at talking, especially not to you. The gifts were a wonderful way of avoiding it, but today-

A flash of how you looked when Din left crosses his mind again. How anxious, how frustrated, and how upset you looked. Din hadn't wanted you to feel that way on a day like today, a day that should be happy, and yet Din saw the tears in your eyes.

So he'd kissed you. He'd done it to give you some peace of mind, to comfort you, to give you some promise of what he was going to tell you when he was coming home.

The same speech that he'd rehearsed in his head the whole time he'd been with Karga.

I was so stupid. I should have stayed here with her. I-

Din hears a soft sound coming from the living room and he turns his head. You’re laying on the couch, curled under a blanket with Grogu snoozing softly in your arms, curved protectively around him as if you wish to protect him.

Din feels a warmth flood through his body that he's never known the longer he stands there watching you. Watching the soft rise and fall of your chest, the way each breath moves a stand of your hair on the cushion beneath your head, the gentle sound of your snores filling the quiet, and how perfect it seemed that you were here in his house.

Our house.

The correction in his head makes Din's cheeks flush beneath his helmet. Because you were living with him, you had moved in, you were here to stay-. His eyes are drawn down to the necklace that hangs from your neck, the shine of the silver catching in the light.

Something stirs deep inside of Din, seeing you there with his son, wearing his clan sigil- The same primal protective instinct he felt the minute he saw you with the Transdoshan.

She accepted it. Accepted me.

Din contemplates if he should wake you, tell you the very thing that he'd been trying to say over the past week when you were taking care of him, the same thing that he wanted to tell you when you stood up for him with Ms. Cross, the same thing that he'd wanted to say the night that he sat in your bakery gently wiping blood from the scratch on your face while you cradled his hands between the two of you, and the same thing that he'd been trying to say the first moment that he walked into your bakery and saw you standing there with Grogu in your arms while his son looked up at you with a wide smile.

Din places the flowers on the table next to the couch before he carefully pries Grogu from your embrace, walking down the hall to put him to sleep. Grogu coos softly, wrapping his little finger around Din's thumb in his sleep, but doesn't wake.

When Din comes back out to get you, you're still snoring softly, the blanket pulled up to your chin while you slumber. He hates to move you, not when you look so comfortable, but Din's afraid that you're going to get a crick in your neck if he leaves you like this.

As gently as he can, Din picks you up, his arm coming down underneath your knees to pull your body up into his arms. He feels his heartbeat stutter. Din didn't think that it would feel better than whenever you hugged him, but it does.

Your body curled up in his arms, everywhere his cold hard armor clashes against every soft curve of your body. The gentle beat of your heart rattling around in his helmet, each soft sigh fogging against the metal of his chest-plate.

It does something to him. He's reminded again how much he wants all of you and how he wants you to see all of him. The cloying worm that squirms in the back of his head and tells him to forget about his creed and let you have him the way he's wanted for months. To share parts of himself he never wanted to with anyone else.

But he can't do it, not now. Not like this. He thinks it's selfish to wake you when you're sleeping so soundly.

He might also be procrastinating because even though he spent all his time with Karga trying to think of a way to tell you, he still has no idea what to say to you or how to start the conversation.

Din has no idea how to tell you that he loves you and that he wants you to be his wife.

Because there's a little voice inside that keeps asking Din:

Why would she want you?

He starts to make his way through the house, each step careful as he tries his best not to wake you.

Your bedroom is dark, but Din finds his way through the mess of boxes, pulling back your sheets and blankets.

“Din-“ You murmur and for a moment Din thinks that he’s woken you, but all you do is curl further into his chest with a sigh. One of your hands falls against his arm, squeezing his arm subconsciously.

“I’m right here my Cyare.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours. It feels like second nature. "I promise I'll always be here."

The loss he feels when he places you in the bed is familiar, it's the same one he feels whenever he has to say goodnight to you or whenever he says goodbye when he leaves to go off planet.

Din figures that he's waited this long to tell you, one more night couldn't hurt, but he still leaves the bouquet of flowers on your bedside table before he walks off to his room, all the while wishing that he could curl up beside you and allow the gentle beat of your heart lull him to sleep.

