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netherfeildren · 4 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XI : Lethe

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Brief reference to sexual assault (none has or will occur); Hurt/Comfort; Extremely soft Din Djarin

A/N: I kinda just winged all of this, if there are any inaccuracies or any canon divergence, a great and many apologies!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER XI : LETHE

At what point does one say of a man that he has become unreal?

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

Between bouts of wakefulness, you tell him of the things they did to you in the dark. A blooming flower in the dead of winter, stunted and slow, and as if you’re pulling your own teeth in some moments, when other words come like vomit, rushed and hot and putrid but necessary, something not to be held back. And you don’t tell him the whole of it, he knows this, he can see, but you tell him the parts you can bear, and for now, it’s enough.

You sit in that bed of comfort he’s so meticulously arranged for you in the dim light of the Razor Crest, overheads shut off, only a single warm snake of glowing light falling over you from the cracked open fresher door, navcom set for the desert planet of Tatooine and the spaceport of Mos Eisley, and the thrum of hyperspace buzzes around the two of you. He sits on the opposite side of the hull, wrapped in his armor and his silence and his wanting, and he watches you ebb and flow out of sleep; soft, slow drooping of your eyes into wakefulness and then back into the depths of rest. You need so much of it, he can tell.

At first, you don’t let him near. No touching, please, you beg in whispers, and although it feels as though his bones are thrashing within the confines of his skin or like his teeth will fall out of his skull from the saccharine sweet flavor of want for you that sits sticky on his tongue, he obeys. So at a distance, with certainly no touching at all, the two of you talk. For hours, and then for days, and although his bones continue to shake, and his teeth continue to ache, he holds himself in temperance and restraint because he knows that to just look upon you is enough, he knows it’s everything.

The trip to Tatooine takes days, the Crest a little worse for wear than what she’d been when you’d previously been aboard. The hits she’d taken over the years, over his and Grogu’s journey had taken their toll, and her hyperdrive was no longer what it had once been. But she ramained faithful and sturdy, like any good mistress, and she’d get the two of you where you needed to be, to Tatooine and to Peli for some much needed maintenance after the long trip to the Core. And Din knew it wouldn’t only be the ship’s routine upkeep the two of you would find there, but some much needed rest in the sand port, as well, and most importantly, time. Buying himself time during the slow going trip, and then there, to figure out how it was he was going to get you to stay with him, force you if necessary.

He’d been telling the truth when he’d said you weren’t going anywhere. He would not be left again.

Din had been a stupid man before. He would not be making the same sorts of mistakes again.

Two days since he’d brought you aboard now, and you’re still not entirely well. Tired and sluggish, but he tells himself you just need rest and the closely monitored interval feedings he’s been coaxing on you. You’re sleeping again now after he’d gently cooed and shushed you into accepting some broth, and he watches the methodical up and down sway of the wing of your shoulder, hypnotizing, listening to the whistle of your open mouthed breathing that sings a song assuring him you’re alive and well. He’s been sitting at the opposite end of the hull from you, as far as he can get while still remaining in your direct vicinity, attempting to give you whatever measure of peace he can bear, silent and still, enshrouded in the dark for hours now. Counting the minutes between the sporadic opening of your eyes, the brief moments when you come to and grant him access to your gaze.

Those eyes of yours, they’d haunted him for two years. When he was trying to forget you, when he was trying to move on, stupid and horrible, insisting he could only take Omera from behind because he couldn’t bear the sight of a face that wasn’t yours. He had been wrong. He had done wrong. He had been bad. And he didn’t want to admit it, or acknowledge it, or look it directly in the face, but it was regret which lived in him. He couldn’t deny it.

He’s been scanning your heat signatures every thirty minutes, your core temperature holding normal, your vitals stable, and he’s full of sick paranoia, ravenous want, singing joy. Too many things churning within him to properly digest, and in a way, he’s grateful for this time you’re affording him to gather himself while you sleep and recover. He needs to be well collected, ready and strong and level headed to give you whatever it is you might need when you’re finally ready to leave your restful unconsciousness and come back to him.

You start to shift as he’s scanning your temperature once again. First the hitching of a knee and the nudge of your hips, and then your leg stretching long and lithe, and he watches the arch of your small foot peek out from beneath your blanket, tiny toes splaying wide, spasming and shivering with the stretch of your muscles. He swallows hard, forces the heat in his body that would like to swell to an inferno to remain cool and serene. All this, just from the sight of one small foot. He’s pathetic and ridiculous, and he doesn’t care because he loves you, and you finally know and really, what could matter after that? Nothing.

His eyes swing back up to your face, and he watches the scrunch of your spikey, dark lashes before you nuzzle your face into the cove of your shoulder, coming awake slowly, slowly, as if you’d not had any real, true and peaceful rest since the last time you’d been on his ship. He watches you with bated breath, the subtle inclination of his body towards you as if he were trying to absorb your presence, and when you finally turn back, eyes blinking open he feels his heart lurch in his chest at the first sight of them. Nothing in the galaxy compares, and he must surely know, he’s seen so much of it.

He says your name, voice low and graveled with disuse. “How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms out in front of you, wriggling beneath the covers and making the most delicious of little noises he forces himself not to fixate on. Oh, you sigh, eyes opening wide, long lashes fanning across high cheekbones, before you finally find him in the shadows he’s sitting in. Nothing but the still gleam of beskar in the dim light to give him away.

“You’re so extra shiny now,” little voice and even tinier nose scrunch, so adorable that something soft inside of him aches and snaps its teeth.

“Yes, well…” he sighs, “new armor.”

You sit up slowly, jaw shifting from side to side as you move with what looks like frightened care, like you’re expecting something to hurt, and then, yes, there it is, tiny and subtle, but a flinch. Infinitesimal scrunch of your brows, your left eye winking shut, the droop of your mouth, all of it happening so fast, but he’s watching so intently, learning forward as if he’d shoot across the space that separates the two of you to take you in hand, fix whatever it is that’s aching, that he catches it all before you can school your features into blankness.

“Your hair’s longer,” he whispers, and you freeze, arms bracing yourself up on locked elbows, they don’t tremble anymore like before, and he takes this as a good sign. You let your head fall forward to hang between your shoulders, long hair, a curtain concealing your face from him, and he wants to snap at you, for one unhinged moment, that you’re not allowed to keep your eyes from him anymore. He’s already gone too long without them, he can’t bear anymore of it. But he swallows his insanity, keeps his mouth shut.

You shake your head down at the blankets, before finally looking back up, sitting up all the way and turning to face him. Silent while you settle with your back against the wall so that now the two of you are face to face, separated by dust motes and memories and desire that snaps like lightning between the two of you. There is frision here, pressurized and boiling, and he has to behave. He won’t push you or ask anything of you you’re not ready to give or tell. You’d already shared bits and pieces with him, over your stunted bouts of consciousness over the past two days. A dark hole in the ground, a thieving Twi’lek, breaking of a kind he can’t bear to think of directly, and I hurt like I’m newly made, Din. And now, the first time you’ve been fully awake and lucid, he isn’t going to ruin this with his desperation.

“Fancy. Looks expensive,” you press about the armor.

“I did a big job.”

He doesn’t know how to handle the subject of him. He’d told you the most important fact you needed to know, that he isn’t his biological son, that he hadn’t betrayed you in that way. But the rest? The whole of it? There was so much to say, so many things, great and small to tell. Din couldn’t fathom where to start.

“Oh? What was it?” You’ve wrapped the blanket up high beneath your chin, hiding yourself away from him swathed as you are. Everything and anything you can do to keep yourself apart and protected.

“Are you hungry? You should eat,” he says instead.

You shake your head no. “What was it? Tell me.”

A sigh, and, “Stole the kid for some Imperial remnants.”

“You did what? Your kid?” You screech, surging forward all tangled up in the blankets as you are.

“Yes. Unknowingly,” he huffs. “I collected payment, and then I– I… I don’t know, changed my mind. I went back for him.” His words come to a stuttered halt, unsure and suddenly, unbearably shy, fucking with a small loose seam coming apart at the knee of his pants he’d been meaning to mend for days. There’s a part of him, irrational or untried or overprotective that doesn’t want to tell you about him, his ad’ika, and he can’t understand why when it’s you. The girl he loves, the girl he’s waited for. But it had been so difficult, so precarious, his journey with Grogu, always on the defensive, always looking over his shoulder, waitting for the worst. He’s unused to sharing him without fear or trepidation. And then his loss… for that’s what it feels like, and he’d never admit it aloud, knows he’s where he’s supposed to be, needs to be, now, but there still lives a small, sour seed within Din that whispers that that it’s wrong, that Grogu’s place had always been, and always will be, with him. And when he looks back up at your face, open and patient and lovely, it all spills out anyways. “He was a foundling, as I was. And he’s– he’s special. And after I went back for him, he was… put in my charge of sorts. We struggled so much, trying to evade the Empire, seeking out his people–”

“You found the Jedi?” You gasp.

Murky waters. “We did. He’s with them now. We traveled to Calodan on the forest planet of Corvus, we met a Jedi there by the name of Ahsoka Tano. I thought she’d take him then, help him. He needed to be with his people, and I knew that, I was prepared for that, but along the way… along the way he became– he became–” he clears his throat, for his voice has gone rough, almost choked. He shakes his head, unable to continue but you nod encouragingly, understanding without words all Grogu means to him. You’re sitting at the edge of the nest of blankets now, as if gravitating towards him, holding yourself back, marooned on an island of your own making.

“I’ve heard of her. A great legend, tragedy…”

“Yes, well… She sensed it in us, in Grogu.”

“That’s his name?” You ask softly. “Grogu?” And Din’s heart, it aches, at the sound of it coming from your mouth, all the gentleness and tenderness his ad’ika needs to be afforded. And unbidden, like flash fire, something he has to look away from immediately for his own self preservation, yours too probably, he thinks: oh, but you’d make the most wonderful mother, cyare.

“Yes,” he breathes, “Grogu.”

“And he– he’s a boy? Where does he come from? How old is he?”

“Not human. No one knows what species he is, but he was born on Coruscant, raised at the Jedi temple before the Great Purge, and then smuggled to safety and hidden away for years before I came to find him. He’s supposed to be about fifty years old.”

“But he’s–” your brow folds in confusion, “He’s a child? You called him–”

“Yes. He’s still young, still a baby. I don’t– I don’t know. He’s special. Green and– and wrinkled, with big eyes and even bigger ears.”

“He sounds… he sounds like someone my– my master spoke to me of, once. Of an unknown species, a great Jedi master. Perhaps the strongest in the galaxy, the strongest that's ever lived. Luke Skywalker was his apprentice.”

“That’s where the kid is now– with Skywalker.”

“You gave him to Luke Skywalker?” And your eyes shutter, your mask slipping briefly, showing your frayed edges.

“Yes.” He says carefully. “Ahsoka, she said she couldn’t take him, that we were too– too connected, that he needed someone more.”

“You seem to have a way with Force users,” you say suddenly, a little bashfully, a small smile spreading across your face in a half moon of laughter. “But it makes sense,” you continue, “That his connection, whatever loyalty to you he may have had,” and the use of the past tense feels like a gut punch, “would be difficult to work around when training someone so young and untried. But if he’s anything like his predecessor, then he has great potential in the Force. He’ll probably grow to unprecedented strength eventually. And from what I’ve heard, the species is very long lived, hundreds and hundreds of years.” Another sucker punch, this one even worse. Grogu would live to be old beyond Din’s years.

He clears his throat, yanks harder on the loose seam so that it splits at the side, revealing a patch of hairy knee. “We found those he belongs to, he’s with his people now. I lost him– or I– I returned him to where he should’ve always been. It’s better like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper from your perch at the edge of your self imposed island. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all the way it’s supposed to be.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Only a few weeks. Like I said, he was taken by Imperial remnants led by a Moff Gideon. Skywalker saved us and took him. He has a temple where he plans to train young Jedi. He’ll be with other children like him now. It’s good for him. I know it is.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it, he promises he’s not, or doesn’t mean for it to come out like that.

“I’ve heard of Gideon,” you muse, shifting to lean back, movements still slow, not as smooth as they usually are. The thick mantle of your hair shifts over your shoulder, and Din’s mouth goes dry, desperate to bury his face in all that lush splendor and take in the scent of it, feel the drag of it across his naked chest, over his cock and thighs.

“What do you know of him?”

“Only his name, and the great ambition tied to it. He took part in the siege on Mandalore… didn’t he?”

“He did. He’s in the custody of the New Republic now. Awaiting trial and judgment.”

“Tell me about the saber,” you say then.

“I won it from Gideon in battle.”

“It’s the Darksaber, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“It’s legend.” And you look at him strangely at that, mercurial look passing through your eyes, memories or something worse. “Many great and terrible hands have wielded that blade. Clan Vizsla, who forged it, the Sith lord Darth Maul, Sabine Wren.”

He’s shocked by the seemingly great well of knowledge you possess on the figures he’s spent the last two years dealing with. “I’m familiar with the Clan. Paz Vizsla. How do you know all this?” He asks.

“He–” You turn away, brows hitching high, and he watches a swallow pass through the delicate column of your throat. “My master, he was a lover of knowledge, information gathered everywhere, always. He made it his business to know things, and my purpose to collect it for him.”

He wishes you’d let him go to you at the mention of that scum. He wishes he could resurrect him from the dead just to send him back to the deepest pit existing, at the look on your face, small and frightened and childlike. Din’s stomach turns, and he changes the subject. “Wren– she… I think I’ve heard of her from my friend Bo, as well.

“Who?” That brings you back to attention, and he’s grateful for the concealment of the helmet for the small smile he can’t help at the look that comes across your face.

“She’s a Mandalorian. Bo-Katan Kryze.”

“Your friend…?”

“She helped me with the kid. When Moff Gideon captured him, her and her followers aided me in his rescue. It got complicated–”

“Between the two of you?” You cut him off with a little huffing scowl.

“Before Skywalker showed up to help us, little one.”

“Oh,” you huff again, turning your nose up at him haughtily. He can’t help the breath of air he lets out at that. Silly, gorgeous thing. He wants to kiss you so badly.

“The saber’s rightfully hers.”

“Oh,” again, and he laughs, again. “Oh, yes. Yes. The–” you frown, “The legend is that whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore. I’ve heard that.”

“And that sure as fuck isn’t me. Her family ruled before the siege, it’s hers.” The entire business of it still scathes and prickles at him.

And you laugh at that, “No?” Head tipping back, that mantle of hair sliding again, provoking him again. “Why not? It could be–”

“No. Definitely not. Never. That isn’t something I’d ever be interested in. I would never suit such a role. And this– this thing…” he motions to the crate where the Darksaber sits discarded. He’d found he hated wearing it on himself for too long. “It doesn't suit me well. It’s difficult to wield, something– something leaden and sucking about it.”

“You wielded it just fine from what I saw.”

“You were doing something.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I could feel you, when you attacked me–”

“I didn’t attack you,” you scoff, affronted. Haughty nose back up in the air, and the soft thing inside Din snaps its teeth together once more.

“Don’t start,” he admonishes, voice deep and rumbling and speaking of all the things he’d like to do to you that he cannot even give thought to right now. You roll your eyes, and he can’t help but smile. Sass is good, sass means you’re feeling better, more yourself.

“I could feel you, almost as if you were feeding your energy into me.”

You turn to look at him sharply at that. Tiny frown marring the space between your fine brows he’d like to smooth away with a kiss. “What? I– I didn’t mean to, or– or I didn’t know I was doing that…” You look away again, pressing fingertips to your mouth in concentration. Everything about you, every movement, gesture, frown and sigh and inflection, mesmerizes him. Din didn’t think it possible he could have been worse off than he was before, but he comes to the sudden, startling realization, that he’d had absolutely no idea how much deeper he could fall. The admission that you love him in return, the sound of it, had done something to him, set something off or opened something within him. Some sort of yawning, hungry maw that would only be satisfied once it’d swallowed you whole.

He needs to bide his time and temper his actions. He won’t scare you off.

“I was out of control…” you continue in a small whisper. “I didn’t know. I didn’t–” And you look nervous, frightened suddenly. Din leans forward, immediately on alert, ready to rush over to you if you need him, just from the look on your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You’re all wide eyed fright and concern and an innocence about you, about the question, your worry that you’d hurt him. His heart thumps and thumps and thumps, the rush of blood through the mass of organ so hot it burns.

“Never, cyar’ika. You could never hurt me. I just feel you.” And it’s the truth, it had merely been an extension of yourself feeding him, strengthening him, emboldening him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Something euphoric about the feeling he was not keen to experience again for the mere fact of how it’d left you, weak and fragile and exhausted, almost at a breaking point.

The two of you need to be careful, he realizes. There was a connection between the two of you, stronger and more easily traversed than either of you had previously realized, be it fate or love or the Force, but there was something that lived between the two of you and connected you and Din needs to be absolutely sure that whatever it is never becomes a detriment to you in any way.

You tilt your head sideways, some truth he knows he should fear churning behind your eyes. You bring your knees up to fold tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around your shins, and lay your cheek against the small cap, hiding away from him again. “I want–” you say in a very small voice, “I want to tell you things, but I’m afraid of–” a swallow of breath.

“Afraid of what, cyare?”

At the tremble of your spine as you hitch with nerves, Din wants to go to you so badly. This is the most difficult thing he’s ever endured in his life. “Afraid you won’t see me the same again after I tell them.”

“Didn’t I already tell you there isn’t anything you could ever do that I wouldn’t forgive you for?” He presses forward just a millimeter.

You peer up at him at that, and there are no tears in your eyes which soothes him, in part, but worse, still splintered with so much sadness or hurt or the terror of time, and it’s like he’s bellyful of grief. There is something acutely unfair about the distance sitting between the two of you right now when you’re holding that look in your eyes.

“But what about respect?”

“You could never lose that from me either.” You shake your head, propping your chin on your bent knees and wrapping your hands around your feet to pull them up and rock back and then forward, thinking of what it is you're trying to say.

“Don’t you think there are certain things that a person shouldn’t be forgiven for?”

“Perhaps. But there are certain people the rules don’t apply to. That’s you for me.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“To who?”

“To you!” You say incredulously.

“Why not?”

“You–” And there are tears now, swimming in your eyes, his heart thump, thumping in agitation at the sight of them. He gives a growl of frustration that ends on a choke as you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear sliding over the slope of your cheekbone. “Maker, Din. This is all wrong.” You sound as full of frustration as he feels, and he wants to say that he’s sure if you’d just let him come to you, you’d find the right way forward within each other. “You want to touch me.” He bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

“Are you looking in my head?”

You give a soft laugh. “Don’t need to.” He huffs, well, he isn’t going to deny it.

You turn away again, laying your cheek back atop your knee, and he can see the tension in your arms as you squeeze yourself tight, tighter. “I– I can’t– I can’t have sex with you,” you say in a smaller voice than he could’ve imagined possible.

He’s silent for a moment, trying to measure his breathing, and there’s violence thrumming within him at what he’s about to ask, but his voice is nothing but gentleness. “Did they– did they hurt you like that?”

You heave a long sigh, “No, but the feel of skin, I cant– I– I hurt everywhere, Din. Everywhere. Inside and– and–”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, cyar’ika.” He tries to push his voice out in gentle, measured notes. Something that’ll soothe you from afar. And the sight of you, all twisted and squeezed up into a tight little ball like you are– Maker– Din feels afraid, for a moment, of what might become of him, of the sort of violence he feels capable of in your name. “If it hurts, you don’t have to tell me anything now or at all.”

“I want to. Is it–” You look up, brow folding, squinty eyed as if you’re rifling through your head for the words. “How do I– how do I tell you that you deserve to know the full of it, but don’t deserve to carry the burden of it? That I wish I didn’t have to, but that I also want to tell you.”

“Just like that.” He presses another half a millimeter forward, feels like he’s hallucinating the scent of you from over here. “Tell me anything you need just like that. But don’t say it’d be a burden, you could never be anything even close to that to me.”

And still, with your eyes not on him, you say that which he’d already been expecting: “I let them keep me.”

He’d known.

“Are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't leave even one for me?” Your cheek rolls against the hill of your knee, eyes swinging up to spark at him, and Maker, as long as he’s still able to pull that look from you there’s hope. He can fix anything if only you continue to look at him like that.

The trip to Tatooine takes about ten days. Bouts of sleeping and eating and his gentle but insistent caring for you. He won’t let you pull away or into yourself; kept at a distance, but not pulling away, and the distinction might not be obvious, but he sees it. That’s enough.

Days later, when you wake again, a little stronger, but still sleepy and soft and beautiful, your hair is even longer. Seeming to grow a yard a day, incredibly. “It’s the Force; healing me, reconnecting with me. It works in strange ways,” you tell him as it pools around your waist. He says nothing, catalogs everything, and later, you come, moving slowly up the ladder into the cockpit to join him in the co-pilot's chair, bundled in a blanket. He’d left some of his socks for you warming on a pipe, just like before, and he sees the thick weave of them droopy over your toes, the part where his heel is supposed to go coming up to your ankle. He swallows and looks away and breathes and breathes and reminds himself he is strong and patient and entirely at your service in any way you might need. Din reminds himself that he must be good.

Your wounds heal slowly over the days, and he gripes and groans that all your energy is funneling into that damn hair and not the more important bits of you. He perches you on a crate, after having urged you into the fresher, pacing outside anxiously, hands on his hips, a huff and a sigh a minute while he listens for any bump or movement from within, making sure you don’t need him. He sticks a bowl of soup in your hands after, kneeling before you, gloves fitted over his hands so that you won’t have to feel his skin and shows you the bacta patches slowly, movements intentional and measured so that you’re not taken by surprise or touched in any way that you might not like. You eye him suspiciously, brow hitched, nose scrunched when you sniff delicately at the broth and then promptly discarding the bowl beside his medical kit, watching for what he plans to do with you next.

“That bit on your elbow isn’t healing.”

You give him a tiny frown, tucking the sore little wing tight into your side protectively. He presents his palms towards you, moves slowly. “It’s fine,” you pout.

“You know it’s not, little one. I’m going to put a single bacta patch over it. That’s it. No fuss, I promise.” Still moving slowly, watching the look in your eyes, opening the packet gently, he reaches for your arm, index finger and thumb taking hold of you first, a barely there cuff of his fingers just above your joint. He gives one slow stroke of his thumb, feeling you lock up, makes a low noise deep in his chest, something to soothe and coax you as he pulls your arm gently forward, untucking it from your side. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. Just a little bacta, nothing scary.” Your eyes go a little glazed, head tilting sideways to look down at him, mass of your hair shifting around you. That hair and those eyes and that face, Maker, but this is where he belongs, this is where he should always be, at his knees before you.

