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peterparkersnose · 10 months

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I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

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read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

He knew you like the back of his hand. For years the two of you have been traveling the galaxy, searching for as many credits as possible and managing to have a fun time while doing it. Living life with you is how Din preferred it. It was carefree. The two of you made a great team and wanted to live lavishly one day. That was the dream, at least. The two of you saved credits like crazy, but it never seemed to be enough to purchase a palace. Once the kid came along everything changed. The sudden dream of living large seemed to fade over the horizon. Something clicked. The two of you were now parents.

When Greef mentioned to him about you when the two of you visited the new Nevarro, Din was sure he was just messing with him.

“Are you two finally together?”

The question confused Din.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Din was shocked. Had he really been that clueless?

“That’s impossible,” Din responded. Greef laughed. “You're telling me that if she made the first move, you wouldn’t reciprocate it?”

A strict “No” came from Din. “Never.”

The child cooed and the two men turned around. There you stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish their conversation. The exact conversation you had just overheard.

Your mouth slightly dropped. The expression on your face was shocked. You quickly blinked and closed your mouth, trying to mask your disappointment. But Din knew. Maybe it was enough to fool Greef Karga, but Din knew he had just hurt the person he cared for the most deeply.

“H-he wanted you,” you said silently, not expecting your voice to quiver. You set down Grogu on the red velvet couch. Din nodded. Your lip quivered as you stared at him through the visor in pure shock. With hurt in your eyes, you excused yourself to the shared quarters the two of you were given for the time of your stay.

“And that…” Greef began. Din scooped up Grogu in his arms. Grogu made a noise and grunted, seemingly wanting to now leave his father and attend to his heartbroken mother. He squirmed in Din’s arms until he let him down.

“That was the look of heartbreak.”

The next few days on Nevarro were filled with a cold distance. Neither you nor Din wanted to discuss the elephant in the room. Simple words were exchanged in the interest of the child, but that was about it.

It was your last night on Nevarro.

Din had been at the cantina with Greef Karga and some of his associates, celebrating the newly liberated Nevarro. You had gone to bed early, staying with Grogu.

You were surprised Din even agreed to go out, he hated outings such as drinking with friends. If things weren’t so heated at the moment, he would have much rather preferred a night staying in with you and watching some stupid show on your datapad and eating whatever your heart desired.

The sun had been set for hours. You were lounging in your satin red sleep robe that was complimentary given to you upon your arrival. The beautiful braid you had your hair up in all day was now gone, your hair was curled due to the all-day friction. The ladies assigned to your care were more than delightful. With the satin robes and braids you could never master, it was like you never wanted to leave. You lay on the king-sized bed you had been giving to Din the last few nights. The couch was beginning to hurt your back, and he was nowhere to be found.

Grogu, still not asleep, was patting the lavish sheets with his hands. You smiled, watching the curious creature discover the new textures. Your eyes wandered to the marvelous carvings coated in gold paint that covered the pillars in your room. Eyes beginning to droop, you were suddenly awoken by a cold hand on your exposed thigh.

“Buir!” he squealed. Recognizing the Mando’a right away, your thinned-lip smile turned into a frown. “I know,” you sighed, extending your hand towards the child and brushing the top of his head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Grogu crawled up your legs and onto your torso. Grogu began grabbing some of the strands of hair that lay on your chest, you slowly separated his hands from the grasp. “Good job on speaking, buddy.” you smiled, now sitting against the bedframe. Grogu sat in your lap, reaching for your hair once again. A genuine smile arose on your face as you watched your son rest in your lap. The thought of Din left your mind, but only temporarily. He seemed to haunt your dreams as he haunted your days. You fell asleep with Grogu in your lap.

Din’s clanky armor trudged up the many stairs to the guest bedroom. It was almost like a full workout, he was ready to get into the shower and then get into bed.

Din absolutely hated his time out; barely being able to sip his drink and listening to the arguing of men about topics he didn't even care about was not his idea of a good night. He didn't want to admit it though—he yearned to spend the night with you. You consumed his every thought, and with every sip of his strong alcohol, he just kept feeling worse and worse. The image of your face re played in his head all week. With the disappointment and hurt he never wanted to inflict on you, the guilt was building up in his stomach like no other.

Slowly, his ungloved hand waved against the sensor. The door whirred open. Din hoped he didn’t wake you, it was already almost morning, even though the sunrise was hours away. He could hear the morning bugs begin to chirp on his way home. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he set his helmet down on the chair in the corner. He turned around to find you- his heart seemed to skip a beat.

Laying in the silk robe you were gifted, your legs were parted awkwardly as you slept. You lay on your stomach with your face delved in a pillow. The slow movement of your back going up and down gave Din the confidence that you were okay. One arm lay at your side, the other cradled Grogu against your waist. His breath finally caught up with him once he realized he had been staring for too long.

The only thing he could seem to think about in his shower was his best friend. The woman who had always been there for him. She was merely a partner until Greef suggested otherwise. The thought of even diving into anything romantic with you never crossed Din’s mind until then. His hand held his seemingly limp body on the wall, holding him upwards as the water washed over him. The thought of you sprawled out on the bed, on his bed was just…

The thought went straight to his head, making him feel emotions for you he never had before. Your body, the way you lay, how you were protecting his son even in slumber. Everything about you seemed so appealing in a way Din had never felt for another woman.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Greef’s voice haunted Din’s mind as he slept. He woke up gasping for air on the couch. You turned to look at him but only for a moment. You made eye contact. It was rare you saw him without his helmet, and even rarer to make complete eye contact. Din wasn’t one for eye contact. Looking down, you continued to fold Grogu’s extra robes that were freshly cleaned and delivered to your room earlier this morning. You were packing to leave.

Din sat upright, his hand holding his forehead. His head was pounding. Looking up, he noticed a glass of water and a few pills sitting on the table in front of him. Presumably set up for him, by you. His heart sank. Even in pain, you somehow still cared for him. He turned to look at you again. You were still getting Grogu ready to leave. He was jumping on the bed, making gargling noises as you tried to dress him. Din took the pills and finished the water and set the glass down with a clank, so you knew he had seen your gesture.

“What time are we leaving?” he asked, standing up to finish his packing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his hair was disheveled and he was in need of a shave. He ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his cheeks. To his surprise, his bag was sitting packed on the same chair where he rested his helmet last night. His helmet was sitting on top of the bag.

You sighed. “Din,” you croaked, saying his name for the first time in days. He looked over at you. The same pain was there, but the look of exhaustion followed it. “I-I’m not going.”

His brows raised. A slight panic set in. “What do you mean, your not going?” he asked in a more hostile tone than needed. You drew in a sharp breath and looked back at the same gold detailing you were looking at the night before. “Grogu is packed,” you simply said, scooping the child up in your arms. He squealed at your embrace, cuddling up in your arms. It was the last time you were going to be with Grogu, at least for a while. “Greef invited us to breakfast,” you said, swiftly walking past Din to the door. Your attempt to leave was unsuccessful.

Din grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Grogu let out a whine, as he was shuffled in the hassle. No words had to be said, the stares you were giving each other were enough. Din tilted his head slightly. The feeling of you was slipping through his fingers. Memories of you two fighting bounties, saving credits for a future, and then raising Grogu together hurt him more than ever. You were already too far gone. He had done damage that seemed irreversible.

A single tear rolled down your face.

It was never meant to go this far.

“Let me go,” you begged. Din didn’t realize his grasp on you was getting tighter as the seconds went by. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, closer to a mumble.

With reluctance, he let go of your arm.

“What about the villa?” he called after you as you were about to exit the room. You stopped cold in your tracts. “Don’t bring up the villa-” you scolded him, turning around. The once-thought dream of living lavishly with Din, as a retired pair on a fancy planet scorned your broken heart. “You're really just going to leave? After everything?” he asked.

“You were my everything.” you bitterly cried out. Grogu squirmed in your arms. You sat him down on the bed.

Those words punched through Din like a thousand knives. “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what did you mean?” you ask, approaching Din. “I heard your conversation loud and clear, Din. I understand your intentions.”

“Y/N I had no clue,” he tried to defend himself. “Liar!” you screamed. Din was taken aback by your anger and took a few steps back. “I have spent the last many years of my life following you around blindly. We lived together, slept in the same bed, shared meals, shared laughs, and now share a child! I held you during cold nights! I saw your face, we’ve seen each other nude more times than I can count, you cared for me when I got hurt on that one mission to Tatooine. You cared for me while my leg was broken and I was helpless. We were everything without a title, Din! There is no way you never saw or felt anything. I simply don’t believe it. I can’t believe I thought I could see the true heart of a cold, selfish Mandalorian.”

Din was almost at a loss for words. He stood for a moment, finding words to say as he watched you realize every single word you had just spewed out at him. Your hand began to shake as you sat down, covering your mouth and staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

“Do you think I chose this? This is how I was raised, Y/N!” he argues. Your gaze moved from the carpet and back to Din. “I cannot take a spouse unless they are a Mandalorian, you know this,” Din begged, grasping for straws. He wanted you more badly than anything else in the world, but the creed that was so deeply indoctrinated in him was fighting the feelings.

“Blinded by your creed.” you spat out. Din seethed. The creed he was in the process of abandoning anyways.

“Why do you think I’m leaving it?” he blurted out. He didn’t want to admit it, but he said it out loud. Never had he ever admitted before to himself, let alone another person that he was done with his origins. The religion he was raised in, the culture that had brought him in and saved his life was now being thrown out… but for what? The convincing Bo-Katan did and saving him from this cult-like creed saved his life, truly deep down. Even if the efforts were small, they awoke something in Din. But was he really ready to shun his culture completely? Din never really came to terms with it, I guess, until now.

“You have hurt me deeply, Din Djarin,” you said with your lip quivering, stating your final words. With that, you took Grogu and went to breakfast. You knew using his full, true name always hit him in a spot where it hurt most.

As you were about to walk down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you heard your name being called clearly from the other side of the hall. You turned around, seeing Din jogging down the hall to you.

“Din! Your helmet,” you cried out. He had left the room without it. As he only trusted you and Grogu to see his natural face, anyone who he didn’t trust could turn him into the leaders of his clan. It touched him that you seemed to care for him on some level to still care about his helmet insecurities.

Then again, the reigns the creed held on him were loosening day by day.

“Wait,” he said, huffing as he approached you. “Please.”

“I want to go eat breakfast,” you said sternly.

Din’s arms loosely fell over your figure, his hands slowly touching your arms as they cradled Grogu.

“Don’t go,” he begged.

You looked up into his glossy eyes. Often you would forget how much taller he was than you. Sighing, you looked away.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Din’s knees seemed to collapse under him. He gave in to the buckling of his kneecaps and grabbed both of your hands, begging on his knees for you.

“To live all these years blindly, to not see what was truly in front of me will haunt me for the rest of my days. I am lost without you. Like a galaxy without stars, I am incomplete. I hope you can forgive me for my foolish words, I did not know what I was saying. You are everything to me. The mother of my child, my partner in crime, my light in the dark, my moon to guide me at night, my motivation, my companion, my love. Please forgive me. I need you to stay. You are all I have, you are all I need. A life without you is not worth living.”

To end his plea, he kissed your hands and wept.

Your right hand moved from his grasp to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, wiping a tear away. “Din please,” you said, tearing up as you watched him sit and beg for you.

As his were moments before, your knees seemed to fail you and you joined him on the ground. Your hands grasped his hair as you engulfed the sobbing man in a hug. The soothing sounds of you shushing him like a baby filled the empty hallway.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you whispered. This seemed to only make him cry harder. The realization Din had of how lucky he was and how close he was to losing you terrified him.

You would have never thought that you would be holding a sobbing Mandalorian. This was living proof of how much he loved and adored you. “H-how could you ever forgive me?” he asked, looking up into your gaze.

“I already have, my love.”

And with that, the two of you delved into your first kiss. It was wet and filled with passion, but also had a theme of hesitation from the two of you.

In all honesty, it was Din’s first kiss ever.

He moved his lips against yours, following your lead. The passion that moved between the two of you was something you had never felt with anyone else before. His hands wandered to your waist as he feverishly begged for more, but knew the limits of the setting the two of you were in.

Moments before the inevitable breakaway, your kiss was interrupted with a cool paw on your leg and a “Patu”

You rocked back on your legs to see the tiny green baby looking angrily at the two of you. A small laugh came from you and Din as he picked Grogu up and fixed his robes.

“Go get fixed up,” you said sweetly, kissing Din on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“One question?” he asked, just as you were standing up to leave.

“What time are we leaving?”

“12.” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

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misspearly1 · 1 year

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Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place.

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards.

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind.

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar.

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore.

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din.

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with.

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return.

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business.

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality.

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was.

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own.

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them.

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful.

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers.

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before.

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it.

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back.

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions.

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you.

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge.

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him.

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor.

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian.

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips.

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.”

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest.

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on.

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.”

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.”

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering. “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.”

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word.

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try.

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet.

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting.

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and… foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings.

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles.

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter.

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable.

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm.

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.”

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.”

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.” He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.”

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says.

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…” Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them.

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.”

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different.

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead.

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away.

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips.

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically.

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation.

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.”

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?”

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.”

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.”

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind.

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor.

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.”

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do.

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back.

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin.

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully.

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it.

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder, “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks.

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.”

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.”

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin.

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation.

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.”

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.”

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for.

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked.

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now.

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach.

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.”

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.”

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit.

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine.

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.”

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him.

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge.

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating.

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?”

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.”

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead.

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.”

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too.

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria-blog @graciexmarvel @munsonownsmyass

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny @margofiore

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @graciexmarvel @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist @oogaboogasphincter @emiemiemiii

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xmissrogersx · 6 days

Text

✩₊̣̇.♡ the lyric: “his hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face”

me instantly:

this song is so them, literally. I would let them do whatever they want to me. I’m no kiddin :)

when i’m listening to i can fix him (no really i can), mi mind screams “GO TO WRITE ANOTHER OF JOEL AND DIN”

today i will post 2 one-shots. stay sintonized ♡

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penvisions · 9 months

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 2}

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

Summary: You come to realize that as much as you want your freedom, your new captor is someone you are afraid to run from.

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: mentions of narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawal, insinuation of past SA, insinuation of sexual favors, mentions of past torture (not detailed), mentions of past trauma (not detailed)

A/N: this chapter is brought early to you by the various albums of tool, copious amounts of coffee, and the buzzing of excitement to get this out to y’all. it’s a very intimate glimpse into reader’s internal monologue and i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this. it was very very fun to write and put down in concrete scenes ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The sounds of heavy breathing were harsh in the quiet expanse of the desert. The sun beating down suffocating rays that made sweat build up along your hairline and on the skin underneath your lightweight tunic. The fabric was old and frayed, from what you were beginning to think was a few years since you had donned it for travel. It was larger on you than it had once been, the weight you had lost during your captivity obvious. You ran the last few yards between where you had been trying to keep up and the figure that had just been rushing at a fast pace but now lay motionless.

You slid to a stop on your knees beside the fallen form of the Mandalorian on the rocky terrain that made up the desert planet. His body having landed on a heightened outcropping of softer gravel that was the base of a jutting rock formation.

The drugs were still waning from your system but not enough for them to have tricked you into seeing the absolute absurdity that was the unconscious man laid out before you giving chase to the Jawas as they fled the scavenged mess of his ship. After they had sought refuge on their giant crawling fortress and began to flee the scene in haste.

For someone who came across as so put together and focused while on a hunt, he had run off after the small beings with no thought. Granted, you’d be pretty upset too if you had traveled so far for work only to come back to your ship, your home, being scavenged beyond use. But it had been rather comical to witness a lone figure chased after such a large structure that was speeding away into the desert, until he had gotten injured. Until you realized what it meant.

Electric shocks sparked over him in disjointed waves as his armor whined at a low timbre. The wiring charred because of getting electrically shocked by so many guns at once thanks to the Jawas. They were small creatures and the electroshock weapons they carried allowed them to gain an even hand in the cutthroat world of scavenging and trading. He wasn’t making any noise himself, but you could hear the modulator picking up his faint breathing and displaying it for you. You glanced toward the horizon, seeing the crawling fortress that carried your way off this planet with it disappea from view.

Your hands were still contained in the binders fastened around your wrists, the mechanics of them too strong for you to break. But you weren’t too confident you’d be able to get out of them if you were at full strength, even with the Force. You had a feeling they would send shocks themselves, if tampered with beyond general jostling. With bated breath you hovered your open palms over the helmet, trying to get a sense of what to do, your skin felt the coolness of the metal despite it being in the sun as long as you have been.

Gaze wandering over the man’s form, you took in how broad he was, how solid. His armor surely lent him more than protection, the plates strapped carefully to his body allowing him to appear bigger than he was. But as you took in the width of his shoulders, the stockiness of his legs, you were beginning to think he was a wall of a man even beneath the armor. You felt your face flush as your thoughts wondered about him, unsure where the fascination was coming from. He was just another captor of yours, granted he had been contracted. Maybe that was why.

Because he was a professional, seen as someone of high value and skill in his field. Someone you knew your dearest mother would’ve requested to receive your tracking fob to ensure your return to her.

You wondered what the final trigger was, for her to reach out to the Guild. If you took the Mandalorian’s words as fact, which you felt like you could, then you had been ‘missing’ for five years. Out of those five years, your memory of time was warped. Your entire sense of what had happened and when was jumbled up and would take you serious time to try and decipher.

You recalled overhearing talk of an arrangement for you to be relocated, both you and your mother, to someplace that could offer more complete protection. To someone who could provide you with a life that was still caged and corralled but in a way that would seem like you weren’t. You had heard the term ‘betrothed’ that despite an addled state had triggered the sense to run and immediately began planning a way to escape in earnest. You wouldn’t be sold for some man’s amusement and posterity. To be a boasting point of someone’s accomplishments that were only brought on by money and status.

Memories of landing on Tatooine, of finding affordable supplies and as updated a map as possible flooded your mind’s eye. You had purchased everything needed to set up a small moisture farm for yourself, in order to live off of and provide for yourself in such a desolate place. You hadn’t been too keen on settling in the desert, preferring the rich shrubbery and canopy of leaves forests provided. The deep greens of plant life and the scent of rain in the air when storms approached on the horizon, but you had decided it would be too predictable. Too easy to track you down to a planet that appealed to you. With a sigh you reigned in your thoughts.

You looked over to the small green face of your other companion peeking out from his pod, worry in his large eyes and the droop of his adorable ears. You sucked in a breath before chancing digging your fingers into the material of the Mandalorian’s cloak that created a wrapped cowl around his neck to find a pulse. His skin was warm underneath your fingers, the softness of the man beneath the armor a little dizzying. His pulse was weak, but it was there, you removed your hands and marveled at the sensation his skin left on yours as you settled down beside to wait for him to rouse.

Shivers moved your body as chills traced heavily over your skin, withdrawal hitting you full force after not having anything forcefully injected into your veins in over twenty-four hours. The hinge of your jaw was sore from the force you were clenching it shut with, the pain reverberating from the crown of your head too much to handle. You don’t know what type of sedative they had kept you on but now that it was wearing off after however many consecutive days of it, your body was beginning to struggle without it.

You don’t know how long you sat beside him, it must’ve been a few hours at least judging by the movement of the sun from overhead to well into its descent of the day. You kept checking his pulse, which had gradually grown in strength.

Relief flooded you when you noticed the change from his breathing being labored to even once again. Bound hands hovered over the rip in his sleeve from being cut, and you focused your concentration on the injury he had closed up hastily the night before. After a few moments the jagged, irritated skin smoothed out and it was as if he had never been injured to begin with.

You checked his pulse again, worried your healing would have spiked it and were about to remove your hand from within the fabric around his neck when one of his own shot out and gripped it crushingly tight. The Mandalorian jolted up from his laid out position, a string of grunts sounding through his modulator. His legs opened wide to help stabilize himself and he turned his helmet to face you.

His breathing was a little on the heavy side as he took in your form, your face a twinge red from being in the sun all day. Some of the flush from a fever you were sure that was beginning to take over your immune system. He took in the floating pod behind you, still occupied by his other quarry. Your hand twitched in his hold and he looked down to where he had it in a tight grip, his gloves encompassing the entirety of it. The creak of your bones beneath his grip had him dropping your hand and turning to face the trail left in the wake of the traveling fortress.

“How long was I out?”

You were slightly taken aback by his question, unsure if he was really initiating conversation with you. You rubbed at your aching hand, his phantom grip still on your skin.

An answer quietly followed, not wanting to enrage the man who had willingly run after the remnants of his ship in such a haste. Because despite how absurd it had been, it told you a lot about him. How he was willing to give chase, to hunt in the very depths of his core. He was devoted to it. It was who he was, it made him a challenge you had to acknowledge you couldn’t overcome lest you try to run yourself.

And while that terrified you, it also made you feel a swirl of emotions that you couldn’t name. You had spent nearly your entire life on the run, in hiding, keeping to yourself and keeping a low profile. But now that he had your tracking fob, now that he knew about the price on your head and taken on the responsibility of your capture, you doubted he would ever stop his pursuit. He took things personally, a way to prove himself. And while you prided yourself on your ability to hide, you knew he would find you because he was devoted to the chase. It would fuel him should you give in to your baser instincts and attempt freedom.

Even if you could get to your hideaway home here on planet, it wouldn’t matter a dank ferrick thing. Off world was the only option. But it was too bold of one without any bearings.

“A few hours, jatne vod.”

“You were touching me.” He moved to sit up straighter, stretching the muscles in his back with the motion. He stood from there, leaning down to reach for the tops of his boots with a deep breath. He stood at his full height and began to walk back in the direction of his ship. You fell into step behind him, the Child’s pod floating beside him. “Don’t do it again.”

“Apologies, jatne vod. I caught up just in time to see them all fire on you at once. That and the fall from the ship worried me.”

“Worried. Worried you would end up trapped out here with no way off world.” His tone was flat, stating rather than questioning. You both knew he was correct in his assumption of why you hadn’t run off. Why you had stuck by his side as he had laid unconscious. You didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. He was reading you as if you were projecting everything plainly for him. If he noticed the way you were literally shaking as if cold despite the sweltering heat, he didn’t comment on it.

“I healed that nasty cut you had on your arm, and I didn’t have to touch you to do it.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him, he may not have even felt the injury any longer, but you recalled the way he had breathed so heavily when he had discovered it. The rough tissue from the fast cauterization of it had bothered you, the idea of a scar marring his skin had bothered you and weren’t sure why the thought had upset you enough to prompt you into healing him. No response was given but the helmet was aimed at you. The darkness of his visor captivated you, rooting you in your spot. You tore your gaze away, unable to take the direct attention.

You weren’t sure your chills were solely from withdrawal having caught a glimpse of him in action…

His ship was…for the most part just a frame. The basic structure of the ship was intact, but everything that could be pried from the frame had been taken. The area around where he had landed was littered with parts the Jawa’s had left behind in their haste to flee the scene. It was an older ship, surely the parts were valuable for them to have taken nearly everything they could from it. You remained quiet as you approached it for the second time that day, behind your captor and fellow captive. Sparks intermittently lit up the interior of the ship, the gaping holes in the hull and siding allowed for you to see as well as hear them in the quiet of the desert.

Sounds of things slamming and an attempt to start the engines had you walking towards what was left of the ship. You hesitantly stepped up the ramp and into what was once the hold space. Wires hung from everywhere, the source of the sparks that still flew every so often as power found no way to transfer and run the various mechanics. You looked around and took in the bare bones of what was once a pretty ship. You spied the Mandalorian seated just inside a small doorway that led to what had to be his sleeping quarters. His shoulders were slumped, his helmet hanging low as the man gathered his thoughts.

A small hand touched the back of your ankle and your head snapped down to see the Child had climbed out of his pod and followed you both up the ramp. His touch hadn’t elicited the same nauseating and painful effect as it had done at first. Which allowed you to conclude that he had been trying to show you that he remembered you, from long ago and that he was trying to connect with you when reunited. He had used the Force to try and push his thoughts into your mind, though he was clumsy with it and had flooded his own emotions of a time past into you along with them.

You leaned down to help him scramble over a large chunk of the hold space wall that was dented and on the floor with a gentle hand on his back. He stopped in front of the Mandalorian just as a deep sigh fell from the man’s helmet, the Child babbling up at him as if in response.