A/N: Alright... Don't hate me for another cliffhanger, but we're so close to it! And also this chapter was getting long 😅 BUT, honestly I love y'all so much. I had no idea that I was going to get as big a response on this fic series and it's been so wonderful to see 💚

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe please let me know!

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zoom-zoom-world · 11 days ago

Text

~Ice and a Frilly Pink Bra~

The boys get captured and your the only one able to help.

Warning: Blood, violence, underwater suffocation scene.

A steady breath left your lips in puffs of white smoke. Snow fell atop the white camouflage as your crouched figure trudged through the thick snow. Your eyes raked through the dense forest for any sign of movement. You recalled what had happened. Following your lead on Markov into a deep Russian winter forest, you were ambushed before you could say “vodka.” You had trailed off to do a piss with Jonny throwing a joke about frozen white butt cheeks and his hopes to see them. You remembered the snow jumping into your collar as you threw yourself to the ground when gun shoots went off. And you remembered Gaz getting jumped, and a gun pressed to his head. The lads were then hauled away. You had been following the group for half a day taking note of the language, defiantly not Russian. Hungarian perhaps. Whatever it was you couldn’t understand it, which meant you had no idea what they wanted with your boys. Seeing as they hadn’t been shot yet, you could only guess they hadn’t gotten it. You settled in between two bushes as a building came into view. You whispered curses under your breath as you raised your gun to look through the site. It was a base, no small one either. Well fortified, with many pretty little toys that could cleave right through your skull. You watched the four men trail through the large gate and then watched them disappear behind it as closed.

Breathing deeply, you tried to calm your worry as you dropped the sight. What the hell were you gonna do?

In capture situation’s John had enough belief in each of them to handle themselves. After all, your team wasn’t like others. Yet this. Your eyes trailed to the guards you could see counting almost fifty. And that was only those outside. You were going to have to save their asses.

And if you were going to do that, you were going to need some supplies. After a quick stock up at your temporary camp sight and a detailed stake out you had formed a plan. A completely deranged and idiotic plan, but one that you could see working. Running up to the edge of the frozen lake you quickly got to work chipping away at the surface with the only thing available, a little travel shovel. The base itself had an outcrop that reached over the river. Of which some of their men used to fish on their down time, drilling holes in the ice to catch the poor buggers. When you broke through the surface, you took a few deep breath’s enjoying the last moments of warmth your clothes provided before shrugging your jacket off. Placing the small mouthpiece attached to the little oxygen tank in your mouth, you took a few more deep breaths. You ha been focused on forming the plan to realize how nervous you were. There was no backup now. It was just you. You were the boy’s only chance at survival. Gathering your little bag of goodies, you looked to the left peeking over the gather of rocks that kept you from view. Fear clutched at your heart, warning you of the dangers you were to face. Yet your worry for the boys trumped that. Your eyes narrowed as you stepped froward plunging your body into the icy cold waters. Your eyes adjusted to the dark depths, the moon light refracting of the surrounding ice. For a moment the immense cold locked your body in place. The surrounding pressure threatened to suffocate you. That was until the boys smiling faces ripped through your mind, forcing your lungs to take a deep breath. The cold was excruciating as you swam your way practically blind to your destination. Your face found the underwater chains before your arms did, and with the hit it knocked your oxygen mask from your face. In an panic you blindly searched for it, only for it to bounce between your arms before sinking to the depths. Cursing our clumsiness, you took a firm hold of the chains. Smart of them, not so much for you, though. Yet you had prepared for it. You tried to squeeze through one on the chain’s mesh pattern, only to pull back. You riffled through the bag looking for the familiar feeling of a little square lump of what Jonny called water proof C4. You tried to calm yourself as your lungs began to burn for air. You lumped the C4 to the chain the wires already attached to a little detonator you had prepared before. Getting as much distance, you turned away and pressed the button. A small pop sounded and you turned back to feel the chain link hanging loose. Quickly squeezing yourself though, you looked up, searching to see the small hole. Big enough that four men could all share.

