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penvisions · 7 months

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 10}

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

Summary: Toro Callican using a sedative to capture you has many effects, some you were all to familair with and one that is completely unexpected.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, mention of injuries, blood, mention of past injuries, description of self-inflicted scarring, mentions of past self harm, depression, mental illness, body high, head high, angst, reader is drugged, reader is under the influence of a sedative, body dysmorphia, body image issues, feelings of uselessness, feelings of weakness, altered mental state, ptsd, arousal, sexual themes, offer of sexual favors by reader, reader is tied up, reader is held captive, talk of past sexual encounters (not detailed), argumentative dialogue

A/N: there is a lot of angst and dialogue in this! it helps to set the tone for the budding relationship between din and our dear san. please let me know what y'all think? this was a rather hard chapter to outline and i wasn't sure if it was the right pacing but i feel comfortable enough to make it an official part of the story instead of abandoned scenes that sit in a document forever

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

It was pitch black, when you began to come back to yourself.

Blinking your eyes open rapidly, you tried to adjust to where you were. Trying to take stock of your body and how everything felt but it was hard with so many senses taken away from you. Mind fuzzy and body feeling like your nerves were untethered. Drugged, the rational, subconscious part of your brain that was struggling to operate supplied you. It was jarring, to feel so disconnected from your body, too familiar in the way that it made you feel to weak and defeated. So much like the person you had been trying to overcome for weeks now, all of the progress you made vanished in the plunge of a needle breaking through your skin.

Weightlessness, untethered, dizzy.

Your head felt so heavy in comparison, it was hard to shift around in an attempt to piece where you were and how you got to where it was. Ropes that were knotted far too tight were around your wrists and ankles, maneuvered behind you to make the task of detangling them worse.

“Looks like you need another dose, Mando sure is taking his sweet time considering you and that thing are in danger.”

“Please,” You tried to hold your head up long enough to catch the young man’s eyes. The high of whatever he gave you all encompassing, overwhelming.

“You can’t offer me anything that’ll change my mind.”

“I’ll help you,” The words tumbled out of your mouth like you were just learning how to string sentences together, jumbled and full over your tongue that was dried out. But you needed to get them out, to convince him this was all so reckless. “I’ll help you make your name known.”

“Not interested in anything other than turning in Mando, he will make my name known.”

“He’s…strong.” The words pushed out your lungs on a harsh exhale, the ‘r’ rolling as a growl rumbled in your chest. The need to defend the man who treated you like an equal, gave you space in his ship, allowed you a way to maintain your freedom with his protection.

“He tarnished his reputation for you and that thing. Which means he’ll do anything to keep you both safe.”

Words failed you as your concentration waned, the weightlessness taking over and robbing you of all the languages you were fluent in, mind struggling as it drowned.

“See, the thing is, I think he’s going to do exactly that.” He stepped closer to you, something glinting in his hand. When you leaned your head back against the side paneling of the hold, your eyes narrowed as you tried to focus on his blurry visage. You spat the words out, trying to put as much behind them as you could.

“Or he’ll kill you.” His gloved hand descending on your cheek was loud, the force of the action whipping your head to the side and all you could do was groan and take it. Pain so dulled by the drugs in your vein that it barely registered beyond a prickling sensation.

“I’m sure he’ll want to, I know he’ll want to. But he’s got a weakness now and it’ll play out exactly like I want it to.”

There was a sharp sting that broke through the fog of the drugs, demanding attention on your exposed arm. A needle was plunged deep into the muscle in the same spot as before, Callican’s hand holding it there as he administered something into your system, the needle hurting as it moved underneath your skin. You tried to cry out, the pain troubling with how starkly you felt it but all you let out was a warbled sound before you slumped back against the wall.

The coolness of the floor was soothing on your heated skin, tears brimming in your eyes as you clawed at your arms. Trying and failing to dig out the foreign feeling that was cascading over you, your nails only succeeding in creating marks along your skin, delving no further for desperate relief. The ice-cold sensation of something traveling through your veins making you feel trapped in your own body, sweat dripping off of you as it tried to make itself feel like home again, like your own again.