Words didn’t leave your lips, knowing what it was like to have the place you called home and returned to at the end of the day decimated. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. When you had first returned to your home planet of K’ath, you had faced the same desolation he was most likely experiencing. Your home had been destroyed and for a fleeting moment you thought you had taken too long to return from training and that your mother had fallen victim to the obvious attack aimed at you. Turned out she had relocated with the help of some kind people that helped her to raise you, to a smaller and more secluded part of the inland area.

Without a word, the Mandalorian reached down to pick up the Child and held him to his chest as he walked past you and back down the ramp. You watched as he carefully placed the small figure securely into his pod, making sure that the blanket in there was flat for him to sit atop it. You felt something flutter in your chest at the sight and tears sprung up in your eyes at the softness. You weren’t sure if it was because you missed when the touch of your mother had been soft toward you or if you were moved at seeing such a formidable man taking the time to ensure the comfort of such a small being. Emotions confusing you more than you already were at the way things were unfolding, you turned around quickly so they wouldn’t be seen by your captor.

“Move it.” And with that you followed them both back into the expanse of the desert, wiping the cuffs of your tunic underneath your eyes.

It was nightfall the next day when you stopped walking, the journey long and tiring on an empty stomach and no water. A complaint didn’t leave you, not one to bring up the impossibilities of your captor sharing however he was keeping himself nourished. His suit must’ve held some sort of food or drink because every so often you would see his hand reach up to the bottom of his helmet. The previous night when he had stopped for a few hours, he seemed to have been taking sips from a small pouch you hadn’t seen before.

There was a smattering of structures up ahead, surely the destination he was seeking out. There were lights on in the alcove over the entrance to a typical structure most lived in on desert planets. Equipment to farm moisture from the air. There was a beacon of some sort that jutted out tall on the landscape, a figure tinkering away at the top of it. As you approached, the figure spoke.

“I thought you were dead.”

The shuffling sound of the Child fidgeting in the pod urged you to reach down for him. The hard gaze of the Mandalorian weighing on your back as you did so. You carefully lifted him underneath his armpits, the rough fabric of his clothing against your fingers as you lowered him to the ground where he immediately began to play with a small frog-like creature that had been minding its own business. It was a rather endearing sight, the small coos falling from him prompting a soft smile to grace your features.

“This is what was causing all the fuss?” The figure that you could decipher now, that of an older Ugnaught, climbed down and stood beside the Child, watching as you and the Mandalorian did.

“I think it’s a child.” The Mandalorian glanced over at the Child as he played with the frog-like creature, chasing it around the open area with small steps and gurgles. The man was standing with a foot atop something as he leaned over his knee slightly and messed with the cuff on his left arm that was emitted an even electronic glow up and down the entirety of it. You suspected his back was hurting him and he was subtly trying to stretch it out. That fall from the Jawas fortress must’ve hurt, as he had landed directly on his back onto the rocky ground.

“It is better to deliver it alive then. And who might you be?”

You just shook your head and bowed your gaze as the Ugnaught approached you. You were sitting down beside the pod, not sure where the Mandalorian preferred you but positive he would be unhappy if you weren’t within his range of immediate sight.

“Another quarry, to be taken back alive. Directly to the person who contracted the Guild.”

You didn’t look up as he walked away from you, going about his business.

“My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here.”

“Stripped. Not destroyed.” The Ugnaught corrected evenly as he piddled around his workspace before going to stand beside the armored man. A tool was handed over. “The Jawas steal. They do not destroy.”

“Stolen or destroyed, makes no difference to me.”

You scoffed lightly at the nearly petulant tone of the Mandalorian’s voice. At the movement of his helmet toward you, you huffed and tried to cover it with a cough. Though it wasn’t much of a performance as the noise deep in your dry throat had been too much stress. Your fake cough quickly delved into a fit of very real coughing. You waved off the Child as he approached you with drooping ears and wide eyes, plaything momentarily forgotten. The Ugnaught set down a pouch beside your feet, silently offering you what was inside it. You gingerly took the pouch, not drinking from it yet as you tried to wait for what he wanted in exchange for it.

“That is yours to keep, you must stay hydrated here on Arvala-7, it’s an unforgiving planet.”

You sputtered around the sip you had taken, trying to hold what little of your dignity you had left and not spit out the precious water in your shock. Surely you were just exhausted and your body strung out, mishearing what the man had to say. The sip you took glistened on your bottom lip as you stared from him to the Mandalorian just beyond him, both of them watching you as you struggled to swallow the water in your mouth like a fool.

“Wait, we… we aren’t on Tatooine?”

“No.” Such a simple word, a simple statement, but it tilted the axis on which you stood. Altering the very understanding of what was going on that you had just begun to grasp at over the last few days. You were standing quickly, mind moving a mile a minute as it tried to process the new information.

“….what- what planet are we on?”

“Arvala-7.”

“Oh.” You felt dizzy, vertigo rocking your entire body and making your knees buckle to try and right it back on track. Your knees hit the ground hard, and your palms followed as you tried and failed to catch yourself. A panic settled over you, you weren’t even aware of what kriffing planet you were on. Shame bubbled up and settled hard in your throat, making it hard to catch a breath. Gasping in breaths only made the vertigo worse and you felt yourself crumble completely on the ground, your vision spinning and your senses not comprehending anything.

“They- they drugged me and moved me across the fucking galaxy and I had no idea.” You muttered, face pressed into the cool sand of the ground now that the sun had set completely. You felt the heavy gaze of your captor but it was too calming a sensation to relinquish the way you laid on the ground, the coolness of it on your heated face. Shame flared up again, stronger this time and making your entire body warm, overwhelming you. “I-I don’t…no. No.”

You pushed yourself up roughly, standing on shaking legs and walked away from the two men and the Child. You were vaguely aware that the Mandalorian made to follow after you, but soft words from the Ugnaught stopped the man in his tracks. You staggered around the main part of his small abode, away from the sounds of their voices, needing a second to gather your swirling thoughts. You leaned back against the side of the building and let your body slink down it to settle on the ground. Bringing your knees up to your chest you crossed your arms atop them and laid your head down, face hidden.

“Give her a moment. She’s been through a lot if the stories about the compound are true. There’s nowhere for her to run.”

“Running isn’t the problem. She might kill herself.”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have spoken.”

“The Jawas are protected by the crawling fortress.” He went back to repairing his cuff, the Child’s sounds picking back up as he resumed playing. “There’s no way to recover the parts.”

“You can trade.”

“With Jawas. Are you out of your mind?” Incredibility genuine in the man’s modulated voice carried in the air over the building and you spared a curious thought mid mental breakdown as to what exactly his problem with the small species was.

“I will take you to them. I have spoken.”

“Hey! Spit that out.”

His raised voice made you jump, even though it wasn’t aimed at you and he couldn’t even see you.

Between a literal child and…the mystery of who you were beginning to get on his nerves. Each fob was a job but the two that had activated upon landing. He took each job seriously, wanting to devote all that he had to them individually, but he didn’t have that luxury this time around. Both of you needing transport within sensitive time frames a little too much to be easy with how much trouble was occurring since securing you both. Things happening in too quick a concession for him to come up with a solid plan, especially in the wake of losing his ship.

You traveled through the night, a storm breaking and rain poured down upon your little group as you crossed the terrain. You, the floating pod, and the Mandalorian were settled on the transport that was being pulled along behind the blurrg that the Ugnaught was guiding. The blinding lightning and the subsequent boom of thunder had you curled into yourself, but you disguised your discomfort with the storm as trying to shield yourself from as much of the rainfall as possible.

It was well into the following day when you spied the structure of the crawling fortress that the Jawas called home. The Ugnaught directed the blurrg closer to the stationary structure. It appeared to be that they had stopped in order to access their recent scavenges. Small sunshades were propped up and items were strewn all around them, their figures milling about and taking stock of what they had. A wave of sound flowed through the air to your approaching group as they spotted you in the distance.

The Mandalorian removed the rifle from his back and held it at the ready. Wariness at seeing the Jawas again evident in the tension that you could feel coming off of him in waves. The Ugnaught held up a hand and shouted out a greeting to them from atop the blurrg as you cleared the remaining distance and came to a stop within the shade of their giant structure.

They raised their own weapons, ushering more of their people to make almost a blockade to protect their wares.

“They really don’t like you for some reason.”

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them.”

“You need to drop your rifle.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are a part of my religion.”

“Then you are not getting your parts back.”

A deep sigh left him as he weighed his options. You watched as he ushered a tight ‘fine’ and placed his rifle beside his feet, close to you directly on the transport. He stood from his seat and stood on the ground, a small motion of his hand directing you to follow suit. You stood and stepped down off the transport to stand just behind him, a few feet of space between you.

“And the blaster.”

You watched as the armored man clenched his fists, aggravation obvious. The Ugnaught approached the Jawas, speaking in their native tongue as he did so.

You turned back around at a soft cooing sound and helped the Child down from his pod once again with careful hands. You placed him on the transport, hoping he wouldn’t try to hop off, he seemed content to stand there and watch the flurry of motion. The Mandalorian was suddenly in your space and causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms as he leaned so far into your space that your arms nearly brushed as he tossed his blaster onto the transport.

All three of you settled into a seated semi-circle, Jawas mirroring you a few feet away to create a full one.

“They will trade all the parts for the beskar.”

“I’m not going to trade anything. These are my parts. They stole them from me.” He pointed a gloved finder at them, his tone hard as he spoke. You remained still, back straight as the armored man leaned back on one hand slightly, one of his knees bent up to rest his pointing hand on. He was close, too close and your nerves felt like they were on fire as you silently watched on. Instincts urging you to put distance between you.

He attempted to speak to them in their native tongue, his words clumsily fumbling from his modulator. It was an odd thing to hear, his low voice sounding unsure as he spoke. Shrill laughter sounded from all around as the Jawas poked fun at his lack of ability in their language. That only angered him further and he flung out the arm he had been leaning on and flames erupted from his cuff. You startled, drawing the attention of the Jawas even as they scrambled about in panic.

The Ugnaught reigned in the commotion quickly, asking what else they were willing to trade. When the main one talking with you pointed past the three of you and toward the transport you felt the need to move. Before you could blink, you were waving away two Jawas that had approached the Child, the Mandalorian shouting at them to get away from his as well. The prickle of their eyes focused on your figure set you on edge.

More words were exchanged before the Jawas surrounded you in a rush of swirling black cloaks and glowing eyes. Your anxiety sparked as you felt small hands begin to reach out for you, but you didn’t move. You stood perfectly still despite the flurry of movement around you, continuing to shield the Child from them, the feeling of small hands patting at places on your body over your tunic.

You had the fleeting thought of using the Force to push them all away from you at once and make a run for it, but the glint of beskar out of the corner of your eye held you still. You were sure if you were in better health you would attempt to despite your earlier musings. But the truth of the matter was that you were stranded here just as he was without his ship. The desert was unforgiving to those who had no supplies. You knew from experience…

The Ugnaught was quick to respectfully usher them away with sharp words, oblivious to the loop of revelations running in your mind.

“What are they saying? She has nothing on her.”

“It’s not about what she has, it’s about what she is. They claim to have heard of the favors she’s done at the compound and want the same. In exchange for the parts you need.”

“They weren’t favors, I gained nothing from what those guards did to me.”

Seething aggravation dripped from the words you spat out without thinking. Your lips curling back in an ugly grimace as you did so, catching the two men still seated off guard. You hadn’t shown such emotion in front of either of them, only a glimpse of it as you had asked the Mandalorian to kill you just a few days before. But that had been desperation, not the white-hot fury that you carried with you for those that had kept you captive and tortured you.

It fell silent. Tension pulling your muscles taught as you prepared for this new captor to turn you over in order to get back what was rightfully his, what was stolen from him. You schooled your face into a mask, not willing to let them see the way you felt about it, about being used and traded as if you were credit, as if you were nothing, despite your outburst.

The Jawas watched you intently, their glowing eyes raking over your body. You remained in your spot between the Jawas and the transport. There was a hush of movement before you felt hands grasp your shoulders, the Mandalorian having stood and crossed the small space in a few strides. His touch shocked you, not having expected him to do such a thing, especially after his strict orders of no contact.

“She is not for trade.”

“They claim they do not want to keep her.”

“That’s even worse.” Large hands guided you back the few steps toward the transport. He held a hand resting steadily on the backs of your shoulders to help you to step up onto it and waited until you were settled by the Kid’s pod before leaning down to speak to you in a low tone that couldn’t be picked up by anyone else. The modulator masking any emotion in his low tone.

“I will not trade you for parts, you are not mine to do so with.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, resisting speaking lest it be the wrong move. Of putting yourself in a situation that wasn’t playing out. If he were to trade you for parts, you’d have a better chance at besting the tribe of Jawas. But the issue of travel once again was the one thing tripping up your freedom. The helmet’s visor tilted slightly as he watched you for a moment, reading the things your face and posture were giving away despite you trying to reign them in. You didn’t like that while seated on the transport and him standing beside it put you at an even eyelevel.

“You have something to say.” You just nodded your head once, still hesitant to speak, he had been so harsh all those days ago, continued to be so, and you didn’t want to see what he would do if you disobeyed. You had been quiet since he had raised his voice at you, only speaking when he spoke to you as you quickly figured out how to best interact with him. “You may do so.”

“My saber, they would trade you anything you wanted for the saber. It’s highly valuable.” You nodded to where it was fastened to his utility belt, the metal of the handle glinting in the sun as it decorated his frame, nestled in with the rest his belongings.

“Beskar and kyber are not to be traded to those it does not belong to. If it is anything like beskar is to us Mandalorians, I will protect it as if it were my own until we are to part. It remains with those who value and respect it.”

The visor of his helmet was no longer trained on your face and his back was to you as he walked back to where the Ugnaught was speaking with the Jawas. You just watched, shocked at both his actions and his words.

You were silent as a trade was established and your group was ushered into the crawling fortress. The cramped spaces designed for the smaller forms of the Jawas had you leaning low as you settled into a seat while it spurred into movement.

“You run, and I will give chase. Do not forget that.” The Mandalorian’s warning chilled you as you knew all too well that he was speaking the truth. You stood beside the pod ramrod straight, not wanting any movement to make him suspect you were foolish enough to give in to your instincts. You nodded once to signal that you understood him, that you would remain out here and wait for his return. “Do not interfere, I need the credits and you are to be returned unarmed.”

All was quiet as his figure disappeared into the cave you had approached after leaving the crawling fortress, the reflection of the light on his helmet dimming until the entrance was pitch black once again.

You don’t know how much time passed but it could’ve have been long, before the faint sounds of blaster fire decorated the air. The body of the Mandalorian came flying out of the cave suddenly with a shout. You watched as he landed with a sickening thud into the thick mud that had resulted from last night’s storm. Some of it splattered up from the force of his landing.

You fought against the urge to run toward him to see if he was okay when a loud roar echoed through the air from the entrance of the cave. You saw the damaged plate of his chest armor bent and nearly falling from his downed frame. The sound hit you deep in your bones, it settled heavily into your stomach and froze in your spot. You reached for the saber that wasn’t attached to the waist of your tunic and you felt utterly exposed.

You could only watch as a large shape emerged from the cave. As the sunlight settled over it, a rather large mudhorn was revealed to be the culprit. Beside you, the Child cowered in his pod, ears drooping low as he tried to shy as far into the interior of the pod as possible while still being able to peer over the lip of it. You reached out a hand to rest atop it, prepared to throw it away should you need to.

The scene unfolded before you, the fight the Mandalorian tried to put up against the angered beast. But he was at a disadvantage, the creature far larger and far stronger than he was. His rifle jammed, allowing the mudhorn to charge him and fling him into the air once again with a hard hit of its ivory. The rifle flew from the man’s grip, splattering into the mud in much the same fashion as he did. The creature set its sight on you and the pod, altering its charge.

You scrambled to put more distance between you and scaled the outcropping of rock behind you while the Mandalorian hit the panel on his cuff and directed the pod to fly away out of the direct line of the creature. Its horn connected hard with the rock formation you were clinging to, the force of it jolting as you tried to keep your hold.

Deeming you too high a target, the creature turned on its heel and set its eyes back on the downed Mandalorian. You watched from your perch as he got dragged and thrown around again and again, still fighting against the creature after every avenue seemed to prove pointless in overpowering it. Another particularly harsh fling had him crashing into the ground and when he didn’t move to get up you found yourself climbing back down to the ground.

Before you could think to do anything, the creature was rearing itself to charge him again. As it neared him, the Mandalorian managed to get up onto his knees and held out a small dagger in front of him. A frown pulled at your lips as you realized that was all he had left to defend himself. He struggled to get a steady hold on the small weapon, his head bobbing and his arms shaking. He bowed his head and held the dagger out in front of him with both hands as the creature closed in on him.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. You clenched your eyes shut and flung a hand out but concentration left you in the wake of blinding panic. Across the clearing, the Child did the same motion, mimicking you as he too clenched his eyes.

When sounds of the creature struggling finally wedged into your tunneled ears, you looked up with a gasp to see it being held steady in the air. Your head whipped around toward the pod, despite the distance it was obvious that the Child was using the Force to restrain the creature, effectively stopping it from killing the Mandalorian. Shaking off whatever he was feeling at the sight, the Mandalorian stood and slowly approached the floating, struggling creature. He spared a glance at you and then the Child when you nodded your head over toward it.

The Child seemed to lose his concentration, becoming overwhelmed with using the Force and he collapsed back into the pod. The mudhorn’s figure settling back onto the ground shook the clearing. All was still for a moment before the Mandalorian ran toward it. With a quick movement, he dug the dagger deep into its neck, collapsing as he did so.

It was quiet as he stood back up. Looking over the downed creature and twisting the blade in further before removing it completely.

A deep roar sounded from the mouth of the cave again, sending a trill of panic over you. One of them was enough of a challenge. Two of them would mean the death of the Mandalorian and subsequently you and the Child.

“Jatne vod, ogir's shol'shya!”

Sir, watch out, there’s one more!

Your shout was loud and sudden, voice harsh with panic. The already exhausted and beaten man had no more weapons, yours had been tucked into his belt, but you didn’t see it on his person anymore. The probability of it being lost in the mud somewhere from when he had been flung about like a ragdoll.

You rushed across the clearing before the cave as a second, larger, angrier mudhorn exploded out from the entrance at incredible speed. You reached out a tether with the Force, trying to hone in on the kyber crystal that you could hear faint whispers from. You were just stepping in front of the man still in front of the first downed mudhorn when the handle of your saber flew to you from the depths of the mud.

He rushed from the fallen body of the dead mudhorn and ran toward the pod in an attempt to protect the now unconscious Child.

A split second later the mudhorn made a curdling roar as you reached a hand out to shove the creature back a few yards, getting it as far from the two recovering figures as you could muster. Rushing after it without another word. It was already back up and rushing toward you, angered at having been tossed in such a way, at seeing the corpse of its partner off to the side.

You dropped to your knees and used the slickness of the mud to slide entirely underneath its charging form. Reaching up you engaged the saber, the white light of the blade searing a deep cut above you across the entirety of the creature’s underside.

The creature fell to the ground, dead. And you let darkness take over you as you collapsed beside it, the saber falling from your shaking arms.

The Mandalorian watched from where he was kneeling heavily on the ground in front of the pod, his knees digging into the thick mud. Both you and the small being in the pod were passed out, the foreign powers you both had used draining you. That was two quarries that had decided to save his life despite the circumstances, two debts he now owed…

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samantha-rae-velcher · 10 months

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Past comes to haunt, future to save

Din Djarin x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: Jealousy, Swearing, violence, sexual tension, use of a knife, spicy at the end.

A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the Warnings please don't read

___

They had gotten a communication from some guy that Din knew from way back, apparently they used to fly together. Y/n was not happy with this, she could feel something wrong the minute they landed the crest in the hanger.

"I don't like this." She said as Din turned in his chair, getting up to leave the cockpit. "Hey."

Y/n grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

"Do you trust this guy?" She asked.

Din looked down at her hand that was gripped to his bicep.

"This doesn't feel right." Her voice came out just above a whisper.

Din gently caressed her cheek, making Y/n close her eyes.

"I don't like this either. Any sign of trouble, we'll leave."

___

Din and Y/n walked around the hanger with the man, he seemed smug. She kept glancing at the ship, making sure no one was fucking with it.

The three of them went back down to the crest, the man introduced them to a guy called Migs Mayfield. And a Droid that looked like a bug they called him Zero. A big red ugly mother fucker with horns.

"That's Burg." Mayfield said.

Y/n made a disgusted face when Burg shaped up to Din, she took note on how her mandalorian didn't budge even when the red man attempted to scare him.

"I thought you said you had four." Din's voice was gruff, it made a shiver run up Y/n's spine.

"He does." A woman said from behind them.

Y/n turned and furrowed her brows at the sight of a purple Twi'lek. Her fists clenched and uncleaned as the woman stalked closer.

"Hello, Mando." She whispered.

"Xi'an."

Y/n looked over at Din, his voice sounded full of adoration. It made her roll her eyes and look at the razor crest.

"Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?" Xi'an suddenly came at Mando only to have Y/n's blade against her throat.

"Because I will fuckin kill you." She growled.

The giggle she let out was sickening, it made Y/n sneer.

"You're his new companion?"

Y/n felt Din's hand press against the small of her back, causing her to lower her weapon and step back.

"Its nice to see you too." Din murmured.

Xi'an smiled and came closer to Mando, she ran her knife down his chest plate and made a clicking sound.

"Ive missed you." She tapped it against his armor and attempted to make eye contact through the visor. "This is shinny. You wear it well."

Mayfield looked over with a confused expression.

"Do we need to leave the room or something?"

The main man that called them there, stepped up and pushed his way into this dog shit of an interaction.

"Well, Xi'an has been heartbroken since Mando left our group."

"Awww." Mayfield mocked. "Are you gonna be okay sweetheart?"

"I'm all business now." Xi'an pointed her dagger at Din. "I learned from the best."

Y/n shook her head and flipped her hands in the air, as the jealousy rose in her.

"That's all well and good! Can we get the fuck going!?"

"What's wrong? Are you scared Xi'an will take your Mandalorian owner."

Y/n grabbed Mayfield by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

"I am not his pet."

"Sure looks like that to me."

___

Y/n, Mayfield, Xi'an, and Burg all sat in the cargo hold as Din was watching over Zero's shoulder in the cockpit.

"How long have you been with Mando?" Xi'an asked.

"Since he collected his bounty and handed me over, but I kicked the ever loving shit out of the men who wanted me. And I snuck back to his ship and opened the door for him when he arrived."

Mayfield's brows shot up his forehead. "You were his bounty?"

"Yeah."

Burg began digging through Dins stuff, opening the door to his weapons closet, only for Din to shut it in his face. The red devil lookin fucker turned and tried towering over Mando again, growling and huffing.

"You wouldn't scare a sleeping kitten. Sit your fat red ass down!" Y/n yelled.

Mayfield joined in. "Im a little particular about my personal space too, let's just get this done and you'll never see our faces again."

"Tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." Burg grumbled.

"Because apparently they are some the greatest warriors in the galaxy."

Burg looked between Mayfield and Din.

"Then why are they all dead."

"You flew with him Xi'an. Is he as great as they say?" Mayfield asked.

"Ask him about the job on Alzok III."

Everyone looked over at Din.

"I did what I had to do."

"Oh but you liked it." Xi'an smiled and pointed her knife at him. "You see, I know who you really are."

"D- Mando....what is she talking about?" Y/n asked.

Din shook his head. "You don't have to worry about it."

Mayfield chuckled. "He never takes off the helmet."

Xi'an fallowed in his humor and shook her head, they looked over at Y/n.

"You ever seen his face?" Mayfield asked.

"No, and if he ever takes off the mask....I hope I'm blindfolded."

"Why?"

Y/n glanced at Din, then back at Migs.

"This is the way."

Her words made Dins heart race. He never knew that she respected his creed, he always thought she found it a nuisance because she couldn't see his face.

"Your just as weak as he is." Burg said in a gruff tone, making Y/n spin around and get right up in his face.

"Neither of us are weak, and you'll find that out come whatever the fuck it is your planning."

___

The group had finally gotten to the prison ship, they were running through the corridors fighting off droids all the while listening to zero over the ear piece.

Y/n pulled Din into a corner, she held her finger up to her lips and kept her grip on his bicep. Four droids passed by, Y/n looked over watching them walk up the hallway. She could feel Dins gaze on her, his thumb came up to caress her cheek.

"You don't have to be jealous." He whispered.

She locked her eyes on his visor, the deep black was almost bone chilling. If he was anyone else, she would be afraid.

"Jealous of what? Xi'an? I'm not."

"I never mentioned Xi'an....you did."

Y/n felt his hand move to her hip, gently squeezing. Her breath hitched at the warmth his hand spread over her body.

"Din I-"

"Hey are you guys coming!?" Migs yelled from down the hall.

The five of them made it to the control room, zero was babbling about a organic signature in the room but Migs didn't listen.

"Yeah yeah, open the door!"

They entered the room and man jumped out of his chair, pointing a blaster at them. Burg and Mayfield circled him, the man was obviously scared.

This went on for a good few minutes, Din trying to talk him into putting his weapon down. Mayfield yelling at din, both of them pointing their blasters at each other.

And it all led to Xi'an killing the poor bastard.

"Would you all shut up." She said in a bored voice.

Din looked over at Y/n who was glaring at Xi'an. He had never seen such anger in her eyes, she looked as if she wanted to kill her.

"You didn't have to kill him."

Xi'an stood, her smile made Y/n sick. "It was quicker than negotiating. none of you had it under control, so I killed him. All you were doing is waisting time."

Xi'an then ran out the door, the others fallowing until Din stopped and turned back to Y/n. She was standing there looking down at the poor man's body.

"Y/n, we have to get moving." He whispered.

"This is what you did? Killed innocents when they stood in your way? Is that what you did?"

"No."

"I'm having a hard time believing that." Y/n got closer, she could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. "What was Xi'an talking about back on the ship?"

"Hey Mando! You coming!?" Mayfield yelled from down the hall.

"Something is going on." Y/n whispered, handing him the distress beacon the man was holding. "They're up to something and I don't fuckin like it."

With that she made her way to the others, Din looked down at the dead officer on the floor as he left the control room.

The group ran through the halls once more, Burg battered down on a big droid and threw it to the floor. A droid came walking around the corner yelling "Intruder alert!", Y/n grabbed it by the neck and slammed it into the wall, pulling it's head off. Sparks flew as it's body fell limp, the prisoners cheered and hollered as the group continued down the hallway.

They made it to the cell, Mayfield opened the door and inside was a male Twi'lek. Y/n frowned, this guy was no doubt Xi'an's brother.

"Qin." Din said.

"Mando, funny the man who left me behind us now my savior."

Burg grabbed Y/n and threw her into Din, they stumbled into the cell and landed on their backs. Just as the door was about to close Din fired his blaster, it bounced off the door and the walls. Mando covered Y/n as the blaster bolt hit him in the beskar.

"I told you this wasn't right! Did I not say they were up to something!?" She yelled, clenching her fist as she landed a punch to the door.

Din pulled her over by the arm, he gripped her wrist and examined her hand. Her knuckles her bleeding and her hand was shaking.

"Calm down." He said, pressing his forehead to hers. Y/n closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cold beskar against her skin.

"Din, they know the kid is in the bunk. If they get to crest chances are they're gonna hurt him."

"That's why they won't make it to the crest."

___

Mayfield and the rest of the fuck head brigade made it half way back to the ship when Zero came on the coms.

"Zero to Mayfield, we have a problem."

"What is it!?"

"They have escaped."

"AHH!" Xi'an yelled. She pointed her dagger at migs, getting really close. "I told you we should've ended them."

"I know I know."

Suddenly the lights turned red, they all felt their hearts jump into their throats as the door closed between them.

"Brother!"

"Zero! Where is he!?" Mayfield yelled. "Zero!?"

"Sister." Qin said. "Go with the Devaronian. Find Mando and kill him, Mayfield and I will try and make it back to the ship."

___

Y/n fallowed Din through the corridors, they ducked into a large vent and Din held his finger up to his helmet, motioning for Y/n to be quiet as Burg and Xi'an ran by.

When silence covered the area, Y/n let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Din looked out of the vent and started to leave when she grabbed his arm and pulled him back in.

"You go after Burg, and I go for Xi'an." Y/n whispered.

He nodded and left the vent, Y/n crawled further in and went up an air shaft. She made her way through the ceiling until she found the female Twi'lek, Xi'an was creepy through like the vial little roach she was.

Y/n dropped down, landing behind her. Xi'an turned around and threw her dagger at Y/n. She caught it and ran at the Twi', grabbing her shoulders and kicking her in the stomach. Y/n flipped her over her shoulder and slammed her head against the wall, successfully knocking her out.

Y/n ran up the hall with Xi'an in tow, she was about to run passed a cell when she saw Burg out cold laying on the floor. She shrugged and harshly threw the Twi'lek in there with him.

Y/n was rounding a corner when she heard footsteps behind her, she spun around and took a swing, her fist was caught and she was held against the door of another cell. To her surprise and pleasure it was Din, she felt warmth rush to her core when she realized what a vulnerable spot he has her in.

"Din." She said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Don't attack if you can't over power your opponent."

He released her wrist, slowly sliding his hands down her arms, making Y/n shiver.

"Have you found Mayfield?" She asked.

"Not yet."

"We should probably start looking."

"Yeah....we should."

Y/n kept her eyes locked on Din's visor as she moved around him. He tilted his head and fallowed her with his gaze.

"You coming?" She asked.

He nodded and they started towards the exit. Y/n turned in the direction of where she could hear Mayfield trying to contact Zero, she nodded to Din and he began walking to Mig's voice. Y/n on the other hand kept going towards the ship, she made it to the latter just in time to run into Qin.

She felt a blaster press to the back of her neck, a dark chuckle rang out from behind her, making Y/n cringe.

She turned around and raised her hands up, Qin stood there with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"Mando's little woman." He said. "He down graded from my sister to you?"

"If you ask me I'd say it was an upgrade."

"No one asked you."

"I don't need your permission to speak."

Qin chuckled and began rambling off about how he was gonna hold her as a hostage and Mando was gonna give him the crest and how the two of them were gonna be stuck here and blah blah blah.

Din came up behind him and smacked Qin over the head with a droid arm. Y/n smiled as the Twi'lek fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"The kid." She said, turning around and scrambled up the latter. Y/n froze when she saw Zero pointing his rifle at Grogu, she felt rage as she ran up and knocked him over. Y/n ignited her lightsaber, slicing through the middle of the droid.

The sound of Din dragging Qin up the latter startled Y/n. She quickly hid her saber and ran to help.

___

They had gotten rid of Qin and the man that hired them, and now they were on their way to God knows where. Y/n and Din sat in the cockpit, watching the stars race by. She bit her lip as she remembered being pressed against the wall by the mandalorian, the sound of his voice as he stared her down.

The thought of what he could've done to her in that moment made a quiet moan slip past her lips. Din's head slowly turned towards her, Y/n's heart raced when she felt the heat of his gaze burning into her.

"Y/n." He said in a gruff tone.

"Hmm?"

"Come."

He wasn't giving her opinions here, that was a command. Din held his hand out for her, she stood up and took it as she slowly made her way into his lap. Y/n could feel his erection through his flight suit, he grunted as she pressed her hand down and palmed at his cock.

Din gripped her hips, pushing her off and turning her to face the control panel removing her leather belt and pants, he then brought her back down against his chest. Din spread her legs with his so she was exposed for all who dared to take a gander at his woman.

"I won't be gentle, little one." He whispered.

THE END ❤️

Part 2?

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

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secondsineternity · 5 months

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Pretty Brown Eyes

It’s date night, you’re drunk, and you think that Din Djarin’s big brown eyes would be just too pretty to not say anything about them.

A new lil oneshot about our favorite Mandalorian! Enjoy!!

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: First steps to friendship

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I hope everyone had a good week. I just want to put this out there as someone who works in the medical field, please be kind to doctors, nurses, technicians, receptions, and cleaning crews.

Just be kind in general. I had a rough week with a very rude patient. It might not seem like much but after a while it takes a toll. So to everyone and anyone who needs to hear this, thank you for all the hard work you do.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: discussions of lunch, trying to avoid isolation, mentions of past trauma (blink and you'll miss it), discussions of being dirty (physically), possible mud (use your imagination). If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 909 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER NINE

As we watched Taika and Misty munching away, it made me remember we needed to eat too, “Din, what do you want for lunch? There’s some leftovers from last night’s dinner or I could make us a sandwich and salad …”

“You know…” he cut her off, realizing he needed to make more of an effort with her.

Sure she was his employee, but he was also the only person she knew out here. Cobb and Fennec were always busy in town and the surrounding areas, and Fennec had even less time than Cobb, being Boba’s right hand. Then there was Grogu, and as fun and enjoyable he was for a little kid, it wasn’t the same as having someone around her own age to hang out with.

He nodded to himself, resolving he needed to do better, “You did a really good job today, Ann. Looking after Bessie, milking her, noticing there was something off about her. You could’ve easily brushed it off, or not even bothered to tell me about it. But you did, and because you did, I can tell you there will be a new addition to the ranch. Nerfs have a faster gestation than most quadrupeds. We should have a new addition in a month or two depending on if it’s a bull or calf. Not to mention you fed the nunas and collected the eggs, even though I know it freaks you out a little. I even noticed that you stamped the eggs with the date, and put them away. Cleaned out the pens as best you could … before I got here.” He smirked.

I tilted my head to look at him, resting my head on my arms that were propped on the railing of the corral. I didn’t say much, simply looking at him as I narrowed my eyes at Din, “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me, or if you’re being genuine”

He chuckled, as he glanced over to her, shaking his head. “Genuine, I’m being genuine,” he turned back to look at Taika and Misty, “plus, I owe you for this morning.”

I smirked, focusing back on the horses, “So … does this mean, I’ll get a pay bump?”

“Ha! No.” He stood stretching, “However, I do believe, your good work today, and for my …”

“Assery?”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Words aren’t words, until you start using them more often”

Din shook his head laughing, “Anyway, I do believe this entitles you to lunch on me. How about we go into town for lunch? I know a good restaurant.”

“Oh, um … yeah, I guess…”

He hadn’t expected that reaction, “Do you not want to?” Din glanced over to her.

A thousand scenarios ran through my mind, my biggest concern was bringing danger to this small town, but … Fennec went through a lot to cover my tracks so I could make it here. I couldn’t keep hiding on the ranch like I was. I needed to stop letting my ex dictate terms. I needed to start living again.

I closed my eyes, and reminded myself, I wasn’t that same weak girl, he initially married.

“No. No.” I focused on the landscape before, taking in the beautiful mountains, the crisp air. I was far away from him. “I’m up for going into town. After all, I need to see more of this area, get to know the town and people. As beautiful as this ranch is, I can’t exactly be holed up here forever.”

“No. You can’t” he smiled.

I smirked, as my eyes glanced down, looking over my dirty outfit, “Maybe I should change? Take a shower at least?” My hand subconsciously went to my forehead and hair, wiping away some of the sweat and dirt.

Din shrugged, “You can if you want to but there’s no need, we’re going to a diner, not some fancy five-star high-end Coruscant restaurant. Plus this is a farming town, we’re all used to being a little dirty.”

“Hmmm … Well, I guess, if you’re going like that” I motioned to his shirt, “then I guess I can go like this” I motioned to my less than stellar outfit.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He looked down, sure there was dirt, hay, dust, some grass strains, and something … he hoped but wasn’t entirely sure was mud. The more he thought about it, the more he changed his opinion, “You know, now that you mention it, maybe a change of shirt wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

I chuckled, nodding in agreement, as he tried to flick a nondescript dark matter off his shirt towards me. I squealed, flinching away from him, increasing the distance between us. “Hey …” I held up my finger as I moved further away, “I’ll have you know, I have enough of my own questionable dark matter on me, I don’t need to take on yours, too.” I shouted over to him, when I was far enough away and headed back into the house.

Din watched as she headed back to the house, slipping off her boots before she went in.

He stood in the open glancing over to the pens, the horses grazing, and Bessie chewing away as she stood there looking at him, and he couldn’t remember a time he felt this content from cleaning the pens and grooming Taika and Misty. He shook his head, pushing his thoughts aside as he headed into the house to change.

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Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

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larkoneironaut · 10 hours

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My Mandalorian romance fic 🪐Beyond Beskar🪐 is ready to be read! I'm so excited to share it now, I hope you like it, I've put my heart into it 🥹 I will release a new chapter each Saturday, the fic is locked, so you can only read it when you’re logged into AO3!

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #din djarin romance fic #my fanfic #beyond beskar #ao3 #my oc #Elikai Vidis #din djarin x female oc #my art

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dindjarindiaries · 6 months

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Security - Chapter 71: Home

summary: The Djarin family goes home, and Din and Astra find a perfect way to celebrate.

warnings: non-descriptive sexual content, alcohol, fluff

rating: M

word count: 8.620k

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chapter 71: home

“The people of Nevarro appreciate all you’ve done, Mando.”

Greef’s words don’t help to pull Din out of the dreamlike state he’s stuck in. Astra’s gaze on him only worsens it in the most wonderful way. Today, he’s like a Wookiee youngling on Life Day, the happiest he’s ever been.

“I want to personally give you this deed to the cabin just outside of town,” Greef goes on, smiling from ear-to-ear as he hands the deed to Din, “where you can lay low with your family.” He leans in close and adds one more thing with an inflection of amusement. “Between adventures.”

Din clutches the deed tight in his left hand. When he speaks, his voice is strained with a gratitude he can’t quite bring to words. “Thank you.” Din reaches his free hand forward to give Greef’s a firm shake, holding it a moment longer than usual.

As soon as they pull away from each other, Astra steps up to Greef, going for an embrace rather than a handshake. Greef lets out a laugh of mixed surprise and joy, patting Astra’s back as she speaks. “Thank you, Greef.” Astra steps back to her place at Din’s side, close enough now for her arm to brush against his. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

Greef smiles and bows his head in respect. “Please, there’s no need to thank me. You deserve it.” Greef bends down to get closer to Grogu, who’s standing just beside him on the stairs. “And that goes for you too, Din Grogu.”

“Geef?” Zora’s voice asks next from her place in the floating pod.

Greef chuckles and leans towards Zora next. “You too, Miss Mando.”

Zora giggles and claps her hands together in joy. Din shakes his helmet and stares at the deed in his hand for a moment. He won’t be able to fully believe it until he sees it, so for now, he forces himself to stick to the present. “We have a gift for you as well,” Din announces, looking up at Greef once again. He then looks to the side and nods at the Anzellans, giving them the cue.

IG-11 clanks his way onto the scene, refurbished with the red of Greef’s Magistrate robes as he waves at the people he passes. “Greetings, citizens,” IG’s voice announces. “I am IG-11, your new Marshal.” Greef steps down from the stairs in disbelief as he watches IG-11 enter. “Your new Marshal of Nevarro.”

Din watches Greef continue making his way towards IG-11. He shares a look with Astra, who’s beaming just as much as he is underneath his helmet. Neither one of them would have been able to serve as marshal and remain tied down to Nevarro, but bringing back their old friend fulfills the job perfectly - and hopefully serves as a proper thank-you for Greef’s generous provision of the cabin.

“I am here to serve and protect the citizenry,” IG-11 continues to the gathering crowd. Greef works his way into the group to start applauding the new marshal’s arrival. The volume of their cheers drowns out the rest of whatever IG-11 has to say.

Din continues to watch until Astra’s head rests against his arm, drawing his attention back to her. Her gloved fingers weave through his own as she smiles at him, her gaze brighter than ever as she asks the question that’s been hanging in the air between them. “Is it time to go home?”

Her words, as simple as they are, nearly knock the breath from Din’s lungs entirely. He glances at Greef and IG-11 one last time, just to see their friends as busy as ever. “Yeah, cyar’ika.” Din squeezes his wife’s hand and turns to face her, resting his helmet against her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

Astra smiles as wide as her lips allow her, but she also closes her eyes, taking Din’s helmet between her hands. Din’s brow furrows beneath his beskar in slight concern. When he starts to tilt his head, Astra’s eyes reopen, her gaze quickly considering him. “I’m okay.” She laughs and nods for further reassurance. “I’m more than okay. I’m just trying to memorize this moment.”

Din holds her arms and gives them a gentle squeeze. “This is the first of many more.” He aches at the idea of separating himself from her, but he forces himself to do so to get his family home. Din bends down to pick up Grogu and sets him in the pod beside his sister, who all but screeches when her father comes close.

“Papa!” Zora cheers, taking a few excited breaths. “Go ‘ome!”

“That’s right, Zozo!” Din matches her energy the best he can, running a gloved hand over her curly head. “We’re going home.”

Even Grogu coos excitedly with them, his ears rising high on his head as he does so. Din closes his eyes underneath his helmet and steadies himself with a quick breath. Their homecoming may not feel real yet, but it certainly feels good. Happiness was once a luxury Din could never afford, but because of his family, it’s now become a sweet simplicity.

Din takes Astra’s hand once again when he stands to his full height and leads the way back to the N-1. They stop on the way only to pick up a few necessities from the bazaar, with Din handling their tools, food, and other supplies while Astra selects some much-needed clothing for their children. The rest of their trip to the starfighter is made in comfortable silence, something their eagerness to get home is surely responsible for.

Grogu stays with Din in the N-1 while Astra takes Zora, though their trip home is much shorter than any other they’ve taken before. Like Greef had said, the cabin is just outside of town, giving them enough privacy for Din to go outside without his helmet but also a close enough distance for them to walk to town. It may be isolated, but it’s not desolate; Instead, it’s lush with flora in its place near the hot springs, and there’s even a small pond where Grogu can play with frogs if he so desires.

Din loses his breath when he sees the cabin—their cabin. There’s only one thought that pierces through the joyful haze of his mind: It’s perfect.

Din’s reaction is shared by Astra, who lets out a small gasp of delight at the sight of their cabin. He smiles to himself and lands the starfighter just beside it, only tearing his gaze from their home to make sure he gets his family and the N-1 on the ground safely. As soon as the starfighter’s powered down, Din slides his canopy open, hopping down from the N-1 and setting Grogu on the ground beside him before he reaches up to do the same with Zora and Astra.

Astra presses a hand upon his cuirass as soon as her boots hit the dirt, her gaze never once leaving their home. She smiles as wide as she ever has and offers Din an excited glance. “That’s our home,” she reminds him, breathless in her joy. She laughs in sweet disbelief and reaches her hands up to lower his helmet against her forehead. “Our home!”

Din’s smile matches her own as he runs his thumbs over the sides of her face. “Our home!” He takes a moment to admire his true home before he acknowledges their physical one. “What do you think?”

Astra’s gaze looks upon the cabin again as she beams and rests her head beside her hand upon his cuirass. “It’s perfect.”

Din rests the lip of his helmet upon her head. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Din’s voice remains as soft as his touch is upon her back. “Should we take a closer look?”

Astra lifts her head and nods, her happiness bubbling over with another laugh that sends Din’s chest aflame. She takes him by the hand and leads him to their front door, the children following at their heels. Grogu keeps Zora from toppling over, earning a nod of approval from Din. Astra stops just in front of the door, her armored chest rising and falling in a breath before she turns to look at Din.

“Here.” Din takes the deed from his belt and hands it to Astra. “You deserve to do it first, rid’ika.”

Astra beams at him and keeps his hand with her own. “Let’s do it together, riduur.”

Din tilts his helmet in amazement of her. He watches as Astra takes the lead, lifting their credentials to the touchpad on the right side of the threshold and hearing it beep in the affirmative. It lights up green and slides the door open, and Din releases Astra’s hand only to urge her forward with a soft touch upon her back.

Din and Astra are both left in sweet awe as they observe the new space they get to call home. Greef already has it fully furnished for them, with crates sitting in the foyer just in front of them for storage along with couches, stools, and whatever else they could possibly ask for all set up in the living area. There’s a kitchen directly attached to the sitting room, with a place for them to make a fire if the Nevarro nights get too cold.

Din notices two doors on either side of the divide the foyer creates, no doubt each leading to a bedroom that are well-separated from one another. Astra must come to the same realization, as she’s soon bending down to pick up Zora in her arms and nodding at Grogu. “Ready to go see your room?” Astra’s voice hides none of her sheer joy and enthusiasm as she smiles at their children.

Zora and Grogu coo in the affirmative, with their daughter clapping her hands in the excited way she often does. Din tightens his fist in adoration of his family as he follows them to the bedroom on their right, the one that’s detached from the rest of the living area. Astra, by the Force or the stars, somehow has chosen correctly, as Greef’s already had this particular room furnished with two smaller beds for Grogu and Zora amongst many storage options for clothing, toys, and more.

“Look at this, adike!” Astra exclaims, beaming as she observes the space. “This is your room!”

Grogu looks up at Astra, glancing between her and Din while managing an Eh? for clarity. “Yeah, buddy,” Din speaks up, kneeling down at Grogu’s side and patting his head. “It’s all ours.” Din points at the beds as Grogu’s ears rise in delight. “You and Zora get to have this space all to yourselves, until you’re both old enough for us to add another room.”

Grogu coos and presses himself against Din’s side the best he can, smiling with gratitude at his father. Din just cups the side of his tiny head with his gloved hand and takes a deep breath, watching as Astra takes Zora through the room. She’s babbling to her mother and pointing more than she ever has, making Din chuckle and earn Astra’s attention. “I think she likes it,” Astra confirms with a soft laugh.

Din gives Grogu’s back a gentle pat before he stands to his full height. He starts to make his way over to Astra and Zora. “And what about you?”

Astra’s gaze meets Din’s visor, and he doesn’t miss the tearful glaze over her eyes as she smiles at him and shakes her head in disbelief. Din takes Zora from Astra and gives one of her tiny hands a squeeze before he sets her down on the floor near Grogu. He then takes Astra’s hands in his and gestures with his helmet to the threshold of the room.

“May I take you to our room?”

Astra nods, words still failing her in a way that makes Din’s heart constrict with an unprecedented sweet joy. He keeps one of her hands in his own as he guides her out of the room, entrusting Zora with Grogu for now as he leads Astra through the living area. Din takes a quick glance at her to see that she’s beaming at the part of the cabin they’ll no doubt spend most of their time in, her gaze only returning to the way ahead when Din opens the door to their bedroom.

It’s perfect for them. With a bed nearly as large as the one at Boba’s palace and a full refresher attached through another door, Din and Astra have more domestic luxury here than they could have ever wished for. There’s also plenty of storage along with enough wall space for Din to build exactly what he had promised Astra he would back in their stone-cast home to hang up their armor.

Astra’s the one who takes the lead enough for them to stand near the foot of their bed. She turns to Din and her gaze is even more tearful than before, but her smile is somehow even wider. Astra lifts her hands to remove Din’s helmet for him, kissing the top of it before she sets it on the bed. The action creates a warm flame within Din’s chest so ardent that he’s certain nothing could ever snuff it out. Astra wraps her arms around his neck, bringing their armor flush against each other as her lips start to tremble.

Her words are so quiet that Din almost misses them over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. “Thank you.” A tear manages to escape her eye that Din’s quick to wipe away. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Astra urges Din’s head to lower and presses her forehead against his own. “Because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re the one to be thanked here,” Din insists, his voice just as soft as her own. He raises his brow and brushes his thumb over another one of her fallen tears. “If you hadn’t been so brave in urging the covert to rescue me, then things would be much different.” Din lifts his head from her own to press his lips to her forehead. “But that’s just who you are, Astra. Brave, strong, loyal, beautiful…”

Astra releases a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob as she buries her face in Din’s cowl. “I love you, Din,” her muffled voice declares. Her boots lift off the floor and Din urges them the rest of the way up, his gloved hands holding her legs in place around his waist as Astra embraces him for dear life. “Thank you.”

Din rests his head against her own and smiles wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. “Thank you.” He turns his face to press a kiss against her head. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika. Ner rid’ika. Ner oyay.” Din steadies himself with a deep breath and adds one more. “Ner yaim.”

Astra lifts her head and holds Din’s face between her hands. “Does that word mean what I think it means?”

Din’s smile remains as he nods. “It does.” He manages to hold Astra’s weight with one arm as the other quickly reaches back to take the item from his belt. He shows her the Mando’a booklet that’s certainly earned some intense wear and tear over the years. “I still have it.”

Astra stares at it for a long moment in sweet astonishment. Her gaze only returns to Din’s own when he lowers the booklet back to his belt and focuses on holding her again.

“You’ll always be my home, Astra.”

Astra’s smile starts to widen as she brushes it against his own. “And you’ll be mine.” Her lips press even more upon his, making his breath her own. “Take me home.”