Your limbs protested as you kicked your way upward.

Inside the small little tent, a man sat fishing pole in hand, hunched over the hole in boredom. The line tugged against his grip, sending him snapping up and quickly reeling it in. Only he frowned as it suddenly stopped, seeming to get caught on something. He frowned as he saw the little yellow lure he used glistening just below the surface. He swore, giving it one more tug before kneeling down and hovering his head above the hole to see what it was snagged on. Not a sound was made, for it all happened to quickly for him to realize. One hand struck out the lantern light flickering across the edge of the blade that cleaved through his throat. His bloodied gasps were silence as he was pulled down into the hole. The red blood plumed around you as you heaved yourself out of the water, gasping as quietly as you could. You took a moment to catch your breath before pulling your body the rest of the way out. “So fucking cold, why do we have to come to these fucken cold places, why not a sunny beach, i’m not fucking built for this god damn fucking weather,” you grumbled to yourself setting the bag down. You pulled out your gun, pulling away the shoddy plastic covering you had improvised with tape wrap and a lighter to keep it waterproof. Then you steeled your nerves, rising to your feet, gun in one hand, knife in the other. Then you set out.

It had been two days since their capture. That was how long you needed to insure you had the guard routes memorised. And during those two days, the boys had had a number done unto them. Bruised and battered to kingdom come, the four of them stood hanging by chained hands from the ceiling just enough so they could stand on their tippy toes but nothing else. There captors wanted information. No surprised there. Yet the boys hadn’t broken, hadn’t uttered a single word in the face of their torture. “I didn’t know you were a ballerina ghost,” Jonny’s quip brought smiles to most of their tired faces. “Didn’t know you had such hairy underarms. Honestly could house a fucken chimp in those things,” Ghost gruff voice sounded as he momentarily let his weight go before picking it back up. Their shirts had been taken from them in efforts to make them more cold, but with their muscle and size it did little. “He grows them out for you to snuggle up to,” Gaz commented. He was the worst of the bunch, with a gash across his left side. “How you holding up, soldier?” John asked. “Just peachy, chief,” Gaz whispered, struggling to keep his eyes open. Three soldiers sat at a makeshift table, playing cards yelled at them. Probably orders to keep quiet. “Why dn’t you come over her and say that to my face, pretty boy,” Ghost taunted. Yet their captors were smart. While their arms were chained, that wouldn’t take their chances with their legs. They were running out of strength, which meant they were running out of time. And John hated to admit it, but he was stumped. ”So when Y/N saves our asses do with grovel or play it cool?” Jonny asked. “She’s smart. It wouldn’t have taken her long to get in touch with Laswell for reinforcement,” John stated. ”So groveling?” Jonny proposed. ”Don’t do that. You’ll just inflate her ego,” Gaz said. ”You don’t think shell get us out on her own?” Ghost questioned John with a rise of his eyebrow. ”You do?” John wasn’t undermining you. He knew what you were capable of and would trust you with his life. But to take on this base single handedly was suicide. Ghost shrugged with a small nod. ”You know what they say, boss. Love makes you blind,” Jonny grinned smugly. ”Yeah so does a knife,” Ghost threated gently. ”Ghost and Y/N sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-OW!” Jonny cried out as Ghost threw a sharp kick to his thigh.

