#also YOU CAN'T TELL ME din isn't doing this under the helmet

[againstacecilia]

Together

Another #BlurbTuesday, this time with our favorite metal man Din Djarin! Be ready for some angst lol.

Warnings: Angst, emotional Din, feelings of being alone, hopeful ending. She's completely unedited so have fun!

Nothing seemed to be able to go right.

The silence in the cockpit of the Razor Crest was heavy; stars and planets streaking past the viewport as fast as the racing of your heart. For months, you and Din have been desperately jumping from planet to planet, running from the pain of losing everyone one by one. Cara and Karga, Boba and Fennec, even little Grogu... They all eventually left. Bigger and better things.

Their ghosts linger, though.

You used to try and convince Din to head back, to try and connect with anyone he had once called friend. But he was convinced they were better off without him and he kept pushing. So you stopped and focused on trying to show him that you were with him through it all. You hoped it would help him see that those people were also still with him. So far, it wasn't working.

So on this night- or day, it was relative in hyperspace- his hunched frame painted blue and white in the cockpit lights a fire in your heart.

"This isn't fair..." your tired voice barely carried through the small space. Din doesn't respond, too lost in his own mind to catch your words. You stand from your seat and walk over to him, pressing the button on his armrest to turn his seat. "Look at me, Din."

His head slowly lifts to your face, black glass hiding his features; the same features your fingers have memorized in the pitch dark of the Crest. The eyes you wiped tears from when Grogu went away. The lips as familiar to you as your own...

You place your hand on the side of his helmet. "This isn't fair, Din. To either of us. All this running and being alone. You have to reach out to someone. Anyone. We can't keep doing this."

"You think I haven't thought of that?" His words are ice, as cold as the beskar under your fingers. "You think I haven't wanted to stop being so alone? To stop dragging you from place to place with no real goal? I don't know how!"

The admission rips through your heart, tearing and popping in a nearly physical sense. Tears spring to your eyes, "Then let me help you, Din." You grab his hands, "Tell me how I can help you and I'll do it."

"I just told you, I don't know how." Din chokes on the words as they leave the modulator. You've seen him angry and focused, even scared, but you've never seen him defeated. His shoulders shake with sobs and you've never wanted to see his face more, just to wipe the tears you know are falling from pain-scrunched eyes.

"Din," you breathe, pulling him off the chair and into your lap on the ground. You wrap your arms around him and rock gently from side to side. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm right here."

His hands grab desperately to your arms, holding tightly as if you're the only thing keeping him from floating out of reality. You hum gently to him, weaving a melody from the depths of your memory. Eventually, his breathing calms and his grip lessens, body relaxing into your embrace.

"You still with me?" you ask quietly. He nods and you let out a slow breath. "Good. What's going through your mind?"

A sniff pulls through the modulator, "I'm lost... And I don't know if or when I'll be able to find myself again."

You rest your chin on the top of his helmet. "Feeling this way after lots of change is normal. Your life was completely different a year ago." Lifting your head, you put a hand under his and gently lift his face toward yours. "You're not alone in re-finding yourself, Din, I'll be here for you as long as you'll have me."

Din shifts his weight and moves off your lap to the ground. He sits with his knees touching yours and leans in to meet your forehead with his. He'd once told you the gesture was as intimate as a kiss for a Mandalorian and you savored every encounter since; this was no exception. Your eyes flutter shut as he takes your hands in his. "I love you, ner kar'ta."

"And I love you, Din. We'll get through this and we'll find whatever you need to find. We're in this together."

Releasing one of your hands, his finds the side of your face and caresses your cheekbone. "Together."

#blurb tuesday #din djarin #star wars #din djarin fan fiction #star wars fan fiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #ceci writes

[lowlights]

FIRST OF ALL, hello ily. second of all, i am here for shippy things and i'll make this brief ok: i'm in my 30s, i have two cats who are basically my children, i write A LOT, i am easily distracted by almost anything, i play video games in my free time. i'm 5'5", long brown hair, green eyes, a chunky queen. my favorite thing to do is sit next to someone and scroll tiktok while they're ignoring me for their own activity while also maintaining physical contact. ok ily thank u BYE.

My darlingest Birdie.

Believe me when I say I could pair you with about six different Pedro boys and make the case for each. But in the end, there can only be one.

It was always going to be Dinjamin D. Djarin.

Your wit would attract him first. Your snark would make him chuckle under his helmet, and he would be grateful that you couldn't see his smile or the way he can't take his eyes off of you. Because right after he notices your sharp mind, he's taking in your soft curves. He would watch you reach for something up high and mutter dank farrik as your shirt would ride up, before walking over and getting it for you himself.

He knows you could do it by yourself, but he wants to help you so badly- this is our acts of service boy. Of course he's going to reach that thing for you, he loves you. Of course he bought you a weapon, he loves you. Of course he is going to go without meals without telling you when the food runs low, he loves you.