Din would never deny his wife, his home, and so he becomes the one to fully close any gaps left between them. Din’s been blessed by the galaxy enough to to experience many moments like these with her, but even this somehow makes his mind, heart, and body feel a way he never has before. It’s the lightness of their freedom, the clarity of their future that allows Din to be at home with Astra without them having to check over their shoulders.

With their children still in the other room, Din and Astra let this moment last just a bit longer than usual, waiting until their shared breath fully loses oxygen to pull away. Astra’s hands have no doubt only added to the muss of Din’s helmet hair as she lets out a soft laugh and cups the back of his neck. Din becomes the one to hide his face in his wife’s neck as he exhales an affectionate breath.

Once they’ve sat in the moment long enough, Din lifts his face again and starts to ease Astra’s boots back to the floor. “So,” he begins, his voice now a rasp from his lack of air, “what would you like to do first in our home?”

Astra takes a deep breath and presses her hands upon his cuirass. She watches her fingers drum against the beskar in thought before she nods to herself and meets Din’s gaze again. “Let’s get married again.”

Din’s eyes widen at that. He spots the sweet severity in her eyes and furrows his brow. “Are you sure? I mean, I… that’s what I want, too, but I didn’t know if you’d want more time to prepare.” He gestures with his head to the open threshold behind them. “Grogu and I haven’t even grown or gathered the flowers yet.”

“I saw some flowers out there when we landed.” Astra continues to beam at him as she goes on. “And I may or may not have made some secret purchases of my own when we were at the bazaar.”

Din raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?” Din chuckles and cups the side of her face. “And here I was thinking nothing could get past me.”

Astra laughs and shrugs. “It was easy to hide it all with the kids’ clothes.” She turns her face to give his palm a kiss. “What about you? Are you prepared?”

Din huffs with amusement. “Well, I thought I was.” He runs his thumb along the end of her scar. “Will I have enough time to prepare for the sight of you?”

Astra considers his words with a deep breath. “Based on how you reacted to my armor…” she tries to bite back her amused smile, “no, you won’t.”

“I figured as much.” Din smiles when Astra giggles to herself. He can’t keep himself from kissing her forehead again. “Let’s at least have dinner first. I’d like to break open that bottle of wine from Coruscant once our ceremony’s over.”

“Right after we put the kids to bed.” Astra pushes herself up to kiss him again, more briefly this time. “Perfect.” She gives him one more kiss and pulls away. “Let’s finish bringing our supplies in, then.”

Astra takes Din’s helmet for him and slides it on over his head. She pats his beskar cheek before leading the way out of their bedroom, though Din’s visor lingers on the sight of it. He can’t help grinning to himself yet again. This is their new sacred space, their safe haven, and he’s determined to not only make it but keep it that way. Din couldn’t have asked for a better first moment to have shared here.

His eagerness to help Astra with the supplies wins out and he hurries to join her out by the N-1. There’s a tidal wave of joy that overcomes Din when he sees Astra again, and he can’t keep himself from closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around her from behind. She squeals, half in surprise and half in delight, before she crumbles into laughter. Din keeps Astra between the N-1 and himself, his helmet pressed against her forehead as he watches the light dance in her eyes.

This is exactly what Din’s always wanted to feel with his wife. Moff Gideon is dead, Mandalore belongs to their people once again, and Din and Astra are the ones hunting the Empire instead of the other way around. This is what it’s like to feel safe.

Din gives Astra’s waist a gentle squeeze before he climbs up and retrieves their bags of supplies. He and Astra both take them inside, their sides brushing against each other before Din secures the door of their home closed behind them. Din takes everything Astra’s holding to let her get the kids from their room while he starts to prepare dinner. It’s not anything complicated, as Din had planned for them to be too excited to whip up something complex for their first meal in their new home, but it’s certainly nicer than the meals they’ve been used to.

Din smiles wider to himself as he sets his helmet down on the counter and starts to get the necessary supplies from their compartments and cabinets. Even just thinking the words our home makes his heart flip over and over inside his armored chest. After everything he’s been through, after the solitary way he’s lived his life for so many years, he never even considered this to be a possibility.

Yet as Astra joins him again with a Djarin child on each hip, Din has to shake his head in disbelief. Here he is, and here they are, the better parts of himself who he gets to call his family.

Astra sets Zora and Grogu on the stools at the counter as she walks around to stand at Din’s side and help him with dinner. The hardest part is keeping Grogu from lifting the ingredients with the Force, though after a few laughs and Din’s stern yet gentle warning, Grogu stops to instead focus on entertaining his sister. For this being their first meal together in their home, it’s already as familiar as a sacred routine, and that’s what makes Din’s cheeks ache with a smile he can’t get rid of.

When dinner’s complete, Din and Astra move their children and the meal to the table just beyond their counter, where they let Zora attempt to recount the excitement of the day with babbles she manages between bites. Astra helps to feed her as she nods with understanding, reminding Din of how she conversed with the Frog lady on the Razor Crest so long ago. Grogu’s the first to finish as always, and by the time everyone’s done, the Nevarro sun is already starting to set.

“I should get ready,” Astra says, rising from her place at the table and taking Zora on her hip.

Din starts to stand with her. “Will you need help?” His words are laced with the same genuine concern that’s woven into the knit in his brow.

Astra tilts her head at him with an amused smile. “Nice try.” She presses her free hand upon Din’s shoulder to gently set him back down in his chair. “There’s no peeking until we start our ceremony.” She gestures with her head to the viewport in their kitchen. “Zora and I will meet you outside.”

Din nods, words failing him for some reason as he watches the Djarin girls enter his and Astra’s bedroom. The door slides closed behind them and Din releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’ll have even less composure when that door opens up again.

Grogu catches his father’s attention by waving a tiny hand in front of Din’s line of vision. Din turns his head to see Grogu standing where Din’s dish has previously been, his ears rising with a coo as he points at the viewport.

Din chuckles at his son. “I know.” He stands and takes Grogu with him, setting him in the corner of his arm. “We have a job to do before they join us again.” Din places Grogu on the counter. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Grogu helps Din as best as he can with the cleaning of the table and their dinner dishes before Din takes his helmet and slides it on once again. The two of them make their way out of the cabin and Din sets Grogu on the ground, pointing towards a nearby patch of lush grass.

“Gather whatever flowers you can,” Din instructs his son and apprentice. He picks a nearby flower as an example. “Like this.” Din shows Grogu the length of the stem.

Grogu nods with a determined huff and waddles off in search of flowers. Din gathers the ones closest to him, stopping every now and then to keep an eye on Grogu. They’re safe here, but Din’s protective instinct will never stop, especially after the lifestyle they’ve had ever since he gained this beautiful family of his.

By the time Grogu makes his way back over to Din, he’s gathered as many flowers as his tiny hands can keep together, which make for a perfect final addition to those in Din’s own grasp. Din kneels down to take them from Grogu and pats his son’s head. “Good job, buddy.” He inspects the makeshift bouquet in his gloved hand and nods in satisfaction. “You did very well.”

Grogu’s ears rise up high on his head as he coos in gratitude. He tries to get words out, but it’s more of a squeaking sound. Din still praises him for it with another pat on his head.

“Let’s head out back.” Din lifts Grogu and walks around the back of the cabin. When Grogu offers a confused coo in response, Din elaborates. “Your mother gestured back here.” Din stops and looks around, realizing the view of the town is completely hidden by the structure of the cabin. “Must be for privacy.” He glances at the horizon and watches the Nevarro sky stretch out in bold shades of orange and pink. “And the view.”

Grogu coos to agree. Din sets him on the ground once again and tilts his helmet.

“Will you serve as our witness, Grogu?” Grogu nods with an excited breath, making Din smile to himself as he returns the gesture. “Thank you.”

Din stands with his back to the sunset, instead staring at the cabin as he waits for Astra and Zora to join them. His gloved hands remain folded over his middle as he shifts his weight, the cluster of flowers tucked into his belt. Grogu releases an Eh? and Din gives his son a quick glance.

“Yes, I’m still nervous.” Din tilts his helmet when Grogu snickers at him. “Maybe you’ll understand it one day, kid. I…”

Din stops when a flash of white from around the corner of the cabin proves the two of them aren’t alone anymore. His breath catches in his throat when he sees Astra in a dress that’s much different from the tactical clothes and armor she’s had to sport in their years together. It’s the same shade of white as the snow on the planet Din once took Astra to the first time they had to leave Sorgan, just after they had confessed they’d found a home in one another.

Astra sets Zora next to Grogu and continues towards Din. He reaches for the flowers on his belt, surprised to find that his gloved hands are shaking enough for him to notice—though his gaze never once breaks away from Astra’s. Din holds the flowers out for her to take, which she does with a soft smile of gratitude and affection. She stops just in front of him, her free hand finding one of Din’s and holding it tight.

“I know the color is different.” Astra’s voice is as soft as her grasp on his hand as Din gives her a once-over. “A white dress is an Arilian tradition. It symbolizes the new beginning of a marriage, like a fresh snowfall.” Astra runs her thumb over the back of his hand, and Din’s visor meets her gaze again. “Do you like it?”

Din uses all his strength to push past the lump in his throat and force the words out. “Cyar’ika.” He steadies himself with a deep breath. “You look so…” he lowers his voice for just them to hear, “fucking…” Din brings his voice back to a normal volume, “beautiful.”

Astra laughs and gives his hand a squeeze, her gaze falling from his for a moment in her shyness. “Thank you.” She finds his visor and raises her brow at him. “I thought the same thing when I saw you.” Astra gestures with her eyes to the view behind him. “Especially with the sunset at your back.”

Din huffs, shifting his weight between his feet in his own shyness. He takes another breath and holds tight to her hand, allowing the other to hold onto her waist. Din’s visor never once leaves her gaze. “Astra.” He squeezes her waist, earning an even brighter smile from her. “Thank you for standing by me ever since the day we met, even during the times I was misguided. Having you has…” Din pauses, shaking his head in amazement, “it’s saved me. Mhi solus tome.” We are one when together.

Astra’s thumb runs over his hand again. “Din, thank you for never once failing to fight your way back to me. You’ve always given every part of yourself just to make sure I’m safe, and you’ve done the same with the rest of our family.” Her gaze shines at him as she goes on. “No one’s ever fought for me like that before.” She squeezes his hand. “Mhi solus dar'tome.” We are one when parted.

Din summons the strength of his Mandalorian ancestors to go on. “I’m endlessly grateful to have this home with you.” Astra grins widely at that, making Din chuckle and give her waist another squeeze. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours. That’s something that will never change.” Din nods to emphasize his words. “Mhi me'dinui an.” We share all.

Astra beams at him, looking as if she’s about to burst with pure joy. “But the best thing we share is our family.” She only breaks her gaze with Din to look at their children. “First Grogu, then Zora Arilia…” Astra looks at Din and raises an eyebrow, “and whoever comes after.” Din smiles with his wife and he hopes she can at least sense it. She lifts the hand holding the flowers and presses it against his helmet, urging it to meet her forehead. “Mhi ba'juri verde.” We will raise warriors.

Din gives her hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, rid’ika.”

Astra lifts her hand from his only to take a tighter grasp on his helmet. “I love you too, riduur.” She raises the beskar of his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth, adding one more promise upon his lips. “Always.”

They seal their vows now just as they had the very first time, with a kiss full of such love and deep affection that Din has no choice but to exchange a sigh with Astra that only brings them closer together. They don’t make too much of a spectacle for their children to see, instead forcing themselves to separate with the loveliest of smiles left behind on their stinging lips.

Din raises one hand to the back of Astra’s head and urges it to rest against his cuirass. She holds her there for a while, letting her wrap her arms around him as they both stare at the Nevarro sunset. When Din steals a look at their children, he sees them mimicking their parents’ embrace, though both their eyes are partially closed in exhaustion. Din chuckles to himself, the sound rumbling through his chest enough to make Astra lift her head.

“What?” Astra’s question is nothing but a soft and sweet breath.

Din gestures with his helmet to their children. “Look.”

Astra turns her head towards Grogu and Zora and lets out a sweet laugh. She holds tight to the material of Din’s cape in one of her hands and looks up at him with such reverence that it threatens to make his knees buckle beneath him. “It must be time for bed and breaking open that bottle of wine.”

Din nods, gaining the faith to step away from her as he tends to their children. He takes one child in each arm, letting them rest their weary heads upon his armored shoulders as he leads the way back inside their home. Din enters their children’s bedroom with Astra trailing him and sets Grogu and Zora on their respective beds. Astra helps him to tuck them in and say goodnight with a kiss to each of their heads.

After they both linger for a moment, Din and Astra let the door to the bedroom close and make their way to the kitchen. Din sets his helmet on the counter and turns to Astra, holding her waist and taking the time to observe her and her dress without the filter of his visor. Astra’s happiness bubbles over with giggles as she wraps her arms around his neck and brings him close enough for a kiss. It’s deeper than the one they shared before, though it’s just as brief, even as they pull away and go back to each other over and over again.

Eventually, Din stops the cycle to reach for the bottle of wine from Coruscant that Greef had gifted them. He draws his vibroblade from his boot to open it, making Astra gasp and squeeze his free arm before she laughs at him.

“There has to be a better way of doing this!” Astra insists just as Din manages to earn the satisfying pop! sound of the seal being broken.

“Sure.” Din sets the cork aside and offers the bottle to his wife. “But it’s probably not as exciting.”

Astra shakes her head, though the admiration she holds for him is evident in her sparkling gaze. She takes the bottle and considers its weight in her hand. “We should probably serve this in something nicer, but…” Astra grins and lifts the neck of the bottle towards her lips, “sharing it like this is also more exciting.”

Din openly admires his wife as she draws the first sip from the bottle. “That’s one way to put it.”

Astra huffs as she passes the bottle back to Din, letting him take the second sip. The wine is a smooth and soothing warmth that flows down his throat, engulfing his chest in a sensation much like that which Astra always brings him. Din raises his brow in sweet surprise.

“This tastes amazing.” Din glances at the bottle and chuckles in disbelief. “Greef wasn’t lying about the quality.”

“Well,” Astra starts, taking the bottle from Din when he offers it to her again and wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck, “I know something that tastes even better.”

Astra kisses Din in a way that makes even the knees of a great Mandalorian warrior go weak before she pulls away to take her next sip. They continue to go back-and-forth with the bottle, not needing any entertainment other than each other as they talk, laugh, and kiss between their shared sips. Din couldn’t have possibly imagined a better way to ring in their vow renewal, as well as their first evening together in their home—even if he has some other ideas.

By the time the bottle’s nearly empty, Astra’s sitting on top of the counter with Din’s arms wrapped around her. He rests his head against her chest as she takes another sip from the bottle. Even with the comfortable fogginess he’s earned from the wine, Din’s still acutely aware of their surroundings, and for the first time since they met, he’s positively certain about their safety.

Astra also seems to be thinking of their surroundings, as she releases a light gasp that makes Din snap his head up from her chest. Her gaze leaves whatever she’s observed to meet his own, the warm lights of the cabin dancing in her eyes. Din never wants to stop staring at them, at her. “I have an idea.”

Din can smell the wine on her breath, but she somehow makes it even sweeter. He’s sure the wine’s had the same effect on him in return. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Astra smiles from ear-to-ear, though her expression becomes more serious as she holds his face between her hands. “But if you find it to be uncomfortable or disrespectful in any way, you stop me right away. ‘Kay?”

Din wrinkles his brow and flattens his palms upon her back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, ner kar’ta.”

Astra perks up again at that. “Good.” She giggles and lifts her fingers towards his eyes, delicately closing the lids. “Keep your eyes closed until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am—Your Highness.”

Astra laughs and gives his armored shoulder a light swat. His hands are forced away from her when she leans for something, almost having to crawl around on the countertop before he senses the warmth of her legs against his hips and thighs once again. She can’t help letting out giggles at whatever she’s doing, making Din’s own chest rumble fondly at the mere idea of it all.

Astra taps Din’s cuirass a few times with her finger, but Din still keeps his eyes closed. “Is that my cue?”

“Yes!” Astra’s tone is purely amused, but the sound of her voice is different somehow, as if mumbled or even modulated.

Sure enough, when Din opens his eyes, he’s staring right into his own visor. He has to blink a few times through the fogginess the wine’s brought him to understand what’s happening, and once he does, he can’t keep himself from laughing the hardest he has in a long time. Astra’s reached for his helmet and slid it on over her own head, and now Din gets to be the one who holds the beskar cheeks and pulls her close enough for a Keldabe kiss. “What in the great galaxy gave you this idea, cyar’ika?”

“I just wanted to see you the way you always see me,” Astra insists, setting her hands upon his cuirass. “There’s a lot more to it than I thought.” She lifts a hand to Din’s hair and brushes it back from his forehead. “It smells like you.”

Din furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means it smells nice, riduur. Don’t worry.” Astra giggles and continues to run her hand through his hair. “You’re a clean guy. This armor never has a smudge, if you can help it.”

Din ignores the warmth in his face and huffs. “You wear it well, rid’ika.”

Astra gives Din a once-over that’s obvious with the movement of the helmet. He tries not to worry about whether his observations of her have always been so clear, too. “You wear it even better.”

“You think so?”

Astra holds the lip of Din’s helmet with one hand and lifts it high enough to show her mouth. “I do.” She closes the gap between them, putting Din on the other side of this helmet kiss for the first time. His smile against her lips is never-ending at the thought, even as they pull away from one another. Astra slides the helmet off and sets it beside her on the counter. “I’m sure you prefer something more comfortable, though.”

Din shrugs. “Sometimes.” He takes the bottle and draws his last sip from it, handing it to Astra for her to finish off.

Astra waits a moment to do so. “I’m definitely ready to get into something more comfortable.” She empties the bottle and places it where it had been before. Her eyes are wide and pleading as she wraps her arm around his neck. “I think I need some help getting out of this, though.”

Din can’t stop his sly grin from growing. “You didn’t seem to have a problem putting it on by yourself.”

Astra lets out a dramatic breath. “That was different!” She urges Din closer and furrows her brow in a pitiful manner. “Please?”

Din chuckles and kisses her forehead. “You never have to plead for my help, cyar’ika. Of course I will.” He urges her to tighten her legs around him as he lifts her the same way he had earlier that day. “C’mon. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Astra’s cheek presses against the unarmored part of his shoulder as she exhales in relief. “Thank you, my love.”

Din rests his head against hers and makes his way to their bedroom. “You don’t have to thank me, rid’ika.”

“You’re really strong, you know.”

Din has to huff with amusement to keep the flush out of his face. “It’s nothing compared to your strength.”

The door to their bedroom slides open for them and closes once Din walks through the threshold. He eases Astra back onto her feet and meets her expression of doubt. “First of all, not true. Second of all…” she pauses, as if she’s lost the thought within her mind and exchanged it for another, “you’re very beautiful.”

Din forces himself not to look away, despite his shyness. “That means a lot coming from you.” He kisses each end of her scar and takes a deep breath. “All right, can I help you get comfortable, now?”

Astra nods, beaming as she turns around to allow Din to complete his work. He removes his gloves first, using his teeth and tucking them into his belt. The daze of his slight drunkenness doesn’t affect his ability to work as nimbly as possible, attending to each button and clasp on the material of the dress with diligence. Astra’s holding it up against her front, waiting for Din to confirm he’s finished before she lets it slide off.

As it turns out, it’s what’s hidden underneath that’s been her true surprise all along.

Din doesn’t have to look at Astra’s face to know she’s taking delight in his pleasant shock, every part of his body going rigid except for his eyes. His gaze finally meets her own, and the look she gives Din makes him forget whether it’s her or the wine that's made his galaxy feel so hazy.

Din shifts his weight and gestures to Astra’s image before him. “You never mentioned…” he pauses, but there’s no word good enough to describe what he’s seeing, “this.”

“Actually, I did.” Astra grins and bends down to set her dress aside. Din has to force himself to glance away from her to maintain his self control, his jaw tightening in his effort. “I told you I made purchas-es in the marketplace.”

Din’s gaze finds her again and he has to run a hand over his head to hide the way his chest inflates so quickly at the mere sight of her. “Well, you gave me no warning.”

“You’re a Mandalorian, Din.” Astra approaches him and watches her hands as they press upon his cuirass and spread out to his armored shoulders. “You don’t need a warning to be ready.” Her grasp finds his arms as she gives them a gentle squeeze. “And you’re strong enough to handle anything.”

Din wants to respond, but he can’t. His mind’s gone blank, and his mouth is drier than the Dune Sea. He’s face-to-face with the greatest wonder of the galaxy, yet she’s the one complimenting him.

“Plus, you knew I’d be getting the dress, so I still wanted to give you a gift.” Astra begins to take Din’s armor off for him, setting the pieces of beskar aside with as much care as he would. “No matter how much you might try to say otherwise, it was you who provided this home for us, and I want to thank you properly for that.” Astra smiles at Din, her eyes kind as she takes his right pauldron off and presses a kiss to the mudhorn. “So, what do you think?”

Din takes a breath for composure, even if the effort’s futile. “Honestly?” Astra raises her brow, inviting him to go on. “I’m incapable of having any thoughts right now.”

Astra laughs at that, burying her face against his arm for a moment in her tell of shyness before she sets his last piece of armor and weaponry aside. She starts to look almost guilty as she rests her arms upon his shoulders. “Is it too much?”

Din shakes his head. “No, rid’ika, not at all. It’s just…” he exhales a dreamy sigh and cups the side of her face, “you’re always a gift to me, no matter what.” Astra starts to smile again at that. Din runs his thumb under her shining eye. “And you’ve really spoiled me tonight.”

Astra giggles at that. “Well, the wine is helping with the courage.”

Din raises an eyebrow. “Courage?”

Astra’s fingers play with the ends of his hair as she answers. “It’s never easy surprising a Mandalorian, Din.” She presses her palm against his neck, the cool metal of her beskar ring making its presence known. “Even if you’re married to them.”

Din’s gaze follows his hands as they trace the outline of her figure all the way down to her waist. “Just say the word, and I’ll make it worth it.”

Astra lifts a hand to Din’s chin, tilting his face up to meet her own. She urges his forehead to meet hers as she smiles in a dizzying way. “You already have.”

Din returns her smile and brushes his lips over hers. “In that case, I’d like to thank you properly for your gift.”

Astra’s eyelids begin to flutter as she brings herself as close to him as possible. “Take me home.”

Their lips meet and everything after that is a blur, mostly in the sweet haze that still clouds Din’s awareness from both his wife and the wine. It’s only the smoothness of Astra’s skin along with her sweet sighs that bring him back to the galaxy in some capacity, the softness of her against him rivaling that of the sheets on their brand-new bed. He wants her as close to him as possible, he needs it, his reminder that he no longer has to imagine what a home without her would ever look like.

They’re finally in their own home, now, but Din knows no place would ever hold that title if Astra wasn’t there with him.

So, Din holds her right up against him, their hands entwined on the warmth of her middle as he wraps himself around her from behind. He’s more than content to bury his face in her neck and shoulder, breathing and exclaiming praises Astra deserves to hear not just now, but always. It’s times like these where he’s at his best because it’s when she truly and fully becomes his better half, his guiding star in a galaxy of darkness.

Astra frees a hand to grasp the side of Din’s head, tangling her fingers in his hair in a way that forces him to gently bite her skin. “Din,” she tries, her voice coming as a mere and pleased breath, “can I…” she pauses to curse, “can I look at you?”

Din obliges without hesitation, though he’s aware of how beautifully dangerous her gaze can be for him. He helps Astra move until they’re chest-to-chest, and though she pauses their perfect rhythm, she keeps herself in place as she holds his face between her hands. It almost drives Din crazier than the alternative would have.

“You’ve been praising me for my beauty, which I appreciate more than you could ever know.” Astra smiles as she gets the words out between her heavy breaths and even presses a kiss to his forehead. “But you have to know the same about yourself.” She rests her forehead against his own, her sweet severity striking Din deep within his chest. “Because you, my love, are so, so fucking beautiful.” Once she begins to move again, she repeats the curse, burying her face in his neck and her nails into his back. “I can feel it.”

Din huffs, kissing her head as he speaks around his own struggling breaths. “Are you sure you can feel it?”

Astra begins her artwork upon his back and Din can sense her fighting to say her response. “Yeah, Din, I can fucking feel it.” She sighs with a reverence that Din wants to memorize. “And I don’t want to ever stop feeling it.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Din’s now an endless stream of these words between whispers, growls, and whimpers of her name, unable to stop focusing on pleasing her the way she’s always done for him. “You’ve always been so good for me, and so good to everyone.” Din inhales sharply, overcome with emotion and pleasure. “And so loving…” he holds her waist even tighter, “and that’s all I want to feel, Astra.” Din buries himself and his adoring curses into her skin the best he can. “You.”

From there, the declarations of love between them are endless, the phrase being exchanged within their beautifully shattered poems created only for one another. The evidence is present in marks, scratches, and forming bruises meant for their eyes only, the physical remnants of this pure love and affection Din can grasp to long after this moment’s passed.

When he and Astra have officially made their home here, Din keeps her close, letting her lay with her head upon his chest as he becomes the one to scratch her back—but only in the most soothing and gentle way possible.

It’s only when Astra’s chest begins to slow once again that she finds her voice and speaks through their sweet silence. “It’s a good thing this cabin is big enough for a fifth member of the family, isn’t it?”

Din laughs, careful not to bounce Astra’s head too much on his rumbling chest. “We’ll just let the Force or whatever work that one out.” He leans forward enough to kiss her head. “For now, how about we test out the refresher?”

Astra lifts her hand and supports her chin with her hands. Her brow is wrinkled with amusement. “Barely giving me any time to recover?”

Din huffs and runs his hand over her head. “All I want to do is help you get settled for bed, honestly.” He shrugs. “You did say I was a clean guy earlier, didn’t you?”

“You’re right.” Astra giggles and rests her head against Din again. “But I think you’re gonna have to carry me there.”

Din starts to take her more firmly in his grasp. “I was already planning on it.”

With that, Din gets to do his greatest honor, taking care of his wife by helping her wash up and prepare for bed. The entire time, he dwells on the utter peace of it all, the realization that he doesn’t have to constantly glance over his shoulder for threats. They still exist, and Din would never doubt that, but it’s much different than before. Mandalore and its people weren’t the only things they worked to free. At long last, they earned their own freedom, from Moff Gideon and anyone else tied to him.

But as Din watches Astra fall asleep on him and follows suit for the first time in this beautiful home of theirs, he can’t possibly be aware of every phantom threat—especially the one who’s just about to return to the galaxy with an unprecedented vengeance.

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#the ending they so greatly deserve. but don't worry s4 still incoming!!!#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x oc #din djarin x female oc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x female oc #security #dindjarindiaries

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misspearly1 · 2 years

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Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Kinktober22 List

WC: 4.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Talk of Dehydration. Mutual Pining. Accidental Stimulation. Female Masturbation + Getting caught. Unprotected PIV sex. Desperate Sex. Fluff. AN: Oof, this took me a solid minute to write my loves. Kinktober is taking its toll out on me but thankfully I only have eleven more to write after this. I hope you enjoy.

You look at Mando incredulously, fearing that all hope is lost, or fear that he has completely lost the plot with heat stroke, as he points to a sad and pathetic looking speeder bike sitting at the bottom of a small canyon in the desert.

Two hours ago, a devious bounty managed to lure you and the Mandalorian out into the desert where he then tricked you to abandon your healthy, fully functioning, speeder bike to give chase on foot instead. Mando was so close to capturing him too, he was literally just an arm’s reach away before the target hopped onto the speeder and took off, leaving you both to the dust.

You raised your gun ready to shoot at the time, but Mando stopped you and you were understanding as to why, but now you wish you didn’t listen and just pulled the trigger. Your aim isn’t great at all, but you might have been able to hit the target, regardless of the fact he is wanted alive, and you’d have the speeder bike to travel back to the ship where the water supply is.

Now after two hours have passed since then, you can see that Mando regrets not shooting the target himself. It’s a mistake and you don’t blame him for the judgement call in the heat of the moment considering the bounty is worth ten thousand credits, however the man is currently pointing to another speeder bike like it’s a miracle and you really do think that heat exhaustion is clouding his mind.

“It probably doesn’t even work, Mando.” You shake your head with a huff, “And we shouldn’t waste our energy checking it out.” You explain, hoping that he could see common sense, but of course, just like Mando does all the time, he insists. “Worth a try.”

You’ve been working with him for the last year, and you know there’s no use trying to protest when he gets determined. Watching the back of his cape swish side to side with each step he takes down the steep slope, you sigh frustratedly and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Getting down into the canyon isn’t your biggest worry, it’s coming back out, but you follow his steps and make your way down regardless of the worry. There’s no way you’re letting him go alone.

Climbing down ledge from ledge then sliding down the slippery slopes and, in some areas, even sliding down on your ass until you reached the bottom, you immediately felt some relief from the big star in the sky when standing inside the shade. You damn bear wanted to moan from the relief it felt that good. Your clothes were damp, clinging onto your skin with sweat and your exposed skin would surely be sunburnt by now, but the dehydration is most worrisome. You can feel it starting to take effect. Your mouth is dry, lips too, and you have an insatiable thirst.

“Here,” Mando gestures as he walks towards you, holding his canteen. “Finish this off, cyar’ika. It’ll keep you hydrated til we get back to the ship.” Apparently taking notice of your relief in the shade and seeing that you're clearly dehydrated, he couldn’t not offer up the last of the water supply for you to finish off. “But Mando, what about yo-” You tried to protest, but the man cut you off with his hand held out and a curt shake of his head. “Drink.” He says flatly, no ifs or buts - adamant as always.

You reluctantly lift the canteen and take two sips, watching him pull off his cape and lay the item of clothing over his arm instead. It was harrowing to watch, painful even. No matter how hot you are right now, Mando is a thousand times worse inside all of that armour and you can’t drink all of this water for yourself. It would be wrong. You can’t do that to him, can’t allow him to suffer so you will be okay.

“Mando, please.” You plead with him. Even reaching out for his gloved hands, you place the canteen in his palm then squeeze his fingers around the object reassuringly. “We both know that you need this more than I do. I will be okay, I had a drink, but you finish it off.” Nodding once, you walk away from him quickly before he could try to argue about it and now that your back is turned, you hope that he will use this moment of privacy to lift his helmet and finish off the water. You hope that he gets the message that you, too, can insist and be adamant. No ifs or buts.

You care for Mando, and he cares for you too; this is just one of the many examples that show how you both have each other's backs, although sometimes you can argue when there is a disagreement, you both mean well and only have the best interest in mind. While he hydrates, you approach the speeder bike and hold back a groan from the sun beating down on your exposed once again as you look the vehicle over. I’ll gladly take the cold over the heat any day, you thought.

Luckily, there are no loose parts laying around on the ground so that’s a good sign, but you still have no hope simply because it was left out here at the bottom of a canyon. No one would leave a working speeder bike. It’s just absurd…. Or is it? You ask yourself while looking it over. Nothing at first glance looks seriously wrong with it, the power cell is intact and it’s showing half full on the gauge. The outriggers are a little rusty and one of the back thrust flaps is cracked but held together with tape. She isn’t perfect, but she’s all you’ve got.

You wait for Mando to join you again before trying the ignition switch, not wanting to turn around to break the trust you have built with the man thus far in case he still has his helmet off. There wasn’t a whole lot you knew about Mandalorian's to begin with before meeting him, but one thing that pretty much the whole galaxy knows is that he mustn't ever reveal his identity, therefore you’ll do everything in your power to uphold that.

Even when you hear his boots dragging across the sand towards you, you still don’t turn around to face him. Admittedly, sometimes you worry too much about stumbling across the man without his helmet, though you can never be too safe, right? You relax a little when hearing his modulated sigh from over your shoulder, knowing that his helmet is definitely back on now, however when he approaches, your body becomes stiff from the delicate touch of his gloved hand on your lower back, burning through your clothes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault we’re in this mess.” He apologises sincerely, then promises. “I’ll make it up to you one day, somehow.” You still remain shocked and confused, stiffer than a nail from his harmless comforting gesture. His words fall on deaf ears as all you can think about is how good his hand feels. You couldn’t tell whether or not you were burning up from the sun or burning up from his touch. Choosing the latter when he pulls away, you miss his touch and yearn to feel it again, which is really quite bizarre that you even miss his touch to begin with.

Mando isn’t a physical touch kind of guy, he’s never really touched you like this. Sure, there have been little accidents before where he bumps into you, but to actually reach out and hold you in some way, reassuringly, is new for him and new for you to feel. And now that you have felt it, you want more. It makes your legs squeeze together with the dirty minded thoughts racing around your head then makes your cheeks blush with shame for even thinking about him in that manner.

Miraculously, you even begin to feel the desire flooding your core. You’re dehydrated, you didn’t even think you’d be able to feel wet when dehydrated, let alone feel wet in the first place by the simple act of feeling a hand on your back. Stars! I need to get laid. You reprimand yourself, blaming the fact that you’ve gone too many months without intimacy for the sudden surge of arousal. That has to be the only reason for your sexual confusion right now; has to be the reason why you yearn to feel Mando’s gloved hands between your legs.

Focus! You snap with your inner voice, directing your attention back to the task at hand and not your thoughts. The speeder bike. That’s more important right now, you can deal with whatever you were just thinking about later. “Ready to see if she’s alive or not?” You ask Mando in a small voice, still feeling the effects of your own dirty imagination.

The man only nods in return and with that, you lean over for the ignition switch. She backfires loudly three times, rattling and clattering thunderously that makes you and Mando take a step back, fearing that she’s about to blow. After a few moments, she calms down and settles to an excessively loud hum, though still shaking violently. Always too good to be true. No one would leave a perfectly good working speeder back. You agree with your thoughts.

It didn’t sound promising, so you kneeled to the floor and looked over the engine while Mando walked around the bike, no doubt to check if there were any problems on that side. One of your many skills is knowing a thing or two in mechanics. You know enough to get by, but any major problems are lost on you. A nasty smell was flooding your nostrils and the catalytic converter looked damaged - that’s your problem.

“Hey, do you smell that?!” You yell to Mando over the loud racket coming from the engine, but when there is no answer, you look up for him. “Shit!” You gasp, not expecting him to be so close. He was leaning over the bike, the T shape of his visor directly above your face giving you a fight, but his proximity to you was most tantalising, even a little intimidating. And if you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was smirking inside the helmet simply from the way he was tilting his head to the side, as if amused from your reaction.

He jerks his chin outwards, a wordless way of asking you to repeat what you said, but you gulped as your eyes roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders and wide chest towering over you in this position. It made you think of him laying over your naked body instead. “Um, I think it’s going to be okay,” You rise from the floor, explaining loud enough for him to hear this time. “She’s spewing fumes, that’s what the noise and smell is, but she’ll get us back to the ship if we take it easy and don’t overpower the engine.”

“Okay, mesh’la.” Mando yells back over the noise, nodding, “Let's go back home.” He swings a leg over the bike and moves up the seat as much as he could for you to sit on the back, but you froze with surprise, thinking about the fact he has just called the razor crest home. You feel a concoction of different thoughts whirling around your brain, even though the ship is where you both reside day and night on your travels through the galaxy, he’s never called it home before. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“What’s wrong?” He tilts his head to ask, worried. You snap out of it then, shaking off your emotions while replying. “N-nothing just… Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Upon looking at the backseat and seeing only one set of foot pegs, you ask. “Where do you want me to put my legs, speeders aren’t made for two carriers?”

Jerking his head to the side, another wordless gesture telling you to just hop on, you reach out and hold his shoulder, then sigh breathily when feeling his brute strength under your fingertips. Has he always been this big and strong under his clothes? You ask, wishing to explore his bare skin without the clothing barrier in the way.

You swing your leg over and sit down, now gripping his shoulder with the urge to moan out from the vibrations below caused by the engine. You clenched around nothing, feeling your clit pulse from the contact of the seat against your core. It was buzzing so loud and strong, that you already knew this journey back to the ship was going to be euphoric.

“Just relax.” Mando yells, mistaking the fact that you are clearly turned on right now for discomfort as he reaches for your legs to wrap around his waist. “I’m sorry, it’s just for a little while, cyar’ika.” He justifies himself, and you immediately lean in close to reassure. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise.” It’s actually more than okay, Mando…

He nods after you get comfortable then hands his cape to you. “Keep this safe for me.” He asks, and you know how much his cape means to him, so you handle it with care. Taking it from him then putting it behind his back, you move up the seat and keep it secured between your bodies. Quickly growing tired of the yelling, you just threw him a thumbs up instead and he then returned the gesture by taking both of your hands with a firm squeeze before placing them over his chest plate. You wanted to feel that again, something so simple as holding his hands was electric.

As he accelerates, getting you both out of the canyon to make your way back home, as he newly calls it, you rest your cheek to his back and immediately close your eyes, picturing him pleasuring you instead of the vibrations from the bike. You couldn’t help it. You were just so turned on from his touch and now with the vibrations below, you were imagining it was his fingers working their magic. Although you felt so dirty and wrong for thinking about Mando in this sexual manner, you loved how good it felt to be pressed against his body like this. It felt like you were hugging him from behind, but it wasn’t a real hug. As much as you wished it to be, it wasn’t real.

Truthfully, you wished you could be sitting up front instead; up front and facing him with your legs wrapped around his waist. And that wishful thought makes you clench around nothing again, just imagining your burning heat sitting above his crotch while he rides the speeder back to the ship. There was no use trying to fight the inevitable. You were quite literally sitting on top of a vibrator and the sensations it was providing were too pleasing to ignore.

Besides, would it really be all that bad to make the most of it? To make the most of this journey and get yourself off a couple times before you reach the Razor Crest and continue your hunt for the target? Who knows when your next moment of privacy will be as you can barely pleasure yourself these days with how cramped the ship is and how busy your workload has been.

You’re always with Mando. He, as well as yourself, doesn’t have any real privacy. You’re always together, not that you mind it, but moments like this where you can release some of your pent-up sexual frustrations are sparse. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, you ponder in thought. You’re clearly having mixed emotions about your employer and that’s because you are so deprived of intimacy.

You need this release; need this sexual release so you can be able to think straight and get back to normal. After justifying your actions, you quit fighting your own needs and just relax, letting the vibrations pleasure you. Small gasps and whimpers slipped past your lips and your cheeks burned at the thought of Mando hearing you.

Hope had you thinking that the man would love it, that he’d love the fact you were quite literally getting yourself off behind him, but thinking realistically, he would probably find it weird and disrespectful. Find you weird and disrespectful. You still thought about him though. Even after you justified that feeding your sexual hunger would make you think clearly, it didn’t stop you from thinking about Mando pleasuring you instead.

You wanted him so badly and even thought about his leather gloved fingers sliding inside of you. The vibrations ramp up a notch as he speeds up the bike, thus causing you to bury your face between his shoulder blades and muffle your throaty mewls. Your head floats off into the clouds as you lose all sense of control. It’s like everything around you fades out into nothing and all you can focus on is Mando, as if holding onto him kept you tethered to reality.

Panting heavily through your release, you feel another one rising again and ride it out, basking in the magnificence of over-stimulation. Your hands unintentionally grip Mando’s chest plate, the muscles in your legs tensing up with a fiery burn and your thighs squeezing together around his hips. You thank the stars above for the speeder being so loud, otherwise he would be able to hear you literally falling apart and whining through the aftershocks.

It’s too much; too pleasurable that it’s becoming painful, but you don’t want it to stop. You want to be reduced to a quivering mess, to be soaked in your own desire as your eyes haze over with bliss. “Oh f-fuck.” You moan disgracefully, succumbing to your wants and needs; your need to tell him how you really feel about him. Even though he can’t hear it, you need to speak your truth and say the words out outloud. “Stars! I want you so bad, Mando.” You cry to yourself, “I want your fingers inside of me.”

Minutes passed by like an eternity before the bike slowed down and you no longer felt the sun beating down on your back anymore, just the coolness of the shade blessing you with a break from the heat. “We’re home, mesh’la.” You hear Mando say but could barely form a reply and just nodded into his back.

However, instead of getting off the speeder, he firmly held onto your thigh and hip, then pulled you around to the front. “M-Mando?” You gasp with surprise. You were now sitting on his crotch, gazing up into the T shape of his visor as he placed his thumb and forefinger to your chin, looking back down at you. “I heard you moaning, sweet girl,” He growls, hand on your hip squeezing the flesh hard as your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He heard you, heard you moaning therefore he must have heard what you said.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted, lowering your head in shame, but the man slipped his hand around the base of your neck and tilted your head back before pressing his helmet to your forehead. “I want it too…” He exhaled shakily, “I want you so badly, cyar’ika, I always have.”

“You have?” You ask, disbelieving the words exiting his mouth. “B-but I don’t understand. How have I not noticed before?”

“Because I do well with hiding my emotions.” The man explains, both hands now firmly holding your hips, his fingers slip under your shirt with request. “But not anymore cyar’ika. I won’t hide how I feel anymore, if you won’t hide anymore either.”

“I won’t. Not ever again, Mando.” You moan, brows pulling together with bliss under his gaze. You can feel the warm leather on your skin, feel the burn of his fingers inside desperate to touch you without the barrier of clothing. Looking down briefly and whimpering at the sight of his gloved hands straining against the fabric, you look back up into his visor with a nod. “Touch me. Please touch me, I need you so bad.”

Laying down and arching your back for him as he makes quick work on removing your pants, you moan falling on his ears audibly this time, you feel the desperation from the man during his bid to remove all barriers of clothing preventing him from pleasuring you. Mando hikes up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the warm breeze blowing over your skin before pawing at your booms with one hand. He tears your panties down your legs, the hurriedness of his actions making you blush.

“M-Mando.” You whine; whine and beg without actually saying what you need from him. He heard you loud and clear anyways, he heard it from the way you moaned his name. Mando knew how much you wanted him; knew from the moment he laid his hand on your lower back earlier and your heart rate kicked up suddenly. “I know, sweet girl.” He breathes reassurance, telling you exactly what you need to hear. “I know and it’s okay. I will take care of you.”

“Oh fuck!” You cry upon feeling two bare fingers sliding into your sex. When did he take them off? You don’t even know, but you don’t care either. His fingers are so big and fulfilling, bending into a come hither motion to caress your g-spot. “So wet, mesh’la.” He groans heavy and wanton, admiring the slick coating his fingers. There was so much in fact, it was drooling down his digits and making a mess inside the palm of his hands. “So tight too.” His modulated exhale reaches your ears, shaky and breathless.

You clench around him, the muscles in your cunt aching with dire need to be stroked and stretched. “M-More.” You whimper. Hands trailing down your body to pull down your bra, exposing your nipples, you hold them between your fingers and plead with him shamelessly. “Please Mando. I want mo-yes! Like that, just like that.” You yell out, rewarding his actions with your words as he buries three fingers to the hilt beautifully.

You don’t even feel Mando removing his hand from your breast, nor do you feel him fighting to open his slacks and free himself. All you can focus on is the way he grunts. Your eyes closed, lost within the bliss of his fingers pleasuring you, only when he removes them, you open your eyes with a needy whine. “N-no, don’t stop.” You look up just in time to see the man reaching for you, grabbing you by the sides and pulling you flush to his chest.

“Cyar’ika!” He growls deep and low, cock thrusting inside of you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You mewl from the stretch, pulsing around his girth and grip onto his biceps from the burn his size was causing. It was phenomenal. You wanted it again, to feel him stretch you open again and again with each snap of his hips into yours. “Mando move!” You choke on the words, burying your face into the nook of his neck and rolling your eyes back with the scent of him flooding your senses. He smells so good, so heavenly.

The man makes quick work of rutting into you, using your own body as leverage to pull you into his thrusts and meet him halfway. You could hear your desire squelching around him, could feel the damp spot it was leaving on his clothes, making a mess. Though it wasn’t enough for him. Mando apparently had his own sexual frustrations to release too. He needed more and he took more.

“Hold on.” He grunts an order, hooking both arms behind your knees and using your ass to lift you up and down. The man even leaned back, getting himself comfy as he uses your cunt like his own personal fuck toy to get himself off. You don’t care for the romantics right now, you need raw primal sex, and Mando was giving it to you in the best way.

Little squeaks and moans slipped into his neck as he grabbed the globes of your ass and began slamming you down onto his hips. His cock was bruising your insides, filling you up completely each time. “C-cum, I’m cumming.” You manage to utter before falling limp, just letting him take over and fuck you into oblivion.

“Tell me when to stop.” He moans brokenly, still thrusting hard and deep. “I’m nowhere near done sweet girl but tell me when to stop and I will.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you nod into his neck. Falling apart on his cock, your high was intensified as he surges through your vice-like grip and continues to fuck you from below. “Inside me.” You moan softly, tiredly, “Come inside of me, Mando. Fuck me until you're satisfied.”

You blew past the stages of over-stimulation and entered the realms of sexual exhaustion. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, so instead you just held onto Mando like he was a lifeline and let him use your pussy for his own pleasure. The man had stamina for days. Stamina like you’ve never seen before as he comes multiple times, filling you up with his warm creamy seed. Even when he paused for a break, gathering some energy while allowing you a break, he started again with a slow grind, relishing in the pretty little sounds escaping you.

“Tell me to stop, mesh’la.” He says, almost begging you at this point to give yourself mercy. Mando wasn’t lying, he is nowhere near done and can last for hours - for you. He’s dreamt of his for months, fisted his cock many nights thinking it was your heat instead and now that he has your cunt wrapped around his cock, he doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop until he has emptied his sac. “Do you want to stop?” You lift your head to ask, gazing into the T shape of his visor and picturing what beautiful eyes he must have behind it.

“No, not at all.” He groans and gasps in reply, feeling you clench around him. A smile tugs on your lips, sweet and innocent like at first, but then it becomes devilish and naughty. You don’t want to stop and neither does he. You both want more. “Well keep fucking me Mando.” You sigh breathily, resting your cheek to his shoulder with a request;

“And don’t stop until we’re both completely spent.”

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny

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xmissrogersx · 28 days

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Hi everyone!

My name is Priscila, and i’m new in tumblr! I just wanna thank you for the love u give to my stories! You are amazing girls!🩷

I have so many ideas to write (and of course i know about who u want) so please let me know in the comments what you want to read!

A few things about me:

I’m Argentina, 23 years old, i love the period drama, my favourite movie is the princess diaries and i study journalism.

God bless lana del rey, pizza and pedro pascal.

Follow me in TikTok, so you can know me a little bit more

www.tiktok.com/@priiscontardi

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redahlia-writes · 2 years

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wild blue yonder. | din djarin

sequel to the rockrose and the thistle.

Abstract: There were so many things he wished to tell her in that moment - things it would take him years to say, feelings he didn’t even know could be expressed out loud, and some that he’d never use words for but show her over and over again, day after day, year after year - yet the only thing he could do was hold her tight against him and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her, steal the breath from her lungs and make himself dizzy as well.

When she held him, the whole world was kept at bay - there was no former covert, no former creed, no bounty, no job, no kingdom. It was him, where he was meant to be, with the person he had to be with, with his family - and nothing else would ever matter again.

Words: 10.7K

Content: f!blind!reader (she/her pronouns used. can be read as nameless ofc, no physical descriptions besides her eyes); time skip, guilt, a tiny smidge of angst, girl dad din (i cannot stress enough this is a kid fic. full of family feels), hurt/comfort mostly comfort, fluff, grogu being a gremlin, mentions of wounds, vague mentions of childbirth, smut (slow sex, side-by-side, cunnilingus, these two make out like they’re teenagers i won’t lie), unedited (i’m so tired if you see a mistake no you don’t)

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

There was a house in the middle of the woods.

It still looked as the day he’d left it - four years had gone by since the Mandalorian had last seen it. Four years since he’d found shelter in its walls, with its owner. It felt like a lifetime before instead.

He walked forward, the ground familiar in spite of the time away, weightless without his helmet on, the sun warming his skin - he believed the sun was different there, a magical thing welcoming him home. Four years, and that place still felt like home.

At his side, Grogu’s pram floated, the kid asleep after the long journey, ears twitching at each gust of wind, each crunch of leaves, but never waking. He trusted his father to look out for them both - perhaps he even sensed the calm flooding him. The sense of belonging that had wrapped itself around him the moment they’d stepped off the ship.

The Mandalorian was home at last, greeted by the smell of burning wood and freshly baked bread, of dried flowers and herbs. He hadn’t known how much he’d grown used to it until he’d lost it. He hadn’t known how much he’d grown used to her until he’d stopped waking up each day with his arms around her.

The Mandalorian was home at last to stay, if she’d have him still.

I’ll be back in a few days, a promise whispered into the crook of her neck, holding her so tight she’d joked it’d bruise her, her hands soothingly brushing his hair, one last touch to send him off.

You’ll be back when you can, she’d replied, as if she knew already. I’ll be right here.

He’d wondered whether, even after all that time, that would be true. He’d wondered whether she’d moved on, at times even hoped she would. He’d wondered whether he should just not return, even when he could, that perhaps she’d be better off.

But he’d left his heart behind with her four years before, and the ache diminished to nothing the moment he stepped into the clearing and his eyes fell onto the porch, the chair she kept there come winter or spring - and then he froze.

Din froze, the pram stopping at his side.

Sitting on the porch was not the woman that had haunted his dreams for the past four years, her ghost clinging to the parts of himself he hadn’t left behind - but a child. Dark, long, curly hair, sitting on the steps he used to sit on with a toy in her hands, unaware of her surroundings, a blanket thrown over her shoulders to shield her from the beginning of winter’s chill.

The door opened, the creak echoing through the clearing, and Din could’ve sworn his heart stopped: there she was, looking exactly like she remembered. Her head bowed towards the child a smile caught on her lips when she waved the toy in her direction without lifting her gaze. The woman took a step forward, bending down and reaching for it - but then the wind shifted, and she froze, as the child’s curls were pushed in her eyes.

She straightened with a little frown, her lips moving with words he couldn’t hear over the rushing of his own heart, and then walked down the steps, head tilted to one side, then the other - she stopped when she turned to face him, starry eyes widening as her lips parted.

For a moment only, they both stood perfectly still - Din was looking at her and his heart hammered in his chest, so loud it covered the rustling of the foliage, the song of the wind. But then she broke into a run, almost tripping on the hem of her dress she hastily gathered up, on a stray root she couldn’t avoid, and before he could rationalize anything else he was moving too, pram in tow not keeping up with him until she was in his arms again at last, throwing herself against him with such force he staggered backwards, felt the armor shift slightly at the impact.

Legs and arms wrapped around him, clinging to him out of breath, she reached one hand up to the back of his head as her own fell into the crook of his neck, cheek pressed against the edge of the armor, hot breath fanning against the sliver of exposed skin of his neck.

“You’re here,” her voice trembled, fingers curling against his scalp - she tugged his hair almost painfully, but he didn’t mind it one bit, it functioned as a reminder that it was real. He was there. “Din, you’re here.”

Each night he’d remembered the way she said his name, the shape it took when it was her calling it, the sweet note of her voice that warmed his chest - to hear her actually say it, so gentle and close, was nothing like it. Real, real.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika,” up on the steps, the young girl was looking at them, big, curious eyes as she stood, toy firmly held in her grasp. “I meant to come back right away, I did, I couldn’t - I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, love,” the cold tip of her nose nudged his jaw, beard scratching her soft skin. “It’s okay - you’re here,” her legs shifted at his sides, squeezing him a little tighter. A wet smile brushed his skin as she lifted her head. “I knew you would.”

His arms tightened around her, hands splayed against her back as she shifted and turned her head to press a kiss to his jaw, to his cheek, his eyelids, his nose. He could feel her tears staining her cheeks as she took his face in her hands, warm hands - hands he’d dreamed of, hands he knew so well - cupping his cheeks and leading his head slightly back, her lips pressed against his forehead.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” she whispered, the tip of her fingers digging a little into his jaw. “Are you -” “Yes,” he anticipated her question, and her face broke into a smile, eyelids trembling as she bowed her head, resting her forehead against his. “I’m not leaving you again, cyar, I promise.”

It had taken him four years to make sure he could promise her - he had no intention whatsoever to leave again, not without her. Four years of negotiations, of working, of challenges, of fights. Four years during which he’d thought again and again of just leaving in the middle of the night, but too afraid to do so, should the past follow him. Should it follow Grogu.

Four years without his heart, left behind in the palm of her hands, and suddenly he was breathing again, flooding his lungs with the smell of dried flowers and pie.

“Mama, why is it floating?” she hiccuped a breath at the young girl’s voice coming from behind her, so close to them both.

Din craned his neck a little, looking down at the child and her green tunic - her big, golden eyes were lifted towards the pram with curiosity, curls a mess on her forehead as she tilted her head a little. Mama, she’d called her.

Din’s breath caught.

“Honey,” he wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or the child, but slowly eased his hold until she could touch the ground again. Only one of her hands left him, still clinging to his shoulder even when she turned towards the kid, one of his arms still holding her waist. “What is it?”

“A ball,” she said, moving towards the woman and, automatically, towards Din. “It’s Grogu’s pram,” he murmured, glancing quickly towards him. “He’s still asleep.”

She nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment, worrying the skin as her fingers curled and uncurled against his shoulder and her head tilted towards the young girl, breath picking up. Din waited - he wasn’t sure which scenario forming in his head was worse, but he rubbed his hand against her back slowly as soon as nervousness twisted her features.

“It’s a bed, Sarad,” flower, Din thought. She was named flower. “Like the one in your room, only it can move around,” the child seemed to ponder her words, head tilting to one side, then the other. If her mother’s eyes were like stars, hers resembled the sun, so bright and full of warmth.

“Okay,” she declared at last, convinced, and then turned to look at Din.

As if sensing her gaze on him, the woman moved forward, slipping from his grasp and crouching in front of the child, hand reaching for her chin to pinch it lightly.

“Why don’t you go hunt some mushrooms for dinner, little one?” she spoke in a gentle voice, the same one Din had heard her use while cleaning his wounds or speaking of her past. “I know you have a lot of questions in that pretty head of yours, and I’ll answer them all once on an empty stomach. Deal?” she smiled at the girl then, lines etching at the corners of her eyes as if she was squinting.

“Deal,” almost solemn, the kid nodded.

“Reminder,” she called, just as Sarad stepped back. “If it’s bright and pretty it’s not for us,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “If it’s bright and pretty it’s not for us,” with a nod from her mother, she was off. “Don’t wander too far!”

The woman got up, her back turned on Din, and he realized suddenly he’d been holding his breath the whole time watching the two of them interact, fists clenched at his sides. When she turned towards him, he exhaled - perhaps he said her name, or something that sounded like it through his dizziness.

“I didn’t know - when you left, I didn’t know,” as she spoke, she twisted her hands, head slightly bowed without moving forward, nor back. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to contact you, and I was afraid they’d hurt her if I went into town, I didn’t -”

Fear, Din realized with a start. She didn’t feel guilty, she didn’t feel sorry - she was afraid.

“And when you did come back,” she continued, train of thought lost for a few moments, “I wanted to tell you properly, I wanted you to know who she is before you met because I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, and I didn’t want to impose -”

“Sweetheart,” when he moved up to her, she hiccuped a breath, gathering her hands against her chest as her eyes widened. Din took off his gloves, a little hastily, stopping only when he was standing toe-to-toe, and wrapped his hands around both hers. “Breathe,” he whispered, bringing their joined hands to his lips - he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, never moving his gaze from her face as her expression relaxed bit by bit at his closeness. “Tell me the way you wanted to. It’s alright.”

For a moment, she kept her bottom lip trapped between her teeth - then nodded, exhaling again.

“A month after you left I started feeling… odd. And sore. And tired,” as she spoke, he rubbed the back of her hands with his thumb - small, soothing gestures as his heart rushed in his chest. “I didn’t know what to do so I just waited - at one point I tried going into town, find someone who could help me but,” she turned her arm, revealing a now scar across her forearm Din knew hadn’t been there before, “I guess they still weren’t too fond of me. So I hid myself, and once Sarad was born I hid her too, I told her to not speak with anyone that wasn’t me, and I brought her into the woods every day hoping she’d start growing familiar with them right away,” Din let go of her hand to brush her cheek, a stray tear making its way down. “I told her the woods protected us, and that one day her father would be back because I knew you would, Din.”

One day her father would be back. I knew you would, Din.

“I’m sorry,” one last whisper, and Din froze with his hand cupped around her cheek.

“What are you sorry for, kara’vhipir?” the name made her lips twitch in a surprised half smile, his index coming to rest bent under her chin to tilt her head up. “It’s alright, I’m just - I wish you hadn’t been alone. Had I known -” she was already shaking her head before he could finish the sentence.

“You needed to be with Grogu, with your people - I know that, I knew it then, too, and I never, never thought you wouldn’t return,” when she shifted closer, the tip of her nose brushed his, hands coming to rest on his shoulders again from above the armor pieces.

“I didn’t want to leave - hadn’t it been for him -” he glanced at Grogu. “I know,” she nodded, lifting her hands to cup his jaw.

“I never meant for you to be alone again,” he persisted, and her smile returned, thumbs pressing at the corners of his mouth. “I know, Din,” she nodded, pulling down his bottom lip a little. “I heard you - that first night, when you talked about staying forever, I heard you.”

“I thought you were asleep,” he kissed the pad of her finger as her smile widened, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m not leaving again,” he repeated, “I’m here to stay, if you’ll have me. Us,” he corrected, gesturing with his head towards Grogu.

“This has been your home, too, since the moment you walked into it,” the gap between them was so small he could almost feel her lips moving against his. “There’s plenty of room for the kids, too.”

“The kids,” Din whispered, a little in disbelief. He’d grown so used to think of Grogu as his own child, and now - “We have a daughter. You and I,” he exhaled, perhaps chuckled a little. Twice a father, when he’d never thought of that as a possible life for him. Twice a father, holding the woman he’d grown to love in almost a full year they’d spent together, and loved more and more each day they’d spent apart.

A clan of two turned into a clan of four. His family lost in the woods.

“Sarad?” he asked then, and her smile turned bashful. “It was one of the few words I remembered in Mando’a,” she justified with a little shrug, and Din laughed. “She’s so much like you. Restless and brave and loving. A little stubborn, but -”

Before the sentence was over, Din bowed his head to kiss her. He didn’t think too long about it, not like the first time - he wanted to kiss her, so he did, her surprise turning in a little yelp before she all but melted against him, arms flying around his shoulders, hand finding its place through his curls all over again.

He knew a kiss could not convey how he’d missed her, it could not strengthen his promise, it wouldn’t bring back lost time. But he was there, she was in his arms, and he could kiss her again while wide awake, feel her solid and oh-so-sweet against him, against his lips, her mouth parting for him like no time had passed, muscle memory guiding them. Even despite the armor, they fit together perfectly, and for a moment both long and too short, it was just the two of them again in the whole galaxy.

But then a babbling resounded behind his shoulders, and quick, running child steps echoed across the crunchy leaves, and their bubble expanded. Not two but four heartbeats tied together, in a house in the middle of the woods. A home.

“Grogu,” he said, and his voice was hoarse, the taste of her still on his lips while the kid pulled up his head, sleepily blinking as he took in his surroundings and, at last, his father’s smile. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

There was a hammock in Sarad’s room - it took Grogu five seconds to hop up and claim it, turning towards them only once he had settled down on it as if to check it was alright. A smile loomed on the woman’s lips, eyes half closed as she nodded - Din wasn’t sure how, but the two of them had seemed able to communicate since the first moment. His heart swelled again, hand finding the small of her back, and right away she leaned into him.

It felt like no time had passed, like he’d simply took a long walk through the woods only to come back home and find her and a warm dinner - she’d missed the food, too, buttery and tasty. He could understand why Grogu had almost stuck his whole head into the plate.

It had been Sarad showing him around as they washed the dishes, her voice soft and hands dancing, tracing invisible lines of the object, the piece of furniture, the bend in the wall she was describing. Din could tell she was listening to the children, her head tilted in their direction, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. He’d leaned in and kissed her cheek with his hands stuck in the sink, making her snort and bump her hip into his.

He hadn’t left her side for the whole evening - not after she’d helped him out of the armor, not while she cooked (though Sarad stepped quietly between his legs to help her do so), not during and after dinner, not up the stairs to show Grogu the room, and not now that he was asleep and she was heading down the corridor to her own room, the one they’d shared for months before he’d left.

It still looked the same - the big window letting the moonlight in, no mirrors, flowers hanging over the headboard. And, lying in the middle of the bed, was Sarad, fast asleep.

She hadn’t said a word to Din, looking at him through her lashes with big golden eyes throughout the dinner. Just like it had been with her mother, Din felt a little intimidated by her, by her silence, by the way she kept looking at him. She’d been told who he was, quiet, gentle words as she sat on the couch and the woman kneeled in front of her, hands on her knees.

Din is your dad, sweetheart. We talked about him, remember? He’s come back, she’d replied, focused solely on her mother, like you said he would.

“I can move her to her bed,” she said in a whisper, Din’s arms already wrapping around her shoulders with a sigh. “I’m sorry - she’s been sleeping here during these years, doesn’t particularly like her bed.”

“That’s alright,” he hummed, placing a gentle kiss against her neck - just one this time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself otherwise. “I can sleep on the couch. Don’t bother her.” “But -” the protest bubbled on her lips, head turning in his direction. Din risked it, kissing her softly, a little too quick for his liking, but cutting her off effectively.

“There’s plenty of time - plenty of nights,” he reassured, and she leaned into him again, her shoulder against his chest as she craned her neck to chase his lips, one hand rising to his jaw. “Just let her sleep, I’ll be alright.”

“But I’ve missed you,” she whispered, fingers moving across the line of his jaw, brushing his stubble before tracing the shell of his ear. He sighed again, tilting his head into her touch as her hand tangled through his curls. “You cut your hair.”

“Had to,” the tip of her nose brushed his cheek, and he started slowly rubbing her back, pushing her closer into his embrace. “I’ve missed you too, cyare. But let her sleep now.”

Instead of replying, she pulled his head down towards hers, kissing him with a little more intensity than he had, lips parting against his with a sigh of her own, eyelids fluttering shut as she rocked into him, him into her, getting lost in each other, in the moment, the edges of the world blurring around them.

“Mama,” Sarad’s voice was almost inaudible, but she pulled back from Din with a deep inhale, turning towards the bedroom.

“I’ll be right there, sweetie,” she cleared her throat, lips reddened by the kiss. The kid nodded, wriggling up the bed and underneath the covers, wild curls sticking out from under the blanket. “Sorry,” she whispered, her hand detangling from Din’s hair as he chuckled.

“Good night,” he replied instead, letting go of her with a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, and when Din stepped back she reached over again, her hands to his cheeks to pull him down for one last kiss before turning on her heels and walking right into the bedroom, a light spring in her step.

Din lingered a moment longer, watching her sit on the bed at Sarad’s side, head tilted as she caressed her head, leaning in close enough he couldn’t hear what she was telling her, the girl’s hands coming out of the covers to rest on the woman’s cheeks. Sarad’s sleepy eyes peeked out of the covers then, towards Din - they looked at each other for a moment and, in the end, she waved her hand in his direction.

When the following morning Sarad walked down the stairs, Din had looked up as the kid rubbed her eyes, his eyebrows slightly arched when she padded quietly towards the couch.

“Mama’s out,” she declared, sitting at his side with a little pout. “I know,” he cleared his throat, turning to look at her, her hair falling into her eyes. “I saw her earlier, mentioned something about a pie - do you need anything?”

“No,” she shook her head, and Din reached for her, hesitating to brush the curls back. He pulled his hand back quickly when she turned to look up at him, long, dark lashes surrounding her golden eyes. He gave her a little smile, slowly folding his hands in his lap.

With a frown that resembled so much that of her mother, Sarad lifted her hands in his direction, twisting in her seat as if to face him - Din tilted his head, perplexed.

“What is it, ad’ika?” she kept her hands up, his eyes moving from one to the other, as if he was meant to look for something, something.

“I want to see you,” she declared, and Din’s eyes widened for a moment before he cracked into a smile. He’d seen her do the same with her mother the night before.

He thought that was how she saw the child - by tracing her face with the tip of her fingers, over and over again, studying the bends and bows and planes with rapt attention under her pads. He thought that must’ve been how she’d seen him the first time, five years prior - by tracing the shape of his face softly in his sleep.

“Go ahead then,” he encouraged, voice soft, and tipped his chin so the tip of his nose brushed her palm. It wasn’t a comfortable position, his neck was craned at a weird angle and he had to bend forward to be at her level, but as she brushed his cheeks with her fingertips he thought it did not matter, not at that moment.

Sarad’s hands were soft - softer than her mother’s, a touch far more gentle than he’d ever experienced, and he felt his eyelids droop, forced himself to not close his eyes, the girl brushing his forehead and then down to his cheeks again, further down to his chin. She lingered for a moment, scrunching up the tip of her nose.

“It tickles,” she murmured, up and down across his jaw, his beard. Din did his best not to smile again, but his lips quivered nevertheless and she glanced up into his eyes. “I like it,” she said then, and his resolve failed, a breathy chuckle escaping him.

She went on, down his neck right to the edge of the shirt, a quick brush across his shoulders as if dusting them off. Then, she took one of his hands with hers, and guided him up towards her own face, looking up at him expectantly. Din moved slowly, his ring finger tracing her brow, the bridge of her nose, the bow of her lips, her round cheeks and soft jaw.

“I look like you,” she said when his thumb skimmed her cheek again, and it took Din everything he had to push back the tears dwelling at the corners of his eyes.

“I think you do,” he leaned in a little, hand moving to the top of her head to brush back her curls. “Prettier, though,” he whispered, as if letting her in on a secret. Sarad’s grin flashed bashful, color rising to her cheeks as she averted her gaze. “Just like your mama.”

She pushed her head into Din’s hand, getting closer to him on the couch until her leg was pressed against his thigh, leaning into his side fully - a gesture that reminded Din of both her mother and Grogu, something he’d probably done before, too.

“Do you have to go?” she asked then, as Din caressed the back of her head. “Go where?” he wondered, swearing his heart was about to burst out of his chest - it hadn’t even been a day, yet the fear of Sarad not wanting him around had wrapped its hand around his throat. To her, he was a stranger, wasn’t he? And why would she want a stranger in her house, when her mother had warned her off of them?

“Don’t know - mama said you had to go last time,” she mumbled, tilting her head so it rested against his shoulder. Din carefully wrapped his arm around her, guiding them both back until he was resting against the backrest, and she against him. She curled into his side. “What about now?”

“I’m not going anywhere, ad’ika,” he reassured, hand rubbing up and down her arm. She nuzzled even closer, and Din sighed. “Is that alright?” “Yes,” she said, nodding, and her eyes closed. “Can I still sleep in mama’s bed? It’s comfortable.”

He snorted, other hand rising to tuck her hair behind her ear. Sarad nodded her head again, slower this time, letting his knuckles brush her cheek as a little smile pulled at her lips in response to his laughter.

“We’ll have to ask her,” he’d missed her, missed sleeping in a proper bed with her by his side most than anything else - but that didn’t matter either, not at Sarad’s request. “I’m sure you can.”

For weeks, Din settled in front of the fire or on the couch instead, Sarad tucked into bed and Grogu claiming the spot in the hammock over and over again. The woman had kissed Din on the stairs each night, an apology on her lips just like the first night, but Din simply smiled and held her close a little longer - there was plenty of time, he said.

That night, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been tossing and turning, facing the fire and then turning his back on it, when she appeared at the end of the staircase. She lingered on the last step, head tilting as he turned to look at her fully - a smile caught on her lips then.

I can feel you looking at me.

“Can’t sleep?” she wondered, moving closer. “I haven’t slept much these past years,” he shrugged, lying on his back - from this position, he was looking at her upside down, the hem of her nightgown dancing at her ankles. “Is everything alright?”

“Can I lie down with you for a bit?” she wondered, rocking a little onto her heels, hands joined in front of her. Din smiled in return murmuring a yeah and moving to the side, lifting the covers he’d brought with him, along with the pillows. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I missed being by the fire,” he admitted, his arm extended as she settled down, her head on his shoulder. “I tend to doze off here for a couple of hours, then move to the couch. It’s warmer.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, cold feet brushing his ankles as she nestled into his side. “I tried talking her into her own bed, she wouldn’t hear of it,” he chuckled, turning his head to brush his lips to her forehead.

“She says it’s comfortable,” he justified, and she huffed a little, moving closer, if possible. Her leg hooked over his own, arm draped across his stomach as she tucked her head underneath his chin, her eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t mind it, really.”

“I do,” she almost whined, and Din’s arm tightened around her. “I miss having you in bed,” she added then, a whisper as she pressed her cheek to his chest. “And you’re just down here, every night -”

Din brought his free hand up to her face, ever so gently brushing her cheek before hooking his finger underneath her chin, slowly guiding her head back, her neck exposed as he shifted a little and looked at her. Her eyes opened, his own personal galaxy quietening his mind. He kissed the bridge of her nose, and she wrinkled it a little, a sheepish smile forming on her lips. They’d exchanged nothing more than a few, rapid kisses over the days - in the morning, before going to bed, stealing a moment while the children were otherwise busy. They hadn’t been alone a moment, getting on on quick touches and quicker instants.

When he bowed his head to kiss her, she sighed into it, her whole body relaxing against him. He went slow, tasting each moment of it - her soft lips, molding against his; her warm skin pressed against him; the slight tremble in her hand as she brought it to his face, cupping his cheek the same way he did hers, as if to beckon each other forward, closer.

She parted her lips for him then, shifting back, back, back until she was resting against the pillows and he was hovering over her, one leg locked between her thighs, pushing her nightgown up to her hips. As she let her own hand run through his hair, pushing the curls back before wrapping her fingers around the nape of his neck, his own hand moved down from her face, caressing her neck, following the curve of her shoulder, brushing right where her body met the floor down along her side, waist, hip, the bulked up nightgown - when he touched her naked thigh, she shivered and sighed again. He trailed down her leg, knee to calf to ankle and up again the inner side, her legs spreading furthermore to accomodate him.

“I’ve missed you too, cyare,” he broke away from the kiss, whispering as he shifted down. “Every night,” a kiss to her jaw. “Every day,” a kiss to her throat.

“Din,” his name was a whisper of times past, an echo of the years before, repeated and repeated in the safety of the dark, of their house. Their house, their home, Din thought. “I can’t stay long, if Sarad wakes up -” her hands threaded through his hair as she spoke breathlessly, torn between drawing him closer and moving him away.

“I know,” still, he did not stop kissing her, his hand trailing down her side, reaching her hip and then back up again. Shivers ran down her spine as she shifted towards him, wrapping both her arms around his shoulders to inch impossibly close, chest against chest, slotting her leg between his. Din groaned, stilling his hand by gripping her waist. “We should stop,” he breathed out, somewhat mopish, because after all those years to have her in his arms again made him eager, it stoked the fire at the pit of his stomach, the burning desire that he’d believed would consume him whole while he was away.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered, warm breath fanning his cheeks, one of her hands moving up to the nape of his neck - the touch made him shiver, pull her closer and capture her lips in yet another kiss, bruising. “Me neither,” he admitted.

Still, they pulled apart - not by much, still basking in each other’s warmth, bodies entangled as Din sighed and placed a kiss to her forehead before she tucked her head underneath his chin, arms falling from his shoulders to wrap around his waists, positions now flipped.

Truth be told, Din could stay like that for the rest of the night - for the rest of his life - and be satisfied, satiated. She was solid in his arms, real, real, real and his, and there, not a dream that would slip through his fingers when he opened his eyes and found himself in a place he would never belong.

“What are you thinking about?” she wondered, her voice still a whisper - leave it to her to know exactly when his mind lingered on a thought for too long. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and started drawing slow figures across her back. “Honey,” she chided, but a content little noise left her lips.

“Home,” he said carefully - he’d been so guarded the past four years, it felt dangerous to fall back into the openness he’d reserved for her only. But she was real, he was home. “You, and Sarad, and Grogu, I -” he wasn’t even sure he could put into words the feeling clinging to his heart, that pleasant weight that had settled on his heart when he’d returned into the woods and found her there. “I never thought I’d have a home - I was young when I lost Aq Ventina, and the Razor Crest was the closest thing I thought I’d ever consider homely, but -”

Her hands were imitating his movements, up and down across his spine, soothing and gentle and oh-so-familiar. Her head was still tucked underneath his chin, fitting perfectly like the rest of her, and she kept it slightly tilted - he had her attention, he knew, yet she went all the way to show him she was listening.

“This place, you, the kids - it’s something I never dared to dream of,” he moved so he could kiss her forehead again, holding her tighter, to the point where a low oof noise left her, followed by a tired chuckle. “Now that I’m here I don’t understand how I ever thought I could be happy with anything else,” her hands stilled, holding onto his shirt. “I think the whole galaxy could disappear and I wouldn’t care, as long as you’re here with me. All of you.”

“Din,” she sighed, her voice sweet as honey as she turned in his arms - she wanted him to see her face, he knew, to let him know that she meant each of the words she was saying. She’d done it before, because she knew it would comfort him, somehow - because even though no one had ever learned his expressions, for years he’d relied on the tell-tales of other people’s faces. “Will you stop blaming yourself for leaving?”