You give a soft sigh verging on a breathy little moan, your eyes fluttering shut as he smooths his thumb against the inner slope of your elbow, just there at the vulnerable dip, but when he slowly starts to lift your arm to get at the back side where the wound is, raw and red, a burned and angry looking thing, you wince, a little screech warbling in your throat, before jerking back trying to get away from him, quick and violent in your incoordination. That damned shoulder you haven’t let him look at yet, he knows it’s bad. You flail, little foot coming up to stub your toes against his stomach plate, bum scooting precariously over the edge of the stool. He reaches for you on instinct, his hand cupping the curve of your bottom to keep you seated, shit, hold on, stop, he grunts, but when you shove him away, loud slap of your palm against the curve of his helmet, he loses his balance, momentum taking the both of you toppling, unintentionally taking you with him. He falls splayed on his back, helmet dinging hollowly where his head knocks against the steel floor with a tangled mass of soft limbs and too long hair and lush tits sprawling over him. You wriggle and flail, an indignant squeak of his name, and then you go tense realizing all the places the two of you are suddenly pressed together. He feels a shudder of painful terror lock your limbs into shivers, the trembling hitch of your chest, and he holds frozen still, waiting for you to make the first move. But Maker, the feel of your weight on top of him. He widens the stance of his legs, slowly brings a knee up, trying to keep the heft of you away from his cock. He dips his chin to watch your face, eyes wide, frantically swinging across his chest, to his hands held up in surrender at your shoulders level, up to the face of his helmet.

You’re full of unsure fear and desire, yes, he can see it just there in the farthest glimmer of your eyes, the one like a scream, bright and hungry. Your brows fold together, confused, a frustrated noise slipping off your tongue before you give one more tense, strained jerk, and then seem to suddenly lose the fight and entirely melt into him. Your temple landing with a soft thump on his chest plate, arms wilting from their tensely held position over the outsides of his arms. Just a melted little thing of a girl, finally letting go of all that anxious strain you’ve held yourself in for two long years.

Din dares not move, not even breathe. He holds so still for so long he’s able to watch the change in the cadence of your breathing, the rickety little patter of nerves into slow and deep sighs, all relaxation and trust. And the bright light-like realization dawns on him while he lays beneath you, feels your chest press into his, the fire of your heart seeming to melt through beskar, the two of you know each other too well, too intimately. The two of you love each other, and he wants to live in it and experience it so badly. He wants to rush madly through the whole thing of it, live the rest of your lives together fast and in the blink of an eye first, and then be able to go back and do it all again slow and precise, taking each lived detail in his hand and learning the shape of it entirely before he’s able to move on to the next moment. He wants it all, the whole of a life with you.

So he doesn’t touch you, but the two of you lay like that, pressed against each other for hours, and the moment is enough.

Days later, he asks because he cannot help himself, because if you have to bear the truth of it all, he will too: “Why did you do it all?” And he doesn’t know precisely what the root of the question is.

Why did you leave me?

Why did you stay gone so long?

Why did you hurt yourself as you did?

You don’t answer immediately, and he wonders if he’s stepped where he shouldn’t have, pushed too far too soon, but then your face goes smooth and serene. Honest. “I didn’t think it would happen as it did. I thought I’d see you again, I thought it would all be sooner. I didn't think I’d be gone,” gone, “for so long. I thought I’d get a chance to make up for my mistakes with you.”

You sit in the co-pilot's chair, slightly behind him, and he doesn’t turn to look back at you, but he can see your reflection in the gleaming curve of the front of the cockpit, the rush of hyperspace zinging around the two of you, it’s quiet and thrumming and he can hear the soft cadence of your breathing. Your tunic is high necked, sitting just below the soft point of your little chin, every square inch of you wrapped away and sealed tightly in dark fabric, little pearlescent buttons that gleam blue crawl up to your throat and seem to strangle you. It’s as if you’d donned your own suit of armor, and he can’t understand how you still look so fucking good after everything. But as if he could peel away the stitching of you to peer beneath, he sees all that is wrong, all that is missing and all that is still echoing hollow. He thinks if he could only fill you with himself, all of everything would be set to rights.

You rest your head on the seat back, rolling it side to side slowly, thinking on what is is you’ll tell him next. “Because in ways, it felt good, better, than the alternative.”

“To be free?”

“Yes.” And the truth of that sits heavy and cloying between the two of you. An animal, hurt, will return to what it knows, no matter how badly it’s treated. It’s in its nature to seek out its familiar habitat. “Because I saw no other recourse, nothing better for me to do. Because I was stupid. Because I wanted to see how long I could last.”

He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, thick and metallic rolling over his tongue. “I don’t want to be selfish. I’ve been trying to– to not be that, to not make this about me.”

“It is about you.” Maker.

And he still doesn’t turn, says through his honest shame: “But I have to tell you that I don’t know how I can live with this, knowing this. I feel like– like I… I don’t know. I feel like if I go to sleep tonight knowing this, I won’t wake up tomorrow. Like it’ll crawl up my throat and strangle me in my sleep. And it shouldn’t– it shouldn’t be about me.”

“It’s not selfish, Din. It is about you,” you say again, and he wonders if your intention is to hurt him or yourself. More of that painful honesty like a blade through a lung.

He finally turns in his seat. “The way you live is the way I live. Do you understand me? The way you live is the way I live and your breath is mine and your hurt is mine.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded, watching him through the thick screen of your dark lashes, one eye seems to glow, the other to swallow him. “That’s why I know it’s about you too now. It started with nothing, with stupidity, and a wanton desire for– I don’t know, for destruction or something. But it ended with the realization that I’d have to tell you of all this one day. That it would be yours too eventually. And I regret it bitterly for that.”

“How am I supposed to move past this? What– what am I supposed to do with it?” He worries he sounds very like a child asking, but he has to anyway.

You shut your eyes, going so still, made of adamant and glass and smoke. He knows a thing like you could do nothing but survive, but at the same time, it seems a miracle you did. That you let yourself. He tracks the slope of your nose, the lush of your mouth, dry, you won’t drink enough water and it pisses him off, little chin and delicate throat, all that hair, the round of your breasts and the dip of your waist. Those little blue glowing pearl-for-buttons. He wants to steal them and swallow them away.

“Do you think,” you start, eyes still closed, face still calm. He leans forward, elbow braced against wide spread knees, and watches closely at the way your mouth forms the shapes of your words. “Do you think that– I don’t know how to say it, I think… but do you think it’s wrong to ask someone you love to just let a thing go? As much as it might’ve hurt them or bothered them or– or I don’t know… ruined everything. But to just ask them, for your sake, to let it go? Forget. Do you think that’s wrong?” Your eyes open. “Or selfish?”

“Is that what you want from me, cyar’ika?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to be selfish with you.”

“Neither do I. You said before that you don’t want me to forgive you. You don’t want forgiveness, you want forget.”

“Yes.”

He nods once. “And I have nothing to forgive you for, and asking me for the things you need is never selfish.”

And you say again, once more like before with your face still calm, “You want to touch me.”

If he were a beast made only of flesh and bone and not a man he would snap his teeth. “Yes.”

You stand slowly, hair a cloak around your shoulders, and step to him, between his wide spread thighs. He should beg, but he only stays frozen, and you bring your hand up to the face of his helmet, palm splaying along the side, he wishes you’d rip the thing off of him. He wishes he had never taken a Creed at all. Your palm on his face would fix everything, like him filling the hollow place within you. It would all be well if only the two of you could come together. Din knows it.

You lower yourself to perch primly on one thigh, slow like thaw, bringing your knees up to curl into his chest, little socked toes braced against beskar. One hand smoothing up his stomach and chest plate, other curled over the pauldron of his shoulder, you reach the lip of the helmet, close your eyes, and start to lift the weight of it from his face.

“I’m not going to open my eyes. I’m not going to look.”

The rush of hyperspace reflects off your skin in silvers and blues, makes you more dream than girl, and then his face is uncovered, and he listens to the symbol of who he is supposed to be, who he has been all his life, roll from your fingers discarded on the ground, the loud clang of history ringing in his ears, but all he cares about is, “You kept them.” He brushes a thumb, careful of your skin, against the glowing gem of your earring. The way it twinkles and sparks and exists as a monument to your shared history.

“Something shiny to remind me of my shiny.” A tear slides slow and clear down the slope of your cheek, coming to rest at the corner of your mouth, and he watches it quiver and shake there in anticipation, much like his heart does within his chest. You take his face between your hands, animal sound from his tongue, one hand at the curve of his jaw, cradling him like he’d be something precious and fragile if only the two of you let it be so. Not animal, not man, only loved.Your other hand spreads, glides and cups and soothes, his forehead, his brow, little fingertips pressed to the outside dip of his eye socket, running along the rim of bone beneath hot skin. He watches your face, the tear at the corner of your mouth, and you come towards him very slowly, the fold of your hips, stomach, breasts, and then your mouth on his.

And then your mouth on his.

He takes the tear into his mouth, holds it on the surface of his tongue. He could swallow it like he would the pearls. This is enough.

It’s soft as a whisper and then hard. Your nails digging suddenly, scratching and searching for a crack in his surface where you’d find purchase to pull him closer, burrow your way inside. You press your closed mouth hard against his, shoulders hitched high, and he grips the arms of his chair so hard his fingers ache. A sob in your throat that turns into a broken sort of moan, giving him permission to break too.

He circles your waist in his hands, takes hold of the shape of you, and it’s just like in his memories and dreams and nightmares. Hands sliding up the slope of your back through all of that glorious hair, still growing, right to the edge of your tunic covered nape.

“Din.” He swallows the tear. He touches your skin.

You moan for him, mouth shaky and wet, vibrating into him, the tip of your tongue tasting the edge of his lip, and then he’s swallowing you whole. Shifting you further onto himself, the soft round of your bottom over the thick of his lap, tits pressed against his chest, he needs to taste it all, your nails digging so hard into the skin of his face you’ll surely draw blood, and he will surely thank you for it. “Yes.” He says in return, finally, he draws onto your tongue. Full upper lip slotted between his, and it’s wet tongue and sharp teeth and a very dark place you should have never been, too much time wasted, a promise to forget because that’s what you need of him.

He hitches you higher, tighter, forces himself not to take it further, press you too hard. Groans rough and ragged when you whine soft and small. Sucking on your tongue, tugging at your lip. And your hands move to his hair, little fingers wrapped in his curls, dragging down the front of his face, over his eyes and nose, finding the seam of a scar there. “What’s this?” You follow the faultline of old hurt, and he grips your wrist, directs your hand to the other, thicker weave of scar tissue along the back curve of his skull, wanting to show you all the places he was broken that you were not there to mend. “Din,” on a frightened little gasp he soothes away with his tongue along the back of your teeth and the drag of his palm down the slope of your spine, stopping just shy of the curve of your ass.

“Explosion.”

Din, again, Din. You press your fingers along the rough knit flesh, and he feels your tears slide along his own cheek and perch at the corner of his own mouth now.

“It’s okay, little love. I’m here with you.” Tugs you back close and safe and tightly pressed, seam of him woven into the seam of you, mouth to mouth.

“And I understand.” He cups the back of your head, pulls you back, opens you and tastes and tastes and tastes. “I’ll promise to let it go. But you have to promise too.” Changes the angle, the flavor of you still the same, the sound of you still the same, the feel. “That you’ll never do it again.”

“I promise, Din.” It’s enough.

Chapter XII

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#TCC fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #vic fic

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beskarandblasters · 9 months

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hiiiii long time follower and avid reader but first time requesting i want to preface saying that i ADORE everything you write (i do have a soft spot for your angsty pieces bc you always DELIVER) as for the request (i know its pretty trope-y but i cant help that i like it 😭) din djarin x reader where there's (preceived) unrequited love <maybe reader thinks bo katan is better for din because reader isn't a mando> but honestly if this request doesn't inspire your writing powers i will eat up any angst to fluff fic you write with any and all plotlines and characters ❣ thank you for sharing your works here on tumblr im so grateful to have found your blog i really hope you're living your best life irl because your work always lifts me up

That Should Be Me

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is the kindest ask/request I’ve ever received🥹🥹 I hope I did your idea justice bb 🖤

Summary: You’ve been traveling with Din and Grogu for quite sometime now as the mechanic for the Razor Crest. But when Bo-Katan joins your group you started feeling a little threatened by her. You’ve had feelings for Din for a long time and Din and Bo just seem to click so well that it makes you feel jealous. Now you, Din, Grogu are on Nevarro right before the Mandalorians leave to reclaim Mandalore and some feelings are brought to the surface.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, jealousy, reader sits on Din's lap, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex (heavy on the semi), no use of y/n

The jealousy stirs in your stomach, watching Din and Bo talk while all of the other Mandalorians celebrate around them. You look down at Grogu, who you’re holding on your hip and he babbles happily. At least he's here to somewhat cheer you up.

The jealousy has been festering for a while, ever since Bo-Katan came to Din’s rescue in the Mines of Mandalore. Grogu came up from the Mines and it was clear that Din needed help. So you and him went back to Bo’s palace much to your chagrin. She brought both of you back to Mandalore and rescued Din. And ever since then she’s been a fixture in your little group.

You watch the way they interact and you can’t help but feel jealous. She’s so strong and a natural born leader. It’s clear that Din holds her in such a high regard. And though you can’t blame him, it still makes you jealous.

You’ve had feelings for Din ever since you started traveling with him and Grogu. You would take care of the Razor Crest’s repairs and in return you’d get a place to stay and food in your stomach.

Once Grogu went to train with Luke you hoped that maybe something would happen between you and Din. But it never did. And you just accepted that your feelings for him were unrequited. You were somewhat accepting of that until Bo-Katan came into the picture. And now watching them together is almost too much to bear.

It’s the night before the Mandalorians are supposed to leave to retake Mandalore. You’re supposed to go with them but your jealousy has you second guessing everything. And before you can even think about whether this is a good idea or not, you're walking over to Din and Bo.

“Din?” you ask, interrupting whatever he and Bo were talking about.

He turns to face you and Grogu.

“Are you two okay?”

“Oh, we’re fine! But can I talk to you about something for a moment?”

“Sure,” he says before turning back to Bo, “I’ll be back.”

Your heart sinks at that as you walk back to the Razor Crest together. You stop at the exit ramp and turn to face him before blurting out, “I don’t think I should go with you all tomorrow.”

You wince in anticipation of his response to which he says, “I was thinking the same.”

Your stomach stirs at his words. He really doesn’t feel the same way and this is clear confirmation of it.

“Okay… um well I’m gonna get him to bed,” you say, referring to Grogu, “It’s getting kind of late. H-have fun,” you finish, your voice cracking.

You don’t even wait for a response from him before turning on your heel and walking up the exit ramp of the Crest, closing it behind you. You get Grogu settled in his hammock for bed before climbing up the ladder to the cockpit and sitting in one of the passenger seats. You put your hand in your hands and let the tears flow. Even though he never confirmed any feelings for you, you’d be happy with just the three of you in your own little group. But then Bo-Katan showed up and so did all of the other Mandalorians and now your Mandalorian is more unavailable than ever.

After a while you hear the exit ramp open again and you know he’s coming back, probably to ask you about your little outburst earlier. He climbs up the ladder and sits in the pilot chair, spinning it around to face you.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he says softly.

“There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine,” you lie.

“We both know that’s not true.”

You’re both silent for a moment. But then you decide it’s better to just get this over with now.

“I was just feeling… jealous.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Of you and Bo-Katan.”

He almost laughs but he restrains himself. “Why would you be jealous of Bo-Katan and I?”

“I just… I see the way you two are together. And it hurts because I have feelings for you but I know I’ll never be good enough. She’s a Mandalorian and I’m not. And I just-”

But you’re cut off by him. “You have feelings for me?”

“…Yes. I just never told you. I guess this whole time I was waiting for you to make the first move but you never did so I just assumed you didn’t feel the same way. And then you told me you didn’t want me to come to Mandalore and I guess I just sort of spiraled.”

Now he’s laughing. But not in a mocking way. Almost like he’s laughing at himself.

“I didn’t want you to come to Mandalore because it’s too dangerous. I never want anything to happen to you. Maybe if both of us had just told each other our feelings sooner we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Our feelings?”

He grabs your hand. “I have feelings for you, cyar’ika. I think I was just too upset with Grogu being gone and then becoming an apostate to fully realize what was right in front of me.”

Maker, all you want to do is kiss him right now but you know you can’t.

“But… I’m not a Mandalorian.”

He laughs again. “It’s not completely unheard of for Mandalorians to be with non Mandalorians, cyar’ika.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sweetheart.”

Oh. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the pet name. Feeling a little bashful you stand up and say, “Well we should probably get back to the others… right?”

He stands up, too, and says, “We could… or we could do something else.”

His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer before bringing one hand to the waistband of your pants.

“Din! Right here? What if someone outside sees us through the window?”

“So? Isn’t that what you wanted? For everyone to know you’re mine?”

You feel your core tingle in arousal at his words.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Wasting no time at all he pulls down your pants and tugs off one of his gloves before bringing it to your cunt, feeling how wet you are already.

“That did it for you, huh? Just the teasing?”

“Mhm,” you whimper against him as he plays with your cunt, teasing you until you’re soaked enough for entry. He plunges a finger in and you lean into him against his chest plate. His one finger works your walls until you’re begging for more.

“Please, Din. I need more,” you whimper.

“Of course,” he purrs, “You’ve waited for me long enough.”

And on the last word he pushes another finger in, curling both of them against your g-spot until you can barely keep yourself upright. You cum against the beskar chest plate, the cool metal contrasting against the heat rising in your cheeks. You feel your walls tighten and release around them before your wetness slides all the way down to his wrist.

He pulls his hand from you and takes off his other glove. But before you have time to whine at the absence of him inside you he hooks his hands on your hips and places you in front of the control panel and coaxes you to bend over.

You bend over and rest your arms on the control panel, standing on your tiptoes and sticking up your ass for him. Your eyes scan outside the ship; there’s no one around. But Din was right. You really wouldn’t care if someone caught you.

You feel his hand gather your juices, spreading it onto his cock. His hands return to your hips as he enters you, both of you sighing at the feeling of him being inside you at last. He pulls you into him as he thrusts in you, making a mess of you against the control panel. With each drive of his cock inside you he reaches deeper and more intense angles. You push back against him one last time as he fucks you with the most force he’s had so far and you’re coming around him. Your core muscles tighten and relax in rhythmic motions and your release slides down your legs. Your knees buckle underneath you; you can’t keep yourself upright for much longer. But triggered by your own orgasm Din comes, too. He paints your inside with his own release. But you don’t freak out. He knows you have an implant and you’ve been dying for his cum inside you already. He fucks you through his high before pulling out of you and sitting in the pilot seat behind him.

You pull yourself off of the control panel and sit on his lap. You’re both silent, just catching your breath until you ask, “So you don’t want me to come to Mandalore?”

“Stay here where it’s safe, cyar'ika. I’ll come back for you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

#listen ik ive been posting like a TON lately but writing distracts from the sad thots ok #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories

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orcasoul · 18 days

Text

Din Djarin Headcanons

Din Watching you with Grogu

Din has never felt this way before. It's new, it's intense and it's terrifying. How he managed for years in his solitary existence is unfathomable to him now. Grogu entering his life had changed everything. The adorable green gremlin had managed to burrow himself into Din's guarded heart, fanning the flames of warmth that still lurked in there.

In no time at all that warmth had spread to every molecule of Din's being and had turned into love. Love, such a foreign, almost elusive concept, considering the last time Din had felt love was towards his parents. But, yes, love. He loves his son with a passion, a deep rooted well of devotion and affection.

He didn't think it was possible for his heart to expand any further, yet, here he is, watching with rapt enchantment as you cradle and sing to his sleepy son, and all the while Din feels his chest bloom with an incredible warmth that could cause him to spontaneously combust. You are beautiful, without even trying to be!

From the moment Din met you for an unofficial 'interview' in that dusty cantina, he'd felt a strange pull to you. It was a combination of things, really; Your obvious, natural beauty eclipsed the entire room, sure, but your instant rapport and maternal tenderness towards his foundling and your genuine warmth in general, had opened a never before explored region within Din's heart and he knew then and there, he had to offer you a position as Grogu's nanny.

Your melodic voice carries through the hull of the Razor Crest creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity, and a sense of home. The Razor Crest has always been just a ship to Din. Somewhere to stay warm, somewhere to eat and sleep and something to get him from A to B. But now with you and Grogu here it's home.

Din could watch you two forever, the blaster pistol in his hand now shining from being over polished. Stars! How he loves you. He didn't realise this kind of love existed, that there can be different kinds of love. You have unknowingly become the very beat of his heart, the air in his lungs, a soothing calm for the chaos that is his life.

For months he's wanted to tell you how he feels, but whenever the opportunity presented itself, he lost his nerve. He's never been a coward in his entire life, until now and he hates that. A normally fearless Mandalorian, who strikes dread and alarm into most people, mentally and emotionally undone, reduced to a nervous boy. This is the effect you have on him. His heart is in your hands. Boy, he never saw that coming.

Grogu finally settles and falls asleep, snoring softly as you lay him in his hammock, and kiss his wrinkled forehead. Closing the door of the sleeping bunk behind you, you turn to face Din, pressing a finger to your lips, followed by a "Shhh...," but also a soft smile and a 'look' that gives him hope. Din hopes he isn't just imagining it, but lately, he suspects you may have feelings for him too. In fact he's becoming more and more certain of it with each passing day.

He continues to clean his blaster (even though it's spotless by now), watching as you disappear into the fresher, as is your nightly routine; Put the baby down, shower and join Din in the cockpit where, over time, you've managed to pull enough conversations out of him that now he enjoys these moments of easy exchange between you both.

He's made his mind up. He will no longer be a coward. Tonight when you join him, he will confess everything to you. He will bare his heart and soul to the woman who has fundamentally changed him on every level, who has brought him to recognise this powerful, all encompassing love. Tonight he prays that his clan of two will become a clan of three.

#pedro pascal #din x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x female reader #din djarin #the mandolarian #mando

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loquaciousferret · 1 year

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Hello, I saw that your requests were open and I recently discovered your blog and... O sir. I love your way of writing, thank you for doing this beautiful work and sharing your magic with the words.

I would like to ask you for something fluff and very loving to our star warrior Din Djarin. Maybe you could do something with the song "She", by the singer Dodie. I think what the song expresses would be just what Din would feel when falling in love.

If this isn't what you usually write or you don't like the idea, that's okay. It serves me well just to let you know what a great writer you are.

I'm sorry if I've expressed myself badly or you don't understand anything I've said, English is not my first language. Thank you for your attention.

Thank you for this adorable message, you have explained yourself really well, never ever apologise for speaking in your second language!

Also this is so strange because I loved this song so much when I was younger and haven’t listened to it in years, you just reminded me of it, so thank you!!

And yess I totally agree, even though Din is so quiet I feel like it’s just by choice and he would have such a way with words and be so poetic when he falls in love with you.

She

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: This is an 18+ blog but this story does not contain any specifically explicit content. Fluff, unrequited love, yearning, forbidden-ish romance, and sadness.

Word Count: 1.1k

You shouldn’t be looking at her like that. The Mandalorian scolds himself.

You had convinced him to let you and Grogu take a walk on this quiet planet, with his protection, of course. After grumbling, he finally agreed. He rarely had the strength to deny you anything you asked him for.

He leans against a tree, at the edge of the meadow, and as much as he tries, he can’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful form. A flowing white dress surrounds you, picking up grass stains around its hem as you twirl in the field with Grogu in your arms. You lift him and throw him, and he giggles and gargles in his own little language. It’s not wrong to simply admire her. He reassures himself. Not when she is just so nice to look at.

Sometimes, in moments like these, Din thinks the maker put you in this galaxy just for him and Grogu. As he watches you play with the child, his heart swells. sunlight catching you and making your eyes glint, goosebumps prickling your bare arms when a breeze runs through the atmosphere. Yes, he could live in these moments forever and never feel any obligation towards anyone or anything else. He yearned to be able to take you into his clan.