A knock sounded at the door, readying the men for what they were sure was another torture session. Two soldiers got up, one opening the door and one standing by the side. Just as the door peeked open the barrel of a gun silence slipped through, pressing itself against the man’s forehead. The soft thrum sounded as the guy crumpled to the ground. The other soldier reacted kicking his foot out sending the gun scattering across the room. He then readied his gun training it on the body only for it to slip up the side of the gun and shoulder barge the man. You tumbled to the ground, plating your knife deep into the side of the man’s throat. You squinted through blood shot red eyes, through the haze of your affected gaze to an origin of the frantic yells. You could make out a figure of a man, and a gun. Rolling over, you heaved the man atop you, using his body as a shield for the whole magazine the frighten soldier let out. When you heard the magazine drop to the floor, you lept over the body sprinting towards the blurred figure. Unable to load the gun in time threw out a wild swing. You dropped to the floor, using the momentum to skid across the ground right between his legs. You popped up onto one knee, cutting clean through the back of the man’s knee, bringing him to a screaming kneel. Your hand slapped over his mouth as you dragged the knife firmly across his neck. When he stopped struggling, you pushed the body away, standing there in a panting, shivering mess, your white camo pants and body stained with blood. And a astonishing sight for the lads to see. “Guys?” you questioned hopefully. “What the fuck happened to ye eyes?” Jonny asked at the puffy mess you used to be able to see out of. “There was this little punk that fucking pepper sprayed me. Like the fucken audacity,” you ranted blindly stumbling over to the closest figure. Your hands firmly patted against a few fleshy lumps. “Really in front of others?” Ghost voice reached your ears, bring a warm relived smile across your face. “You ok?” you whispered, blinking up at him hoping to see something of his condition. He relished in the softness of your voice and touch. He reviled in the relief that you were alright. “M’fine. Theres a pulley system to your left, three paces,” he said. You nodded, letting your fingers sweep across his six pack, bringing a pleasant shiver down his back with your cold finger tips. You were quick to release the boys, handing them each a gun you had picked up along the way. “Can ye see,” Jonny asked with what you were sure was a grin. “I can still see that dumb ass grin,” you muttered, giving his chest a slap. At the fleshy contact, you frowned. “Are you all shirtless?” you asked turning to them. To a scene you were sure would have tested all your morals. Four shirtless beasts of men with busted up lips and looking ruff.

“Yep,” Gaz grunted as they helped him down. “This is fucken bull shit. I swear to fucking god this is utter bullshit. Unfair fucken making me haul my ass though snow and a snowmans fucking ball sack to save your sorry kidnapped asses,” you grumbled to yourself as you tried to open a pocket on your pants. The boys all shared small grins. “Bullshit,” you grunted, finally freeing the watch from your pants. “We need to move, the gun shoots gathered attention,” Ghost said, glancing down the hall. “Doc, you got an escape plan?” John asked. “Yeah, um what does that say,” you asked holding the watch up to his face after you failed to read it yourself. “O eight hundred and nineteen,” he said. You frowned, thinking hard for a second. “That can’t be right,” you muttered, doing the calculation in your head. “Wh-” suddenly explosions sounded all around them, shaking the very room so viciously that it sent the group stumbling about. Ghost hand found your waist as he held you steady. The lights flicked before going comply dark, then suddenly an alarm sound and red lights started to flash. “My timing might have been a bit off,” you whispered. The lads all looked wide eyed at you but you couldn’t see their shocked expression as the aftershock of the explosions slowly settled. ”You used my explosives?” Jonny asked seriously. ”Yeah, I didn’t know how much to use so I kinda just guesstimated,” you nodded. A tear fell from Jonny eye as he bear hugged you. ”I’m so proud,” he sniffled like a parent seeing their kid graduate.

“Jonny your lead, Doc how do we get out,” John asked as they all took their positions at the door. “Won’t be easy with a half blind half limp,” Jonny commented to you and Gaz. “Hook a left, two rights and if I placed the explosive correctly, there will be this big old hole in the wall,” you said walking over to the back of the line. You felt your hand get grasped and tucked into the back of someome’s pants. “Hold tight,” Ghost murmured, wrapping your hand around his belt. “If you want my hands down your pants just say,” you whispered back, gripping the back of his pants tightly. ”Easy,” he grumbled at you light-hearted but dangerous tease. “Alright, stick close. Got the directions, Jonny?” John asked. “Like a fucken GPS boss,” Jonny said as John moved to stand behind you. “Right. On my mark,” he said, allowing the group to settle into the mindset of the drills. “Go,” he said.

Thanks to the explosions that decimated a good half of the base, the group mowed their way through the chaos driven enemies with you handing onto Ghost belt for dear life. You all escaped.