You startled when a deep, modulated voice called your name. Wide eyes cast up to gauge the figure that was standing in front of you. It was vaguely familiar, your fogged up brain not able to make a definition of who it was aside from them not being a threat to you. Not caring much beyond that, you pressed your forehead flat to the ground again, the thud of it making contact reverberating all along your neck and shoulders. Groaning, you curled your legs and brought them up to your chest, hugging them close. Your arm brushed across a bandage wrapped around your thigh and you hissed as it sparked a sensation that should’ve been painful but only felt like tingles spreading across your skin.

Nerves responding to what should be pain but felt like a wave of cold prickles over your body, making you groan as they skittered all over. They didn’t do anything to combat the heat licking at your senses, if anything they made you realize how intense it felt all over again.

Vision wavering, you could hear a low buzz of something around you. Not paying it much mind, you dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to relieve the tingling that was coursing through your veins. The bandage wrinkled under your hands, pulling on the wound below and you felt the rush of blood as the cut reopened, allowing some of the intensity of the heat consuming you to wane. You signed in relief as the tingling ceased at least on that part of your body, replaced with something that was a dull throb.

Suddenly there was a weight, pulling your hands up, that insistent buzzing now louder and closer. You brought your hands up to grip at your temples, fingers digging into your hairline before you dragged them down the length of your face, over your cheeks. The action smeared a metallic tang that was too strong on your nose, and you felt your stomach lurch. Scrambling, from your side to push yourself on your knees and hang your head over the toilet basin beside you, fruitless dry heaving wracked your body.

A weight landed on your shoulders, pulling at your hair and bringing it to lay over your back away from your face. The action caused arousal to flare in the apex of your thighs, warming you even more so as you felt the need for touch so strongly, for relief from everything that was barrage on your senses, on your body. Panting with the effort it took to catch your breath, you cast a glance over your shoulder to see a shadow kneeling beside you. It was comforting, despite being so far under the fog that was occupying your mind. The thought crossed your mind that they would be able to help you, but your eyes wouldn’t focus.

Suddenly, you recalled the sensation of floating. Of being buoyant while you simply let small currents jostle your body in slow motions, swimming. The cool of salty water washing over you, surrounding you, smelling so comforting. The weightlessness of your real body intertwined with the recollection of it and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you yearned for something you had tried to forget.

“I want to go home.” You cried, voice broken and fragile, words barely spoken above a whisper. “But home doesn’t exist anymore.”

“You’re safe here, mesh’la.” He knew what you were talking about, not just the physical world you hailed from, but the feeling of childhood you both had been ripped from too soon. Things from the past that developed into complicated places and feelings, tainted by the world that was cruel to you both. He held your hair back as you cried for something that could never be again. “I’ve got you.”

As the nausea waned from you, he lifted your weak body and took you up to the space behind the control room he converted into a small room for you. A cot slotted against the right wall, the trunk he had given you up against the left, your bags and things placed atop it. As he settled you in the bed, your eyes barely opened when howling wind sounded outside the ship. The hush of sand and debris coursing through the air was loud, almost deafening and your hands gripped his arms tightly, preventing him from stepping away from you.

“Just a storm, mesh’la.” His voice was a soft display through the modulator, as he took in the wide eyes you were now looking at him with, your pupils blown out and your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I can’t stay with you, you’re still fighting off the sedative.”

His name sighed out on a long exhale was a good argument, but he stuck by his words.

It wouldn’t be right, to give into your request to lay beside you. He was only as strong as he could be, and he was realizing when it came to your distress he was unprepared. You were so far gone under the influence of what the medic at the small clinic had said was a sedative and muscle relaxer combination that you were most certainly high off the dose administered to you. They said it would take a few days to work out of your system, something that concerned him, but they said you should be fine. He hadn’t told them about the withdrawal you had already suffered through when he first brought you aboard. He worried for those long hours as they steadily neared.

“I’m comfortable with you, you make me feel safe.” Fingers tight around the part of his arm that didn’t don any armor, you could feel the way his muscles jumped at the contact through his shirt. It stirred arousal, to feel that underneath the armor was a person. The visage of him in nothing but his sacred helmet and sleep pants from a former time stoked flames in your lower abdomen. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, dark hair not a shocking but pleasant discovery that spanned across his pecs and trailed below his belly button. The way his biceps had moved as he carried you across the hold, the feel of his body against your own. The scent you had breathed deep from the crook of his neck, it was all so dizzying…so alluring, and you wanted it.

“I know, mesh’la. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” His words came out even despite his muscles jumping underneath the wandering touch of your fingers as they carefully began to delve underneath the bottom of his pauldrons. He wasn’t strong enough to pry your fingers away from him despite his words saying he felt this was wrong, the play of something so pulling while you weren’t complete of mind.

“But there are none,” Your voice lilted, laughter in your tone as you smiled serenely up at him. There was something glinting in your eyes that he hadn’t seen since meeting you, something he recognized as dangerous should he ask after it. Your head knocked back, eyes roaming over his form from top to bottom as he stood beside the cot. But he didn’t need to, you gave it to him all the same in a sultry voice that he’d think about for days to come. Pitched low like it was for him and him alone. “I’d let you do anything you wanted.”

He grunted in response, feeling himself twitch below the waist. He was completely unprepared. Your eyes were so bright, your face so relaxed. Your words so earnest and alluring, the lines of your body long and enticing as you shifted atop the cot.

“I’d let you put your big, soft hands-“

“Enough!” He barked, his anxiety and worry getting the better of him. His guilt. He tore his arms out from your grasp and turned his back to the cot. Taking a deep breath to center himself, to collect himself, he could hear you shift behind him. He worried you were going to reach for him, play on his conflicting emotions in your altered state. The guilt he was feeling burned in him, to think such things of you when you had done nothing to suggest you would take from anyone in such a way. You weren’t wholly yourself right now, he was completely unprepared for who you were under the influence.

He spared one last look over his shoulder before he left and his resolve almost crumbled. Your bottom lip was trembling, your hands wrapped around yourself as you sat up, hunched over as your eyes shone with unshed tears. A complete shift from the energy you had just been using to entice him, an entire shift to your mood. Because of his reaction to it.

All he could picture for the rest of the evening as he busied himself setting up the ship to withstand a sandstorm was that last glance he had taken of you and the one of you sprawled on the bathroom floor with bloody handprints staining your face and legs as you fought against the drugs pumping through your system.

Din could hear you stirring about, in the space of the ship beyond his personal quarters. The Child was asleep, exhausted from the unsettling events of the night. His quiet snores comforting Din in his agitated and anxious state. Sighing, he kicked the blanket from where it covered him. His armor was piled neatly beside the cot, some comfortable sleep he thought would help only resulted in him laying and staring into the darkness through the visor on his helmet.

It had been…alarming to see you ricochet back and forth between such extreme emotions. All of them amplified by the drugs in your system, something he felt tortured over, as if he had been the one to administer them to you. He sat with his legs over the edge of the cot, bare feet flat on the cool metal of the ship’s flooring. His mind replaying the events even as he tried his best to shove them out and move past them.

‘“Took you long enough, Mando.” Callican’s voice projected around the hangar.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now.” The mechanic slowly walked out from the dark interior of the ship, steps light on the metal of the ramp. Callican behind her with a blaster shoved into her back and the Child in his arms. “Partner.”

“Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.” The younger man paused at the top of the ramp, not stepping further, with the threat aim of a blaster trained on him. Din didn’t make a sound as he tossed the blaster in his hand to the ground in front of him. It landed with a dull sound as he raised his arms out to show he was further unarmed. Slowly, he dragged his palms over his torso as he moved them up, grasping at a flare with his palm. He placed his hands on the back of his helmet, the Child cooing as if he could sense his caretaker.

“Cuff him.” He shoved the blaster into the mechanic’s back twice, urging her to move down the ramp and toward where he stood.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando.” Callican voiced the very thing that echoed in Din’s mind every time he was alone, but when faced with the soft coos of the Child, or a brightening of your face, it didn’t seem like such a tragic thing. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.”

“Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”’

Anger at the overly confident actions of a younger man he had seen a glimpse of himself in had him shoving off from the cot. He had been fooled by the earnest attitude of Callican wanting to make something of himself, to prove to whoever had told him he would amount to nothing that he could be something, to make a difference in the world by bringing in trash that was sought after for their indiscretions with the Guild. The door of the small space hushed closed behind him as he padded toward the makeshift table.

Making sure that the ship was still locked down and there was no chance of anyone sneaking aboard or disengaging the settings, he moved about the space freely,

He hadn’t cleaned up the mess he came back to yet, so focused on getting you comfortable and making sure you were alright. That the Child was alright, not too worked up by seeing you taken down and not knowing where he had been must’ve been hard on such a young one. Ad’ika, you had begun to call him, the term holding endearment and care when it passed through your lips for the first time over the comm link. His chest had hurt at the call, the sounds of you moving about his ship comfortably, the sounds of ad’ika cooing in the background.

It had been so domestic, a feeling so foreign to him and yet….it had felt like it had always been as such. It had felt so normal, like a facet of his life that shone when spotted and simply was something his life was made of, that he was capable of. His chest had hurt… and for a fleeting moment he had thought of his parents. The fast beating of his heart had been loud in his ears as he tried to keep his voice even to a listening Callican, lest he pick too much up from the exchange. The lightweight feeling of the memory twisted into something darker as he recalled the way Callican spoke of you.

‘“But it is rather telling, which quarries you decided to keep all to yourself.” Toro smirked at him, overly confident with no reason to be. The deep scratch marks that were angry and bright on his neck displaying as much, that he could barely handle his own against a woman he ambushed and sedated.

“The one on the ship must keep your bed rather warm, seems like a good exchange for the bounty you’re missing out on.”

“She was so unsuspecting, said some really interesting stuff while the drugs were working through her system. Told me she would make it worth my while if I were to let you and this thing go.” Callican jostled the Child in his arms, causing louder sounds of distress to bounce into the tense air.

Din seethed at the filth falling from the younger man’s mouth, baring his teeth underneath the helmet and he pictured tearing him limb from limb, pummeling him until he was nothing more than a collection of broken bones and bruises for even thinking of laying a hand you. He must’ve taken you completely off guard, to not get thrown about or struck down by your saber. The mental image had his hands fisting at his sides, of you just standing there busy with something only to be drugged and tied up all before you even knew what was happening, where he was.’

The helmet hissed as he disengaged it with a bare hand and the weight of it clunked as he set it atop the makeshift table. Running a hand through his thick locks that stretched to curl about his ears and the nape of his neck, he pressed the button that opened the panel storing the scant few kitchen wares he owned. He ignored the hotplate in favor of turning on the caf maker. It was already set up, the water full up to the line indicating it would make exactly one cup. The drawer he opened for a pod of the compressed caf was full as well, despite not being able to remember the last time he even thought of seeking them out in a marketplace or shop.

He tried to picture you flowing through an open marketplace, hair braided as it had been the last time he had seen you fully conscious and aware of your senses. Bringing the pod up to his nose to inhale the rich scent of the caf, he let his mind wander as he closed his eyes and thought of you.

Cautious but aware of your surroundings, polite but not overly talkative to vendors. Kind enough to warrant free samples and discounted prices, toting around a large collection of wares you deemed important. He wondered where you had even gotten the credits from, for the things still laid out on the makeshift table around his helmet. Smile soft and small as you tried out all the different fruits and felt the sun on your skin. But the image bled into the one he had come back to.

‘The metal rings you had been fastening into armor were scattered around the floor of the ship, crunching underneath Din’s boots as he slowly advanced inside. It was dark, all the lights and mechanisms shut off, the only light in the space was what sunlight could sneak in around his frame in the doorway. His steps faltered when he spotted your unconscious form by the ladder leading to the control room. Your hair loose and fanning around you, your hands and feet were bound with rope, the knots looking tight around them, you were on your side, arms pulled behind your back and legs bent at the knee.