You must have called his name a few times before he snaps out of his trance, because you are looking at him inquisitively.

"Sorry, cyare, what was it?" He says, walking towards you.

He is the first Mandalorian you have ever met. You don't understand any of his mother tongue, and he knows that. You understand his nicknames for you are terms of endearment just because of how softly he says them. You don't think you have heard him call you by your name in weeks, always cyare, mesh'la, cyar'ika, ner kar'ta.

"I wondered if you would dance with me, Din."

Having closed the distance between you, he takes you in, the shy smile that you are wearing makes him want to drop to his knees before you. He listens carefully and he hears it too, soft music drifting towards you from the nearby village.

Grogu is on the floor now, head barely visible bobbing above the over-grown grass. He runs around your feet and circles your legs as he chases a butterfly.

You are looking down at him, watching with adoration. Din is sure he wears the same look on his own face, but the object of his gaze is you. He thanks himself for his helmet. His expression would give everything away in an instant, and he knows that can never happen. He would never tell you. He could never say a word.

He hears three or perhaps four string instruments playing together. The sound travels through the wind and envelopes the pair of you in this tender moment. He wishes that you might reserve this side of you for him but the truth is you are full of this same warmth and gentleness towards everyone, it is just your nature.

You reach a small hand out and he takes it in his large, gloved one. Then he changes his mind, and lets go of you again. You seem disappointed but then you gasp as he removes his gloves.

"Din, you don't have to-"

"I want to." He responds simply.

You don't question him further. After all, you don't really understand much of his religion, only fragments from what he chooses to share. You know he can't show you his face but you're not sure what the rule is about skin in general. You don't think he would break the rules for you, as he is disciplined and pious. And yet, the touch of his hand on yours still feels forbidden.

For him, it shoots electricity up his arm and spreads heat to every corner of his body, heart, and soul. He couldn't have imagined how soft and warm your skin would be, and yet it feels entirely natural to touch you. He wants to explore the feeling of every patch of skin on your body from the soles of your feet to the top of your forehead, with his hands, and his lips.

He steps closer to you until there is barely an inch of space between your two torsos. Your frame is inviting, whilst his is cold and dominating, a wide plate of beskar which conceals well what hides beneath it, his heart, which is yours in its entirety.

You sway gently to the music. He is stiff at first but eventually joins you in motion, pushing you away from him to spin you around, which makes your face light up. As he does this, the scent of your hair washes over him as you whip round. You taste of childhood comforts like birthday cake, and story-time, and fall. He thinks to himself. You taste like the galaxy's sweetest fruits, like apple juice and peach.

But to you, he thinks, I must taste of nothing at all.

He yearns to give himself to you. To remove every piece of armour that separates him from you. To allow you to know him. To prove to you that a beating heart and a warm-blooded man did live within this cold suit of armour.

But even if he could do any of this, he knows you wouldn't have him. You would marry someone with a soul as sensitive as yours. Someone who could make you their muse. A poet, or an artist, someone who could paint you in a picture and ensure your memory was eternal. You wouldn't have him. A hunter. A killer.

You continue to twirl in the grass, Grogu now clawing at the hem of your dress, wanting to be lifted and join the pair of you in a dance for three. She, Din thinks, she means everything to me.

And so, he plays along. He brings you gifts back from nearly every hunt. He dances with you when you ask. but he knows you are not truly his. That you can’t and won’t be. As much as it aches to admit this to himself, it feels oddly good to hurt. The pain in his chest when he thinks of how your time together will soon end is what he considers to be proof that the love he feels for you is real.

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

Note

CONGRATULATIONS!!! You deserve all those followers and more for having such a great blog with fantastic stories. I'm continually impressed with the ideas you develop and the worlds you create. I look forward to reading more from you!

For the prompts, I'd like 18. "You shouldn't be out here by yourself" and 24. "I'll love you until the stars turn cold" with Din, please!!

Thanks, sweetie! Love you!!

Thank you, bestie! A lot of this wouldn't have been possible without your constant support and beta reading. Love oo.

Enjoy a little slice of heaven with Din.

Our Dance

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Grogu always had a way of getting into trouble, it was bad enough he was so small, he could fit into the crevices of the Razor Crest with no problem and actually hide in the tiny compartments you had no hope of reaching, but that never seemed to stop him. And if the ramp was done, it was even worse.

You ran outside in the cold and snatched him from the foot of snow that nearly encapsulated him. “Grogu, what are you doing? You know you shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

You chatized him as though he were own, and truthfully that’s how you felt. From the moment you laid eyes on Grogu, there was a bond there. For all intents and purposes, he was your son.

“It’s cold out here, sweetie. Don’t come out here on your own anymore, okay?”

Grogu simply tilted his head as he looked at you and purred as he nuzzled closer to you, “Yeah, you’re cold aren’t you?” You held him close and rubbed his back.

“Cyare, what are you doing out here?” Din walked over, wrapping the both of you in a hug, keeping you warm.

“Our son wanted to explore. Found him out here by himself.”

Din shook his head as he tilted his helmet down to look at him, “Grogu, you know you shouldn’t be out here, by yourself. You have to listen to us buddy,” Din trailed his finger over his ear. “Let’s go in, cyare.”

“You fixed what was wrong with the hyperdrive?”

“I didn’t not fix it…” he offered.

“Meaning it’ll work for a jump or two and then die.”

“Not if we head to Nevarro. Then it’ll be fine.”

You smirked, shaking your head, as you walked back into the ship. Grogu had fallen asleep in your arms, no doubt the cold had made him sleepy. You gently placed him in his hammock, making sure there were extra layers on top of him as you tucked him. Last thing you needed, what any of you needed was for one or all three of you to catch a cold. You closed the compartment and turned to see Din leaning against the closed ramp staring at you. His leg bent and bracing itself against the ramp.

“What?”

He smiled, although you couldn’t see it, he knew you felt it. “I … I just love you.”

You smirked as you nodded, “You’re saying this so I don’t yell at you about the hyperdrive.”

He chuckled as he moved closer to you, “I’m not saying it, so you don’t yell at me. I’m also not saying so you do.”

“So me not yelling is just an added bonus,” you offered as you walked to meet him.

“I would say that you being passionate about the safety of our family,” he smoothly offered as he wrapped his arms around you, “is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Oh so you do enjoy being yelled at?” You tried not to laugh as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Who says I don’t enjoy hearing you scream, cyare?” He teased, as he tilted his helmet down to your ear, “Because I thoroughly enjoy that.”

You smacked his back at his innuendo, “Your son is in the next compartment, sleeping.”

“Oh I see, so now he’s just my son.”

“He’s your son, when he does something wrong, and mine when he does something good.”

“And when is he ours?”

“When I hold you in my arms like this”

“Then we should always stay like this” he hummed, slowly starting to sway you back and forth, a soft dance forming between the two of you.

“I love you” you offered as you looked into his visor, “I have since the moment you both entered my life.”

He gently brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear, as he continued to sway you both, “I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, I just knew you were my heart.”

You rested your head on his beskar chest, feeling comforted by the strong armor, “I’ll love you until the stars turn cold, Din.”

“I’ll love you for much longer than that, cyare.” He held you close, shifting his helmet to the crook of your neck, wanting to smell the scent of your shampoo. Needing to be as close to you as possible, he almost lost you earlier, and that fear alone made it nearly impossible for him to pull away at that moment. He held you tighter as you both continued to sway to the beating of your own hearts.

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@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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thefrogdalorian · 5 months

Text

Dincember Day 3: Gloves

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1195 Rating: General Summary: As you sit watching Grogu play by the fire while holding hands with Din, you reflect on how a simple part of his body says so much about the complex man that you are so privileged to love. A simple pleasure that you would have been denied, if he had never removed his gloves. Content Warnings: None, just fluff (a little suggestive comment if you squint but nothing graphic). Author's note: Shorter entry today but I think I said a lot in considerably fewer words and I really enjoyed this little character study. I just love thinking about the complex man Din is and the many layers to him. Also, hands are kind of hard to describe when you sit down to do it!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

The fact that gloves were part of Din’s everyday attire had, for the first few months of your relationship at least, prevented you from enjoying one of the simple pleasures in life: feeling the warmth of his hands brush against yours.

Of course, any time you got to feel Din’s hands holding yours was an honour. You enjoyed that gesture in whatever form it took, whether he was wearing his gloves or not. But there was something about holding his hands when there was no barrier, just his warm skin, that never failed to set you ablaze every time you were afforded such a simple pleasure.

You loved every part of Dins's hands; from his tan skin to the dark hair that sprouted on the back of his hands, to his thick, deft fingers. Indeed, the first time he had taken his gloves off, you remembered how the sight of his hair there made you wonder whether it was any indication of the colour of the hair that might be his head. Back then, you had no idea what he looked like, but you knew you loved him all the same. You knew with absolute certainty that the depth of your feelings towards him ran deeper than any physical reaction his features could possibly provoke within you.

It was that moment – when Din had first removed his gloves in your presence – that you were thinking of now as you sat on the comfortable couch in the cosy cabin you were staying in together. You sat pressed up against his side, watching as Grogu played on the rug in front of the fire with some wooden blocks that you had been unable to resist buying for him from one of the toy shops in the centre of the picturesque town that you had journeyed to for a relaxing trip. Your hands had subconsciously found each other. Din quietly held your hand in his as the two of you sat quietly observing the imaginative little boy you both loved so much.

You had never imagined that there was a possibility that Din could feel the same way about you, but when you had touched hands – skin to skin – for the first time, you felt an instant spark. It was palpable in the air all around you, at least to you. And you knew from the sharp intake of breath that you heard through his vocoder, that he had also felt the unmistakable electricity that flowed between you.

You were struck by how warm his hands felt, his Beskar armour always looked so cold and hard, but his hands were nothing of the sort. Din's hands were surprisingly soft, which you supposed made sense given how often he wore gloves, a barrier to protect him from the harsh environments he often found himself in. But as you explored his hands more intimately, you discovered that there were rough calluses to be found there, too.

Holding hands with Din for the first time signalled the point of no return for you, you knew you would follow him to the galaxy's edge. You still maintained that now. Of course, you had held his hands so many more times since then, both gloved and ungloved. But there was still a familiar thrill that coursed through you every time you felt his skin against yours.

Now that you knew Din better, his hands were endlessly fascinating to you.

Hands that had wielded such destruction yet also imparted so much tenderness. Knuckles that had dealt endless damage, were a part of the fingers that had tenderly cupped your jawline, the thumbs that stroked your cheeks softly. Hands that had held rags to gently clean the messes that Grogu had made and had cradled the impossibly tiny child whenever he was distressed - were the very same hands that had encircled the throats of enemies, extinguishing their protests with the pressure applied there. Palms that had stroked your body in comforting motions when you were distressed were the same palms that had steadied the various weapons that Din was proficient with, with deadly consequences.

You were brought out of your musings by a familiar, husky voice. “What?” Din asked, smirking as he noticed you staring down at your joined hands.

“Just admiring your hands,” You sighed.

“My... hands?” Din said questioningly as he raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at being caught and admitting to it, “Yes, your hands. Just how strong yet soft they are, how many things you can do with them.” You elaborated, with a flirtatious undertone, hoping that Din didn't think you were entirely bizarre.

“Oh!” Din exclaimed, slightly taken aback. But he soon regained his composure. “You mean things like this?” Din asked mischievously, as he brought his hands to your body and began dancing his fingers across your stomach.

You squealed in shock, before collapsing into full-body giggles as Din continued his assault, tickling you relentlessly. “Din!” You shrieked breathlessly as he pushed you back on the couch, eventually coming to rest on top of you. He propped himself up over your body on his elbows, his knees between your legs. The tickling motions slowed, then ceased entirely. The two of you found yourselves staring into each other’s eyes, breathless from the exertion.

Then, your eyes were drawn towards Din’s lips. Another part of his body that you adored. Beneath his neatly-trimmed moustache, his lips were so plush and inviting. You looked back up to his eyes and saw the same desire that your impromptu tickling fight had sparked in you reflected in the dark brown eyes you so adored. Eyes that flitted down to gaze at your lips, too. You closed your eyes as Din leaned in, sighing contentedly as you felt his warm breath on your face. You smiled slightly in anticipation of the moment your lips would finally meet.

“Habu!” The sound of Grogu cooing abruptly snapped the pair of you out of the moment.

You sighed, exasperated and Din groaned slightly, but you knew he would never deny Grogu attention when he demanded it. And you would never begrudge him for doing so. “Let’s continue exploring all the things I can do with my hands later.” Din said with a wink as he sat back, offering his upturned palm towards you. He pulled you back up to curl into his side on the couch.

But Grogu was not content with just your simple attention, no. The child babbled loudly again and looked at Din with pleading eyes, indicating that he wanted his buir to play with him. So you remained sitting on the couch and watched as Din’s hands were put to another use, carefully arranging the multicoloured bricks to play with his son. His low, even voice responded to Grogu’s enthusiastic chirps as he helped the boy to build various structures.

You sighed happily at the sight. It was amazing that just one part of the man you loved – his hands – could so well represent the multifaceted, complex man that Din Djarin was. A simple joy you never would have had the privilege of experiencing if Din had never removed his gloves.

#dincember #dincember 2023 #my fics #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #baby yoda #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #yearning to hold his hand AH

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writeforfandoms · 6 months

Text

Birfday - Din

For my birthday bash!

A friend suggested Din, fluff, and one bed. Well, here's a good mix of all of that. GN!reader, established relationship.

Word count: 668

You woke to warmth, the comfort of your riduur cuddled up behind you. For a moment you simply laid there, soaking in the rare moments when you were awake before Din. His soft breath tickled the back of your neck, one heavy arm still draped over your waist, even as he slumbered.

You smiled, soft and small and totally indulgent. Maybe, if you were very sneaky and very lucky…

It took a few minutes of shuffling around, gentle movements, and stifled giggles to get out from under his arm. You stuffed your pillow there instead, watching with amused adoration as he curved around the pillow, snuffling in his sleep, before falling still again.

Success, this time.

You snuck into the main room, starting the caf and pulling out food for the three of you. The view through the window showed the sun just over the horizon - much earlier than you normally woke, but worth it to treat your boys this morning.

The soft sizzle of the pan and your own humming kept you company in the near-silence of the morning. You knew there was nothing in particular going on today. Din might want to make his rounds.

Or you might tempt him away, just for today. If you got lucky.

"Smells good in here," came the raspy greeting, even as arms wound around your middle.

"Breakfast is almost ready," you told him, giving yourself one moment to lean back into the warmth of his embrace. "Now shoo before you burn yourself." The again hung silently in the scant space between you.

"One time," he grumbled before pressing a whiskery kiss to the side of your neck, just to see your pulse jump. As it always did, for him. "I'll get the kid up."

You hummed acknowledgement, focusing on plating food for the three of you.

It wasn't long before happy squeals announced Grogu's presence, accompanied by soft murmurs from Din. You smiled. The sounds were soothing, a non-visual assurance that all was well.

But the sight was quite nice, too.

Din's hair was still rumpled from sleep, facial hair getting just long enough that you knew he'd trim it any day now. His soft gray sleep shirt stretched across his shoulders, the collar dipping just enough to give you a tantalizing hint of chest.

Grogu, on the other hand, appeared wide awake and eager to eat, little hands stretching out towards his plate. The plate in your hand tugged, very gently.

"Don't you dare, kid," you scolded gently. "Just wait."

Grogu blew out a rude breath, waving his little hands around.

"Patience, kid." Din tapped the table in front of the little one.

Grogu pouted but waited until you set a plate in front of him and planted a kiss on top of his head. You set another plate at Din's place, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Breakfast was quiet and lovely. Din cleaned up, a gentle hand to your shoulder keeping you in your seat.

You figured after that he'd start gearing up to go. So, naturally, you were preparing counter-arguments.

What you were not prepared for was Din picking up Grogu and setting him down outside. "Go terrorize the wildlife," Din told the kid.

Grogu made a delighted noise and immediately toddled off.

Din turned to face you, slowly, hands loose at his sides. His head tipped, just a little.

Your heartbeat kicked up several notches.

"Riduur," Din purred, taking one step towards you. You scrambled out of your chair, biting your lip to contain your grin. "You are trouble."

"Me? Trouble?" You stepped slowly away from the table, Din matching you step for step. "No idea what you mean."

His eyes narrowed, just a little, before he pounced. You yelped, scrambling away from him, breathless laughter catching in your throat, even as your husband effortlessly corralled you back into the bedroom the two of you shared.

Finally, trapped and breathless from laughing, you conceded defeat with grace.

After all, you knew his ticklish spots.

#birfday bash #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #gn!reader

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drawingdroid · 5 months

Text

The Unknown Regions IV

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

This chapter is rated +18! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut; the bucket stays on; naked female clothed male; hurt and comfort; Sad Din :(

Word count: 3,745

A/N: Din and you have a misunderstanding and actually talk openly about it like ADULTS! I love fiction!!! Finally, smut is here dear readers, I hope you enjoy it. I've struggled like crazy to write this chapter bc smut felt forced and I wanted a smoooth transition. I am not super happy with the result, but hey, I need to know when to let go. I've been thinking this would be interesting from Din's pov too, lemme know what you think. And yes, I know I don't respond to any comments I love reading them but anxiety kills me when I hit reply! I'm so sorry!!!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

You were so focused on your calculations that you didn't notice Din observing you. Leaning against the doorframe casually, the bounty hunter had his gaze fixated on you. He was stealthy for such a big man, so when his gloved hand gently touched your shoulder your heart skipped a beat.

“¡Mando!” You jumped from your seat. He immediately retrieved his touch as if he had been burnt.

“Sorry I…I didn't want to startle you.”

He looked so uncomfortable right now you felt bad for him. Well, had seemed uncomfortable around you for the two weeks you had been travelling together, so that wasn’t new. You were sure your presence around the ship had prevented him from relaxing at all. It was normal, its size had you clashing with each other all the time and it didn’t provide any privacy. And the Razor Crest, you have learnt, was also his home. Well, his and Grogu's.

He told you about the little one a night he was being especially silent. The moon you had stopped at looked inhabited and arid. He commented it was similar to Arvala-7, the planet where he found the child. After that, you listened while he spoke about how he met his son. His beautiful voice was full of pain and you ended up offering your hand for relief and support. He was hesitant but ended up accepting your warm touch.

Since then, casual physical contact had been a constant between you. With the days passing, you grew bolder with it, no longer squishing yourself to prevent your bodies from touching in the tight space of the Crest, and more like rubbing your plush body against his armour. A friendly hand on his shoulder, his on the small of your back. Therere were brief moments that made your heart flutter at the contact.

The truth was that living together had only made your initial attraction to him grow: observing such a mighty warrior performing the little tasks of day-to-day life was somewhat endearing. The things you could learn about someone just by looking at them at their little routines were incredible. You realized he was a methodical, goal-oriented man, and although he looked serious he did things like speaking with his ship when you wouldn't notice. He was also very caring, not only about Grogu but also his covert, the name he used to refer to the other Mandalorians he lived among. And he had the highest respect for his culture and his creed, something you really admired about him. Every day, you hoped he admired you back, too.

“Don’t worry about it, I tend to become so self-absorbed when I work I forget my surroundings.” You fidgeted nervously with your hair, feeling the burn of his gaze, until his visor shifted to the nav system. “Oh, I calculated the coordinates for the final jump and double-checked them. It’ll take around 30 standard hours to arrive there.”

Since you were travelling towards uncharted space, you couldn’t just jump to the planet, even though you knew the coordinates it was reckless without knowing the obstacles you could possibly meet, so it was more sensible to do it on shorter jumps.

“Let me check.” Mando leaned towards the console, supporting himself in his strong arms. You hoped your gasp at his sudden closeness wasn’t too audible.

“Are you doubting my calculations?” You meant to sound sassy but your voice came shaky. He was too close, hovering over you while checking the route. If your body wasn’t covered due to the cold of outer space, he could have noticed the goosebumps his proximity provoked.

“You can't drive a ship.” He deadpanned. You didn't feel bad about his affirmation, it was a fact. You had never had the opportunity to learn.

“I know my numbers, Mando.” You retorted, confident in your ability. He stared at you while you tried to remain unbothered. The truth was that the banter and his physical closeness had you a little flushed. His gaze finally left you to resume checking the panel and you rolled your eyes, although you understood his doubts. After all, his child and his ship were at stake

“This is flawless.” He admitted after a while, turning his helmet to you again.”Good job.” You opened your eyes widely at the praise and observed his muscular frame towering over you. His beskar looked beautiful, reflecting the starry space. He looked beautiful.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can.” You responded in a small voice, swallowing hard.

Neither of you moved for a while and you sighed involuntarily. With how close you were, you could just lean on him as you had been longing to do. To be embraced by his big arms. He sighed, his visor not leaving your frame. You wondered if he felt the pull too. He had to. The magnetic field was just too strong.

“Mando…” He shifted his position, coming even closer to you. You could observe your doe-eyed reflection in his Beskar helmet. He raised his gloved hand and reached for your round shoulder again. This time his touch was gentler than ever and his orange thumb caressed your clothed skin. Mouth dry, you wondered what would his next step be.

“I need…my seat to make the jump.”

The spell broke. Your brain was not computing. You swore you could die right there from the embarrassment. Of course, you were sitting on the pilot's chair. He only wanted your fat ass to move. And you thought you were having a moment. What an idiot, fantasizing about embracing him or whatever, when he only wanted to resume the trip to get to his son as soon as possible.

Clumsily, you stood up, your face hot with embarrassment. Inevitably, your bodies rubbed in the tiny space. You were a big woman, he was practically on you and the cockpit wasn’t precisely ample.

“Of course.”

The feeling was all-consuming and you rushed towards the sliding door, abandoning the cockpit in a heartbeat. You couldn’t see how a very confused Mando observed you leaving, asking himself how he had offended you.

Tears of embarrassment stained your cheeks when you managed to curl inside the bunk. Mando had been so kind to let you sleep there, and you had been loving it. The first night you couldn't help yourself and used your fingers to make you cum three times. His masculine fragrance was everywhere. It was like being embraced by him and your imagination was an overactive one.

But now, having his scent kriffing everywhere wasn’t helping to deflect the feeling of rejection that had taken you. Why were you being like this? Of course, it wasn’t the first time you were turned down. Or the tenth. By now, you should be used to it. But nevertheless, it hurt a lot.

All your life, you were always the clever, bright friend. The daughter who didn’t cause trouble. The gentle and caring one. But you were never called beautiful. Even by your romantic partners. They may say things about how they loved your “fat ass” or “big tits” but this didn’t make you feel pretty but just objectified, and especially, not truly seen as a sentient being. The worst of your male companions even complained about your size and how they weren’t able to manhandle you as they would have done with a smaller woman. You knew this was rooted in their deepest insecurities and how being perceived as smaller than their partner affected their self-esteem... But what about yours?

The truth was that Mando’s gesture (or lack of it) hadn’t been so hurtful, but the stream of memories it triggered, and now you found yourself sobbing under his sheets. When you felt the familiar blow of entering hyperspace, you only hoped that he remained in the cockpit and let you hide for the rest of the trip. But he didn’t.

First, you heard the familiar footsteps coming down from the ladder. He cleared his throat and then knocked softly at the bunk's door. Your blood froze.