It didn’t surprise him she knew, wouldn’t surprise him if she’d known since the first moment. The guilt clung to him like a second skin, and though during the day - when they were together, busy, talking and stealing kisses and Sarad ran after Grogu between their legs, laughter filling the whole house and his heart - it dulled itself to a distant discomfort, it always came back at night, when he was alone by the fire and could notice each little shift in the house that had happened in his absence.

And she knew. Without him having - or wanting - to tell her, she knew, tired to make him feel better about it.

“We lost four years, cyare,” he replied, and his voice sounded incredibly distant. With another sigh, she reached up for his face, fingers gingerly tracing the arch of his nose before running across his forehead, pushing his curls back with the movement.

“We didn’t lose anything,” she retorted, and rested her chin on his chest once he moved on his back. “Grogu needed you, and you needed him. You didn’t leave on a whim, didn’t abandon me.”

“You needed me,” a weak protest she met with a little smile, head tilting to the side so that her cheek was pressed against his chest, ear resting right above his heart - she’d fallen asleep like that countless times, countless nights, just listening to his heart beating.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured, her hand cupping his cheek, the slight scratch of his beard familiar against her palm. “I didn’t. I managed just fine before you, and I wasn’t -” she hesitated, chewing her cheek for a moment, “wasn’t happy, exactly, without you here. But I wasn’t helpless.”

“Still,” he cupped his hand over hers still resting on his cheek, kissing her palm, then moving it up to kiss the scar on her forearm, the one he hadn’t known before. “I should’ve been here.”

“You’re here now,” she said, firmly, taking his hand in hers, resting both onto the pillow at the side of his head, nestling closer with the tip of her nose brushing his chin. “That’s all that matters. And you’re not leaving,” the last sentence was whispered, her head tipped back.

“I’m not,” his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of her lips to his throat, a feather-like touch. “It wasn’t a question,” she sounded almost amused, tenderly nipping his throat before murmuring, so close he felt the vibrations of her voice in his chest, “I’m not letting you go.”

He laughed then, almost too loud, squeezing her hand where it rested interlocked with his on the pillow, and he could feel the smile on her lips right against his skin, the way she seemed to get closer and closer with each passing moment, and if he could he would’ve let her crawl into him.

“Can you stay here a little longer?” he asked then, almost tentatively. He felt that perhaps, for the first time in years, he could truly fall asleep just by having her weight on his chest.

“Just a little,” she nodded, thumb drawing circles across the side of his hand. “I don’t want Sarad to wake up alone.” “Okay.”

The intentions were there, on both parts: stay close a little longer, then she’d make her way back to bed. They fell asleep after five minutes, both comforted by the familiarity of the other’s presence, listening to his heart, her breaths, the feeling of his hand in hers and her head on his chest. After four years, they slept through the night without disturbance.

The following morning, Sarad and Grogu walked down the stairs and found them still tangled together, still asleep in spite of the light filtering through the windows. They’d moved during the night, resting on their sides, Din’s arms around her from behind - she was smiling, and his head rested between her shoulder blades.

That same night, Sarad fell asleep on the bed underneath the hammock, in her own room.

Sarad adored her father. She hung onto his every word, followed him out into the woods and searched for his hand as they walked, climbed onto his lap whenever he sat on the couch with a book that had been recovered from the old woman’s possessions. Din read to her, to Grogu, to Sarad, all three listening with rapt attention, though Grogu would usually fall asleep on the woman’s chest, cradling her hand.

Most of all, Sarad loved having Grogu around - four years she’d known her mother and the woods only, and to have someone so close to her warmed her heart in ways she could not yet describe, could not yet know. But she smiled more and laughed brightly and taught Grogu things around the house.

Her favorite room was the kitchen - she seemed to know far more than Din had learned in his time there before, bringing her mother’s ingredients without her even having to ask. She walked to the counter with a plate of meat in her hands just as she lit the fire beneath the pan, iron warming and oil sizzling. Just before she reached the counter, Grogu reached forward with the Force, a bite flying in his direction and greasing his claws as he tried to fit it into his mouth immediately.

“Kid, no,” Din called softly at her side, stepping past her to reach for the child and stop him. Sarad, observing the scene, giggled. “You have to cook it first, silly,” she was amused, eyes squinting with her laughter. Din glanced at her, doing his best to not grin - her mother smiled instead, fondly.

“Sarad,” her voice was reprimanding nevertheless, gentle but firm enough. “Be nice to your bother,” and after speaking, she stilled, tilting her head to the side.

Meat recovered, Din turned to look at her - there was a stunned look on her face, blinking rapidly as her eyebrows arched and she turned as if to look at Grogu and Sarad standing side by side. Her lips moved soundlessly - your brother, she said, and Din smiled. It seemed to dawn on her like that, the way they’d fallen together into a family. Their family.

Grogu adored her. He’d hop behind her until night came and he grew tired, tried everything he could to gain her attention, followed in her footsteps across the woods floor because he’d understood she knew it like the back of her hand. And he spoke to her - not with words, his vocabulary still restricted to a few words (buir and da and mam and sa’ad because his sister’s name was too difficult to pronounce fully), but the same way he’d communicated with Ahsoka, and later with Skywalker, and through images Din could not see.

He found them one day, when winter bled into spring, sitting on the porch with the sun shining on them. Grogu stood on her lap, both hands outstretched touching his face - he seemed to be mimicking Sarad’s and her own motions, his eyelids trembling shut, except the woman’s hands were held over his, keeping him in place as she leaned forward. When Din stepped at their side, she saw her cheeks strained with tears, and felt his heart leap.

“Kara’vhipir,” he called her softly, crouching at her side. She hiccuped a breath, eyes flying open, and a shimmer ran through them as Grogu fell back seating on her knees, shaking his head slowly. “Sweetheart, is everything alright?” he eyed the kid, reaching for him with the hand he hadn’t rested on the side of her neck - her pulse jumped under his touch.

“Yes, it’s fine, it’s -” the hand that was not supporting Grogu reached her face, quickly brushing away the tears that did not seem to stop. “I’m fine, sorry, I’m -” Grogu cooed in her direction, then looked at his father and tilted his head just a little.

“Sa’ad,” he mumbled, reaching for Din. “She’s gone flower picking, sweetie,” she said, sniffling and closing her eyes again. “Do you want to go find her?”

Instead of replying, the kid hopped off her legs and, after spinning on the spot once, walked towards the forest. Din’s heart leapt each time he saw him walk into the trees, despite knowing there was no safer space than that. He felt temporarily torn, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say.

Her hands were cold when she reached up to brush his cheeks, turning until she was facing him, one leg bent onto the porch floor and the other still onto the step in front of her. She ran her thumbs across his cheeks, the underside of his eyes and up to the arch of his nose.

“Cyar’ika,” he called in a whisper, still unsure of what to do as he brought his hand to the back of her head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her, her head bowed towards him. She was still running the tip of her fingers across his face - she’d done so multiple times during the nights they’d spent together again, mapping the planes of his skin, burning his shape into her memory. “You have brown eyes.”

It took him a moment to register her words, the surprise in her voice, breathless as a confession. All the while, she kept on caressing his face, inch by inch of skin.

“What?” he frowned, and her thumb smoothed the lines of his brow down.

“Brown eyes,” she said again, still incredulous. “Brown hair, too. With greys in your beard. You -” another tear fell from her eyes and Din caught it quickly, her shaky breath against his hand as she moved closer. “He showed me your face - memories, I think. And Sarad. And she looks so much like you, Din.”

Din’s frown returned, his lips parting as her thumb moved across his bottom lip, capturing it and gently pulling it down. She leaned close, closer, her eyes fluttering shut until her forehead rested against his, breathing in slowly.

“Memories?”

“The day you took your helmet off for him,” her legs pulled onto his lap, he wrapped her into the circle of his arms - still, she did not stop tracing the lines and edges of his face, over and over, each dome and bent so familiar to her, even more so now. “Days here, with Sarad sleeping next to you.”

“I didn’t know he could do that,” he murmured, and she smiled so brightly it burned him, shifting to kiss her forehead. “Are you alright?” he asked then in a whisper into her hair.

“Of course,” even her words carried a smile, palms against his cheeks as she tilted her head back to make him look at her. “I knew your face already, love, I just - never expected to know it like that,” gently, he took her hand and turned her palm upwards to place a kiss at the center of it, beard and mustache slightly scratching her soft skin. “And I knew Sarad looked like you, I just didn’t know how much.”

“You know,” he said after a moment, his lips still brushing her palm before he brought it back to his cheek, leaning into her touch, “that was the first time I took my helmet off because I wanted to. Because he wanted me to.”

Holding his face in her hands she kissed him ever so gently, the salty aftertaste of her tears clinging to his lips as he chased her down a moment longer, seeking more and more and more than what they’d managed to have during those days.

“I’m glad you went, Din,” she said suddenly, between one peck and the other. “I’m glad you went and got him back. I don’t care about the years and the distance and time, I just -” another kiss, another touch, “I couldn’t have beared knowing you so sad.”

“You wouldn’t have seen it,” his protest was weak, her hands running through his hair, so much hair, longer and curling wildly around his head.

“I would’ve known,” she retorted, a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I know you,” whispered against his closed eyelids, hold tightening around her. “I’ve known you since I first met you.”

There were so many things he wished to tell her in that moment - things it would take him years to say, feelings he didn’t even know could be expressed out loud, and some that he’d never use words for but show her over and over again, day after day, year after year - yet the only thing he could do was hold her tight against him and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her, steal the breath from her lungs and make himself dizzy as well.

“I love you,” she whispered, her lips bruised and still chased by his own - still, she said it, over and over until the words did not sound real anymore, and still she said it - I love you, I love you, I love you, Din.

“Da-ad!” Sarad’s voice rose from the trees, making them jump away from each other and up on their feet, both alert. The girl came running towards them, a disgusted expression on her face as Grogu toddled behind her. “He ate a frog!” she cried, hiding behind her mother’s legs and clinging to her. “It’s still alive!”

“Kid,” Din groaned, his hand resting atop Sarad’s head reassuringly for a moment before walking towards Grogu with a sigh. “We really need to fix that diet of yours.”

There was a creek near the house, wide enough Grogu and Sarad could play in the water but not enough they were at risk. Summer came, and as the kids played and giggled, they sat on the bank and remained closed until one or both were demanded into the games, day after day spent in idleness and laughter and wet clothes that clung to them and cooled their skin down.

Night came, and the children were exhausted - more often than not Sarad’s eyes would start falling shut while at the dinner table, and before she effectively fell asleep, Grogu had climbed down his chair and cuddled onto his mother’s lap. So they carried them to bed, fixed the kitchen in silence, bumping into each other on purpose and smiling again, a stolen kiss between dishes washed - a routine by then. Normality.

It ended in fleeting touches and quick encounters in the middle of the night, or just before the sun rose - the door closed for not enough, the kisses always too rapid, the touches never enough, tangling themselves to the other for as long as they could, whispering softly until they succumbed to sleep, too.

One evening, sunburnt cheeks and tired eyes, Sarad and Grogu started falling asleep earlier than usual, a light whine in the girl’s voice as she asked Din to read them their story once tucked in - the story of a princess named Love and a king with no face - a part of their ritual he never missed. Ten minutes into the chapter though, they were both sound asleep, and Din could creep back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

“Honey,” she was on her side already, eyelids heavy and face pressed into the pillow, sheet kicked at the foot of the bed leaving her uncovered. “The kids?”

“Sleeping,” he murmured, shedding his shirt and climbing into bed next to her - she wrapped her arms around him instinctively, lips finding his collarbones with a gentle peck. “Grogu was out before I even put him up,” a sleepy smile pulled at her mouth, and Din bowed his head to kiss her forehead.

“You closed the door,” she hummed, tilting her head back until it was aligned with his. He grinned a little, tip of the nose nudging hers as one hand cupped her jaw, the other slowly making its way down her body, across the light fabric of her nightgown. He could feel her underneath, warm and soft and shifting towards his touch.

“They’re exhausted,” he dropped his head to kiss one cheek, the other, guiding her until she almost rested on her back. “Thought we might have some time to ourselves,” a kiss to her jaw, right above where his hand held her. “Just us.”

“How are you not tired?” she was still smiling, threading her fingers through his hair and shuffling her thighs apart. Din’s hand caressed her inner thigh, goosebumps raising across her skin in his wake. “You’ve been running after them for the whole day.”

“You seem to forget I was a bounty hunter, mesh’la,” she snorted quietly, immediately pressing her mouth to his to quieten herself. For a moment, he kissed her back, stilling his hand against her thigh, gently kneading the flesh. “What’s so funny?” he whispered against her lips as she squirmed lightly into his touch.

“Nothing,” she shook her head, a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, lifting her head off of the pillow. “Never heard you talk about yourself as the big bad bounty hunter,” her lips brushed his ear when she spoke again, and he could hear the smile in her words as she pulled his head closer, hand threaded through his hair still. “I’ve always known you soft, like this.”

“Soft,” he scoffed in mock offense, but her smile got so bright he couldn’t help himself as he kissed her again, deep and a little rougher, pushing her fully onto her back as he settled between her thighs. Her surprised yelp remained trapped between their lips, legs parting furthermore to accommodate him. “Soft?” he repeated, pulling back and making her gasp.

“Soft,” she nodded in confirmation, and he kissed down her throat - her head tipped back, pushing into the pillows, hand never leaving his curls. “Gentle,” she continued as he dropped a kiss to her chest, the skin left exposed by the neckline of her nightgown. “Always so good to me,” one more kiss to her stomach as he moved lower, sighs escaping her. “What are you doing?”

“We’ve got time,” he placed one kiss on each hip as she tilted her head on the pillow, following the sound of covers rustling beneath him, his breath fanning across her thighs as her nightgown moved up. “I just want to feel you.”

Her thighs shook lightly when he kissed her, small touches up her skin until he reached the juncture between her leg and pelvis, a louder sigh falling from her lips when his kiss lingered there, right above her underwear.

He looked up at her then, cheek resting against her leg as her hand curled over his head, gently scratching his scalp with the motion as his beard brushed her skin. Her eyes were open, head tilted as if to look at him - or have him look at her; her lips were parted, a little reddened, letting soft exhales out whenever he shifted forward, pushing her legs a little more open with his shoulders.

He waited for her - always did, no matter how much or little time they had, he’d always wait for her to say it - thumbing the sides of her underwear as if to pull it down but not quite. It didn’t matter, he could just stay like that for the rest of the night.

“Din,” she called quietly, his name a whisper as she arched into him, his beard scratching her skin lightly with the movement. He hummed, a peck to her core from above the piece of fabric that had her sigh again, a breathy, “Please,” falling from her parting lips.

He’d teased her endlessly when he was first home - when it was just the two of them, night or day, in bed or in front of the fire, dragging the moment on and on until she was panting and writhing under his touch. She’d done the same, tentatively at first, and then with more and more confidence that had his head spin, pliable under her touch.

But they’d spent so much time apart, and each moment back together had felt so fleeting, he couldn’t do it in that moment. He moved back to undress her, her nightgown falling up her stomach when she arched her back to help him, and as he moved back down he hooked his arms under her legs, holding her hips once he settled back down, shoulders holding her thighs apart.

The first slow sweep of his tongue made her cry out, her eyelids fluttering shut as one hand fell to the bed next to her, grabbing the covers underneath her. He moved his mouth from her, leaving an almost chaste kiss to the top of her thigh.

“You need to be quiet, baby,” his voice was lower already, huskier, making her squirm slightly. “The children are asleep.”

“Maker, you can be a real -” she gasped, sentence cut off when he lowered his mouth on her again, tongue pushing past her folds. She cursed under her breath, gripping the covers tighter as he closed his eyes, an almost content hum sending vibrations up her spine.

He’d never grow tired of it, the way her body reacted to his touch, the sweet taste of her on his tongue, the held back noises as he dragged his mouth up, up until his lips were wrapped around the apex of her core, as he sucked on the bundle of nerves and had her hand pull at his hair, guiding him wherever she needed him, thighs locking around his head - his beard would leave scratches on his skin, a welcomed burn.

He knew her body so well - how to wind her up, the little telltales that told him when she was close, closer, arching off the bed and doing her best to keep her voice down, low whines trapped in the back of her throat. Din reached with one hand for hers on the bed, locking his fingers with hers - she squeezed his hand once, a louder moan in response to him pushing his tongue flat against her.

“Din,” she called, almost a warning, though her hand on the back of his head kept him close, guided him - when the tip of his nose brushed her clit she gasped again, shoulders lifting off of the bed. “Fuck - Din,” he splayed his free hand against her stomach, pushing her back down as he repeated the motion, her walls fluttering around nothing, closer and closer and closer.

The quiet of the night was filled with the all but lewd noises of his mouth on her, her wetness and his sucking, nerve-wracking as she felt a cry stuck in her throat, heavy breaths falling from her mouth as she covered it with the hand that had been buried in his hair. She panted against her palm as he slid his hand down her front, over her lower belly, pressing onto it gently while his thumb drew a small circle at her apex, and then again and again, slow movements on her clit that pushed close, closer to the edge.

With another squeeze of his hand and her legs locking around his head, she came gushing into his mouth, the hum coming from him dragging on the feeling wave after wave as she arched off of the bed, hips bucking and chest heaving as she choked on her moans, restrained, tiny whimpers leaving her instead until she started trembling, and still Din did not move back, looking up at her hazy-eyed, drunk on the feeling and taste of her.

Her hand, letting go of his, tangled through his locks again, pulling him off of her - he gasped, and she moaned into her own skin at the loss of the feeling, brows pinching together while his shoulders pushed her legs apart again. Still gazing up at her, Din kissed his way up again - stomach and chest and throat and chin.

“Do you think we can make this room soundproof?” she whispered as he hovered over her lips, voice low and breathy, making his snort before dropping a kiss to her mouth. She moaned softly, the taste of herself on his lips getting to her head as he shifted on her side - she chased him, the hand falling from his hair to his jaw, cupping it to keep kissing him a little longer, slowly licking into his mouth as she rolled towards him.

“We can work something out,” he murmured against her lips, and felt her grin, amused.

He traced the curve of her spine with the tip of his fingers, kissing her and kissing her as he drew her closer, and when he reached her side, down to her thigh, he guided her leg up against him, hooking it over his hip and shifting his hips forward. He rocked against her already sensitive core, drawing a hiss from her, followed by a sigh.

“Alright?” he checked in on her, pulling back enough to glance at her face.

Her eyes were still closed, lips bruised and glistening, cheeks warm when he ran his thumb across it. He moved his hips again, pushing his clothed length against her, the smallest friction that made him ache and had her lips part, a slight tremble in her eyelids as she nodded.

She moved her free hand between them, undoing the knot of his trousers as she dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth, over his beard right across his jaw, then tilted her head again to kiss his neck, the spot where his pulse jumped every single time she touched him.

“Just wanna feel you,” husky-voiced, she kept kissing his neck and throat and up his chin again, relishing in the slight burn of his beard across her soft lips as she echoed his words. “All of you,” sliding her hand underneath his clothes, touching him so delicately he groaned, rutting his hips into her palm. “Please.”

Din made quick work of his trousers, never moving too far from her - it felt at times like they could not get close enough. Like touching each other, kissing each other, him being inside of her, would never be enough. And if she could reach into his chest and wrap herself around his now mended heart, she would. If he could make a home for himself between her bones, he would.

He coated himself with her slick, her hand sliding along his as she hooked her leg over his hip as a long sigh left her, her head falling back as he slowly eased himself into her. Din groaned into her shoulder, next to where the strap of her nightgown hung loose, his hand gripping her thigh a little tighter until he bottomed out.

They remained still like that a moment longer, him kissing her collarbones, down to the neckline of the nightgown and further, pushing it a little lower so he could nip tenderly at the top of her breasts, making her bring her hands through his hair, pulling him closer and up again to kiss his lips with a content sigh.

They silenced each other, the sound of their kisses the only thing that moved around the room, and she was the first one to move, rolling her hips pressed tightly against his and rubbing herself onto him. Din tucked one arm underneath her neck, pillowing her head with his forearm as he slowly stroked her hair, and his other hand fell to her waist. He guided her, seconding her rocking movements against him with his own body.

It was slow, quiet, but it dragged them as close as they could get, deep movements that had her breath hitch in her throat, moans that remained trapped into Din’s open mouth. Each shudder traveled down his spine, bringing him closer to the edge, making him push deeper, a movement that had her clench around him, harsh.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he murmured, words barely choked out. “Ner cyar’ika, ner mesh’la cyar.” “I love you, too,” an exhale, her body going taunt at the snap of his hips back to meet hers.

She locked her leg behind him, her orgasm washing over her agonizingly slow and strong - her grip and her words tipped him over, too, twitching deep inside of her as he came, a gasp, a moan stuttered on her swollen lips. As he did, she melted against him, her hold easing, her every muscle relaxed, and she went heavy in his arms.

“Don’t move,” she warned, voice rough, shifting as if to roll on top of him. Din chuckled, eyelids heavy as he dropped a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, then tucked his head into the crook of her neck with an exhale.

“I’m not going anywhere, kara’vhipir.”

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moralesispunk · 2 years

Text

Terra (Din Djarin x Female Witch! Reader)

Summary: When Din is injured he stumbles across a farm where a strange, but kind, woman decides to help

Warnings: this is a prequel to Astra (but as it’s a prequel you don’t have to read that first), fluff, talk of injury, mentions of food, there are no physical descriptions of reader other than the clothes she wears

Word Count: 7k

A/n: I spent a longer post explaining my time away but I’m back and glad this is my first post back!

Before Astra, there had been Terra.

Din doesn’t let himself think of his parents often. He fights against any memories of them that creep out from the dark corners of his mind, like when he smells a broth like his mother’s or watches a small child play with a carving made by their father, because he can’t stand the ache that follows when he does; one that is more subtle than the grief he first felt as a boy, but has stayed with him for years since.

It makes him think about what he is doing with the life that he is so lucky to have when theirs was ripped away while protecting him. He thinks about what they would see when they looked at him now, if they would even recognise him with a wall of beskar and weapons covering every inch of his body.

It’s not even really the pain of their passing that he fights against, that is now a dull ache that he is used to carrying, instead it’s the thought that they may not be proud of the man he has become.

He can’t help but think about his mother now as he stares up at Astra and is reminded of the stories she told of the moons and stars while putting him to bed at night, her voice soft and quiet as she brushed the hair from his eyes and told him stories of love and promises and kindness. He thinks of her as he flirts in and out of consciousness for hours, barely finding enough strength to remove the blade from his side before he loses the battle against sleep once more.

Din only really thinks of his mother in his dreams, her presence in them enough to keep her face and voice fresh in his mind. She is always smiling when she appears, much like the way he had never seen her without a smile until that final day. Sometimes in his dreams she talks to him with that same smile on her face but most of the time he finds himself walking away from her, the pain that follows when he wakes up in the morning, reminding him that she is gone, being too much to carry.

Now, as his feet carry him towards the home he recognises all too well, he is too weak to fight her. He lets her slip her hand into his and she pulls him to the chair he would always sit at for breakfast and dinner, that same hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes like she did when he was a child.

“You are injured.”

“I always am,” Din replies and doesn’t miss the way her smile falters for a second. “I think… I may be too hurt this time.”

He looks around the room, one he usually refuses to step into in his dreams. It’s exactly as he remembers if he tries hard enough, the sets of three that are placed around the room; three bowls, three plates, three sets of cutlery; three pairs of shoes lined neatly at the door, three cloaks hanging on the hooks above them; three chairs that surround the table with three marks from where the bowls had been set for years now.

He eventually looks back to his mother, a woman who is still the same age as she was when she passed, the same age that he is now. She is - was, he reminds himself - a beautiful woman with hair and eyes as dark as Din’s and round cheeks that were always flushed with pink after a day of work.

“There is someone who will save you,” his mother goes on, sitting in the chair by his side and scuffing it along the floor until her knee bumps his and she places her hand over his own.

“There is no one on this planet, Ma. It’s all land and barely any people, it’s why the men I was after fled here.” He finds his voice softening, much like the way hers did when she tried to patiently explain something to him as a child, and it makes her eyes light with humor when she opens her mouth again.

“You are where you’re meant to be.” The pain in Din’s side starts to come back and he clings to her hand. “I’ll see you again, Son.”

“But-”

“Soon.”

