#the rockrose and the thistle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redahlia-writes · 1 year

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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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