“Hey I'm…I'm sorry.” You could clearly hear these weren't words he said often or lightly. A knot formed in your stomach but the tears stopped.

“It 's okay.” You responded with a raspy voice from the crying.

“No, I shouldn't have doubted your route. You're the professional.”

You couldn't decide between bursting into laughter or crying again. He was clueless, wasn't he? Maybe you could just roll with that and hide your true feelings. It was a good opportunity and it’ll save you from an uncomfortable moment. But you weren't the kind of person to do that.

“Mando, do you really think I'm mad because of that?” A pensive hum was his only response.

The bunk's door opened and a very confused warrior appeared right in front of you. Your eyes were red but your smile was bright. You felt your heart hammering inside your chest. He looked so helpless, all his self-assurance gone because of your tears. You sighed, gathering the courage to speak.

“In the cockpit, there was a moment when you were very close to me...” Mando immediately stiffened.

“I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable because of that. I thought…” His voice was strained through the modulator. You shook your head.

“I'm the one who misunderstood the situation, Mando.” You stared at him but it was clear his metal head wasn't computing. “ You were almost all over me. I thought something was going to happen. Between us.” You had to clarify.

The gears inside the helmet started turning and finally, you could see those broad shoulders relax a bit.

“You expected…you wanted something to happen between us?” He asked using your own words. You bit your lip unsure, but you were already too far gone to stop this.

“Yes Mando, I really like you and what happened in the cockpit made me feel rejected. That's why I was mad.” This time you tried to explain yourself clearly as you didn't want more misunderstandings, even though your skin felt like molten lava. Mando remained silent for a while, shifting his weight and finally took a step towards the bunk, putting a hand against the frame of the door.

“Why would I reject you?”

“What?” It wasn't possible you had heard that right.

“You've understood me perfectly.” His voice turned darker and commanding. You swallowed at the sudden change of demeanour.

“I don't know. Many have rejected me before. It made sense.” You felt vulnerable and hugged your knees trying to appear smaller unconsciously. Opening up about your fear of rejection wasn't in your plans today. “Where I come from, being overweight is frowned upon.” You added in a small voice, ashamed of your feelings.

“Di’kute!” He grunted the foreign word, audibly angry. To your surprise, he sat next to you inside the cot and grabbed your hand. “You're a gorgeous woman, mesh’la. They were bantha fodder if they couldn't appreciate you.”

It may have been your already sensitive state, but tears came again to you. His faceless stare burnt you, as well as his body heat inside the tiny space. But he continued with the praise without letting go of your hand.

“Where I come from fat is a good signal. It means health, and strength. Extra padding in battle.” You giggled but he was serious. “It's synonymous with peace and not living off ration bars. It means giving birth to healthy younglings.” He added the last point in a raspier voice and you stopped breathing thinking about the meaning behind those words.

“Mando…”

“Come here mesh’la.” You didn't recognise the last word but obeyed and the next moment you were in his lap. “Can I touch you?” His voice sounded kinder this time, less commanding. Your heart was going to explode.

“Please.”

And then his hands were all over you. Tracing the outline of your curves, grabbing the supple flesh of your tights, grazing over your generous bust. The touch was so intoxicating, passionate but slow, as if he wanted desperately to memorize your shape.

“Your body is precious, I'll put a hole between the eyes of whoever made you feel the opposite.” You had never felt aroused by violence, but Mando's voice whispering that in your ear made things to you. It felt so hot inside the bunk by then you felt the necessity to get rid of your clothing. Nevertheless, in spite of Mando's praise, you doubted when you grabbed the hem of your tunic. He sensed your hesitancy. “Are you gonna show me that beautiful armour padding?”

You giggled, amused by how playful he became in bed, and finally removed the piece of clothing. His sharp breath was everything you needed to hear.

“Like what you see Mando?” You teased, discarding the tunic and feeling a bit more confident because of his reaction. While he was a victim of a momentary paralysis, you took your chance to caress his biceps where any armour protected his skin. He was as hard as Beskar there and you thought this warrior could be the first to actually manhandle you. That thought only contributed to the heat growing in your centre dangerously.

“Dank Farrik I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you after this.” His voice sounded pained behind the vocoder while he appreciated your soft body.

“Then don’t.” You coed, and then guided his hands to your breasts that were spilling from your bra dangerously. Mando exhaled loudly as if all the tension he had been holding the last weeks was released. His gloved thumbs found your nipples fast, the stiff material feeling so good against your sensitive peaks. “Don’t be afraid, you can be rougher with them.”

Mando actually moaned at your honeyed words and you couldn’t name a more heavenly sound. He explored your tits with devotion, giving them all the attention in the world until your nipples couldn’t be harder and your breathing more agitated. But then, after some time hovering over his legs, yours started to feel numb from sustaining the position so you had to move a bit to feel your muscles again.

“Sorry, my legs went numb.” You excused yourself, but in a heartbeat, his hands shifted to your plush hips and you got the hint.

“Sit.”

“I’ll crush you.” Looking away, your previous self-confidence cracked a bit after his petition. You were too heavy, he will be uncomfortable and then…

“I carry bounties three times my weight for a living.” With the cocky affirmation, he interrupted your racing thoughts before spiralling. “I’ll be okay.”

You haven’t seen him in action yet, but the image of the Mandalorian manoeuvring a bounty out of pure strength made you shiver, yielding to his command. But you wouldn’t drown without dragging him with you.

“Stars woman!” He grunted when your clothed cunt made contact with his bulge. Not satisfied enough with that, you rolled your hips a couple of times to torture him further. Your plan backfired, as it provoked both of you to moan in unison.

“You wanted me…to sit.” You sassed between laboured breaths. Mando growled in response, but his hands travelled to your behind until they were grabbing a handful of your round ass.

“Do you know where else I’d want you to sit?” His voice was raspier than ever, the desire on it crystal clear to you. He really wanted you.

“Mando!” This playful side of him was unexpected but you were loving every moment of it. He took advantage of his leverage to move you impossibly closer to him, making you squirm when your sensitive nipples touched the colder beskar of his cuirass. Your hands snaked around his thick neck and you found yourself completely squished against your huge warrior. His erection felt so hot and hard between your legs that your cunt only grew wetter and wetter, making you wonder if he could notice. Then he started to move and soon you were moaning in the crook of his neck, grinding like a loth-cat in heat.

“Please mesh’la, let me make you feel as good as you deserve.” All the cockiness of his tone was done when he asked you with the most laboured breathing. His hands started caressing your spine and back rolls and you were a puddle in his strong arms.

“Let me…let me get up to remove my pants.” He indeed let you, but his hands didn´t, and while you stood to remove the last of your clothes, he continued exploring your body completely mesmerized. “Mando, I can’t undress if you don’t put your hands away!” You giggled standing on the threshold of the bunk waiting for him to realize. His helmet turned up to look at you then as if he was weighing his possibilities.

“Allow me to undress you, please.” The tone of his plead made you shiver and your cunt walls spasm. Your noded suddenly shy and the next moment he was on his knees unfastening your boots. Maker, what a sight.

When he finished with your footwear, he removed your shocks and started caressing your ankles, going up your calves painfully slowly until he finally reached the waistband of your pants. By then, you were shivering out of pure anticipation. But he still took the time to discard first your pants leaving you in your soaked underwear. He stopped and removed his hands for you to your surprise. Maybe he was having second thoughts? Maybe he didn’t like what he saw?

Your thoughts didn’t spiral for long, as Mando started removing his gloves still kneeling at your feet. Your eyes went wide: it was the first time you saw any of his skin. Gloves finally apart, you could appreciate it was a beautiful hue of gold before his thumbs were hooked in your panties. Without seeing his expression, you could feel the reverence in every touch Of his. It was like you were something holy and he was praying at your shrine. Then it hit you: this wasn’t just a fuck for both of you. This will change things.

“You’re drenched mesh’la.” The last piece of clothing was finally removed and his curious hands didn’t take long to open the folds of your glistening cunt. You looked away a bit embarrassed but he assured you. “You’re so beautiful and soft I can't help myself but...”

Then he did the most surprising thing. With his fingers covered with your slick, he went to the inferior part of his helmet and made disappear. He yas kriffing tasting you.

“Dank Farrik and you taste heavenly too.” Things became fast in a moment. He suddenly stood up in all his imposing height, totally covered in contrast with your nakedness, grabbed your but and in a heartbeat was lifting you from the floor. You squirmed in surprise, your legs rapidly snaking around his tapered waist, feeling all the whole glory of his erection against your pussy. He then turned in his heels and laid you in his bed delicately. But you weren’t playing tame anymore.

“Mando, I need you please.” Your plea was accompanied by a roll of your hips against the bulge on his pants, and you moaned at the sensation of the harsh fabric against the sensitive skin there. Mando grunted at the contact and obeyed you, removing his crossbody ammo belt. You continued the grinding while he battled with the straps of his hip belt, pleasuring yourself against his hard cock, until the leather piece full of pouches hit the ground with a loud thud.

Finally, his hot hands were all over you again and he leaned over your body. But then, he froze in place. You looked at him quizzically when you heard something metallic rolling on the floor. Maybe something important? Maker, you knew he kept bombs on the belt…

“Wait,” he said, leaving you naked in the bunk where you experienced the worst ten seconds of your life thinking you were going to be blown away before having sex with the Mandalorian. But his absence was brief, and he returned with a spherical object between his golden fingers. Something you didn’t recognize at all.

“Is it a bomb?” You asked clueless. He chucked but there was something off about it.

“It’s from a lever in the cockpit.” You sighed in relief knowing your life or his weren’t in danger. Noticing how he wouldn’t stop looking at the metal ball, you knew he wasn’t okay. Finding your tuning between the mess of sheets and blankets, you put it on and sat on the edge of the cot. You didn’t feel annoyed because the intimate moment was interrupted: it was clear something was disturbing him.

“Hey, Mando, look at me.” You asked, holding his bare wrists most delicately. He flinched at the contact and you noticed his pulse was derailed. Then he looked at you like he had just noticed you were there and started apologising.

“I’m so sorry I…” It looked like he didn’t even know how to start explaining himself. You’ll say he sounded even embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. We don’t have to continue if you don’t feel like it.” His shoulders slumped and his gaze fixated again on the ball. And then you noticed, by the light shivering of his torso. He was crying. Your heart broke in a thousand pieces. “Come here, baby.” You cooed, opening your arms to the Mandalorian, hoping you could offer some relief to whatever he was experiencing.

To your surprise, he fell to his knees again and then sank his helmet into your lap. His shoulders were convulsing more visibly now and your chest hurt for him. You started caressing the back of his neck, hoping it felt soothing for him, and remained like that for a while.

“I’ve got you baby.”

You didn’t know how much time it passed with Mando sobbing against your tunic and you doing your best to make him feel better, but after a while, it looked like he was calmer.

“I already lost him once.” His voice was coarse from crying, and even though the lack of context you knew immediately he was referring to Grogu.

“We’ll find him and take him home, Mando.” You responded softly, feeling something warm spread inside you and not stopping for a second your caresses.

“Din.” He finally unburied his head from your lap and looked at you. “My name is Din Djarin.”

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #din grogu #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #droidwrites

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dindjarinmandalorian · 1 year

Text

Together. Bo X Din

They went to the Mines of Mandalore TOGETHER.

They took down the pirates and helped Greef TOGETHER.

They saved Ragnar TOGETHER.

They visited Plazir-15 and United the Mandalorians TOGETHER.

They took down Moff Gideon TOGETHER

Throughout the season we see Bo and Din grow closer TOGETHER. I’ll start by saying if Din never went to the mines and had never gotten captured Bo would be dead. Him sending Grogu to find Bo to save him ended up saving her as well. Her castle was later bombed and completely destroyed..

We see that Din and Bo care about each other deeply. Weather it’s longing looks from Bo or the actions we see from either of them.. Bo always looks for Din for assurance.. it happens MANY times throughout the season. Bo also asks for Din’s advice countless amounts of times.. She values what he thinks more then anyone else.. We get to see how well they work TOGETHER.. (The Droid Chase, The Droid Bar, Ship Dogfights, Talking to the Ugnaughts, Taking down the pirates, Etc) Another huge moment is in Episode 6.. when Bo and Din are on there way to first talk to Axe who has taken control of Bo’s fleet. Bo sits across from Din with a face full of anxiety and slight nervousness.. she doesn’t know how to play the situation.. Din tells her that she is there leader and they will follow her.. they then arrive to Axe and the others.. Bo challenges Axe to a duel with Bo coming out on top. Axe doesn’t take the loss well and tells Bo they won’t follow her because she doesn’t even have the saber and won’t fight Din.. claiming he “doesn’t have a drop of mandalorian blood in his vains.” Bo immediately comes to Dins defense stating that “Din Djarin took the creed and chose to walk the way.. just as our ancestors did.. he is every bit the mandalorian they were.. especially as much as any of us..” Din looks stunned to Bo who gives him a reassuring look.. Axe again reiterates that they will only follow whoever posses the Darksaber.. before Bo can reply Din interjects That Bo will have the saber and explains how it is rightfully her’s.. He gives her the saber and they share a soft tender moment that ends with Din giving her a warm nod.. again assuring her that she can do this.. The episode ends with Bo wielding the Darksaber and Din standing next to her.. They stand TOGETHER.

The dynamic between Din, Bo and Grogu was also a huge part of this season.. Grogu grows closer to Bo as the season goes along.. Each time the three of them are in Bo’s ship.. Grogu gets closer to Bo until he eventually sits in her lap.. When Grogu is knighted on Plazir-15 it nearly bring Bo to tears.. Din and Bo train Grogu together and get him ready to face Ragnar. She takes on the mother dynamic to Grogu earning herself the nickname “Mommy Mando”

Bo went from not wanting anything to do with Din at the beginning of the season to being her most comfortable self by his side.. I said in an earlier post that when Bo begins to ever doubt herself, it’s Din who picks her back up and tells her what she needs to hear. Din is the only person who pledges to Bo for Bo. She feels like she can’t keep everyone together “there’s too much animosity” Din puts those concerns to rest and states that “What means more to me is honor, loyalty and character..” Bo turns to Din.. her face is as soft as we’ve ever seen it.. he continues “These are the reasons I serve you Lady Kryze..” Din turns to leave and Bo admires Din as he walks away.. as she turns back to view the horizon a slight smile cracks her face.. She feels confident and at ease again thanks to Din..

Bo never smiled very much.. but in season 3 she does when she’s in the company of Din and Grogu.. Her Family. This is when Bo feels most comfortable.. TOGETHER with Din and Grogu..

We’ve also seen that people would follow Din and Bo if they led TOGETHER . Bo stands to ask for volunteers to aid her.. nobody stands or volunteers.. Bo look’s defeated and uncomfortable.. Until Din stands and Volunteers.. Bo is immediately grateful it means more to her then Din could ever know. The other mandalorians then fall in line and join Din in volunteering. Din’s opinion means a lot to them.. Paz was never a fan of Din.. he makes it clear.. but once he helps save his son again Paz points out that he will follow Din Djarin and Bo Katan.. The other Mandalorians agree and aid them against the pirates thanks to Paz’s words.. they will follow Bo and Din TOGETHER.

To end it all Din, Bo and Grogu take on Gideon TOGETHER. Din fights Gideon and is on the brink of defeat.. Bo spots him and flys to his rescue. She knocks down Moff and tells Din to “Go save his kid..” Bo fights Gideon and the darksaber is destroyed.. As Bo is nearly defeated she states that “Mandalorians are stronger together..” Din arrives and saves her.. They take on Gideon TOGETHER. The clan of three. And that’s where we end. The clan of three. Grogu saves them with a force shield.. we get the final shot of the three of them.. the clan of three TOGETHER.

Bo and Din are stronger TOGETHER

Bo, Din and Grogu are stronger TOGETHER

BODIN FOR THE FREAKING WIN 🔥

Cheers to seeing more of them all TOGETHER in season 4!

#dinbo #bodin #din djarin #bo katan #bo katan x din #bo katan kryze #starwars #grogu #star wars #disney #disneyplus #rant #moffgideon

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xzaddyzanakinx · 4 months

Text

The Maker’s Angel pt. 2

Din Djarin/Mando x female reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Sub to Dom Din, spitting, name calling, slapping, aggression/anger, cockwarming, domesticity/breeding kink

Info: Fluffy beginning, smutty ending, lots of Mando’a (translations at the end of post.)

Over the next three months Grogu continued his training, you moved your family of three into a small three bedroom home at the base of the mountain, and you found work in the form of selling produce from my garden behind your home.

Din had a bit of an adjustment period, trying to find a good balance between bounty hunting and home-life, but soon settled into a loose schedule of 2 weeks away on work, 1 week home and repeat.

On this day, Grogu was training at the Temple while you sold vegetables from your roadside stand. Din would be returning from his off-world hunt this afternoon, you and your wrinkly green son were anxiously awaiting his arrival.

After collecting Grogu from the Temple you returned home and set about preparing dinner while Grogu roamed the house and caused his usual mischief. Soon enough you heard the familiar clunk of Din’s boots on the stone porch and you rushed to meet him at the door, Grogu following behind at your heels.

Entering your modest dwelling adorned with various trinkets collected during your travels together, Grogu bounds towards Din, his tiny arms wrapping around his legs in welcome embrace. He burbles something unintelligible, and warmth radiates from him like a sunbeam that dispels any lingering fatigue from his long travel home.

Din!” You wrapped him in a hug, pressing your forehead against his beskar helmet while placing your palm against the engraved Manticore on his armored chest plate; something you’d made a habit of doing every time he returned from his hunts. “we’ve missed you.”

Returning the embrace, he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, sucking in a deep breath to fill his lungs with your unique scent of flowers and earth —a heady concoction that always seems to calm him.

"Missed you too," He whispered back.

“Been good for mommy?"

He released you gently before picking up Grogu and walking to the couch, sitting down on the sofa with him.

“He’s always good.” You teased, poking Grogu’s little belly to hear him giggle.

“Let’s get you comfy.” You told Din softly.

He’d come to love this part of returning home so he had no qualms about setting Grogu next to him while you slipped off his boots.

He leaned back against the couch's soft fabric as you begin to remove his beskar with practiced ease, you unfasten the secured metal plate across his torso, bringing you one layer closer to the expanse of his muscular stomach beneath his flight suit.

After you removed all his armor and sat it aside in its designated leather basket, you sat on his knee for a moment. Leaning into his chest and kissing the crook of his neck, smelling the salty dried sweat and the scent that was so uniquely him.

A soft moan escapes his lips as your warm breath caresses the soft flesh of his neck, sending shivers down spine after every sweet kiss.

“Helmet now?” You asked, fingers poised to remove it if given permission.

"No, it's fine," He manage to mumble out, "You go ahead and finish preparing dinner."

He took Grogu, placing him on his shoulder and walking to the dinner table and setting him down on the table cloth.

“Here, set the table for us okay?” Din said calmly, gesturing to the silverware and dishes already stacked on the table.

Grogu babbled in response, flattening out his ears in annoyance, though he complied anyway. After all, his dad did ask nicely…

Din stood leaned against the doorway to the kitchen following your every move as you worked. He smiled to himself as he watched you placing three bowls of steaming hot stew on a tray—a hearty blend of root vegetables, wild mushrooms, and tender slices of venison meat simmered slowly in rich broth.

"Smells delicious," He compliment sincerely, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome.” You smiled. “I baked some fresh bread too, it should be done cooling now.”

“Grogu?” Din’s deep voice came through the vocoder as he spoke. “think you can handle the tray here?”

Grogu huffed as he stuck out both of his tiny arms and scrunched his eyes shut. Bringing the tray safely, albeit wobbly, to the center of the table via the Force.

“Good. You’re getting better.” Din praised him, a compassionate tone reserved only for the most special people in his life.

You take a seat across from Din, presenting freshly baked bread on wooden platter covered by crisp white linen. He can't help but observe your movements—each fluid motion an enchanting sight for his tired eyes.

"You know how good you look doing this?" He asked with a grin, slipping off his helmet and sitting it aside. "Cooking... baking... taking care of home?"

“Maybe.” You couldn’t help but blush as you sliced into the fresh loaf of bread.

His eyes happily taking in the sight of your rosy cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. A soft chuckle escapes his lips before he spoke again.

"It suits you... this domestic side." He murmured teasingly, yet undertones laced within his words hint at respect for your work in and around the home.

His compliment stirred a swirling storm within your core, the blush in your cheeks spreading rapidly as you let your mind wander out of control. Finally you cleared your throat and tried your best to swallow down the lump of desire that had formed in your throat, slicing the loaf of bread for your clan of three to eat with the stew.

"So... how was your day?" He asked casually, "Anything interesting happen? Any troublemakers causing mayhem outside our cozy little nest?"

With a well-practiced motion, Din placed Grogu in his high chair and buckled him securely in place. He then set his bowl on the tray for him, forcibly but gently making Grogu hold a spoon rather than use his hands like he so desperately wanted to.

“My produce stand sold out in less than 2 hours.” You said proudly.

“So I got to come home and read for a bit before going to pick up this little booger.“ You laughed, watching their interaction while you spoke.

“And on our way home from the Temple Grogu and I stopped at the river to splash about a bit, didn’t we buddy?” Grogu nodded happily, a large chunk of venison in his mouth.

A smile tugs at corners of Din’s lips as he lifted his helmet and placed it on the far-side of the table, amusement glinting in his eyes as Grogu chomps down on chunky morsel dangling between fingers stained red from venison juice.

"That does sound like an enjoyable day," He agreed, "But I have a question for you."

He set down his utensils momentarily, leaning forward close enough for your breaths to mingle in temporary shared silence.

"I-I had too much time to think on this last hunt," He paused, searching for words with his lips locked tight against sudden surge of emotion threatening spill forth, "you’re still happy aren’t you? You’d tell me if you weren’t right?"

“Din, of course I’m happy… w-what made you think I wasn’t?” You asked in concerned impatience.

“Well I don’t think you’re unhappy, that’s not what I meant.” He grumbled, sitting back in his chair with his eyebrows furrowed.

“I- well, you…” He let out an annoyed puff of air. “I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid?” You asked in confusion.

“For the first time in a long time, I’m afraid and I don’t like it.” He said quietly. “I feel itchy, my throat hurts, my armor feels too heavy… I- I can’t… I mean-“

He inhaled sharply, punching down his feelings with a beskar fist. His fingers twitched as he contemplated putting his helmet back on, his armor was for physical protection just as much as it was for spiritual and emotional protection. He shook his head, deciding against it so that you could see his face while he spoke about something so important.

“I’m afraid I’ll come home and you won’t be here.” He said softly. “I know… realistically that won’t happen. I know that.”

“But, It’s scary to think that it could happen.”

“Oh C’mere you big softie.” You whispered, standing up and squeezing into his lap to hold him close. Kissing softly until you heard a soft whimper escape Din’s lips…

“You could be in a different galaxy, away for decades, and I would still be here waiting for you.” You assured him quietly as you stood up, caressing his cheek as you did.

“You are… you’re to good.” Squeezing your hand he whispered in a gruff tone. “You’re too perfect. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re real.”

You didn’t respond verbally, you just squeezed his hand back in return and scooted your chair around the small round table to be closer to him.

The rest of dinner was punctuated with giggles and stories from your weeks apart, Din sparing the gory details while still making sure to include as much detail as possible, knowing you enjoyed hearing about his work. However, he didn’t know you only requested for his most detailed descriptions just so you could hear him talk alittle longer.

“Go play.” Din said gruffly after cleaning off Grogu’s hands and face at the kitchen sink.

The little one hopped down from the countertop and waddled off to living room, dumping a basket of toys over and digging through them until he found what he was looking for, a game cube. His favorite thing to do, making the colors flash and match up in the correct sequences using his Force abilities. Not only was it fun, it was wonderful practice.

Din shook his head, it was still hard to grasp how something so little held such power. It never failed to impress him, make him proud.

He returned to the dining room table, and sat back in his chair, patting his knee for you to sit on. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He squeezed you hard, forcing the air out of your lungs in a crushing hug. He held you like that for a moment before loosening his grip.

He looked down at your lips before leaning in to place a passionate open-mouthed kiss on each side of your neck. Goosebumps covered your arms as he left a wet trail up the column of his throat to lock your lips in a searing kiss.

It soon turned frenzied, a dance of tongues tangling together in a display of raw desire from long denied release.

"Cyarika.” A strangled moan escapes his throat, "I... I want you."

Shhh,” You broke the kiss, hand firm on his chest. “patience Din… wait for Grogu to go to bed.” You giggled at his eagerness.

Groaning softly, he reluctantly relented to your demands—raw yearning tempered by cool rationality as he pulled himself back to reality.

"Alright..." He murmur begrudgingly, "But once Grogu's asleep... nothing will hold me back."

“Good.” You leaned in, whispering seductively before nibbling on his ear.

You rose from his lap, gathering the dirty dishes from the table and placing them carefully in the sink. Purposefully walking with a sway to your hips, making your ass jiggle with every stride.

"I'll finish these." He mumbled softly, placing a comforting hand on your waist. "You should put Grogu down for bed... show him who the boss is around here."

Alright. I’ll be back.” You promised, picking up Grogu and taking him to his room to tuck him into bed with his favorite stuffed animals.

Once he was sound asleep you crept out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.

You all but ran back to the kitchen to find Din who had nearly finished washing the dishes. As he turned around, hearing your steps, you reached behind your back and pulled at the string that held your bandeau top on. Untying the bow that kept it in place and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Startled by your sudden brazen display he nearly dropped the pot in hand; heart racing as his eyes devour your chest now exposed to his hungry gaze—nipples erect and pert, begging for attention.

"Cyare" He croaked, voice strained with desire, "You... you're gonna kill me."

Without waiting another moment, he let the pot clank on the countertop, not bothering to dry his wet hands before reaching out to grasp your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His hardened member pressing urgently against your lower abdomen. His lips crash hungrily against yours, tongue tangling in lustful need barely suppressed by mere clothing separating you from complete surrender to those primal urges that clawed at your insides.

“Sit on the couch. Hurry, c’mon baby I’m feeling needy.” You softly instructed him, following behind him as he rushed to obey you.

“Get your cock out for me baby.” You whispered, trying to seductively strip your pants and underwear as well.

Swiftly following suit, his hands moving dexterously on his pants; lowering them to his ankles and kicking them off impatiently along with his boxers revealing his thick length standing proudly awaiting your touch.

"Here..." He murmur hoarsely, "Take it... do whatever you want."

“Oh I plan on it.” You teased, licking and suckling slowly on the swollen tip of his cock.

His breath hitches in a sharp intake as your soft lips envelop the engorged tip—warm wetness swallowing him whole causing a strike of mind-numbing pleasure to surge through his cock like lightning striking the earth of Mandalore.

“Mesh'la… kar'taylir darasuum.” His voice husky and affectionate as he threaded his fingers through your hair.

You let your hands wander the expanse of his hairy thighs, pressing your nose into the curls at the base of his dick to breathe in his musky scent. The way he sounds… the way his lips move, the grit in his voice when he speaks Mando’a to you, makes you practically feral.

You couldn’t help yourself, immediately releasing his cock with a drooly ‘pop’ and standing up, straddling his legs and hovering over his waiting girth.

“Din,” You pleaded, “I can’t wait. I’ve been wet since the second you stepped foot into the house.”

An involuntary groan escapes his lips as he watched you position yourself over him; your pussy just out of reach, taunting him.

His rough hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as desire grows unbearable, "Fuck me... please." He whined, trying to force you down onto his throbbing length.

“Y-yes.” Sliding your soaked pussy down his cock, releasing a high pitched whine at the burning stretch of his dick plunging deep into your cunt.

Pain and pleasure intertwine into a maelstrom of sensations— clenched teeth to stifle your moans; reverberating swallowed pleas echoing from his throat with urgency as you slowly impale yourself on him.

"M-maker.” He gasped out through clenched jaw, "Fuck... fuck me like I'm your bitch."

“You are my bitch.” You growled.

Your hand shooting out to grip his throat tightly and force his head back against the couch cushions.

“Open your mouth.” You whispered.

His eyes widen as your grip tightens, constricting the airflow to his brain addling his senses further.

"Y-Yes..." He managed to choke out between ragged breaths, "Whatever you want."

“Stick out your tongue out for me now baby.”You said sweetly. “There, that’s a good boy.”

You pushed your hips flush to crotch, grinding in circles on his thickness, feeling it throbbing in response to each pulsing clench of your pussy. Halting your movement completely, simply holding his cock captive and rendering him practically pussy drunk with need.

You leaned down to take his tongue between your lips, sucking on it and slurping loudly, feeling his hot breath fanning across your face lips as you did so. His hips involuntary bucking up into you at the sensation of being trapped inside your pussy and at your every whim.

Suddenly you pulled back from his face, making sure to squeeze his jaw to keep it pried open. Spitting harshly into his mouth before snapping his mouth shut with a click of his teeth.

Blinded by desire, he can't resist the storm surging through his veins wildfire-like, spreading and burning its way through him.

"Ni'duraa" He groaned deep and punctuated in his chest, "I love it.”

Arching his hips upwards in anticipation of climax fast approaching, closing in closer each powerful thrust buried him deep inside your pussy. His body trembling with needful want.

“Yeah?” Taunting him you released the hold on his neck to lace your hands together behind his head, using your thumbs to tip his chin up and expose his throat.

Ravaging his jaw and throat with long messy licks. Alternating between love bites and sucking harshly. Finally, after much whining on his part you relented as the sensation of your cunt rhythmically squeezing him as you cockwarmed him, paired with the brutality of your attention to his neck became too much for him.

You slowly resumed your movements on his cock, lightly rocking back and forth, just enough to make the tip brush against that sweet spot deep inside your wet heat. Sliding your hand down between your bodies to find your swollen and needy clit.

A moan escapes his throat as he watches you use him for your own pleasure.

"Y-Yes... Gods fucking yes," His voice cracking with need.

Both of his large hands grip your waist tightly as you tortured him with slow rhythmic thrusts—each deliberate movement driving him closer and closer to orgasm, his eyes welling up with tears of frustration as you refused to allow him to guide your hips at the pace he wanted.

“Get your fucking hands off me and put them behind you back.” You demanded, enjoying the sudden shock in his eyes.

“You don’t need your hands for this okay pretty boy?” You soothed his confusion of your un-characteristic harshness in a sweeter tone.

“Now, as long as you’re good… I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” You kissed his forehead, nose, lips, then his chin.

“So just sit back and let me do all the work, while I bounce on your cock…” You moaned accidentally, showing how easily he could break my character if he wanted too. “and make you cum over, and over, and over.”

“I’m gonna breed myself on your big fat dick okay?” You whined as his body immediately reacted to your words with a shudder, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily.

“Wait! No no no baby no d-don’t. Just w-wait let me.” He pleaded once his love drunk brain truly registered the meaning of your words; eyes opened wide with urgency.

“No, no c’mon sweet girl let me, let me make love to you. Please? Please just let me love on you while I fill you up, yeah?” He begged.

Lost in the haze of desire, his hands had a mind of their own, refusing to obediently follow your previous instruction—placing themselves behind back to rest idly on your hips.

His head rolls back against couch cushion, eyes closing tightly as he surrendered to your wishes.

“Yaihadla? Gods yes... that sounds perfect."

“Oh does it?” You cooed down at his pitiful face. “is that what you want? You want me to fuck myself on your cock until you get me good a pregnant?”

A gravely moan escapes his throat, hands gripping tightly to keep hold on reality slipping away as you continued your merciless tease.

"Yes!" He choked out through grit teeth, "Just... just fuck me for real already."

Your words, your continued denial of giving into his needs only fueled the firestorm in his veins—a primal urge clawing at the surface of his sanity.

“Say please for me.” You taunted. “You have manners, use them.”

Din felt a blush rise in his cheeks, submission tinged with embarrassment adding extra layer of vulnerability he hated to admit that he loved.

"P-Please..." He whimpered out desperately, "Fuck me... please fuck me now."

“Good boy,” You praised him, removing your fingers from your clit to lace both hands into his sweaty hair.

Immediately you bounced harder, faster… rolling your hips with every down stroke, getting a teasing bit of friction on your neglected clit.

He whined, pulling one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and suckling greedily.

“I love it when you let me use you like you’re just a little fuck toy.” You moaned, trying to rile him up.

With that said you bit down on the Adam’s apple of his throat and clapped one hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of him crying out in pain, his cock twitching proving he loved this display of dominance as much as you did.

"Gods-“ He managed to grunt, voice muffled by your hand, "you brat!"

Spasms ripple through his abdomen as his muscles tightened. He was close, and you couldn’t have that… not just yet.

“You call that an insult?” You laughed.

“You can do better than that can’t you? Hmm? Or are you too pussy-drunk from being my goddamn dildo to think?”

You rear back to slap him across the face hard, a sickening whack echoed through the room.

“There, that better? Give you some motivation to do better?”

Stunned by sudden blow, stars dance in his vision briefly before his focus snaps back to the present moment, anger burning brightly within his eyes.

"What the-?" He growled through clenched teeth, "You want a fucking insult? I’ll give it to you then you little bitch!"

With a primal roar, his muscular arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground; practically dragging you until he pinned you against wall, your dangling feet barely brushing the cool wood of the living room floor.

You smiled widely, a feral excitement in your glassy eyes; finally he was angry, finally he’d be as rough as you had been begging him to be for months now. You let out a low growling moan as if a wild animal was clawing it’s way out of your throat.

Intensity escalates rapidly his lustful anger threatening to consume all in its path.

"Fuck you..." He snarled viciously, "Fuck this... fuck those stupid bounties for keeping me away from you.”

With brute strength borne from years spent fighting for survival against odds insurmountable, he thrusted deep into your cunt.

“Vaii did ner cyare riduurok slanar?” He growled, eyebrows furrowed.

His already harsh thrusts became brutal plunges; your body slamming into wall with each powerful stroke meant to possess and claim.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your flesh pimples up In goosebumps.

Each thrust of his cock driving so far into your cunt that his tip slammed against my cervix painfully. Though it was worth every teeth gritting second all for that delicious push and pull of velvety skin against your raw and need clit.

“That’s it. This is what I wanted.” You praised, eyes filling with tears.

Breaths coming in ragged gasps, sweat coating his forehead in a light sheen.

"Y-Yeah... goddamn it..." He groaned lowly, "You fucking love this don't you? You want me to fucking claim you as mine?"

Teeth clash together in a violent snap; fury and desire merge into primal symphony of skin on skin, shared breath and unbidden pleasure.

“We’ve been married for almost a year!” You snapped as he dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of your ass. “And I’ve finally pushed you over the edge. Finally got you to be rough, to be mean.”

You arched your back with a high pitched squeal, bracing yourself with your hands gripping your forearms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he ravaged you.

“Of course I fucking love it you idiot!” You panted.

Though blinded by passion, he can't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest.

"Gods... you fucking insane?" He managed to choke out hoarsely, "This... this is what you needed? This is what you’ve been begging for?”

His eyes lock onto yours filled with love and desire combined into single focus piercing through yours with a burning intensity.

“I’m finally getting what I want, either shut up or fuck me senseless god damnit!” Your voice although demanding, had hidden notes of pleading.

You were so close to orgasm you could practically taste it.

“Gods you’re so deep,” You groaned, pushing your hips forward to suck his length in farther. “C’mon fill me up, breed me like I know you want to.”

Din couldn’t help but let out a strangled laugh through gritted teeth.

"Gods..." He breathed, wrapping his arms around you tightly to press your bodies together, "You really have no idea how fucking right you are."

His forehead drops to rest on your shoulder as his lungs squeezed out a reedy whine. With a final surge of energy, he buries himself deeply between your folds, holding you still as he pumped you full of his hot cum. Each spurt brought out a shameless whimper from his full lips, his face now tucked in the crook of your neck.

“Udesiir, atiniir.” He mumbled against your soft skin.

As you felt him cum, warm and sticky ropes of wet coating your insides you cried out loudly. Eyebrows furrowed with your mouth open in a high-pitched whine, turning into babbled words.

“That’s it, that’s just what I needed. Feels so good, shit- I love it, I love you.”

He starts up his thrusts again, this time slow and sensual with the sounds of your messy cum coated cunt. He takes his time to fuck you through your orgasm, your body shakes uncontrollably as warm wet slick gushes from your pussy and leaks down my thighs.

"Gods... you're such a brat..." He managed to speak between ragged gasps for breath.

“Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of that.” You chided him, kissing his jaw gently.

“Bet you wish you’d given in a long time ago now don’t you? Hmm?” You teased.

With a loud bellowing laugh echoing through the room he agreed with you.

"Fuck off, you know damn well how much I enjoyed it." He retorted with a slight grin sneaking onto his lips despite best efforts.

"Next time... we do it in bed." Gently, his hands tenderly reach out and help you slide down from wall still trembling with aftermath, whispering softly into your ear, nipping lightly on the lobe before returning to his usual serious demeanor.

“Don’t expect that kind of rough treatment often,” He said sternly. “Although I don’t have any complaints about it; You’re precious to me, I want to take care of you, make love to you, not ravage you like an animal all the time.”

“You can make love to me nice and slow, all gentle like you love to tomorrow.” You kissed him softly, lovingly like you normally did.

A chuckle escapes his throat, unable to suppress the wide grin creeping onto his lips again.

Mando’a to English (in order of appearance I think)

Cyare- beloved

Mesh’la- beautiful

Cyarika- darling, sweetheart

‘Mesh’la kar'taylir darasuum.’- ‘Beautiful, I will hold you in my heart forever.’

Ni'duraa- disgusting/gross

‘Yaihadla?’- ‘pregnant?’

‘Vaii did ner cyare riduurok* slanar?’- ‘Where did my sweet love go?’

*Riduurok: used only for spouses

‘Udesiir, atiniir.’- ‘Relax, just take it.’

TagList:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit?corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @slut-4-ani @offthethirlwall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme

#din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #mando x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #mando x reader #mando fanfiction #mando #star wars x reader #starwars fandom #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #the mandolorian x you #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #star wars

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kyberblade · 1 year

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Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 16

A/N: Whew. This is 100% my own brain child, as in no show plots. It’s just domestic fluff and fluff fluff and action and shenanigans and revelations and ahhhhhhhhhh! I hope you enjoy. There is no show dialogue in this one. (ALSO! Episode 3 tonight?! And also my return from the world of shadow silence…. We’re celebrating a lot here today!) Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

(This takes place right where the other one left off and is in between episode 2x5/13, The Jedi, and episode 2x6/14, The Tragedy.)

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

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a.

Word count: 17,396 (I said what I said.)

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

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for your endless hours helping me over goodness knows how long since I started this, helping me come up with SW-sy names, for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy. And @deceiver-of-gods for helping with the Mando’a. (Any mistakes are my own.) (Also, Huttese is a crazy hard language and I don’t know why it’s Din’s go to.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

The Crest was orbiting Tatooine, some final checks in progress as you watched Din from your copilot’s seat.

Grogu babbled something quietly from his seat to your right, making incessant grabby gestures toward the crate at your feet you’d brought up from the lower level. Soft grunts of frustration painted his string of gibberish in his efforts now and then.

Looking down to the box, amusement colored your features. “What, ad’ika? You want one of these?” Reaching down you pulled up a ration packet, holding it between your thumb and index finger tantalizingly. Letting it dangle as his eyes grew wider, darting between you and the packet and back again in a never ending circuit, you laughed softly. (“Little one.”)

“Here you go.” Tearing it open, you handed it to him, stopping just short of his outstretched hands and pulling it back a little. Eyebrow raised, you tilted your head down to look down your nose in warning. “Slow.”

Grogu just closed his mouth, his large eyes blinking up at you in understanding as he gently took the packet, making one last circuit between it and you before plopping into his seat with a soft coo. He ate like it had been months since the last time, not a handful of minutes, making you shake your head before settling back in your seat.

“Why are you feeding him?”

Din’s voice pulled your attention to him, your head snapping up from looking at your lap as you brushed crumbs from the packet away. “Oh, this is just a snack. I already gave him dinner an hour ago.”

A moment of silence settled between you before Din sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. “I gave him dinner two hours ago,” he said, voice resigned as his head tilted to the side.

All you could do was blink. “Din, two hours ago we were loading up the Crest in Peli’s hangar. The hour before that we were in the market for last minute supplies, I got him fresh food there. Three whole frogs. He’d already eaten.”

After another long moment as Din looked between the child while he munched away happily, then back to you, he sighed yet again. Bringing his right hand up to worry back and forth against his forehead, the leather of his glove squeaked against the beskar with each pass. “Well he sure was acting hungry.”

You nodded, trying not to smile like you wanted to, everything about this conversation amusing you more than it should. “Yeah, acting.” Looking over at the tiny green gremlin, the smile won over as it climbed up the side of your face. “I've said it before, and l'lI say it again - where does it all go?”

“What if he's having a growth spurt?”

Turning back to face Din, you studied his body language, not sure if he was joking or not. His voice sounded serious enough, but that could just be sarcasm - he tended to do that. Often. And sometimes his dry tone just came off as not so much a joke, but entirely serious. It could lead to some hilarious moments, but right now, it just made your head hurt. He gave away nothing in his posture, sitting mostly relaxed like normal in his seat, so you just decided to go with it.

“He's a fifty year old man. How much growing does he have left in him? Look at him.” You gestured to the tiny green ward as he disappeared inside the ration packet to get the crumbs at the very bottom. “How tall is he going to grow that he needs,” glancing down at the crate, you did some quick math before lifting your gaze back to his visor, “seven ration packets in that amount of time?”

“You don't know,” he was quick to answer.

Doing a double take as you went to look back at the kid, you raised your brows at him, your voice miraculously low and even. “I know enough.”

“Do you?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable. The way your head was tilted back against the headrest, you were looking down your nose at Din. “Well neither do you, if that's your argument.”

Din’s voice was eerily calm. “I'm not arguing.”

You couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, letting your eyes close for a moment as your head lolled to the side, facing the kid before you turned a sarcastic glare back on your Mandalorian. “This is the definition of arguing, Din.”

“I…”

A small plop drew both of your attention away, looking down to find the kid had dropped out of his seat, had pulled another packet out of the crate, and was trying to make a getaway with it; standing in the middle of the cockpit with a packet almost bigger than he was.

You both said firmly in unison, “No!”

Grogu froze, turning to face you both and promptly falling into a seated position on the floor. Slowly he pulled the packet closer to his chest, looking between the two of you with large seemingly innocent eyes that only blinked maybe twice as they peered into your souls.

“Kid…” Din’s exasperated sigh made you roll your eyes, turning your focus back on him as you sat on the edge of your seat facing sideways toward the child.

“Din, that's not going to do anything.”

He threw his hands up in the air, letting them slap back down on his thighs loudly as he leveled the stare of his visor on you. “Then you try, oh wise one.”

Making a face at him that was probably childish, to which he slightly tilted his head in response, you did what he asked. “Grogu. Hey. You don't need- Grogu?”

When you turned, you found an empty cockpit, no child, no packet, just the tips of his ears disappearing below the hatch to the lower level. “Great. You scared him off, Din.” You copied him, tossing your hands up and letting them come down with a slap.

“I- No, you- This....” The following silence was so intense, it had to be something they taught him in Mandalorian training.

Soft cries of frustration came from below as you knew Grogu was trying to wrestle the packet open, but you used it as unneeded fuel for the fire. “Look what you did now, you've upset him.”

The scathing look you could feel along the lines of your face from under the helmet was not something you would forget anytime soon. It was so intense, so practiced, it had to be the second step they taught all young Mandalorians, right after silence.

Then came the third step, which you had no doubt Din himself probably taught other Mandalorians. Turning quickly in the pilot’s seat, he faced the controls, every line of him rigid as he jabbed at some buttons unnecessarily, the ship still floating aimlessly in orbit. The silence was thick as he pouted for a long moment.

Finally, taking a deep breath, you sighed. “Look. Just... Just tell me the next time you feed him, okay? In fact, tell me every time. I'll tell you, too. That way we don't run out of supplies, and he doesn't turn into a BB droid, rolling around here.”

Din’s body deflated as he chuckled softly, giving his head a gentle shake at the mental image you’d painted.

Smiling, you went on. “After all, these are the types of things you should probably tell your wife….”

He groaned, tossing his head back against the seat and giving it another gentle shake as he stared at the ceiling.

“I mean, that’s the kind of thing she deserves to know.”

“Will you drop it already?” Din turned his visor toward you. “Please?” His voice was somewhere between annoyed and pleading. “I’ve told you, it was just a slip up, I didn’t…. There’s a lot more…. It’s a much more involved process if that were ever to really happen.”

“Well good,” you gave him one single nod in a definitive end to the conversation, and he turned back to the console after returning it tentatively. You smirked as you added, “Because I’m not that easy.”

He deflated, his shoulders slumping forward as a breath rushed out of him, his hands flattening against the console as he leaned into it slightly.

Din visibly relaxed, his head coming down, beskar clad forehead thumping once softly on the console between his hands when you quietly concluded with a grin, “Now I’m done.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled against the controls, his vocoder gently buzzing against the hard surface. Lifting his head suddenly as he took a deep breath, he resumed his assessment of various buttons and switches like always, as if nothing had happened.

“Where do we go after Tython?” You asked gently, settling back into your chair with a quiet huff of air.

Grogu squeaked in distress from below, so you reached out your hand, a lone packet flying up the ladder into your palm with ease. An indignant squawk floated up through the opening shortly after to meet it, and you turned your head toward the hatch ever so slightly. “I’m opening it for you, ad’ika. This is your last one.” Tearing it open, you mumbled, “Maybe for your life, I haven’t decided. At least for today.”

Din chuckled, making you smile as you continued. “You want some? Come back up here. That little evasive maneuver was impressive, but I want you where I can see you.”

Companionable silence settled between you while you waited for a response from the kid. Finally, you mumbled to Din with a wink, “Kaysh guur' skraan.” (“He loves his food.”)

“Kaysh emuuri epar,” he agreed. (“He likes to eat.”)

Babbling that sounded an awful lot like grumbling began to get slowly closer, so you nodded for Din to continue.

“I don’t know. I had hoped maybe we could talk with the Mandalorians, if we could find them, and they would have more information. I still believe-”

“Oh!” Your eyes wide, you stared vacantly through the viewport before they scrunched up tight and your palm came up to smack your forehead. Cradling your head in your hand, you rolled it slowly back and forth as you mumbled, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Of what?” Din’s words registered just as you felt a tiny tug on your pant leg. Looking down, you saw Grogu looking up at you somewhat sheepishly, his large eyes blinking a bit too much as he worried his lips in a meek expression.

Offering him a soft smile, you lowered the packet down to him, laughing quietly at the pure joy that overtook his face, and the eagerness he snatched the packet with. Not even bothering to get back in his chair, he plopped down where he was and dug in.

Meeting Din’s patient gaze again, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I know someone on Coruscant who might know where some Mandalorians are. Or at least something about them.”

“How?” You’d half expected him to sound accusatory or suspicious, but he just seemed genuinely curious.

“His name is Nem, a patron at the bar. He works seasonally on some backwater forest planet…. Sorgan?” Din sat up straighter, but you thought nothing of it. “Then comes back for a few months, always stops in for a drink. In fact, once he told me all about a Mandalorian in shiny armor who helped a local village fend off raiders, not knowing I knew said Mando.” You grinned, leaning in almost conspiratorially. “Or that he came into the bar right after him.”

Din’s breathing had gotten rapid, but he said nothing. So after you narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, waiting, you went on.

“Said something about how the Mando had a child and almost ended up staying in the village long term.” You looked up at him curiously. “I hadn’t met the kid yet, so I didn’t know what to think at that point, but I remember feeling kinda sad that I….” Turning your attention down to Grogu for something easier to focus on, you swallowed once, your voice dropping slightly. “Like I almost lost you.” Lifting your eyes back to his visor after a moment, you couldn’t help the sad smile. “If you’d stayed there, I wouldn’t have seen you anymore.”

He was quick to try and fix things, jumping in with, “I would have-” but you didn’t let him get far.

“Din, I’m not stupid. I know you….” You looked at your hands in your lap, your voice small. “I’m sure she was worth it.”

Silence. More silence. It was stifling and thick, and so quiet it was loud. It filled the cockpit in an instant and seemed to suck out all the air, everything you needed to breathe, to exist comfortably gone faster than a sigh. Even the Crest seemed to know, the beeping of instruments seemingly quieted to honor this mandated…. silence.

Finally something breaks, something gives, coloring the air with the sound of life, the contours of living. Din took a deep breath, then paused, like he didn't actually know what to say. His gloves creaked as his hands opened and closed in nerves, winding tighter each time. Finally, he found what he was looking for somewhere, his hands opening, fingers spread wide, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet.

“There…. There was a widow. She took care of Grogu like her own, her daughter loved him, and he didn’t stop smiling the whole time we were there. Things just…. Worked.” He slowly sat back in his seat, hands smoothing up along the beskar on his thighs, contemplating his next words. Finally, he looked at you again, his head cocked to the side just slightly as he continued honestly. “I thought about staying….” That’s as long as he could hold your gaze before he turned back to look across the cockpit at nothing in particular. “But in the end I decided to leave Grogu there, where he was happy. He doesn’t deserve this life….” Din stared straight forward for a long moment, his hand clenched into a tight fist where it rested on his thigh. “And I don’t deserve that one.”

Before you could say anything to disagree, he went on.

“Omera agreed to take him in while I left. To continue to care for him as if he were her own.” He stopped, his shoulders sagging slightly as he realized what he’d let slip.

“That was her name?” Din seemed stuck, so you repeated it quietly. “Omera?” He nodded after a moment of hesitation, making you smile softly, your voice low to match. “Omera,” you whispered the name again, letting it settle comfortably under your skin. “Beautiful.”

Din shifted in his seat before he continued. “But then a hunter found us, and the kid wasn’t safe anywhere. And everyone there was in danger if we stayed.” He turned back to the viewport. “So we left.”

Watching the stars crawl lazily by, you let the silence sit between you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Nem also mentioned you were with a Rebel Dropper from Alderaan….” Your eyes must have widened comically large as you turned back up toward his visor, his chair swiveling slowly toward you with a long sigh. “Was that Cara?”

He nodded, his head lolling back against the headrest of his seat with a soft thump.

You began to giggle. “He mentioned that the people said you had a very…. Abrupt personality.” He grunted. “I’m going to have to ask Cara about this next time we see her.” He sighed again, his head hanging slightly with a gentle shake making you begin to smile. “In the meantime, we have to get in contact with Nem. The only way I know how is at the bar. He’s due to stop by anytime now-”

“No. It’s too dangerous.” Din’s visor was leveled on you, keeping you pinned to your chair before you could get to your feet.

“Din, come on!” You protested. “I can finally help!” Standing, you began to pace the small expanse of the cockpit, arms gesturing as you spoke. Grogu looked up at you from his perch on the floor while he continued to munch away. “We could make a plan past Tython in case that doesn’t work out. If you're worried about fuel, I have some more credits stored in my apartment - Don’t look at me like that. You don’t live in that part of town and not take some precautions. I will grab them.”

Din rose to his feet, stopping you from continuing your back and forth in the limited space. “Someone could be watching-”

“Then you can watch for me.” You smirked. Turning, you waved your hand for the doors to open to the hatch, Din right on your heels.

“And what if someone comes for you?”

Scooping up the kid who clutched his packet tightly to his chest, you started down the ladder toward the lower level, pausing just before you were too low to meet Din’s gaze one more time. “You do what you do best.”

Xxx

Walking along the lower levels of Coruscant, the grimy streets and heavy air surrounded you at every turn, and you’d never wished to be away from it more. Having finally experienced fresh air and space, this entire planet felt like a prison now. You understood Din’s distaste a little bit more.

He had left Grogu on the ship, both of you opting to get in and get out as fast as you could, stopping by your apartment first. Din was right on your heels, keeping his head on a swivel and your arm in his grip, ready to pull you behind him and to cover at a moments notice.

Stopping a few feet in front of your building, you narrowed your eyes at a woman watching you intently a short ways down the walkway.

Din’s hand slowly left your arm and moved to his blaster, but you reached out to stop him, your hand over his.

“Mom?”

You felt him freeze under your touch. “Your mother?” His voice was in your ear.

The woman said your name barely above a whisper, her voice weak in disbelief.

“Mama!” You breathed, rushing over and wrapping her in a firm embrace.

“Oh!” She grunted in surprise, voice strained as she laughed softly. “A little too tight, firefly.” In your peripherals you saw Din tilt his head just slightly at the endearment.

“What are you doing here?” You mumbled into her shoulder, not ready to let go.

Her hand smoothed over your back comfortingly. “I come by here sometimes hoping I’ll see you.”

Releasing your mother, you went to introduce her to Din, but she was quick to stop you, waving her hand for you to hush. “It’s not safe for you here.” Her eyes darted into all the dark corners as she spoke, waiting for something. “If I thought of looking here, so have they.”

You narrowed your brows in question, stepping closer to her as you lowered your voice further. “Who is ‘they’?” Din’s hand softly came to rest on your lower back.

Looking both ways with wide eyes, her gaze finally landed on you, darting to the Mandalorian at your back before coming back to you. “I assume you came here on a commercial flight?”

Closing your eyes as you tried to wrap your mind around the change of subject and gently shaking your head, you raised one brow skeptically as you peered at her. “No, we have our own ship. Well, he does. I pilot it sometimes, though.”

She smiled, her demeanor softening for a moment, the tension easing from her shoulders as she stood taller. “You finally learned how to fly. Your father would be so proud.”

The thought of your father right now amused you, thinking of him standing here, as he stood toe to toe with Din, leaning his head back to hold his gaze. Hands probably on his hips as he issued some absurd warning only the truly brave or truly stupid would say to a Mandalorian. “How is dad?”

“I’ll meet you on your ship.” She turned to look at Din straight on for the first time in this conversation, without a single flinch. “Where are you docked?”

He looked at you before answering. “Lower levels, not far from the bar.”

“I know the one,” she instantly confirmed, shooing both of you back across the street. “I’ll meet you there later and bring your father.”

Din nodded, telling her the number of the spot he docked in. Standing back upright, he looked side to side every few seconds as he ushered you to the other side of the street.

“So what, we just go wait on the ship now?”

He merely nodded again, making you roll your eyes as you turned back to face forward, his hand once again on your lower back, gently guiding you toward the Crest.

“Yay,” you mumbled sarcastically.

Xxx

As you walked through the rows of ships toward the Crest, silence wrapped around both of you like a blanket. But not a warm, comforting feeling like the one you kept in the cockpit, no. This was nearly suffocating, too tight and constricting, heavy.

“Din-”

“Slana. Kemi ogir,” he said in a low voice near your ear, cutting you off with a slight gesture forward with his head, his grip on your arm tightening. (“Go. Walk there.”)

“Me'bana?” You lowered your voice to match, keeping the slight stumble from your stride as you tried to keep up with his quick steps. The switch to Mando’a was second nature, now. (“What's happening?”)

He hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice further, so much so, you could barely hear him. “Ashnar ru’shekemi mhi.” (“Someone has followed us.”)

“Osik!” You hissed, starting to turn to look over your shoulder. (“Shit!”)

He gripped your arm tighter, giving it a firm tug back towards him, making you face back forward. “Don’t turn around. They don’t know we know yet.”

Your face screwed up in confusion. “How do you know?”

Din pressed something on the side of his helmet for his display as he explained, “They keep getting closer. No one who knows their target knows they’re there gets that close. That’s just stupid.”

You let out a soft snort through your nose. “Not everyone is you, Din.”

He turned to look at you for the first time in the conversation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, turning to meet his gaze with a small smile. “Not everyone will do the smart thing.”

He looked back forward with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”

Still looking at him, your smile grew. “I think you mean fortunately. If everyone did the smart thing, we’d be in so much more trouble, and you’d be out of a job.”

“You make a good point,” Din muttered quietly after a moment, making you chuckle.

Turning your focus back forward after a quick glance to your side, you fell in step with Din once again. “Vaabi meg gar vaabi.” You jutted your chin to the side to indicate what you meant. (“Do what you do.”)

His visor turned almost imperceptibly to the right, before coming back onto you, his grip tightening further. “Keep walking, go past the Crest. When we’re one ship away, shoot one of your whistling bird blanks at the panel under the cockpit. It’s still loose, and it’ll fall, distracting them long enough for me to disappear. I’ll get behind them, take care of it. Just keep walking. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

You stopped moving to stare at him, but he kept pulling you along. “Why? Din, I’ve seen you do worse before. I’ve done worse before.”

His modulator was right by your ear as he kept his voice low. “That was out of necessity. This is-”

“Also necessary.” You didn’t bother to keep your voice low anymore.

“For me.” That was the same tone he’d used when you’d accidentally pushed him on Nevarro and he’d told you to get on the ship, the one you’d only ever heard for bounties. He sighed, his voice softening. “Mesh’la, please. For me. I’m just trying to protect you. Listen just this once.”

You turned only your eyes over to look at him, his visor studying the side of your face intently. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he rushed out.

“Just this once,” you whispered as you held up a finger close to his visor, the side of your mouth tugging up in a betrayal of the threat.

He let out a soft huff in amusement. “Keep walking until I come get you.”

It takes you a moment to get out a quiet, “And if you don’t?” Your accusing finger once wagging in his face now fell slowly to your side, your hand hanging limply at your side, feeling as useless as the rest of you currently did.

His head tilted to the side just slightly. “Like you said, I’ve done worse. This will be easy.” The Crest was two ships away now. “I’ll be right back.”

Moving as subtly as possible, you reached across your body, pressing the buttons on your vambrace to lower the ramp, trying to stick to routine. Stopping it after a foot or so, Din moved completely behind you, hissing, “Now!”

Flicking your wrist down sent your vambrace whirring, one blank whistling bird flying for the belly of the ship. The panel fell with a loud clatter, Din disappearing in the cacophony that followed. Emergency lights shot on around all parts of the Crest, white vapor shooting out from the panel filling the area. Looking up toward the cockpit, you saw a tiny green face you’d know anywhere smooshed against the viewport, his hands on either side of his head as his breaths puffed against the transparisteel.

You could either seal the ship back up and do what Din asked, keep moving, or you could….

Following your gut with a gentle shake of your head, you lowered the ramp of the Crest just enough for you to jump up onto it, sealing it shut with a hiss behind you. You darted the rest of the way up to the cockpit, scooping the kid out of the window as he watched the commotion unfold below. Muffled grunts and flashes from blasters filled the ship from outside, so you dropped to the lower level.

“Hey, kid. We’re gonna play a game.” He squirmed in your arms, reaching toward the cockpit with one hand, his eyes darting between you and the hatch leading up.

Holding up his little round ball between your thumb and index finger like you had the ration packet earlier in the day, you smirked when he settled down, focusing on the way the low lights of the ship caught its reflective surface.

“I want you to do what Ahsoka asked you to do.” Setting him in his hammock, you took a few steps back, holding the ball up tantalizingly.

A loud thud sounded from outside, something slamming into the hull of the Crest near the ramp. It made you jump, the kid’s head turning to the sound in concern, but when you reached out to feel for Din, he was smug, making you roll your eyes. He’d done the throwing not the slamming.

Resting your dominant hand on your blaster, ready to draw, you floated the ball to Grogu with your other. He caught it with a soft squeal. “Now, give it here, kid.” You made a grabby hand toward him, making him giggle quietly.

The ball floated toward you slowly as the ramp began to lower with a low whirr. “Keep going, kid.” You kept your voice encouraging, your attention on him with your hand extended for the little orb. Your other hand slowly drew your blaster, arming it and pointing it at the rapidly descending ramp.

“Grogu,” you drew his attention back to you. “Keep your eyes on me, ad’ika.” (“Little one.”)

His eyes kept darting between the ramp and you, the ball still slowly turning in the air like a miniature planet, suspended halfway between you, stuck where he’d lost his concentration for a moment. “Sur'ar.” (“Focus.”)

Turning your body just slightly more toward the ramp, moving just a step to the left to block more of Grogu from whoever was coming up, you turned your gaze toward the sound of footsteps. Watching as the face of a man you didn’t recognize appeared, you straightened your spine, finger hovering over the trigger, ready…. Then the body crumpled to the ground, revealing Din standing easily behind the man, hand on his hip as he took in the scene.

You, the child, a ball floating between you that suddenly dropped to the floor and rolled to a stop at the toe of his boot. Looking down at it, Din stooped to pick it up, tucking it into his belt, ignoring the kid’s squawk of outrage. Turning back to you, his weight shifted to one leg. “Is there a reason a blaster is still pointed at me?”

Blinking a few times, you shook your head to clear it, holstering your weapon. “I was just being safe.”

“It would have been safer if you had done what I asked you to,” he grunted, dragging the body over to his carbonite chamber.

Watching for a long minute, it’s painfully obvious, so you don’t really know why you ask, “What’re you doing?”

Din’s sigh says he agrees with you, but he answers anyway, “This one’s had a bounty on him for a few years. Gonna collect. Not going to let that go to waste.”

You nodded. Suddenly feeling the urge to explain yourself, you took a deep breath before beginning. “I came up here because the kid was watching you from the cockpit-”

“He’s seen worse.” Such a simple answer. Somewhat crude, actually. It seemed out of character for…. No, it definitely was.

After staring at him for a moment, you scoffed. “So have I, Din. In fact, that was my argument not ten minutes ago.”

His shoulders went stiff, a heavy sigh leaving him. “It’s different.” He kept his back to you as he prepped the chamber, but you didn’t miss the small wayward glance he sent you over his shoulder before his spine straightened further and he turned back to the panel.

The air was charged between you, something brewing just under the surface. Your hands came to your hips like his had. “No, it’s not.”

As the carbonite hissed, filling the hull with vapor, Din crossed over to the bunk, closing the door as Grogu babbled. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp began to close, and soon after it sealed, both of you were left in complete silence, staring at one another.

After a long moment, he spoke in a tone that was void of any particular emotion. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was a droid. “I need you to do what I ask, mesh’la. It’s only to make sure you’re safe.”

“You don’t need to keep protecting me, Din!” Tossing your arms out and letting them come back down to your sides with a slap in exasperation, you kept your gaze firmly on him. “I can take care of myself. You taught me how.”

Something cracked, his posture breaking down just a bit, the rigidity dissolving under your words. “That’s not-” he groaned in frustration, turning and taking a few steps before turning back to face you again. His voice was lower, full of emotion, too many to name. “I can’t protect you from me.”

Fear. You realized all the emotions swirling in his words came together to paint one singular thing you never thought you’d ever associate with Din. It was unnerving to say the least, and it left you feeling broken, that he would ever be afraid of anything, much less when it came to you.

Staring at him for another long moment, you finally found the words that seemed to fit next. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He began pacing again, hands gesturing with small, precise gestures that made you think of things you’d see a commanding officer use to communicate in the field with fellow soldiers. “Everything I taught you was to keep you safe with me. We get into some questionable situations and I need to know you’ll be walking back onto the ship with me at the end of it all.” He sighed again, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Stopping his back and forth, Din faced you, his gestures now a bit broader, looser, but less emphatic. “But you’ve never seen me doing what I did before you came on the ship.”

You were smiling. This was ridiculous. “How is that different-”

“It just is!” His voice was raised, his breathing coming in heavy pants like this topic winded him. He didn’t turn away again, staying where he was, but he seemed broader, like he was staring down a threat. And in a way he was. If he couldn’t keep you safe, from himself or anything else, that was his biggest fear, and the thing he wanted to scare off the most.

The smile slipped off your face, furrowed brows replacing it. Closing the distance and reaching a hand toward him, he took a step back, almost flinching away from you, making you freeze.

“There’s a difference. It’s….” His body was turned to the side to face away from you, his visor looking at your feet. His voice sounded almost…. Defeated. “There’s a difference between keeping someone safe and taking care of a threat.”

“Not if they both accomplish the same goal.” Your voice was soft.

Din lifted his visor to hold your gaze, his head tilted to the side. His posture conveyed disbelief, hands on his hips again while he studied you. While his breathing had evened out, it was still shallow, and you had a feeling if you put your hand over his heart, it would be racing.

Reaching toward him again, you hesitated when he turned his head to look away, but you continued, placing it on his cheek and turning his visor slowly back toward you.

“It’s no different for me, Din. I don’t judge you for any of it.”

“Maybe you should.” His voice was low and flat.

You shook your head. “No. You’re protecting your aliit, what about that could ever be wrong?” (“Family/Clan.”)

He almost began to melt into your touch, his voice softening along with the hard lines of his posture. “I-”

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head again, grinning when he sighed in frustration, turning his gaze to anywhere but you. “You’re good at what you do, Din. Bounty hunting, piloting, taking care of Grogu, following leads to find the Jedi…. Taking care of me.” His visor landed back on you. “But you also need to take care of you. You have a lot of people who care about you, friends, family…. And we all just want you to be okay.” Your hand fell to rest on his chest plate, and you smiled when you did indeed feel his heart racing, along with deep, steady breaths. “So give yourself a break…. Eat….” You both chuckled softly. “Take a kriffing nap….” He hung his head, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “And then we can resume murder and mayhem after. It’ll wait. I promise.”

Glancing over at the carbonite chamber as the last of the vapor dissipated, your curiosity got the better of you. “Was he….”

“He’s alive,” Din grunted, turning his attention that way as well. “But whenever they take him off ice, he’ll wish he wasn’t.”

“What’s he wanted for, do you know?”

“What’s he not wanted for? That would be the easier answer. He’s done a little bit of everything. But he was really big on the smuggling scene.”

Tilting your head as you studied the criminal's face, stuck in a permanent scowl, your brows pinched together.

Turning back to face you, Din tilted his head to match yours. “Why?”

Your eyes flicked up to his visor as you blinked a few times, trying to find the right words. “Why did someone like him have my puck…. and why would he chance it?” You turned your body fully toward Din. “If he’s evaded everyone including you for years, why risk running into a face to face with you just to get to me?”

“He wasn’t the brightest, maybe he didn’t know I’d be here-”

“Did you remove his stuff before you froze him? His belt?”

Without asking further questions, Din led you over to a crate by the chamber, lifting up a belt with a blaster and a few pouches. You took it, looking through the pouches, emptying the contents, grimacing when you pulled out a few small containers of spice, some death sticks, a small flask that you sniffed out of curiosity - spotchka - then, finally, what you were looking for…. A fob.

Pushing the button, it beeped continuously, making you quickly click it off. “That’s annoying.”

Out of the same pocket, Din pulled out a holopuck, holding it in his palm as he pushed the button with his thumb. A holo of your face popped up, spinning lazily in a circle along with the details of the bounty like the price, your last known location, and the date you were last seen there: Coruscant - Today.

“The price has gone up,” Din mumbled quietly. “Those scumbags on Arvala-7 said it was-”

“Where did they get that picture? It’s awful.” You looked up at Din as his visor turned down toward you. “I don’t look like that, do I?”

He let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head as he turned back to the puck, reading over the details. “It doesn’t say who issued the bounty, or why. No mention of me, either, so that explains him.” Din gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his head toward the frozen villain.

“You’re saying they’d leave me alone, or at least more of them would, if they knew I was with you?”

He nodded. “Probably. There’s a code within the guild, unspoken but still, and there’s fear among quarry’s.” He shrugged. “I have enough of a reputation in both that people don’t usually mess with me unless the price is good.” Sighing he pressed the puck to shut it down, closing his fingers around it and lifting it up in reference as he spoke. “Unfortunately, this is starting to get that high.” He tucked it into his belt to keep for later.

“What about what started all this? My apartment and the Mando’a on the painting?” Floating the tracking fob above your flattened palm, you disassembled it without touching it once, smiling when small sparks shot out as some wires were pulled out of the circuits. Letting the parts crash to the floor with hollow pings once it was in shambles, you turned your attention back to Din, grinning with a shrug when he just stared at you.

Din watched you for a long moment, before he finally shook his head once at you in disbelief. “I think that was unrelated,” he finally said. “That was because you know me. Now that we know Gideon has been alive this whole time, it wouldn’t surprise me if he sent people.”

“So I may have two different bounties on me?” You collected all the parts of the fob into one pile with some lazy waves of your fingers.

Din watched in amusement as you swept the floor in quite possibly the most absurd manner he’d ever seen. “No, but you may have two different groups searching for you.”

Directing them with your index finger, you set the parts on the crate by the illicit items you’d removed. “Great.”

You both looked at each other, a smirk climbing up your face as he slowly shook his head at you. “Let’s just hope neither one is particularly motivated.”

Xxx

A soft rhythmic knock tapped against the hull of the Crest a while later, making you and Din freeze as you straightened the ration stores after the kid’s deep dive that morning. Looking up and meeting the other’s gaze, Din finally jerked into motion, taking the few steps toward the ramp.

Hand on your blaster as he pulled the lever to lower it, you moved in front of the bunk space, waving your hand in front of the panel to conceal a sleeping Grogu.

Before Din could say a word, you heard your mother’s voice quickly advancing up the ramp, his posture relaxing the closer her voice got. His shoulders stiffened when you heard a second voice mumble something lowly, stopping just out of your line of sight.

“Oh, don’t start that now,” your mom mumbled, backtracking before she quickly reached out and yanked on someone, causing some stumbling steps to follow her before you saw the face behind her come into view.

“Dad?”

The scowl on your father's face melted when he saw you, the corners of his mouth quickly lifting up into a disbelieving grin. He whispered your name as you both closed the distance between you, wrapping the other in a hug, rocking side to side as it went on. “How I missed you. We’ve been so worried. Where have you been, nau ki'bas’ika?” (“Little light bug.”)

You froze immediately, pushing your father to arms length to meet his curious gaze. To your side you saw Din taking a few steps closer, his head tilted as he peered at your father.

“Was that…. Dad, you just spoke Mando’a.”

Realization crossed his features, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded. “Did I? I never knew that’s what that was. I just heard it once and I guess it stuck. It means firefly, right?”

You nodded. “‘Little light bug’, but close enough.”

“Where did you hear it?” Din finally spoke, his voice quiet but curious.

Your father pulled away from you, and walked over to stand by your mother. He gestured to you with his head as he began. “She was young, only maybe twelve at the time….”

Giggling, you ran from your father, darting through the crowded streets of your neighborhood.

You were determined to make it to the shop at the end of the street. The old lady who worked there would give you sweets if you stopped by alone. She knew your parents didn’t want you to spoil your dinner, so she always feigned innocence when they were nearby, slipping you smaller treats under the counter on those days.

“Get back here!” Your fathers voice faded behind you, his laughter beginning to paint his words as he knew right where you were going.

Glancing over your shoulder to see how close he’d gotten, you suddenly ran straight into a wall of metal, almost falling back on your seat, but two hands caught you just in time.

Looking up, you saw your own reflection staring back at you in the dark T of a menacing looking visor, surrounded by dark green paint. “Careful, little one,” a kind voice warned through some sort of processor.

Your father called your name a few times, quickly closing in, his eyes wide when he saw the man’s hands around your arms. “I’m so sorry, sir.” Taking you into his own arms quickly, kneeling in front of you, he cradled you into his shoulder. “Are you okay, firefly?”

The younger man laughed, and you thought it was such a happy sound. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Right in the path of this little one on her mission to somewhere obviously very important,” he chuckled. Reaching out, he patted your head, ruffling your hair. “Be careful next time, nau ki'bas’ika, little firefly. It’s best to go around people, not through them. A much nicer time for everyone involved.” With a gentle shake of his head, he turned and walked away.

“He looked a lot like you, actually. Well, your armor,” your father concluded, pointing to Din.

You took a few steps over to the weapons locker and pulled out the green helmet you’d worn on Corvus. Looking into the T of the visor, you saw the reflection of your twelve year old self staring back at you, wide eyed and curious.

“That! It looked like that!” Pointing at the beskar in your hands, your father trailed off, his voice lowering to a whisper as his features screwed up in confusion. “Exactly like that. Wait. How did you….”

“Long story,” you sighed, setting the helmet back on the shelf.

Accepting your answer, your father moved on to the next topic. “How did you know that was Mando’a? You’ve never really been one for languages.”

Din had the audacity to let out a snort of laughter from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed easily over his chest.

Rolling your head to level a narrow glare on your Mandalorian, you signed to him in Tusken in an attempt to keep the conversation a little more private in the tiny hull of the Crest, “What?”

He shrugged. “Jee tinka soong…. nuh'la,” he responded in Huttese, your newest attempted language to tackle, slipping into Mando’a on the last word when he couldn’t think of the proper one in the first language. (“I think it’s…. funny.”)

“Dobrah koona tah seenga Wooky tah uba,” you threatened in Huttese. (“I am going to sing Wookie to you.”)

“Shyriiwook? Ni ne ru’ba’juri gar ibac su,” he replied in Mando’a, completely forgoing trying to maintain the Huttese. (“Shyriiwook? I have not taught you that yet.”)

“Uba tinka Jee joka?” (“You think I joke?”)

A clearing of a throat attempted to pull your attention away, your mother’s small voice making you sigh as you continued to stare at Din. “Did I miss something?”

“No, mama,” with a roll of your eyes at Din, you turned to face your parents. “Just an inside joke.” You shot a glare back towards your armored companion. “Nothing important.” Bringing your eyes back to your father’s, you couldn’t help the smile you felt working up your face. “To answer your question, I guess I just never had a reason before.”

He arched a brow. “A reason?”

“Mando’a is the language of his people, well…. Of his Creed. It’s important to him, so it’s important to me.” You looked back over at Din, eyes narrowed. “Plus, he played dirty and started speaking to me only in Mando’a, so I kind of didn’t have a choice.”

“I did not-”

“After that,” you turned back to your parents, ignoring Din’s aggravated huff. “I wanted to learn because we’ve encountered so many different species and cultures…. I wanted to be able to communicate with them, even just a little bit.”

“Ah, so, ‘Help, I’ve lost my Mandalorian’ in what, seven different languages?” Your mom teased, smiling mischievously.

You laughed. “Something like that.”

Your mother closed the small space between you, resting her hands on your arms gently. “I’m so happy for you. You’re thriving.” The soft smile coloring her features quickly faded, concern clouding her eyes as they fell, mindlessly darting over your vambraces as she pulled back to hold your hands between you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your apartment…. It…. It was burned. We…. We thought the worst, then someone from the bar brought in the note you left a few months ago saying you would be gone an unknown length of time. Between that and something about you throwing a lit bottle of alcohol across an alley causing an explosion,” Din groaned softly, cradling his forehead with his hand while your mother took a deep breath before continuing. “The authorities thought maybe you’d set the fire yourself and are looking for you.”

All you could do was blink, looking at your mother, but not really seeing a thing in front of your face.

Everything in your apartment. Gone.

All the things Din had brought back for you, the memories….

Clearing your throat, you turned your gaze over onto Din, the weight of his patient stare behind his visor drawing lines up and down your face as he studied your reaction.

That place hadn’t really been home for a while now. Had stopped being home the minute you’d left that morning before stepping on board the Crest. And the ship, as much as it was a home for you now, was really just a place to come back to, four walls and roof. Wherever the little green goblin and his big shiny protector were, that was where you were meant to be.

You’re just happy he and the kid weren’t there. Things can be replaced.

“When nothing happened after several weeks,” your dad picked up the story after giving you a moment of silence to process, “we hired a private investigator.”

At some point during the conversation, Din had floated silently over to stand right beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back in comfort. “That’s where the bounty on you came from.” His voice is low, barely enough to fill the space between the two of you, just enough to buzz from his modulator and tickle your ear. “They don’t care if you’re dead or alive, their job is just to find you.”

Before you could add anything to the conversation, your father came over to join the three of you. He stood toe to toe with Din, peering up at him seriously, and it was every bit as amusing as you thought it would be. “She’s safe with you?”

“Dad, it’s probably the safest place I can be.”

It’s as if they didn’t hear you, neither Din nor your father reacting to your words. They simply continued to stare one another down, your father having to crane his neck back just slightly to maintain eye contact with the Mandalorian. To his credit, only the corner of one eye was twitching, showing his fear under the weighty stare of beskar.

“Your daughter is very capable herself, sir. She’s saved my life many times.”

Sir? Did Din just call someone sir? You needed to sit down.

As the Crest began to spin around you, the world obviously turning on its head since Din was calling people sir without a blaster to his head, it righted itself just a little bit when you realized the compliment he just paid you in the same breath.

You’re capable. Capable. In Mandalorian speak that’s the same as calling you one of their own, or it’s pretty damn close. If anyone asked, that’s what you were going to tell them.

And voluntarily saying you’d saved his life? Granted, to your father, that probably wasn’t the best sell, life in peril and all, but! You were definitely telling people about this.

Your father arched a skeptical brow. “Is that so?”

Yes. Yes, it is. If anyone asks, just call me-

Din nodded. “And that of my son.”

….We were so close.

As if waiting for his cue, the bunk door hissed open, revealing the empty chamber, before Grogu peeked out over the edge of the hammock, drawing all eyes to him. Your mother melted instantly, prattling nonsense as she rushed over to him and picked him up.

“He’s like me, mom.” She narrowed her brows in confusion, so you reached into the pocket on Din’s belt and pulled out the ball. “Grogu? Help me out here?”

The child’s eyes went wide when he saw his toy, and he immediately reached out for it, causing it to fly through the air to his waiting palm. Both of your parents' eyes went wide at him, before they looked at each other, then at Din. “It’s okay. He knows, too. We’re trying to get the kid to a Jedi so he can be trained.”

“There are still some left?” Your mother asked genuinely but looked at Grogu the whole time, her finger fiddling with the front of his robe.

How to answer?

‘Yes, we just met one and helped her take over a corrupted city to give back to the people’?

‘Yes, we just met one, and she taught me how to jump on top of really tall stuff’?

‘Yes, we just met one and she said she can’t help the kid because of his attachment to Din, not to mention me, and my vision dream memory things have something to do with the kyber crystal in my saber and a bond forged in the Force long before the three of us were born’?

“Some.”

“Is that where you got that?” Your dad asked quietly, pointing to the saber on your belt.

‘The voices brought me that while we hid in a supply closet and I saw a ten year old Din, a who knows how old Grogu, and a two year old me with both of you, not to mention something from the future involving the Mandalorians, and it all gave me a headache.’

‘The kyber led me to it, and after some vision thingies, I exploded some lights with a surge of Force power, and had to resist The Dark Side when Din almost drowned.’

“No, that found me at a black market port on Trask.”

“Found you?”

Don’t ask.

“Yeah. Like whoever torched my apartment.” You turned to Din beside you, his hand still firmly on your lower back. “I still need to go by there. Get my stash of credits from under the floor.”

“They found them,” your mom said. “That was another thing they thought was suspicious.”

“Of course they did,” you rolled your eyes. “Where are they now?”

“They are holding them as evidence.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Din said softly.

“What are you going to do, break in and take it?” Your dad scoffed, Grogu squealing in your mom’s arms at his tone toward his own father.

“No,” Din said pointedly as he tilted his head to the side, looking at your father skeptically. “I have a few contacts here who can take care of it for me.”

Your parents just gave you a look.

“He’s a bounty hunter, what do you expect?” You shook your head gently, not quite knowing what to say past that.

Oh now you’re quiet. Thanks, brain.

Your dad shifted his weight for a moment before he took a deep breath. “You’re running from a bounty…. With a bounty hunter…. Forgive me, but….”

An anger began to roil in your stomach, your hands clenched in fists at your sides. The room started to fill with a low rumble, and you realized it was the sound of blood rushing in your ears. It was so loud, you could barely hear your voice when you began to speak in a low, even tone. “This all started before there was even a bounty to speak of, dad. This all started because I-”

You're stopped by a tug on your pant leg, pulling your focus down. Grogu’s tiny green face peered up at you, a wave of calm washing over you from the ground up, the low hum coming to an abrupt stop, and your hands releasing at your sides. You bent over to scoop him into your arms, holding him close to your chest.

“The weapons locker started to shake. And a few crates in the corner.” Din’s soft voice in your ear explained.

“Thank you, ad’ika,” you mumbled into the top of the child’s head, taking a moment before lifting your gaze back to your parents. “I’m here because I want to be, not just because of a bounty. When I told him I was coming with him - he didn’t ask - we didn’t even know someone might be looking for me until we got back to my apartment for me to grab a few things. That’s when we found it trashed and knew that I had to go with him, to be safe.”

Din turned to you, his voice still calm and low. “They torched it to burn the evidence.”

Your mother’s head snapped between the two of you a few times before her words came out in a rapid fire. “What evidence? Of what? What’s going on?”

With a heavy sigh, you turned your body slowly to face her, and lowered yourself to sit on a nearby crate, leaning forward to brace your elbows on your knees. Grogu perched on your lap, looking between all four of you as the conversation went on. “There are some people who aren’t very happy that Mando and I….” Your eyes fell to the floor of the Crest, searching for the proper words to complete the sentence. “….Get along. He used to come into the bar every few months, and would bring me something-”

“Oh he’s the one!” She cut you off with a broad smile, eyes darting over to your beskar clad companion. “The one that traveled the galaxy for you.”

You smiled shyly, looking up and over at Din where he’d sat close by, and quickly tucked your chin to your chest to try and hide the growing grin on your face. “Yeah. That was him.” You turned back to your mom. “Still is. The gifts are just…. A little different now. More practical.”

“Oh.” She smiled knowingly, if not somewhat sadly. “So he lost interest?”

Din choked, starting to cough as your eyes went wide, laughter bubbling up and out of your chest.

“No! No, no. Mom. We just…. Like we said, the apartment was burned to cover their tracks because they came after me to come after him. And they’re still coming. So now his gifts help keep me safe.” You traced the line of your left vambrace with your right index finger. “They have helped me find purpose on dark days and strength on hard ones.” Grogu’s hand came up to rest on your vambrace, intersecting your fingers' path, making you smile. “It’s very different, yes, but not anything less, just…. They’ve adjusted to fit the current needs.”

“Running for your life?”

You understood their skepticism. You really did. People only want what’s best for their children, and you can see why this isn’t it for them. On the run, in an old ship, with someone they consider dangerous and a stranger, your life on the line for a few credits….

But you’ve never been more sure of what you're doing in your life.

“Protecting my family.”

Xxx

Your parents had insisted both of you stay the night with them. Something about them feeling guilty about the bounty and since you’d already been found near the Crest once…. You and Din weren’t going to turn down a real bed, there was no love lost between you and the thin bunk pad.

They left to get the room ready while you and Din collected a few necessities for the night.

“I’m going to go get a few things,” you said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Mesh’la, no. What do you need? I’ll go get them, you stay here and lock up the ship until I get back-”

“No!” You said a little too forcefully, correcting it with a softer, “No,” quickly after. “I’ll be fine, Din. I just…. Need some air, that’s all.”

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m meeting my contact here with your credits in an hour. Be back by then so you can count them and make sure it’s all there.” You nodded, turning to go down the ramp when he caught your arm gently, making your turn back to look at his visor again, one brow raised. “Please.”

Offering a tight lipped smile, you nodded again, pulling your cloak over your shoulders as you descended the ramp.

It was a quick little jog to the bar, just a few streets over, and you stood in the shadows near the entrance, waiting for Nem to show up.

Looking all around, you saw the bright neon signs displaying their never ending messages in Aurebesh, flashing images of products or faces of spokespersons for milliseconds before moving on to the next. This used to be comforting to you, familiar, but now, after seeing green, and life, space as far as you could see…. You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

The sign for the bar flickered above you, pulling your eyes up to it in amusement. They still hadn’t fixed it. Pulling your eyes up further still, you saw the lines of speeders zooming past above, flickers of finely dressed men and women going about their days without a second glance down to the grunge below. Growing up on the lower levels, you learned that sometimes the best things are hidden, tucked away where you’ll never find them unless you really look. Anytime you entered a new atmosphere on the Crest, you found your eyes instantly pulled downward, scanning the surface for all its secrets. And so far…. You hadn’t been disappointed.

Laughter broke your revere, your focus coming back down in front of you as you saw Nem walking up to the bar with a group of other regulars.

Jostling a nearby pile of trash with a little nudge from your mind, you saw Nem’s eyes dart your way, widening in recognition when he saw you. He opened his arms wide like he was about to make some announcement, but stopped when you shook your head ever so slightly at him.

“Ah…. Hmmm…. You know what, guys? You go ahead. Order a spotchka for me.” He slapped his friends on the back as he started to pull away from the group.

“Where are you going?” Some deep, gravelly voice asked.

“Gotta take a piss,” he pulled a face, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb, then smiling when they all guffawed before waving him off and disappearing inside.

Once he was within reach, you pulled him into the alley by his collar, pinning him against the wall by your vambrace at his neck.

He grunted at the impact, but smiled down at you. “Hey, you. Nice to know you’re alive. No ‘hi’? ‘Hello’? ‘How’re you doing, Nem?’ Oh I’m just fine, thanks for asking….” His voice trailed off tightly at the end as you applied a little more pressure with your armored forearm. He reached up, tapping it with one hand as he ground out, “Okay. I get it. I yield, or whatever. Just…. Stop.”

You eased back a bit, rolling your eyes when he took dramatic breaths. Shoving his shoulders against the wall, you took a small step back.

“Are those beskar?” He eyed your vambraces, rubbing his neck with a grimace. A mischievous smile wound up his face, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit alley. “I take it you found your Mandalorian.”

“He wasn’t lost,” you grumbled. “Cut the shit, Nem.” He chuckled. “Just tell me where I can find other Mandalorians.”

“Why, you got a thing for them or something?” Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, it melted into a grimace and a groan when you pushed him back up against the wall, vambrace against his throat again. “Okay, okay! Kriff, you need a drink. Hell, I need a drink. Um, I don’t know?”

Pulling him forward by his shirt before you slammed him back into the wall again, he began to protest quickly.

“I don’t know!” He almost yelled, lowering his voice after you gave him a warning look. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t. I heard about the shiny one on Sorgan purely by chance, right place right time, and I haven’t heard a thing since. They are a really reclusive bunch, Mando’s. And I don’t blame them.”

“So you know nothing?” You reiterated after a moment, all your hopes dropping to the ground around you.

“Not a thing,” he verified, his expression sincere.

“I find that hard to believe,” you hissed. “Your nose is always where it doesn’t belong, in everybody’s business.” Leaning into him again, your voice dropped a bit deeper. “Tell me.”

The smirk twisted back up his face. “You’re so funny. Come on, let’s get a drink.” He went to push off the wall when a shadow moved over both of you from behind you and his eyes went wide as he froze, staring over your shoulder.

“I suggest you do what she says, before I start asking.” You smirked at the familiar modulated voice.

You tilted your head at Nem. “You won’t like it when he asks. Much less pleasant.” You dug the vambrace in slightly on the last word to prove your point.

“Fine, fine,” Nem hissed after a long minute, reaching up to try and pull your beskar away, grunting when it didn’t work. “I wasn’t listening. Ask me again.”

Din grunted, his modulator coming right by your ear, but his tone far from something to keep Nem from overhearing. “Before you let him go, I just need one minute alone with him, mesh’la.”

Glancing at his helmet as it almost rested on your shoulder, you teasingly warned, “Mando….”

“He won’t die, don’t worry.”

Nem swallowed roughly. “Can I worry?” He asked, raising his hand as if you needed to know who was speaking.

You slammed him into the wall again. “Talk.”

Xxx

Credits tucked safely onboard the Crest, you turned to Din as the ramp sealed shut behind you, beginning the trek to your parents apartment.

They had stopped Din before he could lower the ramp, your mother’s hand over his on the lever. She didn’t even flinch when he turned his visor down to look at her in question.

“What do we call you?”

“Just call him Mando,” you jumped in. “Names are something special in Mandalorian culture, like their face. You don’t go around just sharing it with the galaxy.”

Your mother smiled, turning back to Din as she gave his hand a gentle pat. “Well, we would be honored if you called us by our names. I’m Leera, and this is my husband, Dero.”

After a moment, Din nodded, his glove creaking as his grip over the lever tightened. “Din.” Your mother tilted her head at him curiously. “My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

Your father extended his hand, gripping the inside of Din’s forearm as the Mandalorian gripped his. “Nice to meet you, Din.”

“Nice to meet you, Dero.” He nodded to your mom. “Leera.”

Your mother smiled back at him so wide, you thought her face might crack.

“Please tell me Nem walked away, at least.”

Din tossed his head side to side for a moment. “I can tell you he limped away….”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you continued on in comfortable silence for a long moment.

“How’d you know I’d be at the bar?”

“I followed you from the ship, for one.”

“Really? I was careful! I made sure and kept checking…. I didn’t see you.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Like I said earlier, no one who knows their target knows they’re there gets that close. That’s just stupid.”

You shook your head as a soft snort of laughter escaped through your nose. “Not everyone is you, Din.”

“No, they are not,” he said proudly, turning to look at you with an affectionate tilt of his head when you threw your head back laughing loudly.

Linking your arm through his as you leaned into his side, you grinned. “So humble.”

“That’s why my armor is so shiny. Humility.”

You groaned at the joke, but looked up at him in amusement nonetheless. “That has to be it.”

Xxx

Din walked into the bedroom at your parents, Grogu propped in one arm, stopping just inside the threshold as the door slid shut behind him.

You stood up straight from where you were digging in your satchel, bent over the bed. “What?”

It took Din a few seconds to answer, his visor giving you a once over from head to toe slowly, making a smile tug at the corners of your lips. Opting to go barefoot while in your childhood home, you had to admit it probably looked a little odd to go from bare feet up to beskar on your forearms. You wanted to be safe, but you could protect the ones you loved while feeling the plush of carpet between your toes, couldn’t you?

Din shook his head then continued. “I just had a very…. Interesting conversation with your dad.”

“Oh no.” You turned to fully face him, hands going to your hips. “What’d he say?”

Din sighed, walking further into the room to set the kid down. “Well….”

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Din muttered to Grogu, walking quickly toward the kitchen. “Of course you’ve already eaten all the ration packets I packed. How did you even get into that bag anyway?”

Looking down at the tiny face in his arms, laughing softly at the babbled coos he got in response, Din nodded. “Okay. Perfectly acceptable answer. Just next time, save some for us, okay kid?” He swore the child rolled his eyes at him.

Stepping into the kitchen, he didn’t bother to turn on the lights, able to see just fine with his display in his helmet, and the kids' eyes were big enough to see in the dark. Grabbing a piece of fruit off the table, Din recognized it as the same kind you’d gotten on Nevarro, and he smiled.

Grogu let out an unamused huff, making him chuckle softly. “Hey. I promise, kid. You’re gonna love it.” When Grogu still watched the fruit with a skeptical eye, Din tried a different tactic. “Your buir loves them. She’s the one that found them,” he lilted temptingly. (“Mother.”)

He saw the kids eyes widen comically before he reached eagerly for the brightly colored fruit. Quickly grabbing the corner of his cape to dab at the juice streaming down Grogu’s face, he floundered for a minute, letting out a sigh as he reached for a nearby towel. “Come on, kid. Some of it is supposed to be in your mouth.”

The lights suddenly flicked on, making Din spin around on high alert, finding your dad standing in the doorway.

The only sound for a solid minute was Grogu’s happy squeal followed by gentle babbles as he reached for another piece of fruit. Your father stared at Din who stared right back, not even a twitch of an eyebrow was given, until your father finally gave a sigh that sounded very much like yours.

“Why are you skulking in the shadows, son?”

Din shifted his weight from side to side, pondering his response before stumbling out, “I... I'm not? I'm feeding the baby?” To be honest, his brain had short circuited at being called ‘son’. He’d been called a lot of things over the years, but that had never been one of them. Not since…. Not since before the Creed.

Your mother shuffled in, squinting at the bright lights as she looked around, taking in the scene. After a few steps, she took the fruit from Grogu, raising a brow at his squawk in protest, the arch reminding Din every bit of yours, and amazingly Grogu settled right down under its weight. Shuffling over to the counter, she began to slice the fruit up properly. "How old is the little guy?" She looked over her shoulder when Din didn’t answer at first, gesturing to the table with a tilt of her head before resuming her task.

Din was quick to obey, pulling out a seat to sit for himself, and placing Grogu in his lap, responding as a plate covered in easier to manage slices was slid in front of the little troublemaker. "Fifty."

If Din could capture the look on your parents’ faces to show you, he would. It was priceless. All they did was blink way too much and stare at the child as he munched happily on the sweet snack. Your mother had hesitated before falling back into a chair across from him, while your father shifted his weight to one side, his head shaking slightly in disbelief as he looked at the child with furrowed brows.

“Portions,” your mother mumbled, pointing at Grogu as she cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake. “Smaller portions, easier to chew bites. It’ll make him eat slower, which might help him eat less.” Din tilted his head to the side as he held her gaze, before looking down at the child who smiled up at him broadly. “I heard you grumbling to him in the hall about the ration packs,” she explained.

Nodding, Din lifted his visor back up to hold her gaze. “Thank you,” he kept his voice soft. “Mesh’l- uh, your daughter tries to do that as much as possible with the packets. Insists on hand feeding him if she can, to slow him down. I, ah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I tend to forget, and just hand him the whole thing.”

Your mother smiled, pushing against the table to get back to her feet. “You’ll figure it out eventually.” She gave her husband’s chest a loving pat on her way out the door before leaving the two men once again in silence.

Din watched curiously as your father made his way over to the table, taking the seat your mother had been in. Leaning back, he looked at the Mandalorian down his nose, his eyes narrowed skeptically.

After several long minutes, Din finally sighed. “What are you doing?”

“...trying to be intimidating. Is it working?” There was no hesitation in his answer, coming immediately after Din’s question like it had been expected.

Din tossed his head from side to side as he weighed his answer. “Kind of.”

Your father bobbed his head in an approving nod. “Good.”

Another few minutes of silence settled between them, but this time it sat more comfortably.

Finally, your father shifted in his seat, relaxing his shoulders as he let out a long breath. “I’m not going to ask you any questions. Frankly, there’s a lot I want to know, don’t get me wrong, but…. Quite honestly, you scare me too much for any of that.”

Smiling under the helmet, Din looked down at Grogu to give the man a break from the intimidating visor.

When your father spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. “She’s my little girl.”

Din lifted his head just slightly to find the man looking at him with a remarkably sincere expression. “Just…. Just promise me she’s safe, that she will continue to be…. And we’ll leave it at that.”

Raising his head the rest of the way so he could look at your father straight on, Din answered with as steady a voice as he could muster. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she stays safe and sound. You have my word.”

The two men shared a nod of understanding before Din added one last thought.

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” (“Family is more than blood.”)

Your father asked what that meant, eyes widening only slightly when Din explained. Nodding once again, his eyes fell to the table top as he muttered a quiet, “I see.” After a long moment, he began quietly, keeping his eyes down, “I noticed that same symbol from your armor on her weapons. Is that….?”

“My signet. The sign of my clan.”

He bobbed his head again slowly, the only reaction that seemed applicable in this situation, so he kept applying it. “Is it a large clan?”

“It’s a clan of three.”

“Just three?” Your father tilted his head to the side as he studied the Mandalorian.

“All we’ve needed.”

He continued to nod in acceptance, moving the conversation along. “What are your plans after you’ve gotten this one to the Jedi?” He pointed at Grogu, smiling as he watched the little green ward lick the fruit juice off the now empty plate.

Din hesitated, taking the plate from the kid and wiping his face off with the towel still in his hands, ignoring his whines of protest. “We haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Your father’s voice had dropped even softer in understanding. “But they involve her.”

Din chose his words carefully, not wanting to do anything to harm the delicate balance he found himself in with your father. He’d thought about this a lot. Since before you even came on the Crest. “All of my plans from this point forward involve her. In some form or another…. They have for a long time.”

The other man grimaced but quickly tried to hide it. “Bounty hunting?”

Din thought for a moment before answering honestly. “Hopefully living.”

“I’ve done a lot of terrifying things, like fighting the mudhorn I thought was going to kill me…. And that conversation was worse.”

You were sitting on the foot of the bed, a hand over your mouth as you tried very hard not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” he deadpanned, looking down at you with the flattest expression you’d ever seen from the expressionless visor.

“I didn’t say anything!” You held your hands up by your head in surrender, melting into small giggles after a moment under the weight of his stare. “It’s a little bit funny,” you countered.

Din walked around the bed without a word, setting Grogu down near the pillows.

“You know, I get it from him.”

“Get what?” Din asked after another long moment, his voice dripping with a ‘why did I ask’ tone.

“The Force. He's more matters of the mind than physical manifestations, though. He’s what you call Force sensitive, he can feel it more than others, and can manipulate it to a degree, but, not like….” You turned at the sound of giggling, finding Grogu floating through the air, slowly turning end over end. “Not like that.”

Din turned away from his levitating son as if it were just another day in the life - which, to be fair, it was - and focused on the matter at hand. “Are you telling me he could read my mind, mesh’la?” He hissed the last few words at you, hands on his hips.

“I’m saying he could? If he wanted to? Why, were you thinking about something you shouldn’t be?”

Din’s weight shifted under your question. He hadn’t told you the whole conversation.

“Hopefully living.”

Suddenly he’s transported back to a dream he once had of a quiet life on a secluded planet, somewhere deep in the woods with you and the kid. The kids.

The smell of something warm simmering on the stove, the peals of laughter around the corner, a soft breeze promising a shift in the weather soon the biggest of his worries.

No bounties, no Creed in the way, just life.

And instantly that dream world is tinted with shame.

He’ll never be able to provide that for you or the kid. And even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with you. That’s not how his life worked. He didn’t get to settle down, away from problems. They always came to him. And he wouldn’t do that to you or the kid.

“It’s a hard life, bounty hunting,” your father pulled his focus back. “But if you haven’t noticed by now, she’s a tough soul. I’d dare say her heart is made of beskar.” What was he getting at? “Wherever you go, that’s where she will be. That’s how she works, what makes her happiest. Best not to fight it.”

“No,” Din finally answered. “No, I was thinking about you, is all.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you grinned at him, your eyes narrowing mischievously. “Appropriate things.”

“Oh, of course,” he teased. “The way you looked in that armor on Corvus, that’s appropriate, right?”

“Stop,” you chuckled, moving to start turning down the bed.

“And the way you tackled that guard from the roof? Or how about the way you just decided to confiscate the asshole’s gun to piss me off?” He tilted his head when you looked at him over your shoulder. “Any of those okay?”

“You didn’t.” Turning to him with a huff, you closed your eyes with a groan.

He waited until you peeked one eye open at him before he answered playfully. “No. I didn’t.”

“You little….” You reached out, giving his shoulder a shove.

“Little?” He chuckled, trying to grab your wrists to stop your onslaught.

“Sometimes you’re such a pain in my ass, Din.” Grabbing his cowl, you tugged him closer, fighting the grin trying desperately to climb up your face. “Kriff.” Tugging down on the material, his forehead came to rest on yours with a soft thunk. “So annoying.”

“Shi par gar,” Din mumbled quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer to him. (“Only for you.”)

The quiet moment was interrupted when the kid stopped his tumble through the air by landing firmly on Din’s helmet, patting the top of your head with his hand affectionately.

Hinging your head back until it rested against the top of your shoulders, you peered up at the little green minion. “You, too, tiny. You and your dad have meetings or something to plot your next tactics?” You smiled at Din’s hummed, “Mmm-hmm.” Untangling yourself from your Mandalorian, you reached up to pull Grogu down. “Time for bed, ad’ika.” You set him on the bed before you walked back up to the pile of pillows at the top. “Help me get these off? We can use some of them to make a bed for the kid.”

Nodding, Din went around to the other side of the bed, starting to sort through the mass of pillows. “Now I know where you get your love of pillows from.”

“Don’t you even dare,” you turn a half hearted glare up at him. “I love a pillow, not a mountain of them.”

He held his hands up in surrender, a pillow hanging limply in one hand. “It came from somewhere.”

“You’re going to be going somewhere if you don’t stop,” you grumbled, throwing a pillow at his chest with more force than necessary.

Din handed you the simpler pillows as you swapped them out for the decorative ones, smiling gently at him while you exchanged the soft materials.

Turning to the bedside table you’d cleared, the lamp now on the floor, casting its light onto the ceiling at an odd angle, you arranged the pillows into a makeshift bed for the kid. “There, ad’ika. How’s that?”

Grogu looked at it from his perch on the bed, then at you, squealing when Din came around with a chuckle and picked him up silently. With a few quick steps, the child was seated on his throne of plush, patting it inquisitively with his hands, tilting his head as he peered down at it.

“Get comfy, kid. You gotta stay the whole night there. No wandering around here. We don’t know who might be watching.”

Turning narrowed eyes up toward Din, you crossed your arms over your chest. “This is my childhood home. We’re plenty safe.”

“Not if anyone else has a fob.”

You scoffed, arms falling to your sides. “Oh, come on. They wouldn’t really try to come in-”

“They would.”

“How do you-”

“I would.”

You simply stared at his visor for a long moment, a sudden scraping sound pulling your focus back toward the child.

He’d pried the drawer on the front open, stuffing one of the pillows inside so it was haphazardly sticking out the side, and curled up in its center with a contented smile.

“Well. Okay. I guess that works,” you mumbled.

Din walked over to the other side table, taking out the holopuck from the compartment on his belt and set it on the flat surface. With a quick press, all your information spun in black and white above the little device.

You crawled across the bed to get a closer look. “Anything changed?”

“Now it mentions me,” he sighed. “I don’t know how they are getting their info so fast, but it’s impressive. Must be tied into the mainframe here, or something, direct access to security footage with recognition software….” He paused at your confused expression. “They have eyes and ears everywhere.” He turned back to the display. “The price has gone up, too.”

“That’s not my parents. They don’t have that kind of money.”

“No, I know. It’s who they hired. But I’m just confused why they want you so badly. As far as the local authorities are concerned, this is just a local smash and dash.” You chuckled at his choice of words, shrugging when he looked at you in question. “Unless….”

“Unless….” You encouraged him after a moment.

“No….” He took a deep breath. “Unless Gideon is in on it.”

“That would make more sense.” You reached out, shutting the puck down before getting under the covers. “And I take it that means you’re sleeping in your armor?”

He hesitated.

“You just said it-”

“I know what I said,” he snapped, huffing out a breath as his weight shifted to one side, his voice softening. “We’re several floors up, the building has security….”

“….and I’ll protect you if anybody is stupid enough to try something,” you finished for him. “I wear beskar, too.” You waved your arms a bit as if he needed to know what you meant. “And I’m pretty handy with a blaster.” Din grunted, making you scoff. “Just take off the weapons and your gloves, at least. Your jet pack. Cape. And you don’t need your boots to shoot someone. You have a real bed for one night, and I’d feel horrible if I knew you didn’t get to rest your back because of me.”

Din made his way around the bed, hovering on his side between you and the child. He stared at you for a long moment before finally muttering, “ My back…. It’s not-”

“You groan every time you sit down on the Crest.”

Suppressing it as best he could, Din groaned softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, making you snicker. “I do not-”

Doing your best imitation of his deepest complaint, you groaned heavily, repeating the noise every time he tried to continue talking. Finally a glove free hand came over your mouth, cutting your latest attempt short, and your eyes shot open to find his visor inches from your face.

“Would you stop? Your parents are going to think I’m murdering you, or something.”

Your lips quirked under his hand. “Or something,” you mumbled against his palm, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

It took a moment, but Din let out a low groan as his hand twitched, his weight shifting beside you on the bed, making you laugh softly.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Firefly got your tongue?” Your voice was muffled under his hand.

Shaking his head at you, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking his boots off.

Scooting up behind him, you eased your hands over his shoulders. “Can I help?”

Din took a shallow breath before he nodded once, sitting up straighter and reaching for the front of his cowl. He unfastened it, letting it pool behind him into your waiting hands, where you folded it and set it next to the holopuck. Next you gently disengaged the jet pack, lifting it with a grunt as the weight settled into your hands then down to the floor by his boots with a soft thud.

Din chuckled softly at your small noise of effort, turning his head to look at you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, coming back up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. He still had one glove on, interrupted by your shenanigans, so you helped him ease that off.

His body relaxed in your grip as he let out a long breath, tossing the glove onto his boots.

“Why’d you give them your name?” You asked softly.

“Wanted to,” he said on a breath, his voice relaxed, words almost slurred as the day began to set in.

“But why? You only just met them. It took you years before you trusted me enough-”

“They’re important to you, which makes them important to me, too.” He turned his visor to look at you, his voice clear and soft. “And I trusted you from the moment I met you.”

“Then why-”

“Because that scared me.”

You tucked the bottom half of your face into the top of his shoulder, letting the words fully process. Never did you think about Din being afraid, much less at something so simple. But the more you thought about it, the less simple it became.

He was someone who stayed cut off from the rest of the galaxy, physically and emotionally. By choice and Creed. But then suddenly, he found himself stuck in the middle of a feeling he was unfamiliar with, something new, and challenging.

For someone who had an admittedly usually violent solution for everything, you could see how this would be unsettling.

Unable to help the small tug of your lips upward at the thought, you decided to change the subject. “What do we do from here?”

“We go to Tython.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even with the bounty?”

“You’ve had a bounty on you this entire time.”

“Thanks for reminding me. I’d totally forgotten,” you grumbled. “But you know what I mean! Now that it’s higher, and they obviously know what I’m doing, watching me- us. I’m not willing to put the kid, or you, for that matter, at risk-”

“It’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Now they know I’m here. Even the dullest crook will think twice before taking a shot.”

Turning your face into his neck, you mumbled against his flight suit, “You’re just saying that so you can get out of another piece of armor to let your back relax more.”

“Maybe.” He drug out the word in a ridiculous way.

Rolling your eyes, you looked around the room to make sure everything was settled, your eyes landing on the windows across the way. “You know, this is Coruscant.”

“It is?” He sounded genuinely shocked.

You cut your eyes over to him in a short lived glare. “Every room has blackout curtains to block out the city lights. I know you want to stay ready, but…. If ever there was a place you could feel safe taking off your helmet, it’d be here.” You started gesturing with your hands as you spoke, your face a wide array of expressions as you tried to convince your Mandalorian. “It gets pitch black, like the Crest, darker even, since there aren’t any panels blinking on the walls. I’m not asking you to,” you hurriedly clarified, waving your hands in front of both him and yourself as you were still wrapped around him. “I’m just letting you know, since it’s been a while since you really got to spend some time out of that thing.”

When he didn’t answer, you added on, “I can leave the room.” Pointing over your shoulder towards the door, you shifted that way slightly. “Go to the kitchen, take a bath -hell, there’s even another guest room, I could-”

Suddenly the room was moving as he maneuvered out of your grip, rotating so his lower half was still hanging off the bed, his upper half holding you down. He’d turned onto his hip, his hands gently gripped your wrists on either side of your head, thumbs tracing over the skin in soothing lines while he peered down at you from inches away. Your chests bumped one another with every deeper breath, and you noticed he started to take, deep, even breaths with a smirk.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to it.

“Don’t go.” He tilted his head to the side just slightly, his voice low and playful. “Because if you go, then I follow you, then the kid comes- it’s a whole thing.”

“But-”

“I’m fine, mesh’la.”

“Okay,” you agreed, not believing a word of it.

The two of you stayed in that position for a long time, the only change when his forehead lightly came to rest on yours. Gently tugging your hands free after a while, he moved to get up, but you were quick to circle them around his neck, keeping him close.

“No, don’t move. Not yet.” Moving one hand, you began to knead it softly into his neck, smiling when he groaned and relaxed further into your touch. “You’re fine, huh?”

Incoherent grumbling vibrated out of the modulator next to your ear where his head had fallen, tucked into your neck.

“If you’re not gonna take it off- any of it- because I’m here, or because it a whole thing, or the bounty,” he grunted for you to go on, making you chuckle softly, starting to knead your other hand in as well, making him go slack into the mattress below the both of you. “As I was saying, if you can’t, then I’ll make it work.” Digging in on a particularly bad knot, you focused on it while you mused, “I think this one is specifically from that conversation with my dad.”

“Probably,” he moaned, his helmet basically pressed into the mattress by your head, only a bit of his weight on you, most on his hip. “I was so tense the whole time. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“Din Djarin out of his depth?” You playfully gasped, melting into giggles when his hand came and pinched your side in retribution.

“If it’s any consolation, you handled it exactly right,” you said. “Dad passed by in the hall right before you came back and I could sense the pride coming off of him. The content. You made him happy.”

“He could have told me,” Din grumbled. “Would have been nice to know.”

“I just told you,” you chuckled, your hands pulling away from his neck as he moaned in protest, only to groan in gratitude when they landed on his lower back and began to knead on the tension there. “You really need to invest in a better sleeping pad for the Crest. What’s there now is ruining your back.”

“What’s ruining my back is being an old man in armor.”

You stopped your movements, and he whined like a child. “Oh, because that’s the sound an old man makes.” Tilting your head, you tried to catch his gaze as he turned his visor just slightly toward you to glare, you could feel it.

“If I agree with you, will you continue?” He all but ground out, a little more of his weight relaxing onto you.

“What do you think?”

“That’s the problem. What you’re doing is making it hard to think. So just tell me, please.” He turned his head a bit more towards you. “Have mercy on an old man.”

You scoffed, starting your ministrations again as he let out a grateful sigh. “You’re not old. The kid is old. ….I can’t believe that sentence just left my mouth.” He chuckled. “Or that it made sense.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not. And you’re right, the sleeping pad is getting a bit threadbare. I’ll pick up a new one before we leave tomorrow.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you dug in especially hard to a knot. “You’re just saying that because of what I’m doing, aren’t you?”

He groaned happily, nodding his head. “You want a bantha?” You choked on a laugh. “Now would be the time to ask.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “So anything I want, it’s mine?”

“Try me.” He didn’t even hesitate.

“That’s not a yes.”

“You’re very observant.”

“I don’t know if you’re very brave or very dumb to be messing with the person who is not only being nice to you, but being nice to you by digging their fingers into your most painful areas.” You pressed on a large knot with extra pressure for emphasis, rolling your eyes when he only went completely lax in your arms from glee. “Option three, then. Smart. You’re a smart man, apparently.”

“What does that make you?”

“How do you mean?”

“You fell for this smart man’s tricks. What does that make you?”

“Do you really want to go down this road, Din?”

“I’m wearing armor. I can handle it.”

And the two fold meaning of his words sunk in. Even if he didn’t mean it that way, it was how this whole conversation started. Feeling for you had scared him. The man in the beskar armor was afraid of the way he felt inside his chest. Something under his armor, behind his defenses. It must have felt almost like a betrayal.

Pulling your hands up to cup his cheeks, ignoring his almost whine of protest, you turned more on your side, rolling him more so as well in the process.

“I’m sorry I scared you, years ago.”

“What do you-”

“You’re right. You do wear armor. And I can only imagine how it felt to have something break past those defenses.”

It was nearly silent as you studied his visor, your reflection staring back at you in the low light. The only sounds were Grogu’s snoring, the muted drone of traffic several levels up, the quiet lull of street noises from below, and both of your quiet breaths.

“I hope you know you don’t have to keep wearing it for me.” Your eyes flitted between his, despite the visor. Somehow you knew. “If you want to, that’s okay. I understand. That’s part of who you are. But….” You took a surprisingly shaky breath, and his hand came to rest on your hip, his thumb tracing soothing patterns while he waited for you to finish. You had to screw your eyes shut to focus on the last few words. “But I just wanted you to know. I’d be your armor if you needed- wanted me to.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the darkness so much easier to hide in. How ironic, since you had just offered him a way out of something similar.

The next thing you knew, the cool touch of beskar against your forehead for the third time tonight made you take in a shuddering breath.

“I’d like that,” you heard him rumble lowly, making you smile.

A long moment passed with just the two of you and shared space before you finally opened your eyes. “What’s going on in there, Tin Can?”

Din huffed out a soft laugh as he gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “I can’t decide which is prettier armor. You or beskar.”

Your arched brows of curiosity fell flat along with your tone. “Really?”

“You asked.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Okay. Moment’s over.” You pushed away from him, your hands already resting on his chest pressing him onto his back in the process.

“Mesh’la, come on. I was only teasing,” Din protested over a laugh, reaching a hand after you as you got under the covers.

You looked up at him, unimpressed. “If you say, ‘we both know it’s the beskar’, joke or not, so help me, a bad bed roll will be the least of your back pain worries.”

His hand recoiled slightly as if you had burned him. “Okay, that’s fair.”

You smirked. “I thought so.”

Din settled in under the light covers beside you, leaving the lamp on the floor by Grogu on. You were about to ask him if he could turn it off when you noticed him sitting up and looking at you.

“Truce?” He asked softly.

“Truce,” you grumbled after a minute, sighing. Mirroring him, you sat up and cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Why do they call you firefly?”

A fond smile worked its way up your face, growing the more you thought about the nickname. Staring at the blanket, you worried a loose string between your fingers as you spoke.

“There’s not much life here on Coruscant, at least not naturally. People, beings, yes. But life…. No. We have a few parks the higher up you go, and at one point, someone tried to introduce wildlife into them. Nothing fancy, just some basic bugs and stuff from various planets so visiting senators could feel a little more at home.”

Grogu snored abruptly, pulling your eyes his way before they turned back to the visor still watching you intently. “I think he’s gone into a food coma.”

Din chuckled, looking at the child before leaning back against the headboard, hands behind his head as he relaxed. “Probably.” After he let out an easy breath, he gestured to you with a quick jut of his chin. “Continue.”

“What? Oh. Yes. Um.” Rolling the thread back and forth once again, you continued. “So anyway, down here, as you can tell from our wonderful and colorful streets here in the Uscru District, they didn’t do anything this low. There aren’t any parks for miles until you get closer to the atmosphere. Something about the ‘quality of air needed for life’, bantha shit because they could have cleaned it up for the citizens but I think they just don’t have a clean up crew brave enough to come down this far-” You took a deep breath.

“Sorry. Not the point. Anyway.” Din chuckled as you went on. “I was a kid, maybe ten? I’d sneak out on the roof to look up at the lanes of traffic overhead, pretend they were shooting stars. Sometimes they’d fly low enough I could just glimpse their clothes, usually brilliant ball gowns most likely headed for the senate or some fantastic party. The opera house is in the upper levels of the district, so more than likely they were headed there. I’d make up little stories for them, narrating what I thought they were saying, kriff, I was a weird kid.” Your palm slammed against your forehead as your chin tucked toward your chest, trying to hide your face.

A gloveless hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling it away gently. “No. That is a weird kid,” Din tilted his head toward Grogu behind him, making you smile. His fingers wove tightly through yours, and he brought your joined hands to rest softly on his knee. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, you did. “So one night I was out there, and I saw this trail of light almost like sparks getting closer and closer. Bobbing and weaving through the traffic like it had a mind of its own…. A speeder burst through the cloud and I thought for sure they would finally dissipate, but they sprang back together and kept going. It was like they had come just for me. They came straight to me, and swirled around me in a single line. I was so still, I had no idea what was going on. Of course my mom chose this moment to let me know she’d always known I went on the roof, and she’d always kept an eye on me when I had. She came out and explained what they were. Fireflies. From one of the parks. Once I realized it was something safe, I let my guard down, and I could feel them. There’s a connection with living things through the Force you just can’t mimic no matter how lifelike you make the technology.”

Din’s head was tilted fondly at you when you finally looked back up at him. “So that’s the story. It just kind of stuck.”

“Did you ever see the fireflies again?”

A wide grin broke out on your face. “Every night. They came for weeks. That was when I started really using my abilities for the first time. They offered me a connection to the Force I didn’t feel any other way, and I was able to grab that and focus on it, training my Force muscles, if you will.”

Din was silent for a long moment, and you were pretty sure he’d fallen asleep until he finally mused quietly, “After Tython, we’ll go somewhere with fireflies.”

Xxx

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