Bruises could be seen up and down the length of your arms, visible without the cloak he had gotten you, it was shucked off and crumpled beside you. As if you had been fighting and someone had snatched it, pulling it from your frame forcefully. There was a prominent, irritated spot on the outside of your arm, indicative of someone stabbing a needle deep into the skin there.

Kneeling beside you, he turned started to untie the rope, but it seemed to make the knots wind tighter around your wrists. Growling low in his chest in frustration, he took the knife from inside his boot and cut it away, rubbing his fingers along the marks to sooth them as best he could. He did the same with the ties around your ankles before turning you gently onto your back with a soft call of your name.

Faint whimpering startled him, your body jostling beneath his hands as he removed the rope from around your limbs. You didn’t stir beyond that, lost to the world that the contents of the needle had plunged you into. It was then that he noticed the rip on your thigh, the deep cut already beginning to scab around blood-stained skin. It must’ve happened hours ago, but you didn’t wake.

He stayed beside you, stretching to reach over to pick up the syringe you that was discarded on the ground. It looked small in his hands, but the casing was empty, not even a stray drop rolling around inside. He gripped it tight in his palm, the leather of his gloves crinkling with the force. He pocketed it despite wanting to crush the glass in his hand, to hear the crunch of it as he destroyed the very reason you were unconscious beside him on the floor of the Crest.’

He had to concentrate on placing the pod into the machine before he activated the brew to begin, not wanting to wreck the one thing you had been comfortable enough to use as your own on the ship. He had to focus on not slamming the mug into the space below to catch it. As it began to sputter and drain the water from the storage reservoir, he leaned his hands on the lip of the small inlaid counter and hung his head. The action stretched out his shoulders, underneath his long sleeve shirt, popping where kinks had developed from his ride back into the city.

The wind howled outside of the ship and the caf dripped into the mug as he turned around and began to clean the metal rings scattered across the floor. There were hundreds of them, but he managed to get them all. The different sizes all found themselves in the same pouch, Din not having the energy to separate them. He contemplated just getting you a whole new collection when he spotted the sketches you had drawn up of what you were making. It was armor. A set of pauldrons made of chain mail you were creating yourself with the rings.

The detail and notes on the pages of a small book looked professional and it intrigued him. Is this what you had been raised to do? Or something you had taken up after leaving home, after the attack on the temple as a way to make credits? As he flipped through to the next page, he was greeted by sketches for a design that looked masculine. The top of the figure’s body only went so far as their chin, but it was dusted with scruff much like his own face was. The outline of the figure’s body an exact replica of how he would look without the bulk of the beskar armor.

He closed the book, not wanting to invade your privacy any further than he already had, but his heart was thumping rapidly in his chest as he realized you had been thinking about him.

His mind replayed the way you had been so unnervingly still even after he had untied you from your restraints. He had moved you atop his cot, hoping that you would wake and recognize that you were safe in his personal space. As he had been tending to ad’ika, talking over with the mechanic about waiting out the storm in the hangar, he had hated stepping away from where he could keep an eye and ear out for you. As he had trudged back up the ramp, it was closing and locking just as he heard your muffled cries in the fresher. He had quickly placed the small sleeping figure in the small hammock before going to you, only to find you having a fit on the floor. It had been…painful to see you so worked up and in such a state. Fingers digging into your own skin, over scars he hadn’t known you possessed, that you had carved into yourself…

He shook his head, not wanting to think about that and he began to move once again.

He gathered up all of the tools and metal pieces you had been working with and placed them in a crate, so it would all be in one place for you when you were feeling better. The caf warmed the mug he cupped with both his hands as he sat there and listened to the storm rage on.

Groaning, you stretched a handout to feel for the blanket that had fallen down by your feet. You had all but shoved it off during the night, too hot underneath its confines. You could hear ambient noise from down below, securely in your bed, in your space, in your room. All things Din had provided for you while you had been wrestling with reality while your body rode out the wave of drugs and subsequent withdrawals. You had shut yourself in the room as soon as you were alert enough to handle being on your own, embarrassment making your skin burn from the inside out and shame bubble up to join it.

Rain pelted down on the ship, pinging as thunder rumbled overhead. The sandstorm you vaguely remembered from two nights before delved into a thunderstorm in the early hours of the morning. It ate most of the day after and yesterday, allowing you an excuse to stay in your new room and keep to yourself as the ship needed to stay stationed there at the hangar. The thunder had woken you up some time ago, and you lay atop the cot trying to recall everything that had happened the last day and a half.

Your hands idly traced the scars along your thighs, the recent indents of your grappling nails, the bandage around the right one shielding a tender cut from the open air. You recalled digging your hands into the skin there, as you often did in moments of weakness, of needing to feel something other than the emotions storming inside. You recalled rubbing your hands over your face, of pressing it to the cool metal of the floor, of writhing around as fever and chills warred over the territory of your skin.

The white-hot pinpricks of anxiety could be felt over the entirety of your body, making you restless.

There was a sudden knock at the door to your space, but you turned around to face the wall your cot was pushed up against and curled up. You feigned sleep as the door opened, footsteps nearly silent as the Mandalorian entered. You could hear the rustling of his clothing as he kneeled down beside the cot, a hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know you’re awake.”

You shifted until his hand fell to the top of the blankets. You pulled the blanket up further, prompting him to stand up. You could feel his eyes roam over your form, hiding in the blankets and not daring to cut your eyes at him lest he see something you didn’t want him to in your current state. The motion caused your hair to fall over your forehead, some of it resting on your cheek.

“You’re not feeling well.” A feather light caress of bare fingers moved the fallen hair from your face, you tried not to startle too much, not having heard the man move behind you. They brushed over your forehead, feeling for something that you weren’t sure of. When he made a small remark about your temperature, you didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the wall in front of you.

“You…rejected me.” You whispered after a beat of somewhat tense silence.

“You were drugged, you were high on whatever Callican dosed you with.” His voice was even, as if he was trying to keep it from displaying too much of what was going through his own mind.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know how to tell you what I want. If I’m even allowed to…”

“I don’t want anything you aren’t willing to offer. If you wish to remain cordial, I will adhere to that. If you wish to allow casual touches, I will adhere to that. If you wish to…explore other parameters of touch, I will adhere to that.”

“You won’t. I’m tainted, I’m dirty, I’m used.”

“You are you, and I admire who that is.” He didn’t dismiss your words, the thoughts that plagued you every time you thought about the things that happened to you in your life. He took them and let them sit in the air, let you voice them even if he didn’t agree with them.

“Strength, abilities, weapons, Mandalorians put so much worth on those. Admiration on skills.”

“Listen to me and hear me,” Din’s hand reached for one of your own, bringing it up to clasp his ungloved hand with your own. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, sparking tingles down the line of your arm. He had sat himself on the edge of the cot, to reach out for you. His fingers were warm against yours, bringing forth a wash of heat up to your cheeks, coloring them for him to be witness to. That such a simple touch from him could stir such a response was dizzying. “Yes, my religion places importance on those things. But you are the most important factor. You are important to me, and I will show you in any way you wish for me to.”

“What if…I get scared…or nervous…self-conscious.”

“Then we will share the same sentiment. My body…is not perfect and I have never shared any part of myself with anyone. Well…” He trailed off, modulator relaying a deep exhale the told you of his trepidations and worries.

You shifted under the blankets, sitting up to face him. His armor was gleaming in the faint light, and you wondered if he had tended to it recently. It was a comforting image, of him sitting at the makeshift table, armor in hand as he gave it all his attention and meticulously buffed out any indentations or scratches, polishing it to make it shine. The love he had for the precious metal of his people, the adoration he placed on caring for it, the pride he took in wearing a full suit of it, of having been the one to return so much of it to his own people.

You mulled over his words, aware that it was a conversation that needed to happen. Some things that needed to be addressed, on both your parts. You lifted your eyes from the cuirass over his chest, to the visor with a slightly furrowed brow. He needed to speak plainly, as did you.

“Yes, you have.”

“Yes, that... I have, but only a handful of times. With consenting partners and with nothing in mind other than chasing a base need.” His words were expected, he was a grown man, free to be who and what he wanted within the parameters of his Creed. You didn’t fault him, but it just made all of your own feelings so much more complicated, jealously flaring at the idea of him with another person, touching another person, wanting another person. You pushed it down, not willing to delve into that just yet.

“This is new… for me…these feelings. These desires,” You ducked your head, bashful. His other hand reached up and tucked under your chin, bringing your head back up for him to rest the forehead of the helmet against your own. When he leaned back, the heat of his gaze through the visor was scorching, the direct attention making you flustered paired with your confession. “And I know that might be…daunting for you. A big…commitment…for you.”

“My life is about commitments, for my Creed, for my people, for my work.” His hand squeezed around yours, bringing them to hold to his chest. The armor was cool against your skin, but it was nice to combat the flush you were suddenly overcome with. You felt your breath get caught in your throat as he paused to gather his thoughts. “I would be honored to make one to you. If you’d allow me to.”

The tears were sudden, the feeling of being seen, of connecting with someone.

Two more days of the incessant storm brought thunder, pelting rain, and blinding washes of sand over the city before it lightened up. You had remained in your room most of the time, body still going through the motions working the drugs out. Din gave you the space you needed but had asked you each time he fed ad’ika if you wanted to join them for the meal. It brought a smile to your tired features to see the small child enjoy spending time surrounded by you both, safe and happy.

The tabac was soothing as you inhaled deeply, a thin cigarra held between two fingers. A bad habit, one that you had only picked up to stave off the feelings of loneliness, something to fill the void that had been your life on the run. Slipping to the market for a quick trip while there was a lull with the storm with a quick wave to Din had allowed you the opportunity to track some down. He had been busy, nodding at you as he held a large panel of metal for Pelli to weld to the side of the ship. A large piece of debris picked up by the strong winds had grated harshly and caused some damage.

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you felt a figure come around the side of the ship toward you.

“Wasn’t going to say anything.”

“It’s a bad habit, I know. But it’s helping,” You blew the smoke out with a long exhale, watching as it wafted in the still prevalent wind. “With the withdrawals.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just a lull as you both mulled over things in your respective minds.

“I think I’m through the worst of it, might take ad’ika to the marketplace to get something hot for dinner.”

“He’d like that,”

“Maybe…you could come too?”

“He’d like that too.”

“And you?” A gentle, hesitant question.

“I’d like that.” His voice rumbled closer that it had just moments ago as he stepped toward you, one of his arms reaching. His gloved hand was a comfort as it brushed your bare arm, fingerless gloves and vambrace left atop the crate in your room. Warmth bloomed in your chest as you turned away from him to take a long pull of the cigarra.

“Hmm, but I’m paying.” Mouth lifted up at one corner as you smirked over at him, eyes taking in the shine of his armor in the dull light of the suns.

“Is that right?”

“You gave Pelli everything you had, everything you took off Callican, no?”

“The mechanic?”

“Please tell me you knew her name.” A stern edge to your voice had Din’s stomach jolting as he gazed at you through the visor. You had never used a tone like that with him and it was rather endearing to know you were comfortable enough to do so now.

“She didn’t introduce herself.” Was his flat response and you snorted at the way he worded it.

“Neither did you! You strutted down the ramp and fired on that poor droid as greeting.”

“That droid was going to mess something up, didn’t you notice how shifty it was?”

“Shifty? Kriff, Din, you’re…something.”

“So are you, mesh’la.” His hand that had been caressing you gripped and turned you. His other reaching out to knock the last bit of the cigarra from your hands to the ground where he scuffed it out with his boot. You let him move you, wanting to see what he was up to, how he played along with your harmless teasing. You let him pull you to him, chest to chest and he rested the forehead of the helmet against your own. “Something good.”

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