When he wakes again the moon is high in the sky, almost blinding him with the way her bright light catches on the edge of his visor. The sharp pain continues to assault his side as he manages to drag his body onto his hands and knees, his brain registering as he does this that his body feels abnormally light and he pats down his hips and thighs only to realize that all of his weapons are now gone.

That third bounty had been a surprise to Din.

He had only expected two having read over the holosheet the night before as he rested against a rough tree, detailing a pair that liked to work together. Even with the knowledge that there was only meant to be two it had still felt… too simple, but he had been tired after a week of traveling on foot and so had ignored the alarm bells that were chiming as he bound their wrists and ankles and instead thought about how he would return both men to the Crest.

His back had been turned less than a second when the blow came, one that had his head ricocheting against the inside of his helmet as his body fell on the ground in a slump.

He looked up when he was finally rested on his knees with his breathing now labored and found the cantina was empty; the chairs and tables had been toppled over and the two bounties that had been unconscious were long gone along with the third attacker, but Din could barely remember the scuffle that had happened. All he knows for certain is the pain he can feel now, the one that starts at the top of his head and thumps and aches all the way down to his feet.

He can’t even tell for sure how long he’s been unconscious for; the sky is now a dark navy and his shadow casts eerily around the room but with the way his throat scratches as he tries to swallow he thinks it’s likely that there has been a full night and day to pass since he had lost consciousness.

It takes longer than he’d care to admit to lift his body from the ground, his hand reaching for the doorway to drag himself into the outside before pushing himself from tree to tree as his body pains and groans with injury, hunger and most of all thirst.

The thirst is the worst, scratching his throat and pounding in his head, so when the trees finally give way to a large pond his whole body sags to the thick grass before it.

He rips the helmet from his head and throws the water into his mouth like an animal, the palms of his hand barely wet before the cool water slips past his dry lips and into his mouth as he swallows it down again and again. He makes the effort to take in his surroundings as he does so, too wary of letting his guard down again, and he finds himself looking up at the trees that surround the water hole.

They’re thin and tall, full of thick leaves as they reach up towards the sky where Astra shines brightly down on the earth. He can still see the reflection of the moon when he looks back to the water, the ripples growing out from where his gloveless hands plunge back into the pond to disrupt her brightness for a moment before the water settles and she shines brightly down on him once more.

His eyes stay focused on the white light as he quenches his thirst but then something else appears beside the moon as he drags his hand down his face, another light that seems to shine into the reflection.

It’s a lighter blue than the sky, breezing out with the wind, but before Din can lift his head he realizes that it’s a woman who is standing at the other side of the water. He reaches for his helmet and blaster at the same time, the beskar slipping over his head as his other hand lands on the empty holster and so he pushes himself to stand quickly, looking across at the woman who doesn’t seem to pose a threat to his much larger self but still he squares his shoulders and stares back.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his words harsh and loud as they send birds fluttering from the trees.

“I could ask you the same,” the woman replies, her voice softer - calmer - and Din tilts his head. “You are on my farm.”

She holds her hand out to the side and he watches the way her dress slips from her shoulder, her fingers pointing towards the large clearing to the left of the pond that Din seemed to have ignored when his body first slumped down by the water. There is a large and imperfect circle of grass and at the other end there is a cottage where smoke seems to billow out from the chimney, though with the way his legs grow weak and his blinks seem to slow Din can’t be sure.

“Sir? Are you alright?” The woman asks again, gracefully stepping around the pond in her bare feet that sink into the soil as Din stumbles to meet her. “Do you need food? Some more water? I have heat too-”

She stops talking when Din falls to his knees, his body managing to take down a fence that runs around her land as he does so.

“I’ve got you.” She’s able to catch him before he completely falls to the ground, his arm resting across her shoulders as she manages to lift him up enough to stand and lean his weight against her. “Are you a Mandalorian?”

“Yes,” Din answers, however strained.

“And you cannot show your face?” The woman asks, her voice slightly labored as she carries his weight across the field.

How many questions must this woman ask?

“No.” Din chokes out a cough and she pushes open the heavy green door before carrying their bodies into the cottage.

“I will keep it on. Your helmet, I mean” the woman replies, letting Din’s weight fall onto a soft surface.

He tries to keep his eyes open as she lets him go, watching the flurry of her light blue dress move around the room as she lifts jars and bottles, digging through her shelves to find a mortar and pestle too.

“What- what are you doing?” Din tries to lift his weight up onto his elbow but he falls back, the whole room spinning as he goes.

The woman doesn’t answer, instead looking down at where Din’s armor had been damaged at his side and shows the gaping wound in his skin. She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before turning and reaching for another jar with a different kind of herb as she begins to mix the ingredients into a paste.

She walks across the room as she does it, kneeling by his side and letting the soft material of her dress fan out around her legs as she places the mixture down long enough to pour a glass of water before going back to… whatever it is in her hands.

Din is still too weak to concentrate, his eyes barely able to stay open long enough to take in the scene before him, but then he feels her soft fingers graze his side and his hand snaps out, gripping her wrist.

“I asked… what are you doing?” His voice is strained through gritted teeth but the woman only blinks in return, settling down on her knees.

“I’m helping you.”

Her eyes don’t move from Din’s, her hand also pausing where it had been when he grabbed her wrist. He takes a moment to look at her, forcing his eyes to stay open and his mind to concentrate, and when he looks into her eyes that stare back into his very own, his whole body seems to relax.

It is then his mother’s words come to mind: “there is someone who will save you.”

She smiles softly when his hand drops from her wrist, waiting until he nods before she begins to place the medicine against his side.

Din is too weak to stop the groan that fights its way up from his throat, but he doesn’t expect when her other hand slides into his in return.

“Just a little longer,” she whispers, squeezing his hand once.

Din can’t stop himself from squeezing back, his teeth biting into his bottom lip until he draws blood as the woman concentrates on his side. Soon enough the sharp pain gives way to a dull ache and then he can no longer feel the injury, his hand slipping from her hold to run along his side as he finds it numb.

“Please,” she stops him quickly, taking his hand and placing it back down against the blanket he lies on. “Don’t touch it. Your hands are dirty and I mixed a few things together that should stop the pain and rid you of infection.”

She clears the mess of jars and bowls by her side, brushing her dress as she carries it back towards the sink and places it into a basin. Despite the pain easing little by little as she opens the curtain enough for the moonlight to pour in he still can’t find the strength to concentrate, his eyes fluttering closed every time he tries to look around the room.

He’s already on the edge of sleep when he hears her voice again, the glass of water being passed into his hand before she places a soft blanket across his body.

“Drink the water before you sleep.”

And those are the last words he hears as she leaves the room and he only just manages to finish the glass before his body slumps back down against the soft surface.

*****

When Din wakes again it takes him a moment for him to remember the events of the last few days.

There are bits and pieces floating through his mind of two bounties that were really three, a long trek to a water hole and….

He sits up quickly, surprised by the lack of pain in his side as he looks down to find the wound dressed. When he places his hand to his side the pain is gone, the numbness too; it just feels… normal.

His head whips up quickly again, finding himself in an empty room he doesn’t recognise and the mysterious woman missing. As he pulls himself up with a groan he looks at the shelves that line the walls, all different colored woods and thickness, holding jars, bottles and other trinkets.

It’s a small room, a small cottage really. It looks like there is only the one main room with two large chairs - one he is lying on, a table with four chairs, a small kitchen, dozens of shelves filled with books and jars, and a door behind that lies open an inch or so and lets him see into a room with a bed and large basin, where the woman he recognises from the night before is perched on the side.

The sleeve of her dress is rolled up to her elbow, her hand dancing delicately through the water where steam rises, and before Din can make another noise she looks up and smiles. He could barely see her the night before between his inability to keep his eyes open for more than a moment and the dark night but… something draws him to this beautiful woman the same way he couldn’t quite understand why he didn’t put up more of a fight the night before.

“I’ve warmed a bath,” she says, opening the door wider and stepping out into the main room. “I will clean your clothes while you are in.”

She leaves no room to argue when she walks out of the room, the door to the outside opening and closing behind her before Din could blink. Despite the lack of pain, Din takes his time getting up. He walks into the second room and closes the door behind him, stripping the clothes off and placing them outside of the door while keeping his beskar in the room along with him.

His fingers dance around the lip of his helmet for a moment before he eventually kneels down by the basin, taking it off only long enough to clean his face and scrub his hair before he slips it back on and steps into the bath.

The warm water settles his aching muscles, the steam pulling him in until he is sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and the water splashes against his chest as his arms come to rest on the side of the cool metal. It takes him a moment to register something else that has been added to the bath, a lavender oil or the likes of that, and every second he stays in the water his shoulders drop lower and lower until the tension is gone.

He can hear the woman moving about and if he leans over the edge of the basin ever so slightly he can see her from the window, his clothes from earlier being hung on a line in the sun as she places her weight on her toes every time she secures his shirts and trousers with a peg.

Her eyes never stray towards the window and Din isn't sure how to feel about that, both happy and disappointed when she disappears without having looked up to meet Din’s eyes through the window once, but then a knock comes to the door.

“Are you alright in there?”

The water splashes as Din quickly turns to face the still closed door. “Yes,” he answers quickly.

“I have left some clothes for you outside.”

He spends another few minutes in the bath before he steps out, the water spilling down his body and back into the bath as he takes a moment before stepping out and opening the door enough to reach for the clothes.

It doesn’t take long for Din to come back out in the dark green shirt that reaches high up on his neck and the dark trousers that cover his legs. There was even a pair of gloves laid out on top and the very sight of the pair of well-kept leather was enough to make his heart clench ever so slightly. He does, however, wonder if there is a husband - the men’s clothes and double bed hinting there could be someone else who lives here who is just not home.

He finds the woman on the farm now, her back turned to him and mind elsewhere as she stays concentrated on the task at hand as he approaches.

“How can I repay you?”

She turns around, wiping sweat from her brow before shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks up at him.

“You need not do that,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “Many travelers come through, most injured or hungry, so I fix them or feed them and send them on their way again. All I ask is that if they ever return they remember my name.”

Din shuffles his weight from foot to foot as her hand drops back against her lap.

“Can I have your name then?” Din asks, knowing he’ll likely not return to this planet unless another bounty brings him here but he is unable to fight off the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he almost wants to hold onto the belief he will see her again.

She speaks her name softly and Din smiles beneath his helmet, wiping it from his face before repeating it back.

“And yours?”

Din stills, his shoulders stiffening and hands clenching into fists by his side.

“Is not something I can give.”

She seems to ponder it for a moment, her head tilting slightly, but then she nods.

“Very well.” She turns back to the crops and digs into the ground once more, dusting her hands on her dress as she reaches into the pouch tied around her waist before picking out three seeds and placing them delicately in the hole. She whispers a few words, closing her eyes as she does so, before scattering the soil back over the hole and patting it down.

“I can fix your fence,” Din says once her words are finished, hoping that the woman looks back up towards him.

She turns around and looks by Din, her eyes honing in on the Mandalorian sized hole in her fence. She considers it for a moment, tilting her head and pressing her lips together before nodding.

“Very well.” She pats the ground once more, placing her tools to the side as she moves to stand and Din holds his hand out.

She looks at it for only a moment before slipping her hand in, his gloved one wrapping completely around her soft skin as he helps her to her feet before her touch slips away. When she turns on her heels he follows, his hand clenches into a tight fist as he holds on to the heat from her touch in his palm as it tries to escape through the cracks between his fingers.

She shows him a small shed to the side of her cottage, full of an array of tools - some that look handmade and some that she must have bought - but once she has told him that he can use what he needs she goes back to working the crops and Din walks over to the edge of the field.

Every so often Din finds his focus moving from the fence that is slowly but surely being rebuilt to the strange woman at the other side of the farm. She is still kneeling on the grass, her knees digging into the mud and her dress - a dark green today - becoming more and more marked with the soil as she shuffles between each crop she is planting.

He has watched her for almost an hour now, watched her planet twenty-seven crops, and even with every last sensor turned up inside his helmet he still can’t quite make out what she is doing.

She hums under her breath as she digs a hole in the ground with her old, rusty shovel before she sprinkles in three seeds - always exactly three as she counts them out into her palm - and then closes her eyes and whispers the words he can’t make out. After a while he resigns himself to the fact that they aren’t in basic, or any other language he can understand, but he continues to watch anyway as her eyes open again and she covers the seeds back up with soil using her bare hands.

Between her working on each crop she shuffles along, lifting the basket with her hand as she drags her knees back and forth before settling in place once more, she looks up to Din. He pretends to look away, bending down and reaching for another plank of wood, but he can feel his cheeks warm every time as her eyes gaze right into his even behind the visor.

As she watches him for a moment he pretends not to realize, looking around the farm as he tries to work out if she lives here alone or if there is someone else. The land is so big and open he begins to worry about how she keeps herself safe. There were no signs of blasters indoors or anything other than the shovel in her hand that can be considered a weapon and it sets off an unease in his stomach that he can’t quite name.

Despite this, there is something about there being a man here that turns his stomach almost as much

“Sir?” Her voice calls across the farm and he looks up, finding her now standing at the other side of the farm towards her cottage. “It’s about to rain; shall we take a break?”

“Rain?” Din tilts his head up to the sky, the blue one that still hangs brightly above their heads. “It doesn’t look like it will rain?”

She smiles and from across the farm he can see how her features soften even further. “Can’t you smell under that helmet?”

“I can smell,” he replies, almost defensively. He doesn’t know what that has to do with anything. He takes another look up at the bright sky - not even a cloud in sight - and places the plank of wood in his hand against the post, lifting a hammer with his other. “It won’t rain. I can keep working.”

She opens her mouth to reply but stops herself, clasping her hands in front of her before nodding once with a humorous smile. He keeps her eyes on her as she turns around, stopping by the basin at the door as she washes her hands and feet before skipping back into the cottage.

He continues to work for another hour before he watches the first spot of rain drip against his glove. He grinds his teeth as it rolls down and off the leather, his helmet focused down and his self-pride too strong to look up to follow the dark gray cloud he can feel covering the farm.

Before the raindrop disappears completely another lands, and then another, one after the other splattering against his glove and the rest of his body until he finally grumbles under his breath and walks back across the farm.

His boots sink further and further into the mud with each step he takes and despite the rain now falling heavier than he has ever felt before he makes sure to avoid the neat line of freshly planted crops as he makes his way towards the few steps that lead to the cottage.

The woman doesn’t look up when the door opens, not even when the wind howls so strongly that Din has to use both hands to close it behind him. Her eyes stay focused on the meal she is preparing on the table as he walks across the room, his clothes weighing him down with the water that drags across the floor behind him. It is not until he stops before the table that he sees her eyes are crinkling by the side, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to stop her smile from growing any wider.

“Not. A. Word.” Din speaks slowly, leaning across the table slightly with a fist resting on the curved wood.

She lifts her hand up and pretends to zip her soft lips together, the smile that is straining to be free still painted across her features as she shakes her head and passes him a bowl. Din can’t help the smile that begins to tug at the corners of his mouth in return but he keeps his posture steady, his host showing no signs of being intimidated when she finally looks up to him.

“Your clothes from yesterday have been washed and are on the bed. Go change; I don’t want you catching a cold and putting all my hard work to waste.”

Din opens his mouth to speak but then she levels him with a look that makes him stop, her soft features hardening ever so slightly as she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head towards the bedroom.

He changed by the window with the door open an inch or so, enough so he could still hear her moving around the kitchen and by the time he was finished changing the only part of him that was visible was the thin sliver of skin between his helmet and shirt.

His pile of polished armor, minus his helmet still on his head, lay on top of the bed. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before he looked through the gap in the door towards the woman in the kitchen, humming under her breath as she mixed the contents of the pot, and he decided to leave them; opening the door with his thick black under layers and helmet with the rest of the armour remaining on the bed.

When he made his way back into the kitchen there was a knife by the bowl and when Din looked at the woman and then the knife, she nodded. They worked side by side as he carefully chopped the vegetables from the bowl, looking over to his side at the woman who did the same to the others.

The only sound was the rain that battered the roof, filling the kitchen with an echo that was both frightening and calming, the way the woman almost ignored the sound enough for him to lean towards the latter.

When the vegetables in her bowl are cut he keeps his helmet trained down to the table but watches up through his lashes as she moves around the kitchen, her grateful hands opening and closing drawers before she bends over a stove and lights a match.

The small flame is enough to light the stove top, her soft lips pressing together for a moment as she blows the flame in her fingers out before waving the smoke back and forth. She smiles kindly at his messily chopped vegetables, moving around his large and imposing body as she works around Din.When the broth is finally finished she splits it into two bowls, leaving one by the stove and carrying another in her hand.

“You can eat first,” she says, placing a bowl in front of the table.

“No- No, you can. I can wait until you are in bed-” He stops again when she raises an eyebrow at him once more, her hand gently wrapping around his wrist as she tugs him towards the table.

“I will clean the clothes that are soaked from the rain. They should be dry by the morning.”

She leaves no room for arguing once again, turning and walking back into the bedroom as he waits a moment before lifting his helmet from his head. She walks about as he eats, never turning and glancing his way but he doesn't turn to face away; trusting that she won't look as he gets the chance to watch her.

She moves gracefully, a soft smile always curving her mouth, and the dress floats down around her curves as his eyes follow every single move. Eventually he finishes and slips the helmet back on, clearing his throat as she turns with a kind smile and settles by the table to eat.

After a moment of eating in silence Din finally speaks, not knowing why he breaks the silence.

“Are you married? Will your husband not worry about a strange man in your home?” He winces at the blunt questions but she smiles softly.

“No husband. No-one to worry.” She lifts another spoonful of broth and blows on it ever so slightly before slipping it past her lips, only speaking again when she swallows. “May I ask what you were doing here? I am guessing you are not from here.”

“I am not,” Din answers plainly before going on, “and I’m a bounty hunter.” She doesn't look shocked or surprised, just nods around another spoonful. “Were you born here?”

“A month's travel from here… I think. I was only ten when I left so I’m not quite sure I remember right.” Her lips press together and twist ever so slightly, her eyes focused on the table like she is trying to remember. “I know it was colder than it is here. I have seasons on the farm: summer and winter, spring and fall, but my homeplanet was always cold. Not cold enough for snow but the kind that was found in the wind and made your nose and ears hurt with how bitter it could be.”

“What was it called?” Din asks patiently.

“I’m not sure.”

“You… you’re not sure?”

She shrugs and looks up at Din with an almost sad but resigned smile. “I try to remember but I don’t think anyone ever told me. Everyone who lived there had lived there all their lives and no-one traveled so… I don’t think there was any need to know the name; it was just home.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Raiders came one night when I had been gone. I couldn’t sleep, I sometimes go through a few weeks where sleep just doesn’t come, and so I had wandered down to the river. I was there till morning and when I came back… everyone had gone.”

“They left you? Your family?” Something in Din hardens as he thinks about this stranger who has been so kind to him being abandoned by her parents.

“No.” She smiles sadly across the table and pats Din’s hand once before reaching for another slice of bread. “Gone.”

A sadness blooms inside of Din’s chest, spreading up to his throat and making it difficult to speak as he stares back into her sad eyes. Din had been a similar age when he had lost his parents but the Covert had been there to take him in, to feed him and clothe him and teach him, but she had been left as a young girl without anyone to help.

“How did you end up here?” Din asks, praying that his modulator had tuned out the way his voice cracked but with the way her head tilted ever so slightly he guessed it hadn’t.

“I managed to find my way to a shuttle and I snuck on with the baggage. My mother had always told me that when we die we become stars and so I thought…” Her eyes glaze over with tears and she shakes her head, looking out the window as she goes on. “I thought that I could take a shuttle up to the stars and find her there.”

Din has to rid the ache in his chest and he clears his throat, leaning back into the chair as his fingers dig into the rough wood of the table.

“I didn’t know anything about other planets or how to get anywhere and so I ended up on another shuttle and then another before I landed here. I was so tired and hungry and ended up working at the port a few days walk from here, selling tickets and then selling lost luggage to the scrapyard in return for food or wood.”

“Wood?” Din asks and she finally looks back to him, the sadness not quite gone but the tears disappeared now.

She gestures around the cottage. “It took me a few years, I lost count after two because I was never good at tracking the moon like my mother until the past few years, but when I was fifteen I think, perhaps sixteen, I started to build the farm.”

“You built… all of this yourself?” Din asks, unable to mask the disbelief.

“I did.”

And then the sadness in her eyes is gone and her bright smile is back, the moon light catching her eyes as she reaches across and rests her palm on Din’s hand once more before she squeezes gently.

“Please don’t feel sorry for me Mandalorian, I love my farm and when I look up into the sky I can see my family every night.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, her hand still resting on his as she scoops up the rest of the soup with two more slices of bread. It’s not until she finishes, until her hand begins to slip off of his, when he talks again. He turns his hand over and catches her hand before it moves too far, his fingers curling around hers.

“I’ve traveled through the galaxies and been to many planets. If you tell me anything you can remember I can maybe help you remember the name?” He asks it so gently he’s not sure she hears, but then she rests her other elbow on the table and places her cheek against her palm as she begins to talk again.

“It was cold, like I said, but not with rain or snow. Mostly wind. There was a waterfall near our village and the mountain around it was the most unusual shape, all because of the harsh wind my mother had said. At the bottom of the waterfall there were these rocks, flat and long and looking more like glass than an actual rock. The trees weren’t tall like here but they had thick leaves; the moon also wasn’t as bright, I remember the stars more than the moon.”

When she doesn’t go on Din finally nods, squeezing her hand gently.

“I don’t think I’ve been to such a place but I will keep it in mind on my travels.”

“You will?” Something in her brightens even more, the light coming from her rivaling the moon outside.

“I will.”

A silence falls over them again but her hand remains in his, her other hand moving across the table and picking at the small bowls of vegetables that were too much for the soup. He doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to let go of her yet, his mind racing for reasons she can come back and sit with him when she finally stands and begins to clean the table.

*****

Din stays for two more days. He helps her around the farm until he is fully healed but there is something that makes it hard for him to leave, something he can't quite name.

Eventually, when he knows me must move on, he walks into the cottage with her waiting by the table where a small bag rests.

“What’s this?” He asks.

She opens it an inch or so and Din peeks in, her hand lifting each item out.

“There is food and water for your journey. I have also given you some of the medicine from the other night should your side become infected; lather it on the injury and it should clear within an hour or two. Also…” She digs her hand deep into the bag and pulls out a small pouch. “When you reach the next clearing you pass on your way to the ship there is a man who has a speeder - give him this and tell him I sent you and he will take you to your ship free of charge, you won’t tire yourself out that way.”

He stares down at her as she ties the bag back up, his mouth still firmly shut when she hands it over to him.

Their goodbye is brief and quiet and Din isn't quite sure he would ever be able to tell her how thankful he is, how much he will miss her after only a few days together, but when he reaches the tree edge he turns back and finds her still watching, her arms locked around her waist as she lifts one hand in a slow wave and he does the same in return.

*****

Din treks through the familiar forest towards the wide clearing. He told himself as he placed the coordinates into the Crest that he was returning as a favor - to check on the woman who had saved him and to make sure that no raiders had harmed her farm during the most fertile season for her crops. He had stopped a day's walk away so as not to disturb her farm with his ship and had barely stopped walking the whole time, moving forward and forward until the moon was shining down on him and the cottage finally came into sight.

The fire was no longer burning and the night air was so still he could almost convince himself that she wasn’t here - but then he saw the figure at the top of the stairs with the same dress on as she had worn that first night.

It was lighter than the blue morning sky and hung loosely off her shoulders, giving him the perfect view of those soft collar bones that set off a feeling in his chest that he battered away as he leaned against the tree. Her eyes lifted from where they had been gazing at the blanket in her lap, on her fingers that were deftly working as she knitted row after row of yarn to protect her in a few months time when the winter rolls in, but they stop before they reach him. She pauses and listens and Din finds himself holding his breath until she gazes back down and her fingers begin the familiar pattern.

He stays there for an hour, perhaps two, just watching the peaceful scene before him and only when he pushes off the tree and into the moonlight does she finally look up, the blanket placed to the side as she takes one step and then another until she is off the porch and in the farm.

His hand slides into his pocket as he walks towards her, the small but heavy rock rolling between his fingers as he imagines her reaction when it’s placed in her palm - it’s not flat and glass-like and similar to the ones from her home planet but it’s light gray and smooth, an almost perfect circle. She stops halfway and he finds himself halting a few feet away, watching as her face softens and gives way to the smallest hint of a smile - one that breaks out into a grin when he calls her name and she reaches up enough to rest her forehead against his.