Making it back to the make shift base of your own, the boys quickly dressed themselves. Not caring for if the boys could see you, you reefed the practically frozen cloths off you. Your teeth were catering and you were shivering something fierce. Ghost moved his body to block your naked figure as he wrapped a blanket around you, worry quickly gripping him. “What were you thinking getting in water in this cold?” he murmured, picking up your hand’s to see them red and swelling. Second degree frostbite. “Sorry, was to buddy thinking about the dumbass who got themselves kidnapped,” you grinned now able to see enough to see the pinch of his eyebrows under the mask he had quickly donned. “The only reason you did ne get kidnapped is cause ye got the bladder the size of a squirrel,” Jonny commented. Ghost gathered your hands clasping his own around it, bringing it up to tuck under his mask. He let out a deep, warm exhale of air. ”Why didn’t you wait for reinforcements?” John asked in a slightly scolding tone. ”Those fuckers were turned into every signal for miles. They would have known I was coming,” you stated. “Hey Simon,” you smiled at his soft gesture. He hummed to focus on his task. “I have hypothermia,” you stated simply. Such a thing was no joke, the human body wasn’t meant to be at such a low temperature and it could be fatal. “Yeah,” Ghost whispered as the boys tuned in on your words. They took a moment to look at you. You looked like a dead man walking, lips blue with all the colour drained from your face. “You sure?” John asked as they quickly started to gather items for a fire. “Well i’m pretty sure Jonny didn’t magically grow a pair of double d’s in a frilly pink bra so yeah,” hypothermia brought on hallucinations. And why the sight was interesting to see you knew it wasn’t a good sign. In your delirium, you hardly noticed you were shuffled around until you suddenly became still. Warmth enveloped your naked body that was held firmly against something. As the something moved, you noticed it was someone. “Wow, now i’m disappointed,” you whispered. “Why’s that?” Simon asked. He had stripped down to his undies to provide more body warmth for you. The two of you were then wrapped up in emergency blankets as set before a fire. Gaz gash was easily tended to by John with a little bit of gauze. “This is the first time you’ve seen me naked. I wanted to do myself up you know. Mabey shave, wear some frilly lingerie,” humour was a good sign. “You don’t put a bumper sticker on a Bently love,” he murmured. “I’m already naked, you don’t need to try so hard,” you whispered sleep tugging at your consciousness. “Hey stay awake love,” he hosted you slightly. You hummed enjoying the pleasant feeling of his big hand stretched across the fat of your thigh holding it in place. You moved to snuggle into his chest resting your head on his clavicle. His thumb gently rubbed against your skin. “I’m just gonna nap, just a bit,” when you finished your sentence you would no be roused from your sleep again.

Ghost would hold you close, worry eating away at him for every passing moment. Luckily they were able to bring your body heat back up. You were rested snugly in his lap for a whole day before you woke up. With no time to waste you were jostled into some dry gear. “Can you walk?” John asked as you huddled around the tin door. You nodded, taking a step forward only to falter. With not a miss in beat Ghost reached down scoping you up into a bridal carry and marching out with the rest of the lads. “Simon, I can walk,” you knew you couldn’t. “You saved our asses, again. Let the man carry you,” Gaz quickly shut down any further protests. “Sure again,” you chuckled. “You did well, soldier,” John spoke up from the front of the group voicing the thanks you knew all the men shared. “If I did so well, you could have at least kept your shirts off until I could see,” you said, making Jonny chuckle. “Careful now. I could be the jealous type,” Ghost whispered loud enough for only you to hear. You looked up to see his gaze set forward. “Oh really,” you smirked slightly. “That right, I don’t like to share wat’s mine,” his voice dropped dangerously low as he looked down holding your eye contact. Mine, well, you didn’t dislike the way he said that. Your cheeks flushed as you narrowed your eyes challengingly. “I’m not an object to own,” you said. “Of course not. You're a strong woman with your own wants and wills. You could never be an object to me,” Your gaze softened at the sincerity at his words. “But you're still my woman,” he stated intently. My woman! You could have melted in his arms right there. “Fucken hell,” you grumbled in defeat.

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