Words are a funny thing for Din. He still isn't used to a lot of them coming out of his mouth in any great quantity, but for some reason he feels compelled to share more things with you than he ever has before. You would ask him questions and be truly interested in the answers, and he wouldn't have to wonder what your motives were. He also wouldn't have to worry about you taking offense to how blunt he is sometimes, you just get each other. Din doesn't need words to make you realize how much he loves you- he will worship your body given any chance.

I think Din would love how you care for and adore the creatures around you. No animal or person is lesser-than (unless it's a human being a real dbag- you don't stand for those), and Din appreciates that quality so much.

Din would love, love, love how you can spend time doing your own thing with him. I feel like he would be so smitten with how you're happy leaning against him while you play oh a holopad while he cleans his weapons or something like that. You also definitely sat back to back to eat food together before he took his helmet off for you, which he would confess later was when he fell in love with you.

Din is the person you need when there's a storm- or any sort of crisis, small or big. He wouldn't make fun of you for being afraid of something. He promised to protect you and take care of you- that means throwing himself in front of you when needed, but also holding your hand when you're scared or flying you across the galaxy to get you the baked good you're craving.

He's going to beg for you to read him your novel and ramble about your niche character HCs. He would be so proud of you. I'm sorry to ramble on about you and Din, but I've been thinking about this for days and I'm so excited. I hope you like. ILY.

#look at his face #our sweet din #din djarin #character match #500 follower celebration

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Stay.

DIN DJARIN. ┃ THE MANDALORIAN.

❝ words: about 1.8k

❝ summary: The first time Din says his name and why he does it.

❝ a / n: this work wasn't supposed to be this long, but well... As always, feedback is appreciated!

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST. ⎢ MULTIFANDOM TAG LIST.

“Where are you going?”

Suddenly stopping your steps halfway over the ramp, you can feel Mando's curiosity through the modulator. Although you can't see his face and he doesn't need to move his head to study you from top to bottom, you can notice his helmet slightly shifting. It's the first time you abandon the Razor Crest —to accompany him to civilization— since he rescued you from Trask, a few months ago.

You were sold by your parents to a Quarren like a pet. He had you slaved for years, confined in a joint for the ones of his same race. He forced you to be kind, to be pleasant, and to dance for them, as if you were part of a show for their simple delight. Until Mando found you by casualty. At first, he just set you free. He didn't ask questions, he didn't care about what you were going to do, nor about where you were going to go. But that little thing —his son, apparently—, he was bringing inside a camel color bag everywhere, got attached to you for some unknown reason.

He hasn't been a man of many words since you know him, and he wasn't really in agreement with you joining their adventures, but your silent company began to be something positive for him when he started to trust in you.

“To Nevarro”. Your reply doesn't play hard to get, about taking another step.

Even if the beskar covers his shoulders, you can see how they get tensed by your response. He doesn't like that idea, he prefers you to stay in the Razor, but he also knows you're decided to follow him. You need to see what's around you. You're prepared. He has trained you from time to time, so you know how to defend yourself and how to fire the blaster hanging on your waist. Mando doesn't have to worry about you, as a matter of fact.

The child emits something similar to a happy giggle, being in accordance with your decision, drawing your attention towards him.

“Fine”. He reluctantly grants. “Stay behind me, and stay close”.

Two simple commands you can obey for your good.

The road to the city is silent, but not the kind of comfortable silence you're used to. You could cut the tension with your knife and you aren't sure why he is so worried —you'd understand it if you hadn't learned anything about self-defense.

While he attends his meeting, you're sitting at the next table with the child, trying to eat some kind of dense soup that spoils your appetite more than give you the desire to ask for another one. Putting apart the bowl from your sight, you can't help but raise your eyes to the corner of your right. Humans laugh. Your pupils dilate at a group of people like you. Among the crowd inside the place, full of different races, you see them. It's the first time in years that you cross with someone of your same kind and you must've breathed too loudly for a second because you have called Mando's attention.

Fastly putting your gaze away, somewhere over the bar, you try to dissimulate the anxiety for talking to them about anything, just talk. You know you can do it, not because of him, but because of your lack of social skills. After this uncomfortable moment, the bounty hunter is compelled to finish his reunion. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but for the wrong reasons. When he tells you that you're coming back to the ship, you don't go against it, standing up under the attentive look from one of the humans. A man older than you, who isn't able to put his emerald-green eyes away from you, when you walk closer with the child clung to your chest. Mando notices it, not swallowing a threatening grunt towards his table, and causing you some shivers. What has been that?

Back in the Razor Crest, you feel tiny. You have that same feeling stuck within your heart as when you were handcuffed in Trask. He hasn't said anything. He normally explains to you his new mission —your new adventure—, not going into many details, but this time he has just remained a holy silence that is killing you.

“I'm sorry”. These two words have been dancing through your head since you have jumped to cyberspace.

Mando turns around his seat towards yours at his right, tilting his helmet a little disconcerted. Stretching a hand over himself, pressing a couple of buttons before pushing forward a lever, he rests both gloved palms on his thighs. “We speak the same language, but I don't follow you”.

As you continue feeling more and more little under his gaze covered by the grey helmet, you sigh closing your eyes for a second trying to remember what you used to say the few times you disrespected a Quarren. It's not like you don't feel it, but you don't know what else to say. He is still staring at you waiting for a reply, or anything actually when you open your eyes again.

“I will… stay on the Razor next time”.

As soon as he understands, he turns his seat completely to you. “You can leave whenever you want. You're not my prisoner, and I'm not your master”.

For some reason, his words hurt you like a shot straight to your chest. And he must have noticed it by the down-hearted way you have to lick your lips, nodding with your chin just one time, before getting up to abandon the cockpit quietly. It wasn't what you wanted to hear. You were expecting some comfort words, but what you have obtained is an invitation to go. And you're having the strong desire to accept it, now aware that your company doesn't mean the same that his company means for you.

Grabbing a dusty bag from a compartment, you pick up the few things you have. Some clothes and a small cushion to sleep. Holding the tears by closing your eyelids, you drag your back down against the cold wall to the floor, sitting next to a big iron box —with who-knows-what inside it. Flexing your knees towards your chest, you wrap your legs with both arms, resting your cheek on them. You don't know where the Razor is going, but you have decided to stay on that planet.

Mando's heavy steps going downstairs provoking a metallic noise make you turn your back towards him, resting it against the box and trying to not continue sobbing. But, although he's pretending to replenish ammo, you can feel him looking at you sideways under his armor. And you hear him exhale slowly, closing the gun cabinet and bowing his head a few inches with pure resignation. Immediately as he swings to your position, you clean the tears wetting your cheeks with the back of your hands. The last thing you want right now is to give him the pleasure of letting him know he has made you cry.

“It wasn't my inten—”.

“I don't care”. You cut him off, resting your chin on one of your knees, turning your face away from his. “You don't have long to worry about me. I'll stay on your next stop”.

Mando continues in silence, feeling lucky you can't watch his hands closing into two furious fists. He didn't mean to talk to you like he has done, he didn't choose the correct words to say and he doesn't know how to fix it. How to fix you. If he only could tell you he was jealous because of your reaction to looking at other humans not in the same way you look at him, he would tell it to you. And for the first time since he was recruited by the Mandalorians, he needs to show his face to someone —to you. He wants to try to explain how he really feels with his eyes, conscious that there isn't enough vocabulary in your language to express it.

Mando can't ask you to stay, he doesn't have the right. Certainly not after what you have been through all these past years. But he wants to. He wants to do it. He wants to ask you to stay by his side.

“Din”.

The word with unknown sense falls from his lip across the modulator. You tilt your head in confusion, doing your best to read the most imperceptible gestures of his body under the beskar. His chest rises and falls a little more rapidly than normal. His hands are hidden under his cape, behind his rigid back. But there's no tension covering his whole anatomy. It's remorse what you're receiving from him. A sensation you had forgotten.

“My name is Din”.

A heavy feeling within your belly takes you over, impulsing you to stand up on your feet. Your eyes are somewhat widened because of the unexpected approach.

“You can… stay with us, as long as you want”. He whispers trying to relax his posture and don't feel vulnerable.

And with that said, he takes you aback a little more when you watch him bring his hands to the front, about to do something with them. For a moment, you guess he's going to clap to wrap things up, but what he does causes you to part your lips breathing through them in surprise. With the help of his left fingers, he ungloves his right hand to offer it to you. You're so absent fixated on his skin, as if it has hypnotized you, that it takes you some second to realize he wants you to shake it like a formal introduction.

As soon as your hands get in touch, you have to gulp a soft gasp. A shiver warms your body urging you to take a step closer to Din, invading his personal space, although he doesn't seem disgusted with the idea. Now, you comprehend it. You know what has been running through his mind since you came back to the Razor. You can smell the light jealousy, even the desire he was carrying since the meeting. He grunted to the man because he was envious of him and the way you were looking at him.

So you are somewhat pleased he has made the effort to discover himself without disrespecting or disobeying the Mandalorian creed, only to make you feel better.

“I wanna stay”.

Mando doesn't speak, but by the way the fabric of his cape shifts around his neck you can perceive his lips curving in a smile, as his throat gets relaxed under the piece of clothing. Covering his hand again with the glove, he points with a gesture of his helmet to upstairs to the cockpit.

“I'll be up there if you need me. You should rest”.

Pressing your lips, you nod in agreement as the door of the compartment is opened by the child. You haven't let him sleep and now it's your moment to sing him another lullaby.

#the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell. 

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good. 

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over. 

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table. 

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give. 

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way. 

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again. 

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched. 

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn. 

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated. 

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street. 

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks. 

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area. 

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast." 

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat. 

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear. 

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows. 

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together. 

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast. 

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor. 

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream. 

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship. 

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel. 

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt. 

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now. 

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her. 

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid. 

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless. 

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur -  spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

 nayc staabi - no right

 ***

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#star crossed:bound by blood #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc