#the mandalorian reader insert

[kyberblade]

Back To You - (Din x Reader) Epilogue/Prologue for Close To Home

A/N: IT IS HEREEEEEEE!!! So sorry it took so long. So much happens. I was going to divide this and then I thought, “Hmmmmm…. No.” As one does. Another note at the end to avoid spoilers. Seriously. Don’t read it until you’ve read the whole thing. You’ve been warned. I have spoken. This is the way. Yada yada yada. …..You just jumped forward and came back didn’t you? 🙄 Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

There are parts of this you won’t understand if you didn’t read the Dincember 2022 Drabble Carry You With Me, but they are very small mentions, you will be fine as a whole if you don’t want to read it. But why wouldn’t you? 🥺

(This takes place two years after the other one, and goes to the beginning-ish of episode 1/5 of TBoBF, Return of the Mandalorian.)

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

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, (Nobody touch me he’s still here okay?) and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 😬 Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Grogu is a menace. Arguing? Mando’a. Show dialogue, so spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Return of past characters. Tears. Shenanigans. Lots of banter. Throwback to chapter one with dialogue repeats but in the best™️ way, and copious amounts of me trying to work in back to you as a normal thing in a sentence bc why not.

Word count: 16,655 (I said what I said.)

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

And for @fordo-kixed-rex, you deserve so much more than a shoutout for reading all 75 million iterations of this massive chapter from start to finish, and helping me in between. You’re a real one, friend. This series would not have gotten this far without you.

Also a shoutout to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @littlemisspascal for being a sounding board for me over this whole process. (Also to @deceiver-of-gods for all of your help over all the chapters with the Mando’a. I hope I got it right in this one.)

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Xxx

Two years later….

Tatooine was bustling. As always. Vendors with their wares, smells and brilliant sights everywhere you turned. Something new and exciting to pull you in and suck all your credits dry just like the planet's heat stole every drop of moisture…. 

But it was all nothing without the kid. It was dull and drab without Grogu at your side. His soft babbles, the odd ‘Patu’ he’d throw at the next snack he’d like to steal…. 

Dank farrik! Turning away from the hanging frogs at the nearest vendor, you swiped at the most recent batch of tears rising to the surface. Sniffling loudly, you melted into the warm hand that came to rest on your back, eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s okay, mesh’la. I miss him, too.” The modulated voice at your ear carried unspoken sorrow of its own, sadness it’d never dare to even whisper into the universe, lest that make it real. If he kept it hidden, secret…. Like his face, nothing in the galaxy could use it against him. Somehow it made him stronger. And you both resented that and wanted to squeeze the life out of him for it at the same time. 

“It’d be nice if you’d show it once and a while….” You grumbled, turning toward him but keeping your eyes cast down to stare at the sand.

His hand fell to his side slowly. “What?” Head tilting to the side as he peered down at you in question, barely any space left between you, it leaned the other way when you shook your head with a sarcastic grin.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Your eyes lifted up to meet his visor finally, squinting against the glare of the twin suns. “Got everything?”

Din nodded. “Almost. Just need the-”

His words were cut short when the satchel across his chest suddenly dropped to the ground, the strap cut inconspicuously by a passing Rhodian seeming to casually bump into the Mandalorian only moments before.

You turned to try and find the culprit but Din tugged on your upper arm. 

“Forget about him. He’s just the-” Both of you looked down at the ground to find the satchel missing, “-distraction.”

You smirked. “I see.”

As Din’s head began to swivel in search of the thief, you attempted to reach out through the crowd with the Force, searching for the familiar signature of the contents in the satchel.

“How did you not get an alert?”

Now your head was on a swivel. Directly to the Mandalorian. “A what?”

“You know.” He wiggled his fingers like Cara always did when referencing the Force. “Why didn’t you know?”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, looking back to the crowd. “It doesn’t work that way.” The world weary words you’d said a thousand times felt like a mantra at this point. Then after a moment you added, “I’m not a security system.”

“Well that would be handy,” Din said offhandedly, beginning to walk purposefully in the direction the two of you had come not minutes before.

Stumbling after him, your face scrunched like you’d eaten something sour, you pulled on his upper arm to try and turn him around, but it only stopped him, his head still on a swivel. “Wait, what?!”

Din sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. I’m just looking for the thief. That bag has something impor-”

“Your old armor, I know.” Din’s full attention was on you now, his head tilted slightly in question. “Everything has an energy, that’s a really simplified way of how the Force works. Right now I’m trying to track the signature of your armor.”

“What is it?” He asked hesitantly, his weight shifting to one side.

Smiling softly, you took a step forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him down a side alley toward where you felt the signature grow stronger. “Nothing but goodness, Man- Din. Light and strength.” You stumbled over his name, still not used to using his actual moniker in public.

He chuckled at your fumble, shaking his head in disbelief. “From that dingy old stuff?”

“It’s not the quality of the armor that I’m reading.” You looked at his visor over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “It’s the quality of the warrior who wore it.” Turning back forward to navigate between the street crowded with lifeforms, one side of your mouth lifted in amusement. “That type of thing leaves an impression.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he finally grumbled quietly. When you looked back at him once again, your brow arched higher than before, he huffed. “How did you know it was there?”

Smiling softly as you held the gaze of his visor, you turned back to face forward, moving a bit faster. “You’re about as subtle as your new armor.” Din let out a soft, annoyed groan. “I saw you packing it back in Peli’s hangar.”

“I can be subtle,” he groused, slowing his steps slightly.

With your own groan, you turned to face him with a toss of your head for emphasis. “Yes. So subtle, Mandalorian. My big, shiny tin can. Now come.” Grabbing his hand once again with both of yours, you began to walk backwards, pulling him along with you. “We have a thief to catch.”

The alley had quieted down, the masses of beings thinned out so it was basically only you and Din, and maybe a handful of beings milling about, using the cross way as a shortcut to somewhere else. No one was lingering, their faces streaking by as they hurried to move on with their day.

“Hold that thought.” Din pulled you to a stop, planting his feet as he turned his head toward a crate on his left. On top of the box sat his satchel, untouched, his armor still causing it to look awkward and lumpy. “We may have just lucked ou-”

A surge of panic behind you caused you to turn toward the source, a small figure darting out of your line of sight as a familiar small voice muttered, “Oh shi-” before spinning around in Din’s hold, his grip around their forearm holding them tight.

“Okay, you little nerf herder, nice try- Sola?” Din’s voice dropped on the name.

You turned to fully face the pair, eyes going wide on the small girl now a young adult, maybe twelve, possibly thirteen years old now. 

She looked between the two of you, her expression a mirror of your own, as her body deflated in Din’s hold, her weight going slack in his grip while she cried in disbelief, “It’s you?!”

You couldn’t help the highly intelligent thing that tumbled out of you next. “It’s you?!”

Sola sighed a sigh worthy of a Mandalorian before she grumbled, kicking one foot at the sand path of the alleyway. “I knew I recognized that armband.”

Reaching up, you traced over the ribbons on your left bicep with the tips of your fingers on your right hand, eyes darting down to look at it briefly before they pulled back up to level a stern glare on the girl.

Before anything else could be said, heavy footfalls came racing up behind your little gathering. A female stumbled the last few steps, coming to a stop and collapsing, slapping her hands onto her knees before you could see her face, struggling to catch her breath. You opened your mouth to greet the newcomer, but she held up one finger before you could utter a sound. 

Din finally muttered in disbelief, “Cara?”

Your head whipped over toward the figure, eyes wider still. “It’s you?!” A hand came up to rest on your forehead, massaging back and forth as if that would help things sink in and make more sense. Your brows practically knit together in confusion with this new information, one arching up as you stared at the woman. “I’m so confused.”

Standing up, with one last heavy breath, Cara offered the two of you a tired smile. “Following up a lead.”

She held up a hand to stop Din before he could even ask, her eyes closing in mock annoyance. “Long story.” She opened them once again to land directly on you with a wink as Din sighed in exasperation before her attention turned onto Sola, her hand falling to gesture to the adolescent before landing at her side with a graceless slap. “And this little womp rat stole my commlink.”

Din looked down at the girl, giving her arm still in his grip a little shake. “This is Sola.” 

The girl shrunk under the stare of three adults. 

Cara’s gaze flicked up towards his visor, almost accusingly. “Friend of yours?” You nodded, and she sighed, hands going to her hips, weight shifting to one side. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Sola,” you tried calmly, going over to grab Din’s satchel before it was forgotten in the chaos. “Explain, please.”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I just grabbed hers by mistake, that’s all.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

Cara leveled a look on the girl, her tone dry. “Off my belt?”

Sola tried a grin. “Whoops?”

The Marshal lifted the look to Din. 

“Don’t do that to me,” he complained. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“Don’t even pretend to look at me next, Cara,” you held up your hand to stop her before she even tried. “I only taught her good things.”

Sola rolled her eyes and tried to tug out of Din’s hold, but the Mandalorian easily held her in place.

“Have a seat,” you offered sweetly, pulling the crate the bag had been on toward you with the Force, and giving her a nudge to sit. “Talk.”

She stared over at the wall behind you, grinning in disbelief. “It was a dare, okay?” Her eyes pulled up to meet yours, their hard stare melting slightly once they did, revealing something vulnerable, something broken. Her voice softened just slightly, but still held the mock vibrato she started out with, making you huff as she continued. “Some kids dared me to take someone’s bag, and I was just unlucky enough to choose you.”

“And my comlink?” Cara tried.

Sola turned to her with a cheesy grin. “That was just bad luck on your end.”

“I’ll show you bad luck,” Cara grumbled, stepping closer to the teen.

You stepped between them. “Cara.”

“What?” She barked, trying to peer over your shoulder at the girl before looking you in the eyes.

“No.”

“She stole-”

“She’s a kid,” you corrected. “Tell me you didn’t do dumb stuff when you were her age. Hell, you do dumb stuff now.”

“You’re one to talk,” Cara grumbled.

You smirked, arms crossing over your chest as your weight shifted to one leg. “Ah, but I travel with a Mandalorian. What’s your excuse?”

Cara scoffed. “I knew him first, if we’re going that route.”

“I’m right here,” Din said, somewhat offended, reaching out to gently push Sola down by the shoulder without a second glance when she went to stand up.

You kept your voice even, mildly distracted as you spoke somewhat flippantly. “Mandalorians who shot their partner in the leg don’t get to talk right now.”

“I didn’t shoot you!” He protested, voice going up at the end in agitation.

“You shot her?” Cara asked at the same time Din spoke, turning to look at him with raised brows.

“I didn’t shoot her!” Din corrected before Cara could even finish, his visor swiveling back to you. “It was a ricochet.” His head tilted to the right as he stared at you. “On Gideon’s ship. The bolt bounced off the droid when she launched at it, and-”

You waved your hand dismissively, gaze landing on nothing in particular across the street. “Same thing.”

“It is no-”

“Ugh!” Sola threw her head back and groaned, staring at the sky with wide eyes, her voice went up with each following word. “This is torture!” Her head lowered back to look between the three of you, eyes narrowed to slits before they fluttered shut and she heaved another heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk.” She leaned back on her palms on the crate, her face finally relaxing to something more neutral. “Just…. Stop whatever…. This,” she gestured vaguely with one hand while her nose scrunched up slightly in disgust, “is.”

You turned back to face her, nodding for her to go on, but Din interrupted.

“Later.”

You rolled your eyes as he waved his finger at you in admonishment before landing them back on the girl, smiling softly. “Go on, Sola.”

She hesitated before taking a quick breath and letting it all out on an exhale, speaking quickly. “My parents are diplomats from a planet in the Mid Rim.” 

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, kid!”

Sola glared at you, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath before speaking overly clearly the rest of her explanation. “We’re here to broker peace between the different ruling houses and our world.”

“Hey, if you’re going to have an attitude, we can just leave,” you warned.

“Great!” Sola beamed. “Bye!” She went to rise from the crate but both Din and Cara pushed down on a shoulder on each side respectively, earning a soft oomph! from the teen. 

She sighed resignedly before going on. “But as you can probably guess, that goes as smooth as sand in a hyperdrive.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not allowed to do anything. I have to keep up appearances, and stay inside most of the time now because we have gotten death threats after a deal gone bad recently.”

Din visibly stiffened beside her, Cara, too. A chill ran up your spine as she continued.

As she relaxed further back into the crate, her words seemed almost lazy, lackadaisical. “So I started sneaking out. Nothing major, just needed some fresh air, well, it’s Tatooine, so, air.” Her tone went rigid with her posture, the spark in her fading to a dull ember as her volume faded to a mere murmur. Her index finger traced lines along her knee as her eyes followed the invisible trails it made. “Then I met them.”

“Who?”

Sola met your eyes, almost startled when you asked, like she’d forgotten people were listening. She shrugged one shoulder, her eyes dropping back down to her lap, her tone still soft. “Doesn’t matter. A group of kids. They do petty crimes and stuff, I wasn’t going to do anything, but they said they were going to tell the people who had been sending death threats how I was sneaking in and out at night.” Her hand stilled, then began poking at the ankle of her foot tucked up under her absently, her eyes cast down at the ground. “They had been watching me, I guess. Let them know all our weak points in security. If I didn’t do a job for them, then they’d tell….”

“And one job turned into more….”

She nodded at your comment. Her eyes flickering up to meet yours for only a second before they pulled down again.

“Why didn’t you just tell your parents and beef up security?” Din’s voice was in planning mode.

Sola peered up at him, squinting against the suns’ light. “And prove I’d let them down?” She looked down at her lap, fiddling her thumbs. “Sneaking around, been committing petty crimes? Would you have done that?”

Din looked at the ground, his voice quiet. “Probably not.”

“Give me my comlink,” Cara said, holding out her hand toward the girl.

You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Really, Cara? You hear all that and you’re still banging on about your damned-”

Once the device was in her hand, she took a few steps away and spoke into it in a professional voice. “This is Marshal Dune. Please call off the search. It wasn’t stolen, I just dropped it. Sorry for the confusion.” A male voice you couldn’t quite make out garbled over static on the other end. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Cara replied, turning to face the three of you. “Also, I’m going to take off the rest of the day. Found some booths I want to wander through. We’ll pick up our meeting tomorrow. Yeah. See you then.”

She made her way back over, clipping the comlink to her belt. “I just bought us about twelve hours. What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Sola looked between the three of you with wide eyes.

You smiled. Her gaze was up and off the ground for the first time this conversation. And it was full of hope. 

“Of course,” you said, smiling gently. “Nobody messes with a member of our family and gets away with it.” Sola grinned at your words. You’d do pretty much anything to keep it there. “Now, let’s go scare some thugs, shall we?”

Xxx

“Now, I know that you packed it,” you said, standing in the fresher of the Crest, voice jiggling as you hopped slightly to pull the armor higher up your chest. “But I don’t know why.”

“Oh, the Jedi is stumped, is she?” Din’s sarcastic amusement was muted through the door, making you roll your eyes. 

Setting your weight to one hip, you pressed the button, and the durasteel barrier hissed open to reveal your Mandalorian leaning against the frame. His arms across his chest as he waited for you, his posture easy and relaxed, he looked like a growth on the walls of his ship.

Cara and Sola were out in the hangar with Peli, their voices faintly heard along with the annoyed bleeps and bloops of R5 as they echoed off the stone walls and up the open ramp. 

“Not stumped,” you countered quickly, walking around him to the middle of the cargo hold as you pulled your gloves on, chin held high as you chose your next words with care. His visor followed you as you went. “Just…. Curious.” You finally landed on with a huff, looking down at your hands as they fiddled mindlessly before adding on a mumbled, “And I’m not a Jedi.”

Din pushed off the wall, his head shaking gently in disbelief as he walked toward you slowly. “I was going to have Boba melt it down and forge it into something better.” He stopped somewhere behind you. You were purposely not paying attention, trying not to get distracted and make sure your armor was set up correctly, only faintly registering the absence of the soft thud of his boots on the metallic floor of the Crest right behind you before he went on. “I don’t know where the armorer is right now, and it’s not full beskar anyway, so any smith could do it, but I trust him.”

“Something better?” You turned to face him, head tilted to the side as you clicked your vambraces into place, their gears whirring to life. Stumbling back an inch as you startled, his chest plate brushing against your nose he was so close, you reached out to swat his arm lightly in annoyance, muttering a Don’t do that and shaking your hand out to the side with a grimace after it pinged off his beskar. Craning your head back to look up at him properly, you couldn’t help the small grin when you found him already peering down at you. “Like what?”

Din’s head tilted just so to the right. “Something for you.” He didn’t miss a beat. 

Your eyes widened slightly before they narrowed to slits. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

He was smiling. You could tell by the lilt in his voice as he leaned into the tilt of his head, his body following and started down the ramp. “You know me so well.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his cape. “Nu-uh. Not so fast, Tin Can. Hold up.” Pulling him back to you, though he gave very little resistance, you leaned around to look into his visor when he was a few inches away, his hands on his hips in mock annoyance. “You don’t have to do that.” Your voice had gone soft. He turned to face you fully. “I know that armor is important to you.”

“So are you.”

You grinned. “Smooth, Shiny. Real smooth.”

Din shrugged one shoulder, his hands falling to rest at his sides loosely. “I have my moments.”

You nodded, starting down the ramp, and talking over your shoulder. “And they are few and far between.”

Din scoffed. “Lucky for you. You couldn’t handle me at full throttle.”

Grinning, you looked down at your vambraces and twisted them a bit. “That sounded like a threat.”

“It’s whatever you wanted it to be, mesh’la.”

“You look like a Mando.” Sola’s voice pulled your attention away from the man at your back before you could reply. 

“What? In beskar?” You gestured to the armor down your body. “No.”

The young girl rolled her eyes at you.

Grinning, you reached up to adjust your scarf tucked in to make the armor fit a bit better, and noticed her posture go rigid.

“You kept it,” she mumbled, pointing lamely toward the blue material around your neck.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just….” She pulled at her flowing poncho, revealing her bright pink scarf, still vivid as ever, tucked away underneath, close to her heart. “I have mine, too,” she amended softly. “I keep it hidden so it doesn’t get dirty or torn.”

“Kind of like my armband….” You mumbled, closing the last few steps between you before reaching out to softly roll the fabric of her scarf between your thumb and index finger as she traced the ribbon on your bicep with the tips of her own.

“I still have no idea what hyperspace looks like,” she mused, staring at the glittering fabric with a sad smile. “I was so little when we came here, and my parents wouldn’t let me anywhere near a cockpit. I’ve only ever been in a cabin while the ship was moving. No viewports….” She met your eyes again, hand falling to her side. “Supposedly we flew beside some purrgil and even then they wouldn’t let me look.”

Letting your own hand fall to your side, fiddling with the air aimlessly, you held her gaze. “Why not?”

Sola shrugged. “Not sure. They said something about safety at the time, and I just never pressed it, but now it just feels suffocating.”

“I know it’s annoying,” Din chimed in softly from behind you, his shadow looming over the young girl in the dying sun’s light, “but I would give anything to have my parents be overbearing one more time.”

Sola’s eyes flew up to the Mandalorian. “What happened to them?”

“A story for another time,” he said stoically, turning to the right and going deeper into the hangar. “Let’s confirm the plan.”

You turned with Cara and Sola on your left to head that way, Peli falling in step on your right as the droids followed along behind.

“They aren’t around anymore. It happened when he was very young, about the same age as when we met you. That’s why he became a Mandalorian. That’s all I’ll say,” you offered quietly. “The rest is his story to tell.”

The first stars were twinkling overhead as the sky said good night in brilliant shades of red and orange. 

Once your party had circled around one of Peli’s many cluttered tables off to the side, the top of it littered with ship parts, Din turned to you. 

“Gar beskar'gam jate slanar?” (“Your armor good to go?”)

You nodded. “Elek. An jate.” (“Yes. All good.”)

Sola turned her head slowly up toward Cara, one brow arched in confusion.

The Marshal slowly shook her head, eyes closed. “They do this….”

“Do what?” You asked, brows knit toward your friend.

Cara leveled you with a look. “Start speaking in any one of a thousand languages none of the rest of us know.”

R5 started beeping animatedly, trilling as he wheeled back and forth on his treads excitedly, and ended on a raspberry, making you and Peli laugh.

“Oh, great,” Cara rolled her eyes, “even the droid’s are in on it.”

BD and Treadwell made their way into the circle, the Pit droids not far behind, all of them chattering away as they approached you until Din sent a blaster shot pinging off of a piece of scrap pipe over in a corner.

The droids all screeched before going silent, freezing in their steps as Peli cried in protest, “Hey! Watch it!”

“Yeah, we don’t want another ricochet,” you mumbled, adjusting your armor for no good reason besides looking down and away from his judgemental visor.

Cara and Sola snickered from their spots across the table from you, the weight of Din’s stare beside you nothing short of stifling.

“If you stare any louder, Din, they may ask you to be quiet all the way on Coruscant,” you muttered quietly, adjusting your vambraces needlessly for the umpteenth time to hide the growing smirk across your face.

“I’ll just tell them it’s because of you, they'll understand. Garner sympathy.”

Only your eyes lifted up to glare daggers at his visor, his head tilting to the side teasingly as he held your gaze.

“The plan?” You groused, looking across the table with a sigh as your weight shifted to one side - away from the Mandalorian. 

His tone was light, as if it held a smile, while he laid out the steps of the plan one more time. “Sola said they would be meeting her back at the market in an hour. She meets them as planned. The three of us follow her, and stick around in the shadows, as inconspicuously as possible-”

“Says the man who’s a walking mirror.”

Din didn’t even bother to look at you, only sighing at your remark, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort before he went on. “From there, we follow them back to their base of operations. From what we’ve heard, shouldn’t be too hard to get into. We get in, cause a little chaos, get them to release Sola from this…. Contract, then we leave as quietly as we came.”

“No one dies.”

Cara nodded at your words, Din nodding once in agreement, his body going stiff at your next statement. 

“Even if we run into a Jawa.”

He took a deep breath to begin to protest, but you held up a finger to stop him, mocking his words from earlier.

“Later.”

Xxx

Spotting the culprits was easy enough. They weren’t sly about anything as they paraded through the streets with their puffed up chests, smirking as people scattered from them should they get too close. They hassled a vendor or two, shaking them down for a payout, and Cara grumbled beside you, gripping the buckle that showed she was a Marshal tightly through her poncho she wore to conceal it.

Before you could do anything, Din was hot on their heels, handing the vendors a stack of credits to make reparations as soon as the thugs’ backs were turned. They would try and insist he keep it, lightly shoving the money back into his hands, but Din somehow managed to sweet talk them into accepting every time, his head ducked down slightly, hand over theirs in a calming gesture. You wished you could hear what he said.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Cara muttered offhandedly. “Caring, soft almost. It looks good on him.”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed softly. “That’s how he is with the kid. Grogu brought out a side of him I don’t think would have seen the light of day otherwise.”

She elbowed you. “Oh, I dunno. You’re pretty persuasive. Think it’d’ve come out eventually.”

You slid only your eyes sideways to look at her. “Why must you shit talk me?”

“Because if I don’t I’ll simply fade away. It gives me sustenance. I could go days without food, but teasing you? That simply wouldn’t do.”

Turning your head to peer at her incredulously, you spoke in a low voice after a long moment of silence. “I’m going to go stand over there,” you pointed behind you, “as far away from you as possible right now.”

Cara scoffed. “Good. Go. Your beskar'gam is drawing too much attention, anyway.”

With a grin, you began walking backwards down the street, keeping to the shadows. “Aw, you paid attention.”

Your friend glared at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A shit eating grin was across your face. “You’re speaking Mando’a….”

Cara huffed, her attention turning back to the street as she mumbled, “Last time I make that mistake.”

Stopping short, you stood up straight. “Aw, don’t be afraid to show your feelings, Cara. Feelings are a good thing. They make us human-”

“If you don’t stop talking-”

“Are you two done?” Din’s voice across the alley from the two of you pulled both sets of eyes his way. “They left a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, what with your bickering.” His head swiveled between you and the Marshal, judgment heavy through his visor. “Sola is with them, I gave her a tracker, slipped it to her when no one was looking while someone,” he looked at you pointedly, “wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was paying attention,” you groused, voice lowering as you kicked at the sand below your feet. “Just not to that.”

“She was talking about you,” Cara tattled, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight, stretching like a loth cat.

“So were you!” You protested, also stepping into the nightlight, making Cara squint as she held up a hand as if to block the glare of the reflection off your armor. Swatting her hand down, you knit your brows at her. “It’s not that bright out here, don’t be dramatic.”

“Children. I’m surrounded by literal children,” Din muttered, turning and walking away exasperatedly.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you grumbled, following after him.

“Then prove me wrong,” he called over his shoulder. “Right now you’re worse than Grogu.” You gasped. “When he needs a nap.” Cara gasped. “And he’s hungry.” You both gasped.

“I take it all back,” Cara stormed past Din, her words brusque and aloof. “You’re the meanest person I know.”

“Person?” Your tone was incredulous as you sped up to fall in step with her ahead of the Mandalorian, head swiveling to land on him with a sly smirk over your next word. “Droid.”

Din stopped in his tracks and sighed, head tilting back to the sky just slightly with a gentle shake. “Oh, this mission is off to a great start.”

When both you and Cara kept walking ahead of him, the bounty hunter finally called out on a hiss, “Hey! Are you two done?”

“I don’t know, are we?” You turned on your heel to face him, hands on your hips as you planted your feet and arched your brows in question, almost accusingly. 

Din bit his tongue before he turned this into a whole something else before this entire endeavor even got off the ground…. again. For the third? fourth? time. He’d lost track of how many times they’d gotten off track in the last five minutes alone, let alone today as a whole.

With a jut of his thumb to his left down a narrow alley, he tilted his head that way for emphasis. “Thugs’re that way.” 

Both you and Cara hesitated for only a moment, weight shifting slightly from side to side before you dropped your hands from your hips with a huff and headed toward the alley, your Marshal friend in tow.

As you passed by Din, he muttered a low and amused, “Oh wise one.”

“I’ll tell Sola you said so,” you shot back in a low murmur. “She already knows I’m the smart one.” The alley was so small you had to form a single file line, and somehow you were in the front with Cara behind you, and Din pulling up the back. 

“She just lets you think that’s what she thinks,” Cara hummed. “We all know it’s me.”

Din snorted. “It’s neither of you.” He shook his head at the two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him over their shoulders as they came to an abrupt stop in front of him. “I’m the one with the map and the tracker, remember?” He tapped the right side of his helmet with his index finger.

“Oh, will you just get in front and lead, you overgrown Tin Can?!” You hissed, flattening yourself against the wall to let him pass, the heat of the day still clinging to the wall at your back.

Cara rolled her eyes as she squished herself, allowing him through, but it was still a tight fit all around between the three of you. When Din passed her, his back against the opposing wall, she grimaced though he moved quickly. “Will you just get out of my face, Shiny?”

“What, you mean you don’t want to get to know me this well?” Din relaxed his weight a little, leaning into her slightly. “I thought we were friends.”

Cara shoved him with one arm toward you, making him laugh as he kept going, stumbling slightly from the impact. “We won’t be if you keep on that thread of conversation, Mando.”

Din stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head sideways as he muttered softly, “Hi, mesh’la.” Leaning his forehead into yours, he chuckled softly at Cara’s over exaggerated gag in reaction.

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you grumbled, fisting one hand into his cowl as you ignored Cara’s groans, elbowing her in the ribs with your free arm when she continued.

“What was that for?!” She cried in protest.

“Just because I’m happy, doesn’t mean you need to moan about it.”

Her face scrunched in disgust as she looked away at the wall across from her. “Go be happy somewhere else. We have a job to do.”

Din sighed. “She’s right,” and pushed off the wall to get in front.

You held on to his cape from behind him. “No. No, she’s never right.” Cara landed a swift kick to the back of your boot. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being so wrong all the time!”

“Don’t make me speak Mando’a to you,” you grumbled. “Or how about Huttese? I also know Shyriiwook now, too.”

“How about you speak silence.”

Din snorted at the Marshal’s words from his spot in front of you, Cara huffing out a laugh from behind.

“When all of this is over, you both are gonna pay.”

“You don’t scare me,” Cara scoffed.

Looking over your shoulder, you arched a brow, holding up one hand by your face and wiggling your fingers. “Well maybe I should.”

Her face went pale, her steps faltering slightly as understanding dawned on her features. “You don’t scare me,” she repeated, her voice softer after she swallowed roughly.

You chuckled, turning back to face Din’s cape once again. “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before you could answer, Din cut in, without bothering to turn around, “It's just her way of threatening to trip you. Don’t read into it too much.”

He no sooner said that than he was stumbling forward down the alley, reaching out to brace himself on the walls with his forearms.

“Look at that? My boot also works in mysterious ways.”

“What happened?” Cara asked, oblivious to you tripping Din with the toe of your shoe.

“Gravity. Don’t read too much into it.”

Grinning up at the back of the Mandalorian’s helmet where he had stopped in front of you, you let go of his cape still in your grip. “Careful, Din. There’s gravity there.”

“What did he even trip on?” Cara’s voice was incredulous.

“Air? His ego? Pride…. The options are endless….”

“The foot of an over eager Jedi that’s about to be in her mouth if she keeps talking,” Din hissed, barely looking over his shoulder at the two of you, arms falling from the walls to his sides.

“How do you mean?” You scoffed, following after him as he began to move down the alley again.

“We’re here,” he said with a flourish, the small avenue opening up to a wide street brightly lit with several buildings that dead ended down on the right. With a swooping gesture, he moved to the left, making room for the two of you to step forward beside him, his visor following you closely before tilting to the side. “You’re welcome.”

“She’s right,” Cara mused quietly. “Your ego is big enough for all three of us to trip on.”

“At least it’s well deserved,” Din groused. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“You followed a map. That was attached to a tracker. A blindfolded bantha wouldn’t have had a much more difficult time….” You said offhandedly, surveying the area.

Din stared at you for a long moment. “That armor makes you mean,” he grumbled.

“It makes me wonderful,” you countered, eyes across the street on a conspicuous crate, narrowing when it jostled slightly. “You’re just jealous that it looks better on me than it ever did on you.”

“Yeah. That’s it,” Din agreed sarcastically, his weight shifting to one side as he followed your line of sight. Pressing the side of his helmet, he immediately went into planning mode. “I’ve got two heat signatures.”

“Matches up with what I’m sensing. Two life forms. A whole mess more inside.” You took your blaster from its holster, its gears whirring to life. “Everyone set to stun?”

Hums of agreement came back at you along with nods in your peripheral.

“I’ll go in on the right while you two take care of whoever is lurking over there,” Cara gestured across the street with her blaster. “Sneak in that side door and start clearing until I find Sola and slip her a blaster, then we’ll find this boss.”

“I’m in,” you agreed, while Din nodded in agreement beside you. “Let’s go, Tin Can. We have some thugs we need to introduce to beskar.”

Xxx

Storming the place was easy. These thieves didn’t know the first thing about defending their home base.

Getting out on the other hand…. That was proving to be more difficult.

You pulled up behind a wall, tucking your arms into your chest as tightly as possible to make yourself a smaller target, your blaster held between both hands at the ready.

“You said this would be easy!” Din yelled from his mirror position across the hall. Well, almost mirror. He leaned on one shoulder, blaster held up in the opposite hand near his head. His whole body looked just on this side of casual. 

“I said no such thing. You did,” you countered, trying to mimic his posture subtly. “And on that note, Cara was the one who said you and I should go in together, so this is all-”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Cara’s voice carried from down the hall, the first word elongated as she slid across the floor on her hip to avoid flying blaster bolts to finally land next to you before popping up. “Don’t you dare drag me into this lovers tiff. Nuh-uh.”

Both you and Din spoke in tandem, “This isn’t-”, “We’re not-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sola said dismissively, jogging up easily behind Din, a singe mark on the shoulder of her poncho. 

Din stood up straight in an instant, took her arm in his hold gently to examine it, turning her every which way to get a better look. “What happened?”

“Told the boss I quit.” She grinned proudly before it melted into a grimace. “He didn’t take it so well.”

Blaster bolts zinged down the hall between the four of you, streaking the air in vibrant shades of purple and red, even an errant green here and there.

“If I could just use my saber-” you started, cut off by the unanimous voices of your friends.

“No!”

Letting your head lull back against the wall with a gentle thump, you rolled it in aggravation before facing the others again. “And why not?! I’ve saved your asses so many times!”

“Close quarters!” Cara was gesturing with her hands while she spoke, referencing the hall. “Too many people!” She gestured between the four of you. “Laser sword very bright! Very hot!”

You narrowed your eyes at your friend. “I singed one corner of your tunic. One!”

“And that was one too many,” Din countered, popping around the corner to let off a barrage of shots before coming back for safety.

“This was my favorite,” Cara said forlornly, looking down at the smoldering fabric. 

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“No you won’t,” Cara scoffed. “You can’t afford my tastes-”

“Can we please focus on getting out of here!” Sola’s annoyed voice rang out louder than the blaster fire, pulling all three gazes her way. 

Din was the first to break, turning back to lay down cover fire once again around the corner. “Kid’s right,” he grunted, before letting off a shot that was accompanied by a pained scream at the end of the hall.

“I thought we were set to stun?” You hissed.

Din looked down at his blaster and shrugged meekly, flipping it back to stun. “Sorry. Old habits….”

“I know I am,” Sola said matter of factly, pulling you back to the topic at hand. “Now what’s the plan?”

Stepping a little closer to the corner you were tucked behind, you holstered your blaster. “The plan is for you all to eat your words tonight.”

“What are you doing?” Cara’s worried tone sounded at your back, Din’s incredulous one to your left. “Mesh’la, come on, don’t do something-”

“To save our skins?” You finished for him, looking up into his visor with a determined glint in your eye. “Watch me.”

After taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stepped out into the hall where the blaster fire had died down just slightly. The few earrent bolts bounced away from you as if they were hitting a force field. Confused whispers from the enemy preceded a pickup in the rapid fire, bolts flying at a new frenzy, none of which came anywhere close to touching you or your friends.

Lifting your hands in front of you, the bolts began to stop, hovering in mid air inches from your face, your hands, some several feet from you. The room glowed with multi-colored plasma bolts hovering above the floor. As the shots died out, silence filling in the blanks left behind, the corner of your mouth twitched up in an amused smirk.

With a small twitch of your index finger, all their blasters were disabled with a tink. 

When you opened your eyes, the blaster bolts that hung suspended all immediately flew the other way, back toward the senders, but in such a way that they wouldn’t hit anybody. 

Within an instant the group of thieves at the end of the hall were left cowering, curled away from the stranger approaching them from the opposite end of the hall. Some blinked wide eyes while others scrambled back, all of them surrounded by smoke swirling around from the black scorches left behind from the blaster bolts.

“I think we win,” you said calmly, walking toward them slowly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” One rogue thief said, jumping to his feet, blaster aimed at you.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you warned, not even looking at him.

When he pulled the trigger and nothing happened, he looked at his blaster in confusion, pulling the trigger a few more times before shaking it incessantly. “Oh, well.” He shrugged. “I have this.” He pulled a spare from the back of his pants.

In two seconds flat Din had stepped forward and shot him with a stun bolt, dropping him to the ground.

“Like I said,” you pulled the active blaster to you with the Force, disengaging the firing mechanism like you had the others before tucking it into the back of your own pants. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You don’t need another one,” Din groaned. “That makes what, seven now?”

You scoffed. “Not nearly.” With a dry chuckle, you shook your head. “Try three.”

“Including the knife?”

“Oh, yeah! The knife. No, that’s four.”

“Guys!” Cara cried, walking up to stand on the other side of you. “Seriously?”

“What?” You looked at her a moment before cutting your eyes toward the thieves still looking on in silence. “I’m just recounting the weapons I’ve won from our various missions! I see something I like, I take it.”

“These guys don’t care.” Cara gestured to them with her blaster.

“No…. But I do.” You turned to look at the punks with a broad grin. “And something tells me they want to keep me really happy. Right?”

They all nodded vigorously. All but one. He got to his feet as he said, “Oh, kark this!” He was no sooner on his feet than Din had hit him with a stun bolt, dropping him into a heap of limbs where he stood.

“At least you remembered to use stun this time,” you threw over your shoulder towards Din, never looking away from the band of thieves still looking on wide eyed at your little party of four.

“Yeah…. But I’ve been known to forget things real fast,” Din mumbled, shifting his weight just slightly to rest easily on one leg. The way he held his blaster would make anyone think he’d gone soft, but you knew if someone made a wrong move, they’d be down in an instant.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” Cara stepped forward, her Marshal voice in full swing. “Sola over here is out. I don’t wanna hear of any of you within spitting distance of her ever again, do you hear me?”

Most of them nodded, wide eyed at the Marshal. All but one. It’s always one, you thought with a smile and gentle shake of your head. 

“And what’re you gonna do about it? Marshal?” The way the punk said her name dripped with so much sarcasm and venom, you were surprised Cara was still standing. If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now. “You don’t even live here, so how are you going to enforce anything?”

To his credit, he looked slightly afraid when you and Din took measured steps forward while Cara spoke.

“I have friends all over. I don’t think you want to find out just how far my reach can go…. Young man.”

Cara winced slightly on the last words and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing. The way her eyes darted over to you, however briefly, with a mighty rise and fall of her shoulders told you she knew she’d never hear the end of this.

He scoffed. “Like I’d believe any of that.”

“But you’d believe blaster bolts levitating in space then flying the wrong way?” You challenged, taking another small step forward. 

The kid scoffed again.

“You believe this?” Din was striding forward, his vambraces whirring to life as the flame thrower charged up.

Reaching out with the Force, you disengaged his vambrace as the wall of fire just started to lick at the toes of the boots of the insolent kid.

“Not now, Mando. I think he gets it.” Shooting your eyes over to the kid before looking back into his visor, you saw him glance over to find the teen cowering behind the others, mumbling apologies.

Din strode over to you, keeping his body facing the group of adolescents to make them think he was still a threat, which he was, but you knew him well enough to know he was looking at you now and not them, his head turned just slightly.

“Turning off my vambraces now, huh?”

You shrugged. “What can I say? You shouldn’t be frying teenagers, Din. It’s not nice.”

Leaning closer to your ear, his voice hummed through the modulator, something in his tone different this time. “Later,” he promised again.

You grinned, winking at Cara as she rolled her eyes and walked off with an over dramatically gagging Sola. “Can’t wait.”

Xxx

Back at the hangar, the four of you tried to move as quietly as possible, to not wake a sleeping Peli. 

“I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know how I could ever repay you-”

Placing your hand on Sola’s shoulder, you smiled down at her when her big eyes looked up your way. So much like the first time you met her all those years ago. “There’s nothing to thank. That’s just what families do.”

“We help each other,” Cara agreed, stepping up behind Sola and putting her arm around her shoulders. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she added with a grin, “And yeah, sometimes we want to murder each other, too, but….” She looked at Din. “It comes and goes.”

“Mostly comes,” the Mandalorian muttered, adjusting his belt before walking off toward the ramp of the Crest. He stopped at the foot of it, withdrawing a vibroblade from his boot before he turned around and walked back. “Hey, kid.” He offered Sola the blade. “Take care of yourself.”

“You bet I will,” she mumbled around a grin, flipping the blade in her palm with expert precision that had your brow arching. Upon closer inspection, she saw a mudhorn upon the hilt. “That’s the same symbol that’s on your armor….” She looked over at your saber. “And your….” 

“Like I said,” you pulled her into a hug. “We take care of family.”

“Where’s my mudhorn?” Cara groused.

Din extended a blaster with a freshly etched mudhorn he had tucked into the back of his belt to Sola as he looked at Cara, head tilted just so. “Hidden with your act of valor. Go find it.”

“You’re mean,” Cara shoved his shoulder.

“You’d get tired of us anyway,” you mused in response to Cara, wrapping your arms around Din’s waist in what seemed an innocent manner, then lightly pinching his side in admonishment, smiling at his slight groan in response. Before he could get his own arm around your waist in retaliation, you pinned it to his side with the Force, smiling up at him smugly when he grunted in unamusement. 

“I already have,” she agreed, looking down her nose at the two of you.

“No you haven’t,” Din countered tiredly as he turned back toward the ship, heading up the ramp.

“What do you know?” She called after him.

“Everything!” His voice came from inside the ship overlapping your muttered, “Nothing.”

“Not enough,” you amended with a grin, meeting Cara’s eye as she returned your smile. “He doesn’t know nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I love teaching, then.” She laughed, offering you a hug before she turned to leave the hangar. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “You coming kid?”

Sola hesitated in her spot in front of you. “But I don’t…. I don’t wear armor.”

“Verd'ika….” You reached out and rested your hand on her shoulder. “Ad’ika. Cyare'se. Daworir’ika. Ka’ra’ika…. Almost all of my nicknames for you had something to do with little.” (“Little soldier. Little one. Loved ones. Little stink. Little star.”)

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can see that,” you smiled softly. “Tal tomad.”

She pulled a face. “Do I even want to know?”

“Blood ally.” You reached out and pinched her scarf between your finger tips. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“What…. What does that mean?”

You smiled. “I need to come with a protocol droid….”  She laughed. “Warrior greater than armor. It means armor isn’t everything.” Moving your hand from her scarf to rest on her shoulder once again, you felt Din come to stand behind you, his reflection beginning to morph in Sola’s watering eyes. “It’s who wears it.” 

Xxx

As you watched Cara and Sola walk out of the hangar, Din pulled you to the side gently.

“Speaking of armor, you don’t have any now, either.”

Looking down at the armor still very much on your frame, you looked up at his visor and blinked at him once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

He shifted his weight, hands resting on his belt in his default I already explained this pose. “I’m about to meet up with Boba in a few minutes. Need the armor so I can give it to him.”

You matched his posture, ignoring his indignant head roll. “Oh right. For this super secret thing for me I can’t know about.”

Din nodded once. “You got it.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you turned and made your way up the ramp of the Crest, not bothering to turn around as you grumbled, “You’re awful.”

“I know.” His tone was nothing short of beaming.

Xxx

The next day, the two of you were up with the suns and beginning work on the Crest with a handful of Peli’s droids. 

The woman herself had appeared after a while, but she obviously was not intended for morning hours.

Peli had disappeared into the shaded depths of the hangar, citing paperwork of some sort, but her snores could be heard from the main landing area. 

One thing led to another, and the work on the ship was forgotten in favor of brushing up on footwork with two chosen weapons.

The hanger sung with the clashing of beskar on kyber, his spear standing resilient against your purple blade.

The pit droids were hard at work on the Crest to try and cover up the cacophony of battle sounds rising up into the air.

As it hit a new fever pitch, you and Din drawing close together after some particularly fancy footwork, the glow of kyber straining against beskar painting your faces in a soft illuminated glow as you pulled closer still, you smirked. 

“I think that means I win, Mandalorian.”

Din scoffed, his modulator popping with the sound. “Nayc. A’nuhunla,” he drawled, his voice low. (“No. But funny.”)

Pulling back from one another, you huffed out a chuckle as you began to circle each other in assessment, waiting for the other to make the next move. “Give it to me in Basic, Mando.” Disengaging your saber, you stopped dead in your tracks, arms dangling limply by your sides. “I’m too tired to fight and translate at the same time.”

“Gar Jetii’kad,” Din pointed to the now bladeless hilt in your hand. “Nau’ur kad.” (“Your lightsaber.”) (“Light up a saber.”) 

“Din-”

But he didn’t let you finish, his hands tightening around his spear as his weight lowered, ready to charge. “Kad’au, Jetii.” (“Lightsaber, Jedi.”)

“Ne'johaa,” you mumbled, igniting the blade and lowering yourself into a ready stance to match. (“Shut up.”)

Once you were set, you stood straight up again, smiling softly when Din let his lowered weight relax as well in aggravation, his modulator hissing in annoyance. “This was just supposed to be for fun. Some training, maybe. Not-”

“Kad,” he almost barked, before launching at you. (“Saber.”)

“Mir’sheb,” you hissed through gritted teeth as you blocked an overhead blow from his spear, squinting your eyes as sparks flew from the impact. (“Smartass.”)

He took a minuscule step closer, pressing his weight into you and making you bend back slightly. His voice was low and mocking, but strained to show his struggle against your strength as you continued to push back. “Only for you.”

With a shout, you pushed him off of you with a last reserve of strength.

“That’s it. That’s it. I’m done.” You held your hands up by your head. “No more.” Twirling your saber as you stretched your wrist, you tilted your head from side to side. “You’ve got some unresolved issues with only using the stun back there at the hideout or something,” gesturing to him with a swooping hand gesture, you ignored his snort and slight shift of weight, “but I’m done with all your nonsense.” Turning away you took a deep breath and disengaged your saber, mumbling under your breath, “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.” (“I want a bucket of booze.”)

The next thing you knew you were flat on your back, sand flying out around you as the Mandalorian stood over you, flipping his spear back to its resting position with a flourish. All you could process as you blinked up at the cloudless sky was heat, grit, and what?

“I think that means I win…. Manda Jetii.” (The state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.)

Eyes flying to his visor, you had to squint at the glare of the suns off the brilliant metal. You could only blink up at him, taking his hand when he offered it and helped you up. After a shared moment of simply staring at one another, he turned to survey the hangar, repeating your words from earlier. “Ni copaani buy'ce gal.”

It was at that point you noticed Peli’s face. 

Her very, very, very distraught face. 

Following her line of sight, your eyes went wide as you took in the Crest over your shoulder. Sparks flew, singe marks lined the hull. Did I do that?

A poor little astromech Peli had just acquired was trying to tune up something near the ramp of the ship, and Din, once he turned to survey the damage for himself, spying an unfamiliar droid linking into his ship, let his spear loose without a second thought. 

If you hadn't had the mind to divert it midair with the Force right before impact, the droid would be a pile of steaming wires right now instead of a trembling pile of bolts.

The screech of terror it let out as the spear made impact right above its head made you want to laugh, but you stifled it into your hand, turning a disapproving glare on Din when he asked why you did that.

“We don’t murder innocent droids.”

“No droid is innocent,” he grumbled, looking over at the scrappy little astro unit. 

“They are until proven guilty.”

“I don’t need any proof,” Din mumbled. “Have all the proof I need.”

“You have nothing.”

Before he could say anything else, the angry mech was rolling toward the bounty hunter with an electrified arm ready to zap him, but you held it at bay with the Force. You also held Din back, snorting when he turned a look on you. 

“No.”

Peli somehow materialized beside you, everything about her bewildered and distraught. You let the two arguing tin cans go as you turned your attention to your friend, the final zap from the droid to Din’s thigh before it rolled off not going unnoticed. 

Pointing every which way with each new statement, Peli began to protest. “I was- They were- You just-” Her hands slapped down to her sides, her face pulled determinedly. “That’s not fair!”

She turned to her pit droid crew. “Why do I get all the defective droids in this town?” They began to prattle but she cut them off. “You guys couldn’t fix the wrong side of a bantha.”

Reaching out with your mind, a twitch of your foot sideways ever so slightly, and one of the compartments at the back of the Crest flew off, the wiring inside plopping out like the ship had drunk too much spotchka the night before and now had something to prove.

“It’s alright, Peli. It wasn’t all you.”

“You bet your beskar it wasn’t!” She turned a look on Din. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that massive spear sticking out of the side of my ship.”

Din had the decency to look sheepish, turning his gaze to stare across the hangar, hands on his hips.

“Now I’ll have to track down the Jawas to find enough ancient parts to fix this hunk of junk.” She smacked the hull closest to her with her palm, her eyes fluttering shut as a panel fell off to her right with a clatter.

Leveling her gaze on you, a shudder ran down your spine as Peli stared at you in silence. Finally she spoke again. “You. You’re going to help.”

“And you,” she pointed at Din. He pointed at himself in question and she nodded, maintaining the accusing jab of her index. “Yes, you. Mandalorian.” Din tilted his head curiously. “You are going to go to the cantina to look for a job to pay for all of…. this!”

Peli gestured wildly to the sparking Crest behind her. 

You winced at the singe marks left behind by your saber, beside the puncture mark from the spear as it had let loose from his hands and flown across the hangar. Its beskar body still stood proudly from the hull, glinting in the afternoon sun.

Reaching up high above her head, Peli jerked it from the body of the ship with a grating screech of metal on metal. Green goo began to shoot from the new opening, coating the sand of the hangar around her feet in several inches in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at it before bringing menacing eyes up to glare at Din.

“I’ll be at the cantina,” he mumbled, turning to leave without anymore fuss.

“I’ll…. Be here, I guess,” you mumbled, catching Peli’s death stare out of the corner of your eye. “Pick me up some of those blue cookies on your way back?”

“Really?” Din stopped, cocking his head at you.

“Yeah!” You shot back. “The kid isn’t here, so I don’t have to share them.”

“Who says I don’t want some?”

You scoffed. “Experience.” Crossing your arms, you stared at him. “Besides, who says I’m sharing regardless?”

Din took a step back toward you, his voice lowering playfully. “I could make you….”

“Cantina!” Peli hissed.

You’d never seen Din move so quickly.

Xxx

Peli had dragged you out to the large rolling fortress of the Jawas after she had given her pit droid crew a stern talking to. 

You couldn’t make eye contact with them as you stood just behind her and listened to her admonishments. Their judgmental stares from their single ocular lenses could be felt even across the hangar. 

Looking over the wares, you were just glad Din wasn’t here. Jawas would be dropping like flies if he were. He really had a problem.

Bringing your scarf up to cover your face, wrapping it around your head to keep it secure and protect you just a layer more from the suns beating down and sand blowing in the rough winds, you squinted at an old astromech tucked away in the back near the ramp.

“What about that one?” You asked, pointing to it.

The little hooded figure helping you turned, exclaiming something when he realized what you were asking about, then began talking a mile a minute and gesturing even faster.

Holding up your hands, you cut in, “Yeah, yeah, hold on little guy,” your new Jawa friend grunted at the name as you turned to call for help. “Peli! Get over here!” Waving your hand to gesture her over, you hoped it’d help her find you a bit faster.

You saw her curls before you saw her, turning your way and quickly weaving through the junk as her grumbling got closer and closer, but the exact words were never quite clear enough to understand. “What?” She finally asked in exasperation when she was about ten feet away, a power coupling in one hand and…. Something else in the other, you didn’t know what it was, but it had a lot of exposed wires and reminded you of an eyeball on a stick.

Pointing to your little robed shadow, you smiled at her. “Translate. Please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she focused on your small companion, nodding as he went along. “He says you want that R2 unit.” She turned her focus back to you, hands on her hips, eye on a stick still tightly grasped in one hand, “Any particular reason? I have plenty of good droids back at the hangar….” R5 started tweeting and blipping in concern, making her roll her whole head over to look at the droid on her left. “Oh, keep your dome on. I didn’t mean you.” She gestured to the droid with the eye-stick lazily before her eyes cut over to you. “Unless….” R5 let out a mighty whoop before rolling away.

Chirping and blooping from the R2 unit pulled your attention back to the matter at hand, watching in amusement as it rocked from side to side quickly on two of its three legs. Its shiny dome twisted back and forth as it let out shrill beeps and whistles, a lone raspberry cutting off the tirade before it focused on a Jawa coming up to stand beside it. 

As the tiny cloaked figure reached out to adjust the restraining bolt on its front, one of the droid’s front compartments sprung open in the blink of an eye, a surge of electricity arcing through the air and making the Jawa scream. The little scrapper jumped back, stumbling as its cloak began to smoke, strings of Jawaese getting lost in the wind as the tiny thief marched back over to the droid and swiftly kicked it near its treads.

“Stop!” You ran over, holding up your hands to try and intervene, turning to Peli with a pleading look on your face.

She tossed the junk in her hands onto the ground, doing a double take for the eye on a stick before deciding against it and made her way over to you, thrusting the odd part into your chest as she passed by. With a roll of your eyes, you tucked it into the bag of parts to make its way back to the hangar that was slung across your shoulders. 

The bag was over half full, and getting heavier by the minute, but you’d yet to see anything resembling a part you recognized go into the satchel. At this point you think ninety five percent of what she had picked up wasn’t even for the Crest, she was just exacting her revenge on Din. And you had no problem with that.

Peli tilted her head as she listened to the Jawa go on a tirade. Eyes flickering between the tiny robe with eyes and the droid, she finally looked back over her shoulder at you. “He said this droid is just a problem. It’s memory hasn’t been wiped in too long, so it’s developed an…. Ah, well,” she quirked her eyebrows, her hands landing on her hips as she studied the droid. “A strong personality.”

The R2 unit blooped before zapping the Jawa again, a warbling whistle following after in what almost sounded like a taunt for more.

“Stop,” you said again, taking another step toward the feisty astromech. It was very hard to not smile as you studied the round dome, its light blinking red and white at you rapidly as it scanned you up and down, finding something it trusted enough to calm down. It didn’t zap a third time, but it kept the utility equipped, sending a surge down the line when the Jawa got too close again as a warning.

It reminded you of Din. It even kind of looked like him. You had to really try to contain the smile as you thought of his reaction if you said that out loud.

The head tilt.

The finger.

“Later.”

The body was the typical white of most R2 units, though obviously worn and aged, some pockets of rust peeking through here and there along the edge, along with carbon scoring like it’d seen some firefights. With a darker silver dome, close to the color of your vambraces, you could tell it had received repairs along the line, the contrasting metals denoting different eras in its lifetime. 

The bands along its body that contained the attachments and along the sides of its legs were a warm coppery color, while the panels along its head were a dark gunmetal gray that reminded you of the Crest. 

Altogether it was a patchwork of parts, but it made something beautiful to you. Like when the suns hit the sand just right and caused a reflection in the distance. This droid was a mirage, a shadow.

“What’s wrong with it?” You interrupted the Jawa currently on another tirade that made Peli look like she was struggling to keep up. Getting down on one knee, still a good distance from the droid, you stared into its lense as it studied you once again.

Your friend turned to face you more fully. “What do you mean, they just told you. It hasn’t-”

“No, why hasn’t it moved?”

Peli asked the question, turning to look at the droid as she listened to the answer, its lense now turned on her.

“He said the tread on the right foot is broken. They have it out here because someone is coming to pick it up to wipe the memory. Its-”

“Not anymore,” you said quietly. “It’s coming with me.” Getting to your feet, you began to walk away, stopping when several Jawa voices began to follow after you, each more insistent than the other. You looked at Peli, brow raised in question.

“They say you can’t do that. It’s already a done deal. Now they’re asking if you want any of the other droids, they have an-”

You turned, looking at the gathering of red glowing eyes blinking up at you expectantly. Keeping your voice even, you made eye contact with each pair as you spoke. “You will release the droid into my care.”

A string of Jawaese was mumbled back to you, which you assumed was just them repeating your words, so you went on.

“Remove the restraining bolt, load it in the speeder, and let us go on our way.”

As they mumbled again, they broke off into groups to do what you said. 

Tapping the leader on the shoulder, you held firmly when he turned to look at you. “And it won’t cost anything.”

He nodded before going to join the others.

“How did you….” Peli’s voice dripped with amazement. “Can you-”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me-”

“No, Peli.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and facing the Jawas as they loaded the droid who whistled happily while they worked. “I’m just saying-”

She stopped when you slowly turned to look at her, brow arched.

“Yeah, no, forget about it. Not important.”

Xxx

As you unloaded the droid at the hangar, once it was down on the ground, you knelt down slowly to inspect its injured foot. 

“I’m just going to tilt you a little bit to get a better look, okay?”

The pit droids began lowering some type of harness down to help you, but the droid began to rock back and forth, protesting loudly as its dome swung back and forth.

“Okay, okay,” you held up your hands placatingly, gesturing for the other droids to stop. “No lifts. I’ll do it myself, but you’ve got to trust me. It’ll feel a little strange, but you’re completely safe, I promise. Alright?”

The droid bleeped in agreement after a moment of hesitation, and without further hassle, you nudged it slowly onto its side, floating at the proper angle, held just right by an unseen force. As it moved into the proper placement, the R2 unit blooped an amazed sound.

After poking at the tread for a moment, you wrinkled your brows. “This isn’t broken. What did they mea-”

You were cut short when the tread on the other foot whirred to life where it still rested on the ground, spitting sand in your face in a rapid fire. As you drew back quickly, swatting at the sting settling into your eyes, you just caught a glimpse through your squint of the droid falling the rest of the way to the ground with a screech, your concentration broken.

Before you could really react properly, the R2 unit had popped upright, all manner of Binary curses and colorful language beeping and whistling as it whipped out the zapper it had used earlier on the Jawa, sending a warning jolt down the spine while rotating in a circle to keep all the advancing droids and Peli at bay. 

Then it started to lift off with some sort of propulsion, a victorious squeal echoing off the hangar walls that was all too soon followed by the sound of sputtering exhaust. Its lense pointed down, watching it all unfold, a quiver of fear warbled out of its voice box. The flames keeping it afloat flickered then died, sending it hurtling to the ground with a scream.

You were just able to stick out a hand, focusing enough to catch it inches from the ground. “I got you!” As you lowered it the last few millimeters back onto the sand, you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing into the warm earth beneath you with a quietly muttered, “I got you.”

“Well, that was a first,” Peli announced loudly, amused, as the R2 unit looked at you, a spurt of oil suddenly spewing onto the ground as it moaned in distress.

“It’s about right on track for me, honestly,” you huffed, laughing as you got back to your feet. 

The droid quaked as you got closer, worried coos softly filling the hangar.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” you spoke softly, coming back onto your knees a few feet from the R2 unit. “That was actually kind of impressive.” You smirked, watching as the trembling stopped. The droid was silent and you smiled a bit broader. “I would expect nothing less, honestly. It’s what I would do in your situation. Hell, I have done it a few times….” The droid whistled softly in amusement.

You laughed, feeling victorious when it wheeled a bit closer to you.

“I have, too. I live a very extraordinary life, my friend.”

A questioning bloop.

“Yes, I said ‘friend’. I consider you that, not anything less.”

A series of beeps and whistles, the red light blinking much more slowly now.

“I do speak Binary. Very observant.”

A raspberry.

You laughed, and it was followed by the closest sound a droid can make to the sound, a series of trills.

“Can we start over?” 

The droid wheeled closer, bumping its front foot into your knee gently before wheeling back slightly as if to say, ‘go on’.

You introduced yourself, reaching a hand out toward the droid. A panel sprung open on its front, the zapper coming out without a charge, making you arch a brow at the unit as it tittered playfully. The panel closed before another opened, and a small three pronged metal hand extended, closing around two of your fingers and shaking them in jerky movements as it beeped and blooped away.

“R2-B4?” The droid whistled in confirmation, releasing your fingers and closing the panel. “Can I just call you Bee?” A beep that sounded like ‘yes’ and also meant ‘yes’ in Binary chirped happily, filling the hangar. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bee. How about we get you tuned up, into a nice hot oil bath, run a few diagnostics to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be, then starting tomorrow we can-”

Some angry bloops and bleeps filled the air, while she rocked back and forth on her feet.

“No, no, no! No memory wipe! That’s not what I meant! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She stopped rocking, but her lense scanned you up and down rapidly, her light flashing between red and white faster than you had seen yet. “You don’t know me yet, so I don’t blame you. But I’m not going to do that to you. That won’t happen so long as you are here. With me. With us. That makes you you. I don’t want just a droid, I want you, Bee.”

Reaching out your hand, you rested it lightly on her dome and an affectionate beep came out quietly.

“I just meant to make sure you’re running as optimally as you can be. You deserve it, friend.”

It was at this point Din came walking back into the hangar. He stopped short when he saw the new astromech snuggled up so closely with you, the disarray of the hangar floor with the spilled oil and obvious scuffle, and Peli with her army of droids behind her and new eyeball on a stick waving around animatedly as she greeted him with a smile.

“Mando! Finally!” She walked toward him. “You will not believe the day we’ve had.”

The look Din leveled on you through his visor was nothing short of stifling. “Try me.”

Xxx

Once Din had calmed down enough to not shoot the new droid on sight, and Bee had calmed down enough to not zap the Mandalorian on sight, you sat down to explain the situation to Din as the astro unit underwent an oil bath.

“I don’t know, Man- Din.” You pulled a face at yourself as he chuckled at the slip up. “It just felt like I was supposed to, and she….” You looked straight into his visor. “The voices stopped when I saw her. Everything did. I don’t know.” Looking down to the table top to your right, you began to fiddle your fingers aimlessly. “I swear you won’t have to-”

“Okay.”

“Now don’t just- what?” You shook your head to dislodge any sand that may be plugging your ears and causing you to mishear because you could have sworn he said…. “Okay? ….Okay? Did you just say okay?”

Din laughed softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward onto your knees, getting closer to him and peering up with scrutiny for an agonizing minute. “What did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he rested his hand on his thigh. “Got you a present.” His head tilted to the side as you sat up a bit straighter. “Still gonna look at me like that?”

Eyes going wide, you sat back and matched his posture.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a snort. “I met up with Boba last night, as you know, and after going to the cantina, he caught up to me with the finished product.”

Din reached over and pulled a tarp off a crate to his right, how you’d missed it you had no idea, especially since the item before your eyes still sang with the same signature as his armor had. 

A jetpack.

Raw beskar and durasteel glinted under the twin suns, polished to perfection and ready to earn their first scuff marks.

“Din…. No.” You looked at him in disbelief. “You didn’t.”

Reaching for the pack, he groaned slightly with the effort, sighing once it sat in his lap. “I couldn’t look at you in that horribly fitting armor one more time, and it was just taking up space on the ship.” He set the heavy gift in your lap. “Now I don’t have to lug you around anymore.”

Scoffing, you leaned in closer to him, batting your lashes. “Don’t lie, you like lugging me around.”

He tossed his head side to side. “It has its perks, yes, but now….” He gently nudged you back with a finger to your shoulder so you were sitting normally in your seat again. “Lift yourself, mesh’la.”

Sitting up straight as you held the jetpack in your lap, you traced its curves with your hand. “I don’t know whether to be offended or say thank you.”

Meeting the gaze of his visor through your lashes, he simply nodded.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Now, let’s get you fitted and flying - but first, I have to sync them with your vambraces, or else you might-”

“Let me guess,” you sighed, relaxing back into your chair with a thump. “Or else I might blow something up?” Din nodded once in confirmation, and you mirrored him. “Some things never change.”

“And some things change all the time….”

“Well that was cryptic.”

“Fennec found a contact for me that might know where the Armorer is. Where the covert moved to.”

Your eyes went wide and you froze, halfway to attaching the jetpack between your shoulder blades. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s a job, but I head there in two rotations-”

Your face fell flat, along with your tone. “Excuse me, what?”

“Are you broken?” You arched a brow in question at him. “You haven’t moved since I mentioned the Armorer and you’re repeating yourself.”

With a huff of disbelief, you let the jetpack to the ground beside you with a gentle thud, and faced him once again. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re insane?!”

“Excuse me, what?”

“See?” You gestured to him. “A perfectly valid reaction.” Din huffed, his head tilting to the side in annoyance as you went on. “First off I was excited for you, but then you go and say something crazy like you’re going alone?”

“Well I just assumed….”

“Go on,” you deadpanned, smiling slightly when he trailed off, swallowing roughly.

When he never did, you sighed heavily and forged on for the both of you. “Since I’m your wife,” you began, eyes cast down to the sand, ignoring the way he tossed his head back with a groan, “I think it’s only right I go with you.” You looked up to meet his visor. “Not to mention I continue to save your skin daily.”

“One time. I….” He held up one finger. “That was. I let that slip one time with Peli and it was an accident.” He huffed, staring at you for a long moment. “You're never going to let me forget that are you?”

You grinned. “No.”

Xxx

The two of you landed at the front of Peli’s hangar when you saw an unknown droid approaching in the street from where you were training in the air.

“Oh! Pardon me!” The courier droid raised its hands up in surrender. 

Reaching out, you lowered Din’s blaster. “You have a problem,” you mumbled. “You need to ask questions first, shoot later.”

Din grunted. “That’s not how I work.”

“Well, maybe you need to upgrade your circuitry, Tin Can.”

Both Din and the courier looked at you.

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is a Mandalorian, not a droi-”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter. “What’s the message?”

“Oh. Yes.” The droid reached into a bag fastened to its hip. “You have a holo from a Greef Karga? It’s marked sensitive/eyes only. I suggest you watch it someplace private.” Leaning around to look behind you into the vacant hangar, the only other soul being R5 rolling past with an offensive blip, the droid then looked back at the two of you. “Or just stay here.”

Taking the device from the droid with a smile, you were surprised when it didn’t just leave.

It reached back into the satchel and procured another device. A puck. And handed it to Din.

“What’s this?” The Mandalorian asked dryly, looking at the small device in the droid's hand as if it were the most confusing puzzle in the galaxy.

“Courtesy of Greef Karga…. once again.” When Din made no effort to move, the droid looked between the two of you. “They go together. I assume they offer some explanation. Otherwise, I have nothing to tell you about them.”

Din sighed, taking the puck and shutting the hangar door before the droid could say another word.

A muffled, “Oh. Well, good day, then!” Came through before the retreat of mechanical footsteps was heard.

“That was rude!” You mumbled, turning to go deeper into the hangar, but freezing when you saw the info spinning above the puck in Din’s hand. 

No.

No it couldn’t be.

Quickly activating the comm, you let Karga explain what you already feared.

“If you’re playing this message, you’ve already opened the puck. Yes. I know. I was just as shocked, too.”

There, in letters as big as day was your name.

“It was issued by the head of some small town crime group on Tatooine. Said you decimated their numbers yesterday?”

Din grunted. “Nobody died. What do they mean decimated?”

“I’m not issuing the puck to anyone, but be on the lookout. It could make things…. Difficult.”

The comm went dead, and all you could do was stare at the puck in Din’s hand, the info being presented to you but truly not being absorbed as all you could do was watch and blink.

The puck displayed your picture, slowly spinning with all your details next to it. 

Name: Eesra Kesyk

Last known location: Tatooine

Known associates: Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Peli Motto, Sola Kei, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Luke Skywalker

Karga, Mythrol, Bo Katan, Luke, Ahsoka? For some small time group on Tatooine, they had really gone out of their way to find info on you….

Your gut sank. 

Unless….

You shook your head. There’s no way this went beyond a small town crime lord on a backwater planet. No way.

Focusing back in on the list, you squinted to read the fine print it was in to have everything fit on the little readout.

The rest was just details, date of birth, previous work…. reason for bounty.

“Are they serious?”

Unlawful use of star cruiser in restricted airspace, failure to comply with law enforcement, breaking and entering, damage to public property, battery and assault….

Din thought this was all very funny. He was practically giggling by now, snorts of laughter trickling out of his modulator as he stood to your right.

He’d tried to stop under your glare, he really did, but it just wasn’t possible, little snickers escaping here and there. 

“Who knew I married such a horrible person?”

He did this from time to time. Brought up his little misstep with Peli where he’d called you his wife, leaning fully into the absurdity and embracing the silliness you often tried to pelt at him mercilessly by saying it himself first.

Rolling your eyes, but unable to contain the small grin climbing up your face,  you looked back at the puck and crossed your arms firmly over your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into, Tin Can.” Tilting your head at the readout, you pursed your lips. “And we’re not actually married, no matter what you said to Peli. You’re not ready for all of this.” Making a swooping gesture to yourself, you ignored his mocking snort of amusement. 

You stared at the list for another loaded minute of silence before going on. “Besides, half of these aren’t even true!” Gesturing to the list with one hand, you turned to look up at his visor, brows raised. “Unlawful use of starcruiser…. When did we even leave the planet?”

He was still chuckling warmly as he turned to you. “Did I? Know what I was getting into, I mean? I don’t know about that, mesh’la.” His chuckle grew louder as your face fell into unamusement. “And are you sure? Only half?”

Turning to face him fully, you raised one hand to wag a finger in his face teasingly. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps coming back.”

Pulling you into his arms, he hummed contentedly. “And I always will come back to you.”

Copying his hum of satisfaction, you reached up and grabbed his cowl like always, tucking your face into the fabric and taking a deep breath before turning to the side to look at the holo once again with a sigh.

“They got my name wrong, though.”

“Did they?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tucking your face into the crook of his neck, you smiled. “Eesra Djarin of Clan Mudhorn…. That’s so much better, don’t you think?”

He groaned softly. “I-”

Bleep!

Din grunted in mild annoyance as Bee rolled up the ramp, stopping beside the two of you and trilling animatedly. “Not now, Scrap.”

Bee let out as close to a matching grunt of displeasure a droid could make, flipped out the electrified arm on her front, and waved it at Din in warning. 

“See? This is why I don’t like droids,” Din grumbled.

Rolling forward bit by bit, backtracking just slightly in between, she pried her way into the small amount of space between the two of you, making you step back just slightly to make room.

“Well, hello there,” you mused quietly to the metallic dome whose lense was looking up at you, smiling back at the tiny bloop in greeting. “May I help you?”

She babbled away in Binary animatedly, charged hand still extended toward Din in warning as she rolled ever so slightly closer towards you, tilting forward just a bit and causing Din to grunt as the forward motion pushed the bottom of her housing into his shin guards with a ping.

“I’m sure R5 didn’t say all that. What are you getting at?”

More beeps and whistles, this time containing squeals as her lense switched between red and white rapidly, almost faster than her sounds, as she animatedly continued her story.

“Wow,” you finally said when the droid stopped, staring at you expectantly.

“What did she say?” Din tilted his head at you.

“No idea.” You looked up into his visor. “All I caught was something something BD said and then Peli, Jawas….”

Both of you started to chuckle softly, Bee looking between you as she rotated her dome back and forth, a bloop of disappointment before a raspberry of annoyance, and you couldn’t shake the growing grin on your face if you wanted to.

After a moment she reached out just a little further and zapped Din with the electrified arm, tittering a laugh as she rolled away at speed as Din chased after her after crying out in pain. “Ow! Get back here, you rolling scrap heap!”

Crossing your arms, you leaned against the opening of the ramp to the Crest, and watched the scene unfold in Peli’s hangar.

Droids, a mechanic, and a Mandalorian all running in circles after a goal you weren’t quite sure of. All that was clear was Din was losing.

You were home, with the people you loved.

Looking to the side, you saw the bunk of the Crest open, the child’s hammock still strung across the top. The corners of your mouth pulled slightly down.

Well, almost everyone.

You were a clan of three.

No, it was more than that.

You were also a family.

And someday, you’d all be back together again.

Someday soon.

You’d find a way to bring it all back to you.

Adjusting your weight slightly, you bumped something on your vambraces in the process causing the jetpack between your shoulder blades beginning to whir with an increasing hum. Flames began to sputter at its base with a growing roar, sending a wall of heat down the backs of your thighs as it prepared to lift you into the skies once again.

“Din?” You called, quietly at first, staring over your shoulder at the new death trap strapped to your spine, then more urgently, “Din!”

He was already jogging up the ramp toward you, his posture easy and relaxed. “Calm down.”

A quick glance behind him showed an amused Peli and her circus of droids, all of them tittering in amusement. Bee rocked back and forth in glee at the foot of the ramp before rolling back to the others. 

“Calm down?” You repeated in bewilderment, watching him disengage the jetpack from your vambrace with a single button push, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Calm down?!” He began to chuckle, his hand skimming up the inside of your forearm to lightly grab your elbow and push you further into the ship as you went on. “I was almost a flying projectile and you-”

You hadn’t noticed the way he’d nudged you backwards completely out of sight of the rest of the hangar until your spine sealed along the bulkhead by the weapons locker, the lights of the cargo hold going to half brightness with a deft swipe of his hand over a control pad to your left. 

Half, but still plenty bright to see.

“Din?”

Taking in your new surroundings, you looked back up to see him taking his gloves off and tucking them in his belt. His helmet came next, the quiet hiss of the mechanism causing you to screw your eyes shut. The familiar sound of beskar thunking onto the metal floor of the Crest made them close even tighter.

Din chuckled softly, the unmodulated sound tickling your face with his warm breath. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“Oh, yeah.” Slowly you blinked your eyes open, looking up to see warm brown eyes, and the sweetest smile waiting to meet you. “I still forget.”

Winding your hands up into the curls at the base of his head, you smirked when he let out a contented sigh through his nose. 

After a moment of simply holding the other’s gaze, you muttered quietly, “Hello, brown eyes.”

Din was on you in an instant, his groan of annoyance muffled against your lips as you laughed softly into the kiss. 

“You always have to ruin it,” he mumbled, crowding you further into the wall, his bare hands coming to cradle your face and making your eyes slip shut at the contact. “Nu-uh. Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

Fluttering them open, you tried very hard to keep them that way. “Sorry. It’s not every day a Mandalorian is half naked in front of me. I’ll try harder.”

“Half naked?” He tilted his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours, one brow arching up in question. 

“For you, a helmet and gloves is the equivalent of a-”

Din was back on you again, this time growling in mock frustration against your lips as you laughed a bit louder. The upturn of his lips gave his amusement away, though.

Pulling apart just enough that only your foreheads rested against one another, the two of you held that moment together for quite a while. Simply breathing the other in, and existing in this quiet moment before the storm. 

Before you left to find more Mandalorians. 

More Mandalorians. 

Now that was going to be interesting. 

After a moment, you rolled your head to the side slightly and peeked up through your lashes to find his eyes closed.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for you both to speak in tandem, “Open your eyes.”

“I will if you will,” you were quick to retort.

Warm brown eyes met yours once again as the setting suns’ light poured in through the open ramp somewhere behind him, painting the cargo hold of the Crest in vibrant shades of gold, orange and red.

Din smiled softly, pressing his forehead further into yours, using his hands at your cheeks to maneuver your head back a bit and into a better angle for him to lean his forehead into. “Only for you.” His fingers began to move up and thread into your hair. “Always for you.” It was hard to tell where he stopped and you began. “Gar cuyi ner aliit. Ni kar'tayli darasuum gar. Gar cuyi ner mir'sheb bal gar utreekov kar'tayli darasuum gar, cyar’ika.” He pressed his forehead even further into yours, his lips ghosting over your own with each word. (“You are my family. I love you. You are my smartass, and your idiot loves you, darling.”)

“Gar cuyi ner yaim. Ner yaim'ol. Ner yaim'la.” The light of the day was fading, much the same as the two of you were melding into one another, practically becoming one being, all his hard edges blurring where your soft lines began. The Crest began to fill with long shadows as the lights in Peli’s hangar kicked on, filling the cargo hold with just enough extra light to see. (“You are my home. My homecoming. My comfortable.”)

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, and he melted into it, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into your palm, his voice a low rumble. “Ni ratiin yaimpar gar.” (“I always return to you.”)

In the quiet moment, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek bone slowly back and forth before finally whispering with a smile, “Open your eyes.”

Once he was looking at you once again, you pulled your head back just a bit and tilted it to the side. “So, where are we going to find the covert?”

He went stiff. “We?”

You sighed, laying your head on his pauldron. “It’s been how long, and you still haven’t learned that I’m always going to come with you?”

Din looked at you with a matching sigh. He tilted his head at you, his weight shifted to one leg, his hands on your waist moving you along with him. “You sometimes stay here when I go out on a job and help Peli work on the ship. It’s almost done after what Gideon tried to do- er, it was until today.”

“Exactly. So after this last massacre, I don’t think Peli wants to see my face around here anymore,” you laughed, making him shake his head and let out a huff of laughter. “I think Boba would give us a lift to wherever.”

“And then how do we get back?”

You smiled as you closed the small space between you, speaking softer as the situation began to feel more delicate. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Why are your ideas usually half baked or somehow involve fire?”

You closed the distance between you yet again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, and pressing your forehead into his. “And yet they always work….”

“You get lucky sometimes,” he groused half heartedly before he returned the gesture, a warm ungloved hand spread across your back, the other moving up to the back of your head to tuck your face securely into the crook of his neck.

You weren’t about to pull away as he held you there gently. Turning your face towards him where it rested on his shoulder, your nose brushed against his neck, and his grip grew tighter. Glancing up towards his face, you thought back to a time in the bar when this all started when all you could see before the helmet obstructed your view was a small sliver of skin that bobbed as he swallowed roughly. 

Now you had an unobstructed view….

….Of unruly dark curls long overdue for a trim….

….Golden skin dusted with a light facial hair that had the slightest hint of grays peppered in….

….Kind, warm brown eyes that looked at you with so many promises….

….A nose that had definitely been broken once or twice….

….And a smile that took your breath away.

You turned your head up fully towards his face as you pulled away just enough to look at him straight on, and he turned his gaze down to meet you with a slightly playful tilt of his head like before.

“I’m just that good.” Your hands fell to rest on his chest plate. “Now let’s go find your people.”

“Let’s go find our people,” he corrected.

With a gentle nod, you pulled away slowly after a moment, turning towards the ramp with wide eyes as what just happened sunk in.

Our people.

Din walked past you, looking over his shoulder once he was on the ramp. “Are you coming?”

Our people. 

Turning your head slightly to the left, you saw he had stopped, helmet back on, gloves securely fastened, and every bit the Mandalorian you had met all those years ago, only now he stood waiting for you, hand outstretched in invitation.

Mine.

You smiled, walking forward and taking his hand. “Moff Gideon couldn’t keep me away.”

Xxx

Yes, I gave her a name. Eesra Kesyk. (Ee-sruh Keh-sick) Let’s face it, Mesh’la is still what’s going to be used 99.999999% of the time, and “you” the majority of the rest. But we’re going into a part of the story with a whole lot of other new players and I wanted to have something to call the reader besides “you” and nicknames. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m sorry. But, it’s my story, and that’s what I chose to do. I have a plan, so if you’ll bear with me, thank you, and I hope we can see it through together. ❤️ Plus, Din still just calls her *sigh* or “stop it!” 99% of the time, so…. 🤭

Xxx

Tags to come!

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[joelslegalwhre]

My Riduur

I put translation for the Mando‘a words at the end, so you don‘t get confused but I also have the link to the dictionary right here

Took me long enough to write this 😮‍💨 Thank god my exam is over (and I stressed for nothing, it was actually really easy), so here you go with my first ever din fic, I hope you like it x

pairing // Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count // 1.6k

summary // Mando didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. He couldn't show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it.

warnings // jealous Din (let‘s still call him Din okay, thanks), pda, established relationship, lovesick puppy energy, protective!din, allusions to smut, Din and reader speaking Mando’a, me having absolutely no clue about Mando‘a grammar, taking the helmet off if you’re married is okay here, okay? Thanks (did I miss something?)

Masterlist// Mando‘a dictionary I used // my kofi 🩷

It felt strange to be sitting here, in a bar on Mos Eisley, surrounded by all kinds of people, droids, and even a few bounty hunters.

It wasn't the feeling of sitting in a cantina that was weird. No, it was more the feeling of not having to accept a job. You were not here to look for one. In the last months you had almost had no break, and now you could finally lean back a little. The thought, of picking out a nice place with Mando for the three of you for the next few days, pleased you.

But before you did that, you just had to have the ship repaired a bit, after it had taken quite some damage.

Mando was still at Peli Motto's place, busy showing her the ship and checking the price for the repair. You had been looking around the bar ever since he left, hoping he'd be back soon. The jobs of the last weeks had been unique, the wages you had collected for them were easily enough to sit back and relax for a few days, even after getting the razor crest repaired.

You were sitting at a free spot at the bar of the cantina and watched the people and other beings talking to each other. Some argued, some laughed with each other.

You wondered how long it would take for Mando to-

"Hey there, gorgeous." someone sat down next to you, interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at the stranger for a moment, eyeing him. He had to be your age, a few strands of his dark hair fell into his face, and his eyes were not only gleaming with a deep blue, but with an extreme amount of confidence. "I didn't expect to see an angel today." he smirked in a way that almost made you laugh. He didn't lack any confidence, that was for sure.

You drew your brows together, and tilted your head slightly as you looked at him.

"Say, does that work on any woman?"

At his next sentence, you were sure he definitely had a drink too much or just a little too much self-confidence to flirt so shamelessly.

"You're not any woman." he winked.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded with an amused smile. "Oh, is that so?" you chuckled lightly.

"You're here with someone?" he asked, leaning closer. You immediately brought some more space between the two of you again, "I am, actually."

"Well, then where are they?" he asked with a grin that told you he didn't believe you. "Right here." you could hear Mando's deep, modulated voice. Your heart made a little jump when you turned your head and saw him walking straight towards you.

If looks could kill, this wannabe bounty hunter would be six feet underground by now. Mando's jaw had clenched when he saw the stranger talk to you. His jealousy stewing at the mere thought of another man looking at you this way. He’d been ready to stomp up to him and place a good, hard punch right at this fool's flirtatious face.

"Me'bana?" Mando asked, looking at you. His hand naturally found its place on your waist.

"Nothing," you leaned a little closer to him, "Kaysh mirsh solus."

Mando's light, breathy laugh made you almost turn into a puddle. 'He's an idiot.' you'd told him in Mando's native tongue, so the stranger in front of you wouldn't understand.

You had learned it when you started to accompany Mando. He was confused at first, to say at least, as to why you'd wanted to actually learn the language. But you wanted to get to know Mando, that included his native tongue. And besides, it was fun, sitting in the razor crest next to him, Grogu on your lap, learning to speak and read the extraordinary language of your Mandalorian.

"Hey, just so you know," said one started again, "Unalike that tin can there, I can show my face whenever, my lips too." he smirked. His obvious confusion about the two of you speaking in a language he'd never heard but knew must've been Mando'a.

You politely declined his request, slowly getting annoyed. "Thank you very much, but I actually really like the tin can right here."

Mando wanted to kiss you so bad, show you off as his, but he couldn't. That's just how it was, he couldn't take off his helmet. He was proud of his religion, it was part of him. You'd probably wouldn't even let him take it off, even if he tried. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so deeply. You respected his religion, tried to understand and learn about it.

And he could always take it off when the two of you were back in the privacy of the razor crest. He loved the curious look on your face every time he did, as if it was the first time you've seen his face.

But the truth was, that you were enamored with his features, the patchy beard paired with the mustache, his brown eyes and the brown curls… You could just never get enough of him.

Even before you two were married, you always loved to play with the ends of his fluffy hair, whenever it was getting longer once again. It was never much, but enough.

He had other ways to make sure everyone, especially the fool in front of you, knew you belonged to him.

"We need to look for our child." he was well aware that people believed he meant a human child when he referred to Grogu as "child" or "kid".

The look on the boy's face made a smug smile appear on Din's face, carefully hidden by the beskar helmet. He was so satisfied with himself, you could practically feel it spill over, and you didn't even need to see his face for it. You just chuckled quietly.

"Next time," Mando said, "watch who you talk to. My wife is off limits, understand?" his voice cold, almost threatening.

The eyes of the stranger widened, hearing the title.

You took Mando's gloved hand from where it was still firmly placed on your waist, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"C'mon, let's go," you smiled up at your riduur. You turned back around to address the guy, trying to sound nice, "It was nice meeting you."

With that, you left him sitting there, Mando‘s grip on your hand tightening in a protective manner, as you left the cantina.

When you were back at the ship, you could see Grogu fast asleep in his pod, "He's the most adorable thing I've ever seen." you say to Mando, looking at the little being with a look of pure love. Mando‘s heart warmed at the sight of you and Grogu. His little odd family.

"Even more than you getting all jealous of that guy back in the cantina." you grinned at him teasingly.

Mando stepped closer to you, his hands on your hips once again. You slung your arms around his neck.

"I wasn‘t-" but he interrupted himself, he was jealous, so much so that he would've loved to take his blaster out of the holster, even if it was just for show. "I was protecting my aliit." Family. You could barely get your fastening heartbeat under control, no matter how many times he'd say it. "I'm all yours, Din."

"Good." he said, and lowered his head. You could feel the cold beskar of his helmet touch your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss. You loved when he showed you his love that way. You closed your eyes, just soaking up the moment. You couldn‘t see it, but Mando had also closed his eyes, his hands still on your waist, he tried to memorize every little detail about this, about you.

After some time, spent taking the other in, after savoring the intimacy, you could hear a content sigh voice through his modulator.

"I'll look after you, always." His hand wandered to your cheek and cupped it gently. “And trust me,” he huffed, "I won't let anyone flirt with my wife like that, cyar'ika." 

You grinned up at him. You couldn't wait to be all alone with him, leaving Grogu in the cockpit to sleep, and kiss him. Oh, how badly you just wanted to give his lips a little peck. You settled for wrapping your arms tightly around his armored middle, pressing yourself against his chest. 

Mando's arms around your shoulders, he leaned his helmet against your hair. Even if all you could feel was his armor, it was still him. Your Mandalorian. Your husband. "I love you, mesh'la." the modulator had barely picked it up. He'd whispered it into your hair, like he couldn't believe that you were his. That he had the privilege to be the one to hold you… to love you. And to be loved by you. 

"You know," you started smiling at him innocently, „since the baby's asleep, I thought you could show me how much. I mean, just so I know-"

"Haav." he interrupted you, his voice low, "Now." This was no plead, no, a demand. You chuckled and started walking to the makeshift bed you shared with him.

Behind you, you could hear him taking off his helmet, and you could barely hold in your excitement to finally see his face again. You had really missed it, although you've just seen him this morning before getting up. His armor followed next, a second later you could feel his arms wrap themselves around you. "Too many clothes." he whispered into your ear, his voice clear without the modulator. It gave you goosebumps all over your body, "Take them off then.".

Mando‘a translations:

ner = my, mine

riduur = partner, spouse, husband, wife

Me‘bana? = What‘s happening? What happened?

Kaysh mirsh solus = He‘s an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

cyar‘ika = darling, sweetheart

mesh‘la = beautiful

aliit = clan name, identity, family

haav = bed

🩶taglist: @alexxavicry @kittenlittle24 @hereforfics124 @Snow30285 @cl16version

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian #grogu my beloved #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #jealousy #pedro pascal #fluff #em's masterlist

[marvelouslytrekking]

Wandering Off

Pairing: Din/reader Summary: You get separated from Din and subsequently get injured.  Din takes the responsibility of making sure you’re patched up Warnings: Swearing, typical violence, injury (not super descriptive) Word Count: 2673 A/N: I have been sitting on this one for awhile but here it finally is! I am so happy that we have Mando back (even if he seems to be the one needing cared for so far this season lol) As always, I suck at titles but here we are lol Also please let me know what you think by leaving a comment to make my day!

You weren’t sure how you had managed it, but you had gotten yourself separated from Din at a local market in a small town while doing a quick supply stop. You’d think a man clad in silver beskar from head to toe would be easy to locate but you had yet to be able to spot him again.

You had made a few loops of the market, hoping to run into him but you were having no luck. You were annoyed but sighed and decided to take the kid back to the ship. You and Din had an agreement that if somehow you got separated that you would make your way back to the Crest. It was better than trying to frantically find each other.

You decided to go through the forest since it would be shorter and you wouldn’t have to worry about other people on the road. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle yourself but you had chosen to leave without your blaster, which now felt like it wasn’t the best idea but you hoped that it still wouldn’t be needed.

You were making your way through the thick forest as quickly as you could, though you were starting to worry that you weren’t heading in the correct direction. You had decided to take a short break to see if you could manage to orient yourself.

It was once you had stopped that you suddenly got a very unsettled feeling. It felt like you were being watched. As soon as that thought had crossed your mind, you heard a twig snap. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound. You had hoped that maybe it had just been Din and he didn’t want to startle you, but your instincts were correct, you immediately saw the two men behind you, both with their blasters drawn.

You didn’t waste another second, you immediately broke out into a sprint. You hadn’t fully figured out exactly where you needed to go but you decided you were just going to have to deal with that afterwards. You ducked your head as you heard blaster shots hitting the trees above you. It did, however, make you aware that their orders must have been not to kill the kid, since the shots were clearly well above your head. That didn’t give you much relief as you were jumping over logs and trying not to trip on roots, though.

You had made sure you were holding the kid as close to your chest as you ran. You were consistently getting hit by small branches and you were trying to keep him from getting the small scratches that you knew were going to be covering your arms and legs.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder briefly, trying to determine where the hunters were behind you. That decision has been a mistake because you had missed the small downhill slope that had been in front of you. You let a out a yelp as suddenly you were going head over heels down the hill. You luckily were able to  use your own momentum to flip yourself fully over and found yourself back upright and running but unfortunately, you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, it was clear you had managed to twist it when you tripped. There was no time to think about it and there was no point in dwelling on the pain because if you stopped you would only be damning yourself and the kid to much worse.

You realized you needed to come up with some sort of a plan, something other than just running in a zig zag and hoping that you were either faster than them or could out-last them.

Even if you were heading in the direction of the Crest, with how hot on your tail they were, you wouldn’t make it into the ship and get the ship locked back up before they caught up to you. If Din was waiting for you back at the ship, there was hope since you know he would be able to handle these men quickly with a few blaster shots but you had no way of knowing if he was there.

Your only other option was to try and lose them in the forest somehow and to wait them out but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen since so far you hadn’t been able to shake them.

It seemed like your only good option was the ship. Something told you to head slightly left so you decided you had nowhere better to go, so you started to shift your zig zags to lead you to the left.

Luckily it wasn’t much longer until you noticed the trees starting to thin and an opening was before you. You let out a sigh of relief as you saw the shiny hunk of junk sitting in the open field. Even happier yet when you noticed the ramp was down which meant he was in fact waiting for you.

“Mando!” You screamed out as loud as you could hoping he would be able to realize that something was wrong.

Another blaster shot came from behind you but this time it wasn’t as high up. You realized they were not happy knowing you had just warned the Mandalorian of their pursuit. You should have known that Din would immediately be out of the ship upon hearing you. You saw his entire body tense as you shot out of the edge of the trees and was running straight at him.

A few blaster shots came from behind you. You found yourself ducking but it didn’t matter, you suddenly yelled out when a sharp, burning pain shot out from your shoulder. You tucked the child even closer to you as you collapsed onto the ground.

You tried to turn over so you could see what was happening or to be able to get up and offer Din some help but you found yourself only causing more pain. You were left trying to determine what was happening from listening.

You heard a few more shots go off before you felt someone gently rolling you over.

“It’s over, they’re gone.” Din said softly, letting you know it was him as he gently tried to move you. You let out a few pained noises as your weight was shifted on the wound.

“Gone or dead?” You knew the answer already but you asked anyway, mainly to distract from the pain.

“Dead.” He said as he slowly pulled Grogu from your arms. You felt him reach for you and let out a few whines as Din set him on the ground so that he would be able to get a better look at your shoulder.

“Well, how bad is it?” You asked to break the silence.

“Should be fine, can you get up?” If you didn’t know him any better, you would have thought he was being cold, that he didn’t care that you had been shot, but you could hear the tension in his voice and felt the slight shake in his hands as he slowly helped you sit up and then eventually stand.

You winced as you put weight on your right ankle. Din had been paying close attention and quickly snaked his arm around you to shift the weight from your injured ankle. “I tripped at one point, must have sprained it worse than I thought.” You explained even though he didn’t ask.

He helped guide you to the ship, the kid not really struggling to keep up since you were moving quite slow.  As soon as you were in, he commanded you to sit. There was no room for argument in his voice, but even if there had been you were currently too tired and in too much pain to be stubborn. You waited as he quickly made sure the ship was locked up and that you would be safe in case the two men weren’t alone.

When he was sure that the ship was properly locked down, he was back by your side with a med kit.

“I need you to take off your shirt.” He instructed. You began to try to pull it over your head, but quickly stopped when the pain was too unbearable.

“I can’t” You winced as a sharp pain shot across your shoulder when you tried to pull your shirt over your head.

“Here,” He reached out, taking the bottom of the shirt and starting to slowly pull it up.

“I’m sorry,” Din softly apologized as he noticed you tensing when he starting to move your arms. He huffed, realizing that pulling it over your head was only going to cause you more pain. Without warning he grabbed at the collar of your shirt and ripped it in half. You stared at him a little dumbfounded as he then carefully pulled each side down your arms and dropped the destroyed shirt behind you.

“You know, I liked that shirt.” You complained

“Well it was already ruined.”

You could tell that Din was inspecting all the other injuries that littered your arms. His thumb gently brushed along a particularly nasty gash that was on your upper arm. You’re not quite sure when exactly you got that one but you were sure that had to do with the amount of adrenaline that you had while trying to outlast the men.

“Looks like the trees also managed to do a good number on me.” You commented while your eyes trailed over yourself in the same way his did.

“We’ll have to get those cleaned next.” He told you before stepping behind you to get a better look at the blaster wound. He was being as careful as he could but that didn’t stop you from wincing at the sting as he worked. Any time he heard a noise of discomfort, you felt him tense and a soft apology would slip past his lips.

You found yourself focusing on his non-dominant hand that was spread across the top of your back and over your neck, keeping you steady as his other hand worked on cleaning and caring for your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice the heat that radiated from his gloveless hand, the flinches and tension in his fingers, or the soft way he would brush them back and forth, in a comforting motion when your discomfort would be made known.

Once he was finished with your shoulder, there was a slight moment, where neither of you moved. His hand that had done the work to patch up the injury, was resting further down your arm and his other was sliding up and down your back soothingly, eventually making its way to running along the bandage, as if inspecting his work, or possibly convincing himself that you were okay.

Finally he broke the moment and pulled away, coming to the other side of you. Now his focus was on the smaller cuts. He still didn’t say much as he meticulously cleaned the largest cut on your arm.

“I think this is going to need a few stitches,” He finally broke the silence. You looked down and with the dried blood cleaned away, he was right.

“Okay, I trust you.” You gave him permission to proceed. He gave you a nod before prepping everything to give you the needed stitches.

You had watched him give himself stitches on multiple occasions, had even helped him a handful of times, and yet you had never seen him so hesitant to start. He looked back up at you one more time, you held his gaze, or what you assumed to be his gaze for a few seconds before giving him a nod, hoping to ease whatever discomfort he currently had about closing your wound.

Another beat passed before he turned his attention back to your arm. Like before, you found yourself focusing on his other hand, the arm that had a light but firm hold on your arm to keep you steady. You tried your best to keep any pain to yourself so as to not make Din’s discomfort any worse, but you couldn’t stop a few pained whines from slipping past your lips. Each time, Din paused, looked up at you and apologized, he would wait for you to indicate that he could continue before he would.

Once the stitches were finished, he gently added a bandage. “Now I just need to clean all these smaller cuts and then I would like to take a look at your ankle.”

“I can clean all these, you don’t have to.” You told him softly. You knew your legs were probably just as covered in cuts as well and figured you could clean both your arms and legs on your own.

“I’ve got them” Was all he said before grabbing a disinfect wipe and carefully cleaning each cut. Most of them were of no consequence, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Mandalorian, he made sure they were each thoroughly cleaned and if any of them needed, properly bandaged.

“Thank you,” You said softly as he finally finished the last cut on your arm.

You got a nod in response, before he crouched down close to the floor. He grabbed the calf of your injured leg, pulling it closer to himself.  He looked up at you again, clearly waiting for permission to take a look at your ankle. You gave him another nod before watching as he carefully rolled your pants up. You and him winced at the same time as you noticed the very swollen ankle, which was already bruising. You knew it was from continuing to run after the initial injury but it wasn’t like you had had a choice.

“This may take awhile to heal” Din pointed out.

“I’ll be fine,” You insisted, “Nothing I can’t walk off”

You could feel the annoyed look Din was giving you, even if you couldn’t see his face.

“You will be doing no such thing.”

“You can’t put me on bed rest.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“You bet your ass I can”

You wanted to object but you knew that he was being quite serious and would not take you being stubborn well, especially after you almost got yourself killed.

“Fine, I promise to go easy, just wrap it up and then we can get off this stupid rock.” You sighed.

Din gave a satisfied noise before pulling his focus back to your ankle. He carefully wrapped the ankle, making sure it was tight enough to reduce the swelling and to make sure to stabilize it but not too tight as to be uncomfortable or to cause the blood flow to be stopped.

“Are there any other injuries I’ve missed?” He asked when he finished.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” Din stood up and offered his arm for you. You carefully stood up, keeping your weight on your good ankle. As soon as you were standing, Din snaked his arm under you and helped gently lead you towards your bunk.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked after you were settled into the blankets.

“No, I think you’ve covered everything,” You gave him an appreciative smile, “Thank you”

“Anytime.” He replied, “Though, if you were better at following my directions, things like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Are you seriously blaming me for getting shot?” You huffed.

“Well I do remember telling you to grab your blaster before leaving, and to not wander off.” He pointed out.

“I just don’t think it's very kind to blame me, the very injured person, right now.” You pouted.

“Fine but once you’re healed, we will be continuing this conversation.”

“Of course we will” You playfully rolled your eyes. While it could be annoying how overbearing Din was, after the way he had just cared for you, it was clear it was because of how much you meant to him, which made it hard to be mad at him.

#Din Djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin/you #Mando/reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando/you #pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal/reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #Star Wars x reader #star wars reader insert #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert #mando reader insert #Aimee writes

[imaginedisish]

Fade Into You (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! (This my third reupload. My tags aren’t working. I’m so sorry....this must be super annoying. This is more of a test, and it’ll be the last time I reupload lol. If the fic doesn’t show up in tags, it doesn’t show up. I’m just trying to fix it). Here is that sex pollen fic I said I’d write. I only proofread once…so I’m sorry if this is sloppy. It’s inspired by “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star. Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: You’re injected with something mysterious while hunting down a bounty…and Din takes care of it.

Warnings: THIS IS SUPER SMUTTY OML. 18+ Sex Pollen, dubcon bc of that, but there really is no questionable consent here…they both clearly give it. Oral/fingering (f!receiving), PIV-unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), canon typical violence, friends to lovers, greyjedi!reader, cursing, probably a good deal of grammatical errors, Crest still exists, and I sorta ignore Grogu at the end…yeah that’s it.

Word Count: 3,177

“When are we going to kriffing stop?” You ask, taking another step, the leaves that flood the forest floor crushing under your feet.

Din scoffs under his helmet. “Not until we find the bounty.” You groan audibly at his answer. You had been walking for what felt like hours, no, centuries. “You know it’s only been thirty minutes, right?” There’s a smirk in his voice. You silently wish you could see it spreading across his lips. You bet he smiles with his eyes, that his entire face glows when he makes his sarcastic quips at you.

You can’t help but smile at him as you shake your head. “It’s definitely been longer than thirty minutes.” You stop in your tracks, hands on your hips, head tilting to the side. He stops a few seconds after you, immediately imitating your stance.

“Aren’t you a Jedi?” He questions sardonically, but you can’t take him seriously standing like that, standing like you. The smile on your face widens. He’s almost playful. He had been more relaxed with you lately, especially since you had started training Grogu.  

You tilt your head to the other side for added effect as your foot taps impatiently against the ground. “You know I’m no Jedi.” You drop the act, taking a few steps until you meet Din’s side. While you weren’t a Jedi, given that you disagreed with most of their teachings despite being taught by one, you did consider yourself to be somewhere in the middle, balanced. You only hoped you could give Grogu an ounce of balance. It was something that took years of training to develop, to understand.

Din’s hands fall from his hips, wavering at his side. You want to grab his hands, to hold them in your own, but you fight the urge. “I know…” He trails off. Something feels different about his voice, softer. His head moves ever-so-slightly, nodding to the gurgling green thing asleep in his floating crib. “But you’re strong.” It’s genuine. “You’re more than enough for him.” And far more than enough for me, He thinks to himself.

You tentatively extend your hand out, your fingertips brushing Din’s wrist softly before clasping around it. You can hear what he’s getting at in between the lines. You smile, furrowing your brows incredulously. “I’m the lucky one,” You whisper, lightly squeezing his wrist.

I want to hold the hand inside you I want to take the breath that's true

You struggle to let go, wanting nothing else but to hold onto him forever. “I don’t know where I’d be without you,” You suddenly confess. You’re not sure where the words come from. “And the kid, too,” You amend, trying to fight the way your heart beats out of your chest.

Din’s visor doesn’t break away from your direction. You stare towards the ground, hoping to avoid his gaze, but you know it’s still on you. This was always how it happened, the stolen glances, the witty quips, the whispered confessions. They were always in passing, ready to be taken back with a generalization or the mention of the kid or some other mask or disguise.

But you and Din were dancing dangerously close to that edge. One step too far and you’d fall. As if you hadn’t fallen already.

You and Din remain frozen for a few seconds, turning away from each other to scan the forest to break the tension of the moment. But something feels off. You’re not alone. You can feel someone else, someone you can’t see, someone watching you and Din. And then, there’s a crunch – but your feet are rooted to the ground, and Din hasn’t moved either.

Another. Crunch.

“Din,” You whisper, holding your palm up, signaling him to pay attention. “We’re not alone.”

And then, as if on command, what feels like a claw wraps around your waist, dragging you away. Everything is moving far faster than you can comprehend. You fumble with your utility belt, securing your lightsaber in your hand and igniting it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Your captor’s voice rings out against your ear as he knocks the saber out of your hand. You’ve never felt more helpless, more defeated than you do in this moment.

Suddenly a blaster shot rings out, and you shut your eyes tightly, the sound echoing throughout the forest. Your captor freezes, and you stare up at him. He’s your bounty.

And he looks terrified.

“Drop the girl.” Din’s modulated voice breaks the silence. He’s standing just a few feet away, his blaster facing you and the bounty. The bounty presses something sharp into your back in response.

“One more step and I’ll inject this in her.” His voice shakes as he slightly removes the sharp object from your back so that Din can see the needle in his hand. He shoves it back against you the second Din eases up on his blaster. “I don’t even know what this one does. Just picked it out of my bag. Could be bacta, could kill her.”

“Let her go. Now.” You had never heard Din so palpably angry. There’s an urgency in his voice, a growl. “Or you’re going to regret it. I gave you a warning shot. You know what comes next.”

“Yeah, I do.” The needle stabs into your back, and you can hear the bounty squeeze the plunger of the needle to its end. You squirm, hissing as the serum flows into your bloodstream.

BANG. Your ears ring painfully, and you fall to the ground. You don’t realize Din picked you up and started running back towards the ship until you see Grogu’s crib floating alongside you, now safely closed. The bounty disappears in the distance, dead on the ground. He killed for you.

“Din?” Your voice wavers. Everything feels hazy, warm, fuzzy. You have no idea what the bounty injected you with. Nonetheless, you don’t want to be a burden. You’re slowing Din down. The bounty might not be alone, there could be someone following behind. “Put me down.” Your voice is stronger now. You’re starting to regain a bit of strength.

“No, mesh’la, I’ve got you,” He reassures, but he’s not quite convincing. “Just stay with me, okay?” There’s an overwhelming panic in his voice. You haven’t seen him like this since Grogu was kidnapped.

“I’m fine,” You mutter, but Din doesn’t react. If anything, he tightens his grip on you. “Really Din, I think I’m okay. Why are you worrying so much?”

Again, he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. “I care about you, kid.” He’s almost curt as his modulated voice slips out from under his helmet. He cares. You always assumed he did, but he’s never said those words. They cling to you, replaying on an endless loop in your mind. You want to hear him say them again.

You decide to give in, wrapping your arms around his neck. It feels nice, the way he’s holding you, his cold beskar pricking at the small spots of exposed skin around your stomach. Maybe a little too nice. You can feel yourself getting warmer, everywhere. Maybe you aren’t okay. Whatever the bounty injected into you, you know it’s starting to take hold.

There’s an all too familiar knot building in your stomach, a dull ache between your legs. “No kriffing way…” You trail off, beads of sweat starting to break out along your forehead. You squeeze your thighs together, searching for some sort of friction as the feeling worsens. It was getting sickening.

You were dosed with an aphrodisiac.

“What is it, cyare?” Cyare. You don’t know what it means, but the pet name, the way his honeyed voice reverberates in his vocoder, sounds so good. You want to feel the mouth that made those sounds against your own.

You swallow harshly, trying to calm yourself down and hold yourself back. But you can’t. “F-fuck,” You stutter, heat rippling through your body, the sensation practically tearing you in half. Your core is pulsing, aching for Din. You needed to get to your bunk, now. The Crest was just up ahead, it wouldn’t be much longer. You can hold on for a few more minutes. That’s all it’ll take.

“Tell me what you need, cyar’ika, anything.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, what he’s doing to you. But he means it. He’d truly do anything for you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought. Anything. “D-don’t talk like that,” You practically moan as you tremble in his arms. “T-this isn’t something you can help me with.”

But Maker, you wish he could.

“What do you mean?” He asks. There’s something more than concern in his voice; it’s fear, the fear that maybe you won’t make it. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling. You can’t be stubborn this time. You have to talk to me.” There’s a forcefulness behind his words, a certain confidence and command that makes you clench around nothing. He was right, this was getting worse. You can’t handle this on your own.

“I-it’s…” You’re a blabbering, stuttering mess, putty in his arms. “I think it’s some kind of aphrodisiac…” It’s only getting worse, building up in your stomach. You’re so intensely hot that you can’t even feel the wind against your skin. It was painful, unbelievably agonizing. You needed Din, needed to feel him inside of you, against you, anything, something.

Din stops in his tracks, the ramp of the Crest falling down in front of you. “Oh.” He’s shocked for just a moment before brushing it off and practically running up the ramp.

“D-Din I feel like I’m dying,” You whimper, your thighs squeezing together as tightly as humanly possible. “P-please,” You beg. “Please just touch me. C-can’t d-do it myself, ‘need to feel you.”

“Fuck,” Din grunts, stepping into the hull. “You don’t mean that. It’s the drug. You don’t want me like that, cyare.” But he wishes to himself that you did.

You shake your head. How could he possibly be so wrong? Did he not realize how much you wanted him? “N-no…wanted you this whole time,” You mutter, not caring about the consequences of your words this time around. You know exactly what you’re saying, what every word means. “I’ve wanted you since the second I met you.”

And that’s all it takes.

Without skipping a beat, Din turns off the lights in the hull. He grabs at your waist, twisting you so that your legs wrap around his hips. You can feel his erection pulsing against your heat. You roll your hips against him, moaning at the friction alone. He backs you into the wall, undoing his belt, lower pieces of armor, and pants before pulling down your leggings and panties with one quick swipe.

Suddenly, his breath fans against your ear, sending a chill down your spine. You’re so lost in the way his skin feels against yours that you must’ve missed the hiss of his helmet as he took it off. “Are you sure you want this? I can stop-,”

“No, please don’t stop Din,” You shamelessly groan, grinding against him. “Need to feel you inside me.” Your words are practically unintelligible, but Din knows what you’re trying to say. He knows what you need.

His fingers trace your hips, gliding over every inch of your body before finding their way down toward your cunt. He plunges into your folds, spreading your slick. You’re limp against him, your head falling back against the wall behind you. “So fucking wet for me, look at you.” His words alone could destroy you.

You roll your hips against his hand, hungry for more, whispering his name as his fingertips finally reach your clit. “Feels s’good,” You moan. He draws rapid circles around where you need him most, but it’s not enough.  You needed all of him. “F-fuck me, Din,” You whine shamelessly.

“Relax for me, sweet girl,” He soothes, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your searingly hot cheeks, his fingertips rubbing rough strokes against your swollen heat. You’re already so close, but you know this isn’t over yet.

“Din, ‘need your-,”

The feeling of his cock spreading you open cuts you off. “S-shit,” Din stutters, bottoming out, filling you up. “So tight, so perfect.” He gives you a minute to adjust to the sheer size of him. You love the way he feels inside you, the way he’s splitting you open. You grind against him, and he immediately takes that as his sign to pull out and shove back into you. His thrusts become faster, deeper, his cock hitting exactly where you need him with every pump.

His fingers find your clit again, circling around the pulsing nerves deliciously. Nothing has ever felt this good, the way he touches you, the way he molds against you like things were always meant to be this way. You’re fully convinced it’s not the drug. You know it would’ve always felt like this…because it’s him.

He pumps in and out of you, hungrily, his lips crashing down against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for permission to explore every inch of you. You part your mouth, happy to let him do whatever he wants.

“Being such a good girl,” Din mumbles, his warm, honeyed words echoing against the cold, metal walls of the ship. “Taking me so well. Feels so good.” You could listen to him for hours.

You can feel yourself nearing the edge. You’re shocked you’ve lasted this long in the first place, with his fingers toying at your clit, his cock pounding into you, the feeling of his skin brushing against yours in places you never thought you’d get to feel him. It’s inexplicable, and you want every moment of it engraved in your brain. You want more of this, for this to never end.

“D-Din,” His name hangs in the air as it slips off your lips. He loves the way it sounds, the way you sound, crumbling around him, falling apart for him. “I’m g-gonna-,” You hiccup, unable to finish.

“Wanna feel you come, pretty girl,” He whispers. “Let go for me.” Your walls flutter around him, tightening. “Yeah, just like that.” You can feel the tension snap, searing-hot whiteness flooding your vision as you come undone around him.

Din isn’t far behind, his hips rutting into you, his cock twitching deep inside as he finishes. He rubs your clit gently, rocking his hips against yours a few times before pulling out. You feel empty once he’s gone.

Your core is still pulsing. You needed more of him. It wasn’t enough.

“Wanna taste you,” Din whispers.

You don’t even have to ask. It wasn’t enough for him, either.

“Please,” You whine.

He sinks down to his knees, grabs onto your legs, pulling you down with him until your bare ass falls against the metal floor. He presses a chaste kiss against your lips before sinking down even farther. His hands grasp your calves, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath fan against your core. His tongue darts out, swiping against your inner thigh. You gasp softly at the sensation.

Din drags his tongue across your thigh and up to where you need him most. You moan as his tongue finally flicks your clit. It’s deplorable, lascivious, animalistic, but you don’t care. All you care about is him, the way he feels, what he’s doing to you.

“Tastes so fucking good.” His voice vibrates against your cunt, the feeling only adding to your overstimulation. Din brings his fingertips up, sliding against your folds, teasing at your entrance before plunging deep inside. “All this for me. All mine.”

Fuck he sounds so good. You’re already so close. “Din, I’m…” You trail off, unable to muster out another coherent thought. He speeds up, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his lips latching onto your clit, sucking roughly.

“That’s it, come for me again, sweet girl.” It’s a command this time, and your body involuntarily follows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers needily, stars blurring your vision as your head falls back onto the wall. You choke out his name, your chest heaving, your heart beating uncontrollably.

You should’ve told him how you felt ages ago.

You expect Din to stop, but he doesn’t. He continues to lap at you as if he’s starving.

“Din,” You whisper, your hands combing through his curls.

“Not done with you yet, perfect girl.” Kriffing hell.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, his head between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your core, his fingers pumping in and out of you. You’re not sure how many times you’ve come, but Maker does he feel good.

Eventually, his fingers pull out of you, and his lips meet yours again.

“So fucking beautiful.” He’s so gentle, so vulnerable like this. “Wanted you for so long, mesh’la.” He takes you in his arms, lifting you up as he stands. You’re not quite sure where he’s taking you – given that all the lights are off – but you don’t care. As long as he’s there with you, you’d go anywhere in the galaxy.

He sets you down against a mattress. His bunk. He gets in after you, wrapping a soft blanket around your body. His arms pull you into his bare chest, and you nestle further into him. You’re not sure when he took his armor off, or where his shirt went in all the mess, but his skin feels so good against yours.

“Din?” You call out in the darkness, your voice muffled a bit by his chest.

“Yeah, cyare?” He answers. His fingertips trace circles against your back. You shudder under his touch.

You take a deep breath. Now probably wasn’t the time to talk things out, but you wanted to, needed to. “That wasn’t just sex…to me.” You struggle to get the words out. You know you’re ruining the moment, probably eating away at whatever feelings Din has for you. But there’s so much you need to say. “I-I love you, Din.” The confession almost slips out on its own. You know it’s true, you’ve known for a very long time, but you’re not entirely sure where it came from. It was one of those uncontrollable things that happen because they’re meant to, because the universe gives no choices, no options.

He presses a kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “Loved you for so long, more than you’ll ever know.”

Your heart thumps against your rib cage, threatening to break free, to burst into a million different pieces. But you don’t care. It feels good to love him so shamelessly, and to be loved so shamelessly in return.

You fall asleep, with his arms around you, safely hidden away in his bunk, for the first time.

The first of many, countless, infinite times.

Fade into you Strange you never knew Fade into you I think it's strange you never knew

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[covermeindinsbeskar]

Cherries, Vanilla & Caf

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Grogu was finally tucked in and fast asleep in bed (after hours of running around the house, stealing snacks and crying for Din). When the morning of the third day presented itself with no sign of Din you started to worry. You rub your face trying to rid the dark thoughts of him being hurt, captured, or stuck somewhere and couldn’t come home to his aliit.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. You will be blocked. Sorry not sorry. No use of Y/N. established relationship. SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Unprotected p in v (wrap it up!) oral, fingering, soft/dom Din, cream pie, pet names: most in mando’a one time use of girl. If I missed any let me know!

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: this is my first smutty fic! Please be kind

You pace around your new home, trying to find little tasks to occupy your mind. Grogu was finally tucked in and fast asleep in bed (after hours of running around the house, stealing snacks and crying for Din). You open the living room window to let the cool night air circulate the house. Your skin feeling the immediate temperature drop due to your little nightgown. You peer out the window in hopes to see a glimpse of your Riduur, still no sign of him. Din has been out on a job for almost five days now, even though he promised it would only be two days… max. When the morning of the third day presented itself with no sign of Din you started to worry. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before- it has. Although this time, you’ve had no contact through the com-link. You drop your body down on the couch with a long sigh that strains your lungs.

You rub your face trying to rid the dark thoughts of him being hurt, captured, or stuck somewhere and couldn’t come home to his aliit. If he doesn’t come home by the morning, you’re going straight to Karga! Sorry- high magistrate Karga, you silently mock to yourself.

Sharing a home with your riduur was truly a dream come true the two of you never thought possible. Despite that, a part of you misses traveling alongside him. Being there to make sure he takes care of himself or tending to him if he’s hurt, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss the rush of a hunt. Your eyes start to flutter shut as you think about your old life with a faint smile painted on your face.

“Ner cyar’ika.” A voice calls to you

You softly blink into the darkness, your hands meeting your eyes to rub the sleep away. As you open your eyes, your met with the beautiful brown eyes of your riduur. Your heart almost burst from the relief. He’s safe. He’s home. “Su Cuy’gar!” You gasp, reaching out to Din.

You wrap your arms around his neck, Din's arms naturally envelop your waist, bringing you impossibly close to his body. He could stay like this forever if he could, if you would let him. He brushes his nose against your neck, engulfing himself in your essence. Cherries. vanilla. Caf. It's like spice to him, your scent so intoxicatingly euphoric it brings him to his knees in complete submission. He would kill to keep you all for himself. Destroy all who even dare look your way. Worship you.

His body fills with a fierce heat, his desire to show you how sorry he is for being gone for so long. To show you how much he’s missed you. A physical need to prove just how alive he is. His lips feather your neck leaving sweet little kisses where your chin meets your neck making you let out the sweetest sighs.

He feels guilty for making you worry about him. The guilt tugs at his heart, restricting his breathing that travels up his dry throat making his voice crack. “Of course, I’m still alive, meshla. I’m sorry I was gone for so long…” He never wants to be separated for this long. He took the job because he was told it would be easy. Unfortunately, the bounty proved himself difficult. A bloody fight with bounty droids got so out of control he broke his only way of communicating with you. The bounty ended up slipping away in the chaos making Din travel farther, keeping him away from you.

“Are you ok?” You ask, looking his face over for any cuts or bruises “are you hurt?”

He chuckles, your worry warming his heart “Ner cyar’ika, I’m fine.” you hum in relief.

Din slides his hands down to the back of your thighs lifting you up off the couch. You wrap your legs around his waist holding on to him as tight as you can, hoping to melt into him. Time seems to slow down when the two of you are like this. The aura of pure love and safety radiating off your bodies. A shared silence that’s always comforting, only the sounds of the faint synchronized breathing from you both.

You take in everything that is Din, running your nails lightly up his broad shoulders, scraping up the back his neck until they found their destination, entangling into his messy brown curls that always seem to fall perfectly on his face. Earning a low grunt from Din that sparks a fire between your thighs. You squeeze your legs around him tighter to put out the fire, your now burning skin finding relief from the cool beskar suit. His erection grows from the little squirms against him you think he doesn’t notice.

“I missed you so much, cyar’ika” he whispers into your hair.

You tug at the fabric around his neck burying your face into his new exposed skin. Earthy tones, cold metal and gun powder. The smell of him. The smell of home. “I missed you too, Riduur” you coo back.

“Can I take my Riduur to bed?” he asks while running his hand through your hair.

His words add more fuel to the fire that’s burning inside your body. You pull him in closer than you already were “Yes...” You purr.

He walks you both to the bedroom laying you down carefully on the bed. He swiftly crawls in-between your legs, caging you in with his upper body. You both stare at each other for a moment, basking in each other’s presence. His eyes are filled with love and adoration. You smile warmly, silently thanking the stars for his safe return. You reach your hands to cup the sides of his chin, lightly circling your thumbs through his patchy stubble.

Raising your head ever so slightly to reach his lips, the chapped skin somehow always feeling so smooth against yours. Din couldn’t wait any longer, he groans into your mouth hungrily deepening every kiss. He sinks his body onto you, your legs snaking around his waist letting him melt onto you. your nails comb through his hair, garnering another soft groan from Din.

You break away from his lips, “Please Din… I need to feel you…” you whine, your lips puffy and glistening pink. He groans and leans back onto his knees reaching for his cape, pulling it off hastily and disregarding it somewhere behind him. You sit up on your knees watching his chest rise and fall with laboured breaths. His large, gloved hands fumbling to undo his belt making his forearms flex and your mouth suddenly goes dry.

You reach for his hands pulling them away from the half-undone belt. You slowly pull off a single glove holding his freed hand in yours, bringing his palm to your lips giving it small kisses. The intimate gesture causing his heart to swell. You pull off the other glove, his now naked hand goes to the hem of your nightgown lifting it to expose your thighs. His calloused hands running up and down the newly exposed skin, pawing at the flesh, watching you with lust filled eyes.

Your breath hitches at the feeling. With shaky hands you take off the armour on his arms placing each piece safely and neatly beside the bed. Next his pauldrons, unhooking them and adding them to the neat pile of Beskar. His chest piece was your favourite, you take it off with delicate hands. Admiring the large piece as you carefully place it on the ground. The armour that keeps him safe. keeps you safe.

This has always been Din’s favourite part. Watching you shed his armour with such care, the armour you admire, the armour you respect. The armour he dedicated his whole life to hide behind, easily being shed by your hands. He falls more in love with you every time you perform this ritual. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, your collarbone, to your breasts threatening to fall out of your nightgown. He feels himself grow harder from the scene in front of him. You finish with every piece of armour, your eyes rising to find his.

“Lift your arms, cyare” he whispers, his eyes drowning in desperation. You bite your bottom lip with a soft giggle and lift your arms eagerly. He tears off your nightgown freeing your breasts and to his delight you decided to forgo wearing any panties. He sits back and drinks in your figure, his gaze causing sparks to ignite inside your whole body, your cheeks flushing, nipples hardening and a throbbing that’s sure to have let a wet patch on the sheets. No matter how many times he’s seen you on display like this you still feel shy under his eyes.

“Please Din…” you whimper rubbing your thighs together in frustration. His eyes drown in blown out lust making him rip off his clothing, freeing his thick cock already dripping and begging to be touched. He pushes you down and finds his place between your thighs. He leans down pressing his lips to your forehead, wandering down your temple, lingering on your cheekbone, to the tip of your nose, then landing on your lips. His hand firmly clasps around your jaw holding it in place, lips latching on to your neck sucking lightly and his teeth grazing against your sensitive skin. You shiver as his fingers trail down your chest, to your stomach, stopping right before you need him the most. Your body shivering from his touch.

“Please what?” His tone low and sultry. You get wet just from his words, pathetically squeezing at nothing “what do you need from me?” He asks again, loving how shy and turned on you get when he talks to you like this. His fingers lightly tap your clit making you hiss from the touch. He moans when he feels how wet you are, stroking two fingers up and down your slit collecting your wetness. you can’t stop the moan that escapes your mouth, pushing past your teeth. He circles your clit, and you can already feel the tightness in your belly. You moan out again and he quickly pulls his hand way, leaving you shaking and whimpering from the loss of touch.

“I-I need you touch me” you cry out, your wide blurry eyes meeting his “please touch me Din… please…” you beg, desperate for any form of friction.

A dark smile tugs at his lips, his eyes clouding over. his fingers make quick circles on your clit. The wet sounds from your cunt filling the room, “Such a needy girl…” he moans. You feel his sticky breath against your neck. His touch too unrelenting to hear his words. Your aching clit sends shock waves up your spine with his hurried circles, your body thrashes from the sudden intense feeling, your moans projecting off the walls. His mouth trails down your chest and attaches to your breast sucking and biting at your sensitive nipple.

“Oh!” You keen, the pleasure too much.

Your mouth falls open, eyes sealed shut. His long thick fingers trail down your slit pushing inside, curling up to hit that perfect soft spot inside. He a sets relentless pace, pushing his fingers in and out. Your walls tighten around his fingers, your vision becoming blurry “I- I’m…” you stutter, your brain unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Not yet cyare… I need to taste you…” he’s desperate and demanding. He pulls his fingers away making you gasp at the loss. His tongue trails down your body, hovering over your dripping cunt. You look at him with hooded eyes. Your hands fall to his head, tugging at his hair and pushing your hips off the bed needy for his touch. He spreads your lips revealing your aching hole, your wetness dripping onto the bed.

“Haarkchak, yooba solus mesh’la” he groans. His tongue finally makes contact, swiping up and down your folds, your mouth falls open into a O shape with a silent scream. He hungrily laps at your core, the sensation too much as his stubble scratches on your inner thighs. He pushes your thighs down to open you up wider to him. You pull at his hair at the euphoric feeling. His lips close around your clit sucking and biting with a fast pace as he drinks your wetness.

“Din… I’m-” you moan out, white spots taking over your vision and the tightness in your belly becoming too intense too handle. He groans into your core the vibrations sending you over the edge “-gonna come” you cry out.

“Come for me mesh’la… let me taste you…” with the final go ahead you cave to your pleasure. You cry out, your body thrashing under his touch. Din pins your hips down as he moans at the taste of you, so sweet to him. he rises up, his face soaked from your wetness wiping his mouth with a wicked grin.

You take the moment to collect yourself, your breathing staggered and body shining from exertion. He takes his cock in his hand stroking himself at your entrance, “Good girl, cyare, did so good for me…” he runs his shaft up and down your folds. You bite your bottom lip, hips moving with desperation needing him in your cunt where he belongs.

“Please… fuck me Din… I need you inside…” you moan. Din swipes his fingers through your wetness and coats his cock. He inches himself inside at an agonizing slow pace, he’s only halfway inside and you already feel so full. You hook your nails into his shoulder, readying yourself for him to fully enter. He looks down at you with tenderhearted regard “are ok cyare?” You can only nod, your brain already fuzzy. With your permission he pushes himself in until he bottoms out, his hips meeting yours. You both moan in unison. “I’m going to moving, ok?” You nod again, wrapping your legs round his waist.

He leans down to confine your body with his, nipping at you neck that’s sure to bruise in the morning. His movements are slow, always afraid to go to fast. You whine into his ear loving the way his warm body feels on top of yours. Your riduur. Finally, home. Finally, inside you. “Faster…” you coo. He grunts at your sweet command, propping himself on his knees and pushing his cock all the way inside until he hits your cervix. You arch your back from the feeling, silent screams trying to leave your mouth.

He grabs holds of waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He snaps his hips back and forth moaning at the feeling from your cunt squeezing him so deliciously. “Feel so good, my riduur…” his pubic bone rubs against your clit almost sending you over the edge. You look down to watch where you two are connected, his cock disappearing and reappearing inside you, the feeling of his balls hitting your ass, it’s all too much. Your cunt squeezes tighter, your vision going blurry from you tears swelling in your eyes.

“I’m not going to last long cyare…” he moans. His pace not slowing down. His face is scrunched up, his body shining from his sweat, his curls glued to his face. So beautiful. You reach for his face brining him down to meet his lips with yours. You moan into his mouth, and he gratefully swallows them. The kisses become sloppy, teeth grazing each other's. “I’m going t- to come Din…” you moan.

His pace becomes staggered, his moans becoming louder “with me cyare… together…” your cunt pulses around him, the feeling too much for Din, you shut your eyes, stars appearing behind your lids, and you let go, soaking his pubic hair. He hisses, his climax right behind yours. He grunts as he pushes inside one last time, his head falling to your chest. You feel his cock twitch inside you, “come for me riduur…” you coax. He moans out as he fills your sensitive cunt with his seed, filling it to the brim. You both breathe in unison, staying connected for a few moments as you both come down from your highs. He lifts himself off of you, slowly pulling himself out, you both moan out at the loss. He leans back and spreads your lips watching his seed drip out of your pulsing cunt. The long sticky stream trailing down your thighs only to puddle onto the bed. You whimper from his erotic action.

You lay there trying to catch your breath as he disappears to the refresher, only to return with a hot cloth to clean you, the feeling so intimate after such a lewd act. He falls down beside you, pulling you over to him to rest on his side. Your leg falling over his waist as you rub light circles on his chest. You look up at him, your eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Welcome home, my riduur," you smirk. He pulls you up on top of him, applying kisses all across your cheeks, you smile, your cheeks turning bright red. “ni kar’tayl gar darasuum” he whispers as you slowly fall asleep in each other's arms.

Translations:

Su cuy’gar: hello. You’re still alive

Mesh’la: beautiful

Cyar’ika: darling/sweetheart

Riduur: spouse, wife, husband, partner

Cyare: darling

Aliit: family

Ner cyar’ika: my darling

Ner riduur: my spouse

Haar’chack, yooba solus mesh’la: damn it, you are beautiful

ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: I love you

#din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin smut #sw the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #star wars #mando #sw mandalorian #riduur

[asgardwinter]

remember that night?

summary | After months since he left you behind in Nevarro, Din Djarin was knocking at your shop. As always, it wasn’t anything besides business to have him come back, or so you thought.

pairing | Din Djarin x fem!Reader

warnings | SPOILERS FOR S3EP01!, tiny angst and discomfort, a lot of reminiscing about the past…

word count | 3k

author’s note | ok, so… I’m trying something out here and I hope it’s reasonable… I might continue this through the other episodes — it only depends on my inspiration and time… Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this!! I wrote this while listening to “Remember That Night?” by Sara Keys.

Misc. Characters masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. The greeting droid said through the comms. Please state the purpose of your visit. 

Din Djarin didn’t know what he felt as he prepared to land in Nevarro. The planet brought back mixed emotions to the surface, things he kept to himself during the last months and didn’t plan to relieve.

“Here to meet an old friend.” The mandalorian announced. The thought of someone else passing through his head before stating the Magistrate as the friend.

… 

“Is there a problem here, Magistrate?” 

Until Din decided to step into the discussion there were a lot of sharp words and hidden threats exchanged. The pirates were clearly after some trouble with the High Magistrate, but he also knew that Greef Karga was great enough at looking after himself and Nevarro. The truth was that he didn’t want to overstep or get into something if there wasn’t a clear need to.

But the conversation had gone long enough for his personal taste.

“Is there a problem here?” Greef repeated the question, this time looking to the pirates. “What do you think?”

“Not if you serve me a drink.” Vane continued to insist on the drink request — that was also not so much of a request.

“Not in my school.” The Magistrate was firm.

“You hear that, boys?” He started his dramatic number with his colleagues, making a very dramatic pause. “His school.” And finished it with a laugh at his current adversary. “You paid us for murder and mayhem inside these doors. Sounds like you went soft.”

“You think so?” He showed the gun, ready in its holder, a direct response to Vane’s threat. “Try me.”

The staring contest continued, the tension was up and everyone in the audience was waiting to see who would shoot first in that duel.

No surprise to see it was Greef Karga, the blaster falling from Vane’s hands.

“Tell Captain Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get out of here.”

The other pirates were ready to counterstrike, turning to shoot the High Magistrate. But the mandalorian was of great help, shooting two of them while the other was taken care of by Greef. The people around the scene were tense, some even screamed with surprise, Navarro really had changed. 

In the end of the confrontation Vane was standing there alone, hurt and with no back up.

“Get out of here, Vane. Now.” Greef repeated himself.

“Sure you wanna let him go?” Din was a bit worried, looking at the pirate that was already running from the scene to save his skin.

“Yes.” He nodded. “He'll let it be known that Nevarro is respectable now and not to be trifled with.”

Soon the droids were cleaning the scene up and leaving the street exactly as it was before the small struggle, just as if pirates had never touched the place.

“Yes, sir, right away.” The droid started to complete the task, running around to communicate the responsible droid squad.

“I gotta level with you, Mando. I need a marshal.” Greef confessed.

“What about Marshal Dune?”

“After she brought in Moff Gideon, she was recruited by Special Forces.”

“And what came of Gideon?” Din was curious about it.

“Ugh. He was sent off to a New Republic War Tribunal.” Yeah, that wasn’t truly the best of news but it’d do the job. “So... What do you say? Are you ready to put on the stripes and collect a healthy…”

The mandalorian’s eyes got lost somewhere along the street, a gate that was clearly very well made was open and he could have a peek inside a workshop. A new one that wasn’t there the last time. Between scattered pieces from ships and droids, tools that were high quality even with some dirt covering them from regular use, he found a familiar face.

You.

Very concentrated on the machinery placed in your working table you barely listened to the shooting outside. Din couldn’t really count the huge amount of times he called you out for that same thing.

You need to pay attention to your surroundings even when you are working inside the Crest.

That seemed like a lifetime ago. And you looked just the same from that distance.

That hurt even more,

“You'd make a very fine lawman.” Grief repeated himself.

Din picked up the conversation from where it had stopped. “Why not request one from the New Republic?”

It was going to be a hell of a discussion.

… 

Life in Nevarro was quite simple after Din left.

Right, you couldn’t deny the huge hole left in your heart that had the exact shape of one mandalorian and his small green foundling. You could only sit on the sleepless nights and remember your times on the Razor Crest with them.

But did someone ever die from a broken heart? Well, maybe someone had, but not you.

You made everything work in your own way, just like you were used to doing before you crossed paths with Din Djarin. You were a damn good mechanic, that’s how you met him in the first place, so it wasn't a problem to get your own workshop to attend the region.

You had your bad days too, the competition between the mechanics in the region wasn’t that healthy and you might have used Din’s reputation to your own benefit. 

All with the best of purposes.

But with the whole remodeling of Nevarro it got easier and less threatening. Being in the good graces of Greef Karga was great too, really helped with business and the prestige around the planet. You specialized your abilities in droids as well as ships, expanding your business and even getting two reasonable assistants to help you with the demand.

It was a good way to live.

Not as good as traveling around the galaxy with Din Djarin and Grogu. But reasonably good.

You could say that at least you had a story to tell, telling people you visited some planets, got into adventures, was trained in self defense by a Mandalorian and almost defeated him in a hand-in-hand because you already knew how to fight… 

If you thought enough you could almost hear his laugh through the modulator from that day, the way his hands held yours and you shivered even with his and your gloves in the way.

Those were all good stories. 

Bitter memories now.

So when a huge wall of beskar entered your shop you were more than surprised. 

Of course, you did expect that he would eventually come back to Nevarro, given how much the place was growing as an independent trade center in the Outer Rim.

But you didn’t expect him to be right at your door.

“Din Djarin.” You said looking at his shiny helmet.

Your eyes went searching for the small green frame that was always glued to his father and you smiled to see the little guy. You missed him so much.

“Grogu, it’s very nice to see you.” You winked and he cooed at your gesture. “And what brings you here to my humble shop?”

Din continued to be silent for some time, his helmet showing he was looking around, maybe for any threats because he didn’t trust you right? Just the same man you remembered him to be.

“We need to reconstruct IG-11.” He announced and you were suddenly in a laughter crisis. “What?”

After breathing for about five times you recovered yourself. “Find another droid.” You advised. “IG-11 was destroyed.” He continued to stare at you from behind the cold helmet, until you felt the need to explain yourself. “Look, I’m not a big fan of the disposable way most people view droids these days, but he can’t be recovered. Besides, I can make you a pretty reliable droid and…”

“It’s that droid or nothing.” He was short at his answer.

“Do you even have the pieces?” You asked him.

Easily, he placed IG-11 — or what was left of him — in the top of your table. It was much more than you thought there was in the first place, but it was still far from good news.

“He has hooked up to power and we even woke him up, but we believe he defaulted to his old programming.” DIn started to explain as you examined what was left of your old friend. “He tried to attack Grogu and I had to shoot him.”

“Several times, if I may point.” You looked surprised to see the several recent blaster marks.

There wasn’t much to analyze or diagnose, the droid seemed like a lost cause. The memory circuit was broken and it would take forever to find or make a new one, as well as no promises you would recover IG-11 as he was in the moment of his death.

“We took him to the Anzellans but… I wanted your opinion.”

That was new. Din Djarin assuming he wanted you to say something about the situation? The world wasn’t the same anymore.

“I don’t believe I can fix him Din. Rebuilding a body is a piece of cake, but the memory circuit is jammed, lost actually.” YOu explained, still looking at the drawing for something more exhilarating than that. “I can’t make a new one right now and those are impossible to find these days. And if you find it, they are extremely expensive… So no IG-11 for now.” You concluded, getting away from the working desk.

“What if I find you this circuit?” He considered. “Can you fix it?”

“I’m sure I can. But, even for you, it would be a complicated mission.” You were still trying to put some sense in the head of your the mandalorian. “I’m sure a new one would be…”

“No. It’s IG-11 or nothing.” There was the stubborn man.

“What do you even need him for?” You asked, turning from the starfighter’s parts you were organizing on a shelf.

“We are going to explore Mandalore.” 

It sounded even crazier than the plan of fixing IG-11.

“We? What? How’s that?”

“Me and Grogu.” He detailed. “I need to find the living waters under the mines of Mandalore. Because of… Mandalorian reasons.”

“Oh, I see.” You understood he didn’t want to tell what that s=was about, so all you did was hide the little it hurt you. “If you bring me that piece I can fix it, but just know that you don’t deserve it.”

“I’ll be leaving in the morning to find it.” 

That was the last thing he said before exiting your shop and leaving you behind with your work. You were going to need some alcohol after that interaction, you thought as you just hoped for the day to end sooner.

…

One thing that came with all the change in Nevarro was the nightlife. Of course the bars were still filled, but the patrons had changed from pirates to different types of trades and merchants. So when you chose a random bar on your way home it was less crowded than it’d been a couple months ago, a bit calmer too.

You didn’t need calm.

In a matter of seconds your usual drink was in your hand and you account missing a few credits.

You just wanted to forget that Din was in town, that you had seen him, talked to him and offered your help with IG-11. That was such a terrible idea even for you. You heard him call your name and it was like a sign to down the cup in one gulp.

Kriffing hell, you were even imagining his voice? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to drink after the encounter…

But it happened again and you turned to look, already cursing yourself for the insanity of it.

And there he was.

“What are you doing here?” Was the first thing you could think to ask.

“Gathering information.”

“Okay. There are other seats in the bar though…” You pointed to the area in the back filled with empty chairs.

Din didn't answer. Instead you ordered another drink and he rushed you to pay for that, leaving some credits on the counter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my stuff.” You warned him without looking at his face. “Don’t want to owe you a single credit, Djarin.”

“Well, I believe I owe you, am I wrong?”

It was time for you to stay in silence. He did owe you, not in a monetary way though, it was more about the time you wasted though you had something.

And that’s how, after several months of distance and no interactions, you found yourself drinking— and by drinking you meant you sipping on a suspicious alcohol and staring back at that huge wall of beskar — in the company of Din Djarin. It could’ve been the very same bar in Nevarro if it wasn’t for Greef Karga’s remodeling of the place.

“I saw you got the kid back.” You tried to start some conversation between the two of you.

“After I completed the mission he found his way back to me.” He explained in such a shallow way you don’t even try to extract more of it.

You wouldn’t try to make a grown ass man talk to you. At least those two were together again, it was easy to remember how the mandalorian was without the little green friend.

That could’ve been a little push towards that fucking night he just disappeared.

You remembered how vague he was with explaining his new mission, and tried one more time to talk to the man, more out of curiosity than the pleasantness of the conversation. “What is the truth about that whole Mandalore thing?”

“I need to bathe in the living waters under the mines of Mandalore. Because I removed my helmet and I am no longer a mandalorian.”

“So, sort of a redemption?”

He nodded and your eyes found the wall behind him.

Silence again.

If you closed your eyes you could pretend it seemed so much like those late nights inside the Crest. You’d sit side by side and just stay there enjoying the presence of each other — or at least that was what you thought you were doing.

Now you were just trying to not lash out on him, trying to be the bigger person and ignore the past for a second. You could come back to hating him after he left again, even if you never managed to hate him properly how you should.

If you maintained the good behavior you could at least have some more time with Grogu, who you missed even more than the mandalorian.

“Thank you for your help.” He said.

“It’s going to cost you.” You reminded him. “I don’t work for free. Only with a small exception for family.”

That word loomed above you two, weighing more than a whole spaceship. Your old spaceship.

And just as if he was reading your mind he talked a few more words. “There’s no space in the starfighter.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “What happened to the Razor Crest?”

“It’s a long story.” Din told you, adjusting himself in the bar’s stool. “But it doesn’t exist anymore.”

It was just one more thing into that pile of wreckage that was your relation with Din Djarin — if you could even call it that. You knew already you were a fool to expect that it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, a terrible joke the universe was playing on you, but it was real life.

The mandalorian was just a huge jerk.

“There’s no space in the starfighter.” He repeated himself, more serious this time as if that was possible.

“Oh, I see.” It was your turn to be blank and right to the point. “Believe me, I do. So, if this isn’t some catching up with friends what is it?”

“I—” It wasn’t the first time you saw the mandalorian falther to answer something, but was one of the few of those.

“Why are you here, Din?” You spat it before he could continue. “Why did you really come here tonight? Shouldn’t you be preparing to find that goddamn piece?”

“That’s just what I’m doing.”

“You know Din, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” The alcohol was giving you a bit more courage and that was all you needed to do what you wanted and dreaded for those last months. “Why did you kiss me that day?”

The mandalorian was mute to your question, not a word or a move slipped out of his armor and you decided you were best by yourself trying to heal from something you had imagined.

“Well, I guess this explains a lot.”

You got up from the stool you were sitting and downed the rest of your drink in one large sip. Turning to go out the cantina, you stopped in your tracks once more, just to ask Din one more thing.

“Just one thing.” You were a bit more loud with those words. Nothing that would turn looks towards you but just enough to prove a point. “What the fuck was I to you this whole time we travelled around?”

“You were my mechanic.” It was like default words, like he was a droid programmed to say. “The Razor Crest was a huge job for someone to do it alone.”

What were you expecting anyways?

“I’m going to reassign the job to the Anzellans. They are better with lost causes anyway. And reliable to hire.” You warned him, with a tip in the end because you just couldn’t help yourself. “Goodbye, Din Djarin. I… Don’t show up anymore, ok? It’s just too hard to see Grogu if I can’t spend time with him.” You whispered the last part, walking towards the door and, later, to your room in the back of the shop.

The streets were not too crowded, it was working days anyway so not many people were drowning themselves in drinks or the nightclubs around town. You walked slowly, trying to postpone the moment where you’d lay your head on the pillow and have deep reflections slipping inside your head with no invitation.

At least you knew he wouldn’t stay too long in town.

Right?

#asgardwinter writes #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian reader insert #mando x reader #din djarin angst #mando x you #star wars reader insert

[hotpinkboots]

Imagine you're wearing lipstick and you kiss the part of Din's visor that would be directly where his mouth is so it ends up looking like this

#pinkie speakie #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #star wars #star wars memes #the mandalorian s3 #the mandalorian season 3

[makrokosmuss-blog]

To see me

Summary: A head wound can be fatal for a Mandalorian. To not reveal ones face contrasting strictly with a pain that needs to be treated. Yet Din finds himselfs a savior - and is himself shocked at how much his touch starved soul enjoys each and every caress of soft hands.

Warning: Head trauma, blind reader, a lot of pining and a bit anxiety from Mando's side A/N: Due to request here a little short story about a blind reader/ medic reader tending to Mando. 

“It is fine.” “It is not.” The Armorers voice was firm and it still made Din quiver like a boy when she spoke in that tone to him. It also made the throbbing pain on the back of his head worse. Injuries to the head were not usual for Mandalorians. For reasons that need not be explained. Especially because of that reason they were deadly as well. The motivation to never show one's face was deemed to be greater than the one to stop  a slow painful death due to a head wound. This was the Second time Din had ended up with one. The first time he’d thankfully been in the presence of a droid that helped him out. This time however, he hadn’t been as lucky. It was at the back of his head too, he was unable to treat it no matter how often he’d tried. With dizziness and a migraine that drove him mad he’d made it to the others, hoping he’d recover if he’d just rested. Again, he hadn’t been lucky. Days had passed and his state had nothing but  worsened. A fever joined the migraine and the vertigo and it hadn’t been long til the Armorer had caught on to it. “If it’s a head wound it needs treatment. Soon.”, she spoke, her voice still tense and like she was scolding a thick headed child. “And how am i going to get that?”, Mando asked, looking up at her. In his state, sick with fever and his vision blurred even through the sharpening visor he felt like laying straight back down. Grugo sat on his makeshift bed beside him. Cooing worryingly. The little guy had not left his side since it had happened and had that saddened look on his little green face that made Din’s heart melt. The foundling had tried often enough to get under his helmet, use his healing on him but yet again and again Din had carefully sat him down, telling him it was not right. 

The Madnalorian before him crossed her arms, armor shining in its golden hue as it caught the light of the setting suns outside the window. It caused Din’s migraine to flare up worse than before. “I would know someone. I have to see if they are still around…”, she said. Her voice lower now, nearly a whisper. Mando frowned, shaking his head, slowly, not to make matters worse. “How would that work out?”, he asked, confused by her statement. Yet again, he wasn’t quite fit to think at all lately. “It does. I’ve sought them out many times before.”, the Armorer explained in a calming tone. “Is it a droid, then? I still don’t love them but i’d surely give it a go…”, he answered. Even he noticed just how weak he sounded. “No droid. But it is right for our kind. You can trust me on this, I will make contact. Rest now.” Din felt her hand on his shoulder. Warm. And reassuring. His head killed him. He closed his eyes. Trusting her. 



Grogu whined. A day had passed and Din found himself in his cockpit, readying the ship for flight. He looked over his shoulder, watching the little guy squeal. “What? I’m fine. I can fly you know.”, he said out loud. Watching Grorgu’s reaction. “I can. Don’t give me that look. I’m fine enough. I won’t kill us.”, he muttered, turned back to face the console again. Sometimes he felt crazy. For talking so much to his foundling, knowing he would get no answer. Maybe all the years of doing missions in solitude had made him mad after all. Nervous, definitely. Nervous to meet someone. Nervous about what would happen. About how this would go. He stared ahead. The ship was ready to go. Grugo cooed. “Fine Fine I’ll put the thing on auto-pilot. Let’s go.”, Din sighted, forcing him to just trust fate on this one. I. A Gaze He held Grogu closely, pressed against him. This was the place. He was sure of it. And yet he had not knocked nor rang for a minute now, simply staring the door down. The planet was nice. Clean. Green - bluish flora bloomed around the place. The street seemed awfully clean. No shady alleys, no run down taverns, no greasy walls. This wall before him was pure white. A house build of strangely white and smooth stone. Strange flying tiny creatures around him, surrounding the flowers in the garden before it that he still stood in. Grogu, once more, brought him back to reality. A soft coo this time. As if he was asking if everything was alright. It caused Mando to take a sharp inhale, his heart still beating fast. He did not know why he was nervous at all. Maybe because he was about to take off his helmet in there. Or maybe because this place seemed all too wrong for him. Too clean, too nice. He sat his Foundling down carefully. His head spun as he did. It reminded him all too well exactly why he found himself here in the first place. He stared ahead again. The display in his visor telling him once more that yes - this was the location he was ought to be. Somehow, even though it was the Armorer herself who’d sent him here, he felt his anxiety act up. He’d messed up already. He’d taken off the helmet before. He’d swore to himself he’d do anything to never have that happen again. And here he was, about to break that promise. Grogu squealed. He seemed happy enough. Raising his little hands to touch the blue leaves and then tried to get to the little creatures that sat on it. “Alright then. Let’s go.” Din took a deep breath, lifted his hand and knocked. Three times. Muscles tight. Expression stern. And then it all changed. Then She opened the door. II. A Whisper

It had taken her a while to get the door. To make her way towards the knocking sound, but as she did, she had surely noticed him standing before it. Mando stared her down. Straight up gazing at her soft features. The shine of her hair. The silken dress that hugged her figure loosely but oh so wonderfully. She was radiant. Dazzling. Mando felt his heart drop into his stomach, his heart picking up. She hadn’t spoken a single word until now. And he hadn’t either. Damn it he hadn’t even moved. This woman was supposed to take care of his head? How was that going to work out? Ignoring the fact that her looks bedazzled him, he still did not know how she was to solve this problem that he had. That he was here for. Mando watched her closely. Taking a deep breath. He was just about to say something when he noticed her soft smile changing into a confused little tilt of her head as she drew her brows together. “Hello?”, she asked, uncertainty tainting her voice. Hello?  Mando was the one frowning in confusion now. Why was she asking as if she didn’t see him standing right in front of her. Grogu squealed on the ground, raising his tiny arms towards the woman and grinning brightly - as if he’d solved the mystery before him. Mando, following the little one's gaze looked up again and then, suddenly it clicked for him as well. She did indeed not see him. It was the certain silver glimmer in her eyes that had given it away. Only visible when he was truly looking for it. She was blind. It rang through his head. And so many questions were answered. Quickly explaining himself, Mando stood up straight. He cleared his throat, then spoke: “I ah…the Mandalorian. The Headwound. The Amorer send me.” Not much of an explanation, he noticed quickly. Feeling a bit shy and nervous and still dizzy before her. The smile returned to the woman's features none the less and she quickly nodded, making a small and elegant side-step to make room for him to enter the door. “Of course! I’ve been waiting for you. Please, come in.”, she chimed, the smile on her lips genuine, Mando did notice now. In the way the focus of her eyes was just off. She moved so naturally though. So beautifully, swayfully elegant. The woman had already made him forget the pain in his head for just a minute there. III. A touch He had entered the small house. Had been told to sit down. Mando did, as usual, exactly as he was told. It gave him time to look around and calm his breathing. He was still nervous as hell, even though this turn of events had indeed calmed him a bit. She could look at him, straight up, no helmet involved, and would not see his face. It was quite the genius concept for a mandalorian medic, really. Yet again, he asked himself just how good of a medic she was if she could not see what the hell she was doing. It frightened him a little. As did the fact that he was still to remove his helmet right in front of the lovely woman. He had asked her where he could sit Grogu down for the time being. She had shown him to a room. A couch in it. A desk. Not much more. Yet the cushions were soft enough and with some loving words of encouragement and explanation the little foundling sat perfectly still on them. Mando bringing his favorite snack along and offering it as a bribe surely had helped as well. That dilemma was taken care of then. Only her remained. Her, the mysterious woman who still sorted things out just behind him. Her, that made him all so nervous in two very different ways. “Are the blinds closed?”, she asked, her voice as soft as he remembered it. He did not need to look at them to know they weren’t. “No. May I close them?”, he asked, a frown on his features. He’d love to get up and just…move to ease the tight muscles and calm his quickly beating heart. “Yes that would be lovely, thank you.”, she smiled softly, turning to him. He watched her again. Not returning the smile. She wouldn’t see it anyway. He asked himself if that was making it better or worse for his conscience. He needed to ask. At least to take the pressure off a little. Yet he felt it was not very nice to do so. He wavered, then turned over his shoulder as he closed the black curtains before the window, darkening the room. “I…I’m sorry to ask. truly I am but…”, he started, soon to be interrupted by her. He was surprised that it turned out to be a chuckle. A sweet and delightful yet soft chuckle. “I see nothing. No worries. You can take the helmet off without restraint, Mandalorian. This isn’t the first time I am doing this.”, she explained. Her tone was reassuring and well meant. It eased him a little. “Huh…Alright then.”, he agreed quietly, taking his seat once more. He looked around. The room was pretty barren, a bit minimalistic but apart from that nice and still cozy in a way. “Anything I can…do?”, he asked, tapping the chair nervously with his gloved fingers. She smiled at that, concentrated on her silver tray before her with all kinds of useful utensils on it. “You may undress.”, she spoke. It made Mando’s skin trickle. “All or…”, he asked, voice deep, trying his best not to stutter. “It’s just the head wound, yes?”, she asked, raising a brow. “Yes, all else iis taken care of.”, he answered dryly. “Just the helmet, the gloves and the shoulder pieces then. Please.” Just. Mando disliked even that quite a lot. Yet got to work quickly. All felt relatively normal but the helmet. He wavered at the helmet. Not quite daring to take it off just yet. She moved over to him then. And then he felt her. Soft hands, caressing over his shoulder, towards his chest.

The man felt blood rushing to his head and his skin tingled. He had been so touch starved for so long that even this felt like the most intimate thing he’s felt in months and just like that, he tensed up underneath her gentle hands. She stood behind him. Her hands on his shoulder, caressing and massaging along the neck. “Helmet is still on, I feel.”, she teased. The woman did not judge nor pressure him. She sounded understanding, if anything. “I..yeah…Sorry it’s…”, he started, stumbling over his words. impossible. horrid. most intimate. near hurtful. “I understand. Completely. We’ll take it slow, no need to remove it just now.”, she spoke. Her tone was so calm and reassuring. So very guiding and careful with him. Mando found himself enjoying that a bit too much for his own liking and just like that he leaned back a little, enjoying the massage of his strained neck. A touch most magical.

“Tell me what exactly the problem is.”, she offered, trying to ease him into teh experience. Mando sighted. Closing his eyes. “Mission gone wrong. I landed head first on stone. Hard. Usually the helmet buffers each fall but I must've landed in a bad way. Hit my head. Just above the right eye.”, he explained. He was still tense. Still nervous. His heart was pacing quickly and his breathing was irregular. She only hummed softly. Urging him to go on. Her hands never stopped caressing him. She felt wonderful.

“I…had a bad headache after that. Noticed blood trickling out from underneath my helmet. Checked myself in the mirror. Was too dazed to do something about it myself. It only got worse after I checked back in with the others.”, he continued. He was easing slightly. Losing himself in her touch and his tale. “I understand.”, she nearly whispered, “What exactly worsened?” This time he answered straight away. Way less restrained. “The pain. Dull and throbbing behind my forehead. Dizziness. Nausea.”, he sighted.

“I am very sorry to hear that. I’ll see what I can do, It might be serious however.”, she warned him, genuine worry and feel in her voice. Mando nodded. “I…trust you. I suppose.”

“You can. Many of your brothers and sisters have come here. There wasn’t one yet whom I could not aid.”, the woman spoke reassuringly, squeezing his shoulders lightly as a little heads up. Mando found himself smiling at that. “Now. Helmet. Want to take it off yourself or do you want me to do it?”

He froze again at that. Damn he’d grown quite comfortable just now. Could’ve stayed like that…but there was the matter at hand. “I…” Mando had never ever thought that he would ever let someone else touch his helmet. Yet again. Many Mandalorians had come here. He was safe with her. It was alright. It was fine. Trauma trickled underneath his skin. To be seen. To remove the helmet himself and… “Would you do it?” He wouldn’t want to repeat that trauma.

She was soft. And respectful. Her slender hands found the right button to release the tight grip of the helmet all too soon and with the uttermost care she grasped underneath the metal, lifting it off his head.

Mando still hated and loathed every second of it, yet again, the extreme pain that flooded through his body like a toxin as soon as the pressure of the helmet was released showed him just how much this action was necessary,

“Are you okay?”

She had asked carefully, still holding his helmet in her hands. “I…Yeah.”, the Mandalorian before her answered. Sweetly, she reached over him, placing the helmet back into his hands, so he could hold tightly onto it during the procedure. She still stood behind him. Still, even in theory could not glance at his features. Din Djarin felt utterly naked nonetheless.

“You have a lovely voice. By the way.”, she then said. Mando frowned, turning his head over his shoulder to look at her without a second thought. “What?”, he asked, not noticing he had just turned his features to her right then. She seemed to look right through him. So sweet, so beautiful she stood before him, a lovely smile on her perfect lips. “Without the modulator. You sound handsome.”, she repeated herself. A blush creeped up her cheeks and Mando felt his heartbeat picking up pace once more.

“I…thank you.” “You are very welcome.” “You”, , he stopped himself there. not daring to tell her just how wonderful she looked, “It’s…nothing. Sorry.” “All good then. Let’s get you sorted out.”, she spoke with that smile of hers, closing in again.

Her soft hands running over his bare skin. He reveled in every last one of her touches. Painful or not. “You’ll be out of here in no time, Mandalorian.”, she promised. He could hear the smile in her soft voice. Hoping she would be wrong.

@animefan3223 @shinymoonstarfish​ @imokayunlessyoumentionendgame @that-girl-named-alexamed-alex @frau-moon​ @leeeggggsssssss @beardie-mama @why-always-me-gosh-please @lizziel1410 @momolulukai @hymnofthevalkyrie @sunshinerainbowmurderkitten @sunipostsstuff @louist91syndromedrome @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @danceswithsporks​ @minetticatinwonderland @sunipostsstuff​ @sparrowwithaquill​ @monkeyking-and-liuer-mate​ @sinon36​ @a-rose-of-amber​​ @ and for : @lolitalatteart​

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars preferences #star wars fluff #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian x you #mando fluff #mando imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mando x reader #mando x blind!reader #blind!reader #medic!reader #mando x medic!reder #Mando x oc #mando x you #mando #din djarin #Din x you #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #mando x y/n

[gravvitywritestrash]

Dincember Day 5, Prompt: Cold

Gender neutral reader!

Warnings: Allusions to past sexual encounters (you gotta really read into it). Small spaces, mentions of slight claustrophobia.

Series Masterlist

"You're staring."

Din did not reply to her, instead becoming more ridged in the cramped space of his bunk.

The Crest had suddenly had a major systems failure during the flight, dropping the ship out of hyperspace suddenly. The diagnostic had reported a power supply issue, and Din had to emergency land the ship on the closest habitable planet. Unfortunately, the planet they had landed on was experiencing their winter season, and even worse, a snow storm started only hours after landing, preventing his mechanic from being able to go outside to fix the issue.

A short in the fuse box. Needs new wires and fuses. They had told him earlier. The mechanic he had hired a few cycles ago had quickly found the issue, but the onslaught of snow cascading out of the sky prevented them from being able to safely travel to the city and get the necessary parts. Din had told you not to worry about it, wait until the storm passed. Until then, you'd have to stay warm.

The storm caused a cold to seep in through the metal walls of the Crest. You could feel it. The kid could feel it. Even Din was struggling to fight the way the cold had made him shiver, even though the added layers he wrapped himself in. With the power in the Crest malfunctioning, he couldn't run the ship to keep the three of you warm. He had a small heater that could keep the hull warm, but even that was running low on fuel.

When you suggested huddling together for warmth inside of his small bunk, explaining that the small space would keep warmth trapped while you waited for the storm to pass, he had agreed, telling you to take the kid inside. He'd be fine out here.

You had gotten pretty upset with him, and vehemently refused to leave him in the hull alone, pointing out his visible shaking. Din refused still, pulling any excuse he could. It's too small, he doesn't like small spaces.

It wasn't that he disliked the idea because he disliked you, didn't want to get close to you. Quite the opposite, actually. For one, he had never shared a bed, not like this. Even if it was platonic, and out of necessity to stay warm, the idea of sharing a space, one that was so small, at that, sent his heart racing. He made excuses so he didn't tell you that he's never laid next to someone, only with, and even that was a rare occurrence.

The space in his bunk was so small that with the three of you, he'd be forced to touch you. Legs and knees pressed into each other, arms brushing over the other, and your heads so close together he could count the marks on your face, both natural and unnatural.

But when the kid had started showing signs of lethargy, the extreme cold temperatures in the hull forcing him to start falling asleep, he had quit arguing and laid down in the bunk, the kid, and then you following.

He was right. In order for both of you to fit comfortably with the kid wrapped snugly between your chests, your legs had to tangle together, one of yours slid in between his own. You had an arm wrapped around the kid, and even though he couldn't feel it, he could see the back of your hand brushing along his chest plate. Though it was dark in his bunk, the night vision setting in his helm allowed him to see.

The kid was asleep, not because the cold had lured him into a sort of hibernation, but because you had successfully lulled him to sleep after laying him down. Neither of you were too sure about his species, but it was clear that the cold had an effect on him. You were facing Din, face close enough to see any freckles or marks that covered your closed eyelids and the rest of your face. Worried that if he touched any more of you, he'd fall into the pool of affection and desire that filled his chest and stomach whenever he was close to you.

"I know this is an invasion of your personal space, and I'm sorry." You whispered, eyes still closed. "It's just for tonight, until the storm passes. Please try to get some rest."

He felt a slight twing in his chest. He didn't want you to feel bad for this, as uncomfortable as he was. He wanted to keep you and the kid warm and safe, and he knew you had felt the same way for him. You had outright refused leaving him to freeze out in the hull, telling him it was stupid and could get him sick or even injured. You pulled out all the stops, asking him how he intended to provide for the kid if he was sick, or lost extremities in a hypothetical case of hypothermia.

Just get in the bunk. The three of us will keep it warm, especially since the small space will prevent heat from dissipating as quickly.

You were right. Despite the slight chill in the air, the warmth both of your bodies provided kept the space warm, trapped under the blanket you were sharing. And perhaps most importantly, it kept the kid warm. Din learned that the cold could affect him, but he did not want to find out if it had any negative effects for him.

"Don't be sorry. It's too cold out there for any of us." Din whispered so quietly, his vocoder didn't catch it.

You hummed in agreement and went silent again, trying to fall asleep.

But Din didn't think he could fall asleep. The feeling of your leg sandwiched between his, and your other pressing along the length of his calf kept him aware of just how close you two were. He could see the blanket rising and falling with your breaths, and he was sure he could feel it if he were to take off his helmet.

The fact that he wanted to scared him awake.

"You're still staring." Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"You're right in front of me." Din wasn't actually annoyed with you. Though his tone made him sound irritated, he was only irritated with himself, and the desires that tempted him to throw his already fragile creed out the window.

"Then close your eyes. You'll fall asleep faster." He could hear the hint of amusement in your tone, even if you were whispering low enough that his audio receptors almost didn't catch it.

With a huff that caused your hand to press more firmly into his chest plate, a slight pressure he swore he could feel, he closed his eyes.

"They're closed." He couldn't help but answer sarcastically. He'd never understand how you could almost always tell when he was looking at you, but he still listened to your instruction.

And when you giggled quietly, he felt prickles of warmth throughout his chest and face, and a compelling urge to side his arm under yours and around the child. Not tonight. He remembered when you told him it was just for tonight, and he hoped that it wouldn't be true.

"Goodnight, Mando." He felt you shift slightly, getting more comfortable.

And he found that, again, you were right. With his eyes closed, he found it much easier to slip into unconsciousness, hazy thoughts of you filling his mind.

"Goodnight."

---

Taglist: @honeydjarin

#dincember 2022 #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader

[miercoooles]

Would anyone wanna read a self indulged Din Djarin fic?

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #reader insert #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mando imagine

[kyberblade]

Say That Again…. Please. (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: Idk. Don’t even look at me. It just happened, okay? (I’ve read over this so many times to proof read it, but I add to it each time, so now we’re just going to yeet it into the universe and hope it’s not gibberish. Okay? Okay.) I think this happens sometime after Part 18? I’m not sure, but I think inadvertently it just ended up there in my mind. I always thought they were kinda closer way before this, but also, not? Idk. I make no sense even to myself. Plot wise this is where it makes sense, so we’ll go with that.

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

Word count: 2,767

Warnings: Din is an absolute menace like always. Maybe some language? I can’t remember. (Look, I’ve read over this so many times, I can’t remember where I landed.) Absolute tooth rotting fluff. Suggestive language and behavior, but nothing directly stated, just absolute menace behavior once again. Helmetless Din…. Sort of. What? Who said that? 🤨 Copious amounts of me slipping the phrase back to you into sentences in ways I think are sly and endearing.

Synopsis: Here we find a wild Mandalorian and his Mesh’la in their native habitat…. Here in this throwback to the first time things got a little frisky between these two. (Don’t worry, it’s still PG-13. 😉)

A huge thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for once again reading this 5,000 times and saying I’m not insane.

| Series Masterlist |

Xxx

Crowding you back into the bulkhead, Din chuckled softly when you let out a quiet huff of air as your spine hit the cold metal of the hull.

The familiar press of beskar came to rest against your forehead, making you grin as your eyes fluttered shut. But all too soon, the cool touch of steel was rolling down and away, accompanied by a mechanical hiss that made your brows screw up in question. 

Before you could say a word or even open your eyes, the warmth of Din’s breath cascaded across your chest, making the last of your oxygen leave you in a rush. The prickle of his facial hair tickled as he lightly mouthed at your neck from bottom to top, taking his time as he went. 

It took you a moment, but you realized he had tilted the helmet back just enough to expose the lower half of his face, like he did when he ate with you and the kid in the privacy of the ship. Try as you might, your breath continued to stutter in your chest, and you felt the upturn of his lips in response as he made his way upward. 

He stopped just behind your ear, his lips surprisingly soft as they rounded to catch your lobe between them, the blunt tips of his front teeth coming out to play as he nipped at the flesh softly. “Mesh’la…..” His quiet voice came, whispered just for you to hear. “So beautiful…..”

“D-Din,” you tried softly, the Mandalorian groaning at the sound of his name on your lips as you attempted to clear your throat.

He let go of your ear and tucked back into your neck, his helmet riding back a little higher with the movement, exposing the tip of his nose to brush just right behind your ear. “Say that again…. please.” His hands began to pull your own up toward the armor on his chest, and further up onto his shoulders.

“Din,” you grinned at the unabashed groan that tumbled from his unmodulated lips, “are you sure? I don’t want to-”

The bounty hunter went stiff in your arms, his upper body and face pulling back and away from you just enough that you could see the slight downturn of his features. Nothing concrete, as he was too close, and you quickly averted your eyes down to his neck out of habit, but in the blur of your peripherals, you saw the rough curve of facial hair trying to conceal a saddened expression, but you were quick to wrap him in your hold, reassuring him with your words mumbled into his shoulder. 

“No! No, Din,” even now he let out a quiet hiss through clenched teeth at his name from your lips, making you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head. “I only meant, you giant Tin Can,” you snaked your hand that rested on his chest plate up and around the back of his neck, tracing light figures on the warm exposed skin there as he melted into your palm, the rest of his body quickly closing the distance he’d pulled away and molding back into you, his hands landing softly back onto your hips. “I don’t want,” you reiterated with emphasis before carding your hand up into the small tuft of his exposed curls and giving them a gentle yank that made his breath stutter deliciously, and the side of his mouth quirk up to meet a dimple in your peripherals as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in front of your face. Your voice went soft. “I don’t want to go breaking your Creed for just a moment of-”

“You’re worth it,” he cut you off, your hands suddenly pinned at your sides against the wall, and his face once again tucked into your neck mercilessly. Any inch of skin he could touch, he was. It was like it was his mission. And he always followed through. Mando always got his man. “Besides, I know what I’m doing, mesh’la.” 

You can say that again, you found yourself thinking, feeling your stomach sink into your feet when Din chuckled in response. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Instead of dragging it out, Din mercifully went back to the subject at hand, and you let out a thankful breath as you listened. “No Creeds will be broken.” He moved his kisses across your clavicle to your right side. “No vows,” he worked his way up, “No promises….” He was right over your lips now. “But just to be absolutely clear, like I said….” His voice had trailed off to a low murmur. “You would be worth it.”

You couldn’t take the breath you were trying to manage as you stared at his askew helmet. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. Try as you might, your eyes landed on his lips and wouldn’t look away, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

He was partly cast in shadows from the way his helmet was seated and the lighting of the cargo hold. You couldn’t even really tell a shade if someone held a blaster to your head. 

But, oh, the way they turned upward.

It had your stomach doing stupid things.

“It’s true,” Din smirked.

Oh, this won’t do at all.

Slinking your leg between his, you switched your weight and threw him to the ground. Landing on top of him, you let yourself feel a short burst of pride at the soft oomph! he let out on impact. 

Ignoring the desire to look at what was exposed of his now well lit face, you stared at the diamond in the center of his chestplate. Your hands were braced on either side of it in an attempt to hold him down, as you straddled his waist.

“Din, you're not thinking straight.” 

In an instant, the Mandalorian had flipped the two of you over so he was on top, your wrists pinned to the ground in his grasp on either side of your head as you glared up at him. 

“This would be much more menacing if your helmet were on straight.”

Din only smiled a tight lipped grin, like he was trying to hold it back, the curve of his mouth turning up one side more than the other in a lopsided smirk of amusement while he continued to hold you down. He was backlit now, so once again you could only vaguely see, but Din’s emotions always seemed to have their own tone. It wasn’t much of a leap.

The bounty hunter adjusted his weight, moving his lower half so his legs that were one between yours and one outside by your hip, were now between both of yours and applying just enough pressure to keep you down. 

“Can I get up, please?” You bemoaned, lightly struggling in his grip.

“Do you really want to?” He jibed, gently rolling his hips into yours and making your eyes go wide at the soft groan that fell from your mouth unbidden. “Besides,” his voice lowered as he did, his face now inches from yours as he lifted your hands and set them on his pauldrons. “I think now you’ll actually listen to me.”

“Think again, flyboy,” you whispered. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you attempted yet again to flip the two of you, but Din kept the momentum going and once again landed on top, the same lopsided grin twisting up his face as you pointedly stared at his equally lopsided visor.

Despite his obvious amusement, his tone was dry. “That was cute.”

As he brought your hands to rest on his pauldrons once more, you sighed, rocking your head back and forth, your eyes falling to rest on the glimmering beskar covering his chest. “No. No, Din. I’m not going to be the reason you-”

“That’s right,” he cut you off, bracing his weight on his right forearm and reaching across with his left to press a button on his vambrace that sent the cargo hold of the Crest into nearly complete darkness. “You won’t be.” 

As you stared at the blinking red, green, and white lights of a panel on your left to let your eyes adjust to the new twilight, the quiet thud of beskar on the hold floor pulled your attention back to him. Once again, your breath caught in your chest.

All you could see was his silhouette, the hold of the ship only illuminated by several barely lit panels, their various array of blinking colors casting the ship in an odd mood that seemed to breathe as the light faded in and out, trading one color for the next. No features were available in the dull light, just shadows, but still you closed your eyes on instinct, your face screwed up from the effort. 

Din let out a snort of amusement. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

You winced. “Din….” 

This time you both groaned, and it quickly devolved into quiet shared laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

Din’s voice was soft. “Mesh’la…. Open your eyes. It’s okay.” When your eyes still remained shut, Din sighed. He almost sounded sad. Or was that hopeful? Could they be the same thing? “I trust you.”

As you slowly blinked your eyes open, both to adjust to the low light and to make sure Din was absolutely sure, the Mandalorian guided your hands to his armor for a final time, helping you through the foreign motions of removing the beskar plates. 

He’d never had you help with this before. Sure, you’d watched a time or two when he had to make repairs on a single piece, like that time the whistling birds became the multiple random flying projectiles that ejected whenever they wanted on the tiny ship in hyperspace. 

Or when he was about to step into the fresher when you were staying somewhere going after a bounty…. He’d often remove most of it, and you’d quickly busy yourself with the kid or cleaning your blaster, or he’d start to, then notice you were making a point of averting your eyes and he’d quickly step into the fresher to finish the job.

You always felt bad when he’d duck into the tiny little rooms to finish, they usually barely offered enough room to even breathe and stand in, let alone remove armor and store it somewhere until after your shower.

But you just weren’t willing to be the reason he broke his Creed, no matter how relaxed he was. Or trusting. One wayward glance, and his entire way of life was gone. No matter how badly you wanted to just turn around and smile when he cracked a joke during these times, or would fuss over the kid…. Or say your name. It’d be so easy to just turn around, and….

No. It was easier to just never look the other way. Never look back toward him.

Now, however, the Mandalorian was right in your line of sight, or rather his silhouette was, and he was doing everything he could to keep you from looking the other way. To keep your eyes on him, your hands busy with his armor as it fell away piece by piece.

As the man beneath the metal slowly came into view beneath your fingertips, you smiled. 

He was just like you pictured.

What you could feel through his flight suit…. Warmth, muscle, the raised edges of a scar and a concealed weapon…. He fit every bit the picture inside your head, and the grin on your face continued to grow.

“What?”

You startled at his voice, eyes darting up to where his face should be. “You can see me?”

His silhouette shook its head. “Don’t have to. Your breathing changes when you smile. Always has.”

Brows knit together as your expression turned into something slightly sour, you looked up at him through your lashes. “That’s only slightly terrifying, Shiny,” you mumbled, disengaging the left pauldron as he chuckled.

Din leaned in closer to you, his nose nearly brushing against your own as his warm breath fanned out against your face. It made you startle just a bit, the feeling of a living breathing being beside you aside from the kid a foreign and frightening thing in the darkness surrounding you. He seemed to understand immediately, and was quick to soothe any remaining jitters away, shifting his weight up slightly and shimmying off his gloves right above your head so he could cup your cheeks with his bare hands.

As his calloused fingers wound into the hair right above your ears, you were shuddering for an entirely different reason.

“I know everything about you, mesh’la.” His bare forehead fell to rest on yours, the warm touch of his skin in place of the usual cold kiss of beskar you were used to instantly melting the scowling crease from between your brows, and causing your eyes to flutter. “That’s my job.”

Looking up at him through your lashes once again, you snorted out a laugh. “As what, my traveling companion?” Your hands moved to his chestplate. 

This dance had gone round and round for the two of you for so long you’d lost count, now. Admitting feelings, admitting caring, but never exactly what. It was driving you mad, honestly.

Sure, it was shallow, trying to find out this way what exactly you were to the Mandalorian, especially when the two of you were in the…. Position you were currently in. 

But needs must.

“That, and,” he said in a voice that said he knew exactly what you were trying to get at, as he helped you disengage the large piece of beskar across his torso, leaning back just enough to remove it himself and set it off to the side before he was back to trying to burrow under your skin and into your very bones.

Leaning your head to the side to give him better access, he made his way up and down your neck with soft kisses that were making your toes begin to curl inside your boots. “Yes?” You prodded when he didn’t go on, your voice surprisingly strong despite how distracted you felt. One of your hands came up to thread through the curls at the back of his head, your fingertips massaging his scalp lightly to try and bring his attention back to you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled softly, pulling back to look at your face. Your hand still tucked in his curls slid down to the side of his neck with the movement, and he turned his face into your forearm, mumbling into your skin, “Got distracted.” After he offered the inside of your wrist one last lingering kiss, Din turned back to face you again, and lightly ran the tip of his nose along the left side of your own. “Yes, your traveling companion, but also your friend. Partner.” He pulled back just enough that the tips of your noses were barely touching, his voice dropping lower in both volume and octave. “Lover.” Din moved after a moment to brush his nose along the right side of yours, softly kissing the apple of your cheek before adding the words mumbled against your skin, “You’re my other half, mesh’la.” 

You couldn’t help the grin that was climbing up your face. 

Sliding your right hand that was still resting on his neck up to cup his cheek gently, you let it fall down to clutch at his cowl that was still draped around his shoulders, shrouding the two of you in a familiar warmth you hoped never actually disintegrated like you always joked it might.

The smile only grew as Din chased after your palm once it left his face, a small frown turning down his features against your left hand still cradling his face when he could no longer feel your touch. But it quickly melted to match your own joy when you tugged on the fabric to pull him further down into you like you always did, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

Pushing him gently, you rolled so you both were laying on your side facing one another, still so close you could share the same breath if you needed.

Turning into his neck, you whispered the words into the warm skin there. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum…. Ner riduur.” ("I love you…."; lit. "I will know you forever…." “My partner.”)

Din shuddered, cradling the back of your head in one ungloved hand and pressing your face further into him gently as he quietly moaned, “Riduur….” He let out a shaking breath. “Say that again…. Please.”

Xxx

Tag list to come!

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #The mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[joelslegalwhre]

Soo I started writing a Din Djarin fic and I’ll hopefully get it out by tonight!

But until then here’s a little sneak peek what’s it going to be about;

He didn't like it at all that some boy thought he could get close to his wife. Mando could not show with actions that you were his, the helmet prevented that, but he had his own way to show it. Much to your amusement. Seeing your Mandalorian jealous was something rare in the vast galaxy where there were so often only the three of you, and in a way you liked it how he demonstrated that you belonged to him.

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read it here

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin x reader #din dijarin #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #star wars x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[flightlessangelwings]

While we’re on the subject on inclusivity:

Inclusivity in your mood boards is just as important as inclusivity in the fic itself. Please try to include poc and curvy images in your mood boards as well! Please!

Your moodboard is the introduction to your story and sets the mood and the vibe. When you only have skinny white girls in your moodboards, you’re communicating a message that’s all who you thought of while writing and that’s the only type who is attractive and desirable to the characters. Poc deserve to feel seen too and feel like they were thought of while writing. Especially so when you’re writing for characters of color!

You don’t even have to use *only* poc or curvy pictures for your mood boards. Including different skin tones to show that you made the effort is much appreciated. You could also use shadow images or fully blacked out silhouettes to hide the skin tone altogether. There are plenty of resources and images out there that you should be able to find more than just skinny white girls. I know is it takes a little extra digging but it’s very much worth it to show inclusivity!

I know Pinterest is the bane of image finding, but it can be a good resource to find poc images. Just search (whatever aesthetic you’re looking for) + dark skin or person of color or something similar and you’ll find plenty of images. And the more you save the more images will show up in your feed. I constantly collect images to have references later when I need them.

Unsplash is another good resource to find poc models and images. And there’s also models of color pages right here on tumblr! There are resources out there it just takes a little effort to find the right images!

And as an ending note: using only skinny white girls in your mood board and then putting a disclaimer like “images do not represent reader they’re just fitting the aesthetic” isn’t the work around you think it is. I understand it’s not done in purpose and you most likely don’t realize it, but saying that says poc don’t fit your aesthetic and it’s still alienating and hurtful. Just something to keep in mind.

#x reader #reader insert #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #frankie morales x reader #eddie munson x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #santiago garcia x reader #poe dameron x reader #the mandalorian x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #javier peña x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #frank castle x reader

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long

word count: 4,174

Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”

After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.

You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.

Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”

“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”

Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.

Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.

“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door. 

Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it. 

A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.

“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.

Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.

“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.

Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”

“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.

The sooner, the better.

Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him. 

When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.

You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.

Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core. 

That was not how you felt right now.

Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.

“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”

“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.

“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”

Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.

It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it. 

“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off.  The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”

“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think. 

It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound. 

“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”

His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.

The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.

You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”

You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”

You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.

For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.

The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough. 

Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.

He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.

“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”

“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”

“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”

Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it. 

He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”

“You want me to…kiss you?”

You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.” 

Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.

His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would. 

Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.

He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly. 

Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless. 

“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red. 

“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”

“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #female reader #reader insert #din djarin smut #dom!din djarin #trying real hard to be sub!din djarin #angst/comfort #fluff

[covermeindinsbeskar]

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no real warnings, very brief mention of sex, fluff, slow burn, established relationship, romantic fluff, domestic fluff

A/n: I wanted to write something where reader admires Din’s scars, but it turned into whatever this is lol enjoy my ramblings!

Not edited

Your lungs feel twisted, each breath strenuous and painful, any feeling in your legs is completely gone and your feet are on fire. You've been sprinting around the razor crest for what feels like hours. This scorching, barren planet you've been trapped on isn't doing you any favours, The ship has become suffocatingly smoggy. you push your body forward rounding the sharp corner and proceed down the ship's hallway. Your feet gradually weaken, and your body slowly starts to shut down. You feel your shoulders drop and your upper body collapses in half, your hands grasping at your knees to support yourself. You try to level your breathing; you should not be feeling this winded. You shakily pull yourself up and lean against the wall finding the tiniest bit of relief from the cold metal.

The Crest betrayed you on a long journey back to Nevarro, having to pull an emergency landing on the planet Bespin. As you both desperately tried to guide the ship as it plummeted towards the planet. He faced you. Voice steady, body poised and confident. “We’ll be safe here; you’ll be safe here.” your eyes are drowning in worry; all you could do was nod. The mandalorian gave you a single nod back as a silent promise. The thought of landing somewhere unknown and without any sort of plan terrified you. Your whole existence has been spent in concealment, and each action has been calculated. At least now, you had a companion. A lover, a family.

after a shaky landing, Din assured you once again that this planet was safe and undisturbed by any galactic affairs. You trust him. Of course, you do, he never gave you a reason not to. You were and still remain a sought-after bounty. He found you almost immediately after you came out of hiding. Finally, once you thought you could slip away to another planet, His intimidating armoured form emerged through the shadows, blaster raised to your chest, you swung your leg around kicking it out of his hand. You attempted to sprint in the opposite direction in hopes of losing him through some alleys. Your plan failed as he quickly took notice to your fleeing attempt and released his fibercord wrapping it around your torso making your arms became permanently fixed to your sides, your limp body dragged off and thrown onto his ship ready to sell you for a few worthless credits.

You helped him with a few bounties along the way before your eventual hand off to, maker knows, what prison or person that wanted you, only to discover you both work well together. Really well. You got to know each other on those missions. He learned about your petty crimes to stay alive that grew into bigger crime’s eventually racking up into a hefty bounty. In return, you learned about the way of the Mandalore and you admired him for it. To grow up in a close community, strong in body, mind and heart. The more you two talked the more you opened up about your past, telling him about your family- now long gone. One evening while sharing meal with you, he gave you, his name. Din Djarin. Your practiced it a few times in front of him with a smile. It made him feel uneasy, not in a bad way. His name naturally falling from your lips was something he never thought he could get addicted to. He wanted to hear you whisper it, to scream it, to repeat it like a prayer for him and only him. That’s when he decided not to hand you over and introduced you to his son, Grogu. Tucked away in his makeshift bed, hidden away from you for weeks. How could something so cute be hidden away from others?

Meeting Grogu was like love at first sight. You both became attached at the hip, literally, as he was always tucked at your side everywhere you went. You became a crew member with the Mandalorian and his small green child a little over a year now. “I could really use a crew member like you...” taking your hands in his “we would like you to stay.” You agreed immediately, with a big smile on your face. A bed to sleep in (his bed), food in your stomach (always prepared and shared together), and credits in your pocket (he used his credits to buy you gifts. Mostly weapons but, every once in a while, he’d come back with cute little gifts from a planet that made him think of you) it was a great deal. Better than any other ‘jobs’ you seem to get yourself into. Not to mention staying beside Din’s side. You still weren’t sure if that was his way of you asking you to be his and only his, but you devoted yourself to him long before he asked you to stay.

You would end up caring for Grogu most of the time, not that you minded. He was a bundle of joy! You were told about his powers and observed them growing stronger by the day. It was something you only ever heard stories about. Tales of Jedi’s your dad would tell you about before bed as a child and that’s exactly what you thought they were, tales. Stories that gave children hope for peace and balance in such a chaotic galaxy. Seeing it in person was incredible! So much power in a tiny body, you wanted to protect him at all costs. It’s the reason why you’re out breath and body giving up on you now. The kid has been running around the ship due to Din being preoccupied with the repairs, he’s bored and has decided to play a game of chase for the last hour.

For the sake of trying to recover what little breath that remains in your lungs, you push yourself off the wall. Your focus is drawn to the open door of the crest by the sounds of laughter echoing off the walls. The blur of large ears is all you see as you head towards the door, your mouth curved into a smile. “gotch’ you now!” You take one last sprint out the door and dive to the ground, encasing a small green ball of giggles. “Do you think this is funny?” You can’t contain your laugh as Grogu babbles incoherently trying to wiggle his way out of your arms. “Batuu” is the only thing you can make out as he looks at you with big, beautiful eyes. You’re going to take that as a yes, he does find this game very funny.

You let him go, your heart brimming with joy as he laughs his way back towards the crest, expecting you'll chase him again. You pull yourself up off the ground, brush yourself off, and take a moment to marvel at the scenery. Your senses are immersed by the aroma of flowers and grass, warmth from mild winds on your skin, and lush-looking, deep green forests which extend for miles. If it weren't for the power tools that silence every sound on this planet, you'd think you could hear nature itself.

You hum to yourself as you walk around the ship, the noise getting louder as you look for Din. His form comes into view making you stop dead in your tracks. The view of Din kneeling while he works on repairing the siding on the ship, his helmet still on, bare torso, He’s glistening. His muscles tensing with every little movement, you can’t help but marvel at his chiseled back. He looks like he’s made from stone. a living sculpture. Until now, you’ve never seen him without his armour- or shirt for that matter. You’ve felt him though, cloaked in complete darkness. You’ve felt his toned muscle, every scar, every vein under your fingertips. Always painting a mental image that your fingers have memorized. Heat washes over your cheeks, whipping your body around hoping he hasn’t felt your eyes boring into his back. It almost felt like you were betraying his trust. You’ve never seen any part of him, besides his hands. When alone, he’d take his gloves off and rub his thumbs across your cheeks, cradle your jaw, feather his fingertips down you neck, swipe his knuckles down your shoulders, then slide his fingers up and down your arms, to end their journey softly intertwining his fingers with yours.

A few months into working with each other, one mission went wrong. Horribly wrong. Allies turned on your clan getting you shot in the process. You truly didn’t think you’d make it back it back to crest. You silently wept in Din’s arms. You never feared death, you were always alone. but now you didn’t want to go like this. Not in the arms of a man who didn’t know you loved him. He carried you back to crest “it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re gonna get you all fixed up” he was panicking. you could sense it even in and out of consciousness. If only you could see the tears that stained his face. He knew you wouldn’t make it; all he wanted to do was bring you home. He wanted the last thing you see was him and Grogu at your side. You don’t remember much of anything that night. You remember your two favourite people hovering over you, soothing you best they can. You smiled at them and thanked them. Thanked them for always being there, for saving you in more ways than one, for giving you a sense of family and giving you a home. With your last breath you muttered your truth “I love you… Din Djarin…”

A few days later, your eyes flickered open, and you were greeted by Din. He extended his hand to take yours as you grin at him. You panicked and shot up, asking "Where's Grogu?" as you scan the room in search of him. “He’s sleeping mesh’la…” he whispers. That was the first time he’s ever called you that. He gently pushed you back down. “He… he saved you. I don’t know how… he’s still sleeping, he’s been out for days. I- I thought I lost you…” he chokes out. You squeezed his hand “hey I’m ok now… I’m here.” your eyes searched his visor; you desperately wanted to reach out for him and feel his lips on yours in that moment. Even though you know it’s something you’ll never get to feel. You can at least hug him, right? You sat up in bed and wrapped your arms around his waist, and squeezed him tight, fearing he might push you away. But he pulls you in closer his hand stroking the back of your head. “I love you too, mesh’la.” he whispers. You smiled, tears filling your eyes. You look up at him “I wish I could kiss you…” you confessed. “Hold on…” he whispered back, pulling you away from him. He walked over to the door shutting it tightly and turning out the lights. You were both enveloped by darkness barely able to see each other's silhouettes. You heard the hiss of his helmet coming off, sucking in your breath waiting for him. “Mesh’la?” He called out. You reached your hand out finding his and pulled him closer “I’m right here,” you giggled. His hands found your face pulling you closer, you can feel his breath against your lips, you inched yourself closer not able to wait any longer. He leaned in, his lips finding yours, soft as silk against yours. you sighed at the feeling. Your heart burst as he deepened each kiss. Each one getting sloppier and hungrier, “I need more mesh’la… let me feel you. Please…” he whispered against your lips. You nod as he lightly nipped at your bottom lip, you were desperate for the same thing.

That was the first time you both felt each other, Unable to keep your hands off each other ever since. You smile at the memory coming back to reality. He must’ve known one of you would find him like this… right? You slowly turn back around drinking him in again. He’s still distracted with the crest as your eyes trail down his back. His muscles prominently displayed as well as littered with scars. You’ve felt the bumps under your hands and asked about them while cloaked in the dark. He told you about each battle that left their permanent mark on his skin. Seeing it under the sun, you can finally see how sloppily they were tended to. Each mark proving his strength and survival. They look beautiful to you. Din still being unaware of your presence You slowly approach him, dropping to your knees behind him. your hands finding his shoulders and rubbing them gently. All noise stops, the sounds of nature over taking your sense just like you thought they would. “Mesh’la?” Din calls out. You hum to him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulders that trail down his back. You take the time to kiss each scar admiring every single one display to you. He chuckles softly, “what are doing?”

“no one has ever kissed them better before, so I’m doing it now.”

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #sw the mandalorian #sw mandalorian #grogu #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian reader insert #mandalorian fanfic

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids