summary: A strange ship falling on your land brings a traveller and his child to you. You must take care of a man while falling for someone with no face.
w.c: 5,8k
warnings: none. Fluff, mentions of blood. Some missing points perhaps.
A/N: This is the first time I write a fic for Din/the mandalorian. I'm not very proud of it but i think it is good for being the first. I hope you enjoy it and enjoy the movie as well, if you watch it 💚
LET NE KNOW WHAT YOU THINK 💌
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
You woke long before the sun set in the horizon.
The storm rattled the walls around you, loosening tools from their hooks while sheets of metal covering the roof groaned and crashed beneath the furious wind, the noise startling you every now and then.
You weren’t afraid of storms.
But they reminded you too much of the day you lost your family to the violent dance of wind and water.
On Sorgan’s moon, the weather was never kind to anyone. Not even to the smartest, most experienced pilots in the galaxy. Staying away was usually the wiser choice — especially when the rain turned vicious like it had today.
That was the reason you chose to stay. After years of letting the wind carry you from one place to another, you had finally found shelter here. And despite everything and the relentless help you have to provide, you liked it.
It was safe.
No bounty hunters.
No Imperials.
No trouble.
It was you, in your own company.
You wiped grease from your hands with an old cloth, squinting down at the half-disassembled engine spread across your table when the emergency beacon suddenly blared through the room.
Your entire body froze. The radar crackled the static before flashing red across the tiny screen.
“UNAUTHORIZED LANDING DETECTED”
A thunderous crash was felt on the ground, making the earth tremble beneath your feet.
“Great,” you muttered under your breath.
You weren’t foreign to these kinds of situations. Most travelers ended up on your landing strip at this time. Many of them were drunk or desperate. Some of them were harmless, but some others screamed danger.
You grabbed your blaster from beneath the counter before pulling your jacket tighter and stepping out into the cold rain. The wind whipped on your face as you pushed across the muddy path toward the edge of the clearing where a smoke curled black into the sky.
Beneath it, there was the ship, shattered.
Silver hull. It’s engine’s sputtering with one of its wings buried deep in soil.
It wasn’t local.
Your boots splashed on the puddles as you approached cautiously, blaster raised, ready to fight the passenger of the ship.
“Hey!” your shouting was barely heard in the middle of all the noise, “If you’re alive in there, say something!”
But you were met with eerie silence and the hiss of the damaged engines.
You muttered something under your breath and climbed right back onto the lowered side ramp, gripping the slick metal for balance.
The lights inside the ship were barely flickering in a red. There was not much to see besides the trace of the smoke rig in your face, but suddenly a shape on the ground caught your attention.
The man slumping against the far wall covered head to toe in battered beskar armor, one gloved hand pressed hard on the side of his leg where dark blood seeped through his fingers.
And curled tightly against his chest, there was a…
A child?
A small green bundled, with dark eyes blinking up at you while moving his oversized ears. The tiny creature let out a sharp, frightened sound you didn’t understand.
Immediately, the armored man moved swiftly. Blaster lifted shakily in your direction.
“You take one more step,” he rasped, voice distorted under the helmet, “and I’ll—”
But his voice broke apart into a violent cough.
Your expression switched, you felt worry for the man beneath the beskar. He didn’t seem like danger threatening to hurt you, but just a traveler passing by and falling right into the trap of this place and its weather.
The blaster wavered wrapped under his shaking hand and you could hear how uneasy his breathing was now.
And the child, pressed closer to his chest with a worried little coo. You tightened your grip around your weapon, but lowering so you could show the man before you he could trust you.
“I’m not going to hurt either of you,” you promised, even if it looked like your words went away with the wind.
The armored man didn’t answer to your words. He was trying to stay conscious, to stay focus.
You could see it.
Every muscle in his body looked locked tight with effort, his own weakly strength keeping him upright.
“You’re bleeding out,” you alerted, walking cautiously towards where he was. “If I wanted you dead, I could just stand here and wait.”
A long silence followed after that, as the blaster gripped in hand dripped.
You stepped closer slowly not to startle him. The closer you got, the worse the damage looked. One section of beskar near his ribs had been cracked inward from what looked like a direct blast hit. The black fabric beneath the armor was ripped.
“How are you even—?” you muttered.
The visor tilted toward you. “Habit.”
You crouched before him, carefully a few feet away, close enough now to really see him. Mud streaked across the silver armor. Burn marks covered one shoulder plate. His cape looked half torn away as the rest of his clothing.
Whoever this man was, he had barely survived getting here.
The little creature watched you closely from his lap, ears twitching. And then, unexpectedly, it reached one tiny hand toward you.
The Mandalorian immediately tensed. “No.”
The word came out sharp despite the weak sound of his voice.
The green baby blinked at him, but then he made another small noise before reaching for you again.
You stared, reaching his tiny hand with your finger, “Well,” you said softly, looking at the man “that’s either a very good sign or a terrible one.”
The lingered on you for a moment longer and the you stood carefully, holding out your hand for him to take.
The Mandalorian looked at it like he didn’t understand what you were offering.
“You can either let me help you walk,” you said, “or I can watch you collapse trying to do it alone.”
There was silence once again, but a thunder cracked overhead making the Mandalorian to lift his gaze to the sound, then you, visible reluctance, finally reaching for your hand.
The second your fingers closed around his glove; his knees nearly gave out.
“Oh— hey.”
You caught him quickly, the full weight of beskar and exhausted muscle crashing against you hard enough to almost drag you down too.
A rough sound escaped from his lips.
“Easy,” you said instinctively.
The Mandalorian’s helmet dipped close to your shoulder as he fought to breathe through whatever agony he’d been ignoring for hours before even fall in here, but for the first time since you found him, he stopped trying to pull away from your help.
For one second, all you could feel was his heavy weight over your shoulders.
His heavy beskar armor, the rain-soaked fabric of his clothes and the weight of his body burning with fever beneath it all.
The Mandalorian braced one gloved hand over the wall of the ship, trying and failing to steady himself while you adjusted your grip around him.
“You’re—",” you muttered.
“Do you always talk this much?” he interrupted, as his helmet shifted towards your face.
You laughed softly, “Good to know you are still in the mood.”
A tiny huff came from the tiny child still walking beside you both. The Mandalorian looked down immediately, attentively.
The softness in that single movement caught you off guard.
“The kid is, okay?” he asked.
You blinked, the worry in that single question full of concern caught you off guard.
“Yes,” you answered quietly. “He’s okay.”
You noticed the tension leaving his shoulders just for a second.
“Come on,” you said gently, shifting his arm more securely over your shoulders. “I’m gonna patch you up.”
The short walk towards your home was difficult with the rain fiercely pouring over your heads. The mud sucked beneath your boots while the wind tore across the clearing. The man leaning on you stumbled more than one, and with each step his grip tightened around your arms. He was trying very hard not to do it.
“You know,” you said as you kept dragging him forward, “travelers normally introduce themselves before—"
“Din.”
The distorted voice interrupting your words made you nearly miss a stop.
“Well, Din,” you breathed, struggling with another gust of wind, “I’m gonna help you.”
You reached your door seconds later and slammed your palm against the control panel hard enough to hurt. The metal doors groaned open.
Warm light came right into Din’s sight making his legs gave up over your body and the beskar was really heavy on his own. Combined with a man who had finally stopped fighting his own consciousness, it felt nearly impossible to hold.
By the time you managed to put him over the mattress in the corner of the room, your arms ached in exhaustion.
The child hovered anxiously over you touching your hands with his tiny ones as he watched every move you made over Din.
"It's okay," you murmured.
You knelt beside Din scanning all over his body in order to find wounds. Blood seeped through the torn fabric on his leg, staining little drops of red over the bed, and countless smaller cuts scattered over exposed patches of skin.
You reached for his pulse, touching the warm skin of his neck, so you pushed aside the soaked collar of his suit. A thin trail of dried blood disappeared beneath the edge of his helmet.
Your brow furrowed, leaning closer to study the wound over the exposed skin.
You reached for a clean cloth to clean the reddish wound, accidently brushing your finger over the edge of the helmet.
A memory came crashing right there. Half-forgotten stories traded between travelers at cantinas and repair docks.
Stories about Mandalorians. The warriors who never removed their helmets. Whose armo was their religion. Who would rather die than let someone see their faces?
You looked down at him sprawled almost unconscious shape on the mattress. Even now one of his gloved hands remained curled weakly near the edge of the helmet, like some part of him was still trying to protect it.
Protect himself.
The child looked between you and Din before making a questioning little sound. “Patú!”
"I know," you whispered again. "I'm trying."
You didn't exactly have the time to respect every warrior tradition right now. If you didn't remove at least part of the armor, you wouldn't be able to treat his wounds properly.
But you hesitated because it felt too vulnerable.
It was wrong. Almost like touching gold with sinful fingers.
Your eyes drifted back to the unconscious Mandalorian and he looked exhausted more than dangerous.
Just a man who had dragged himself across a galaxy half-dead to keep a child safe.
You sighed softly. "Din," you said, nudging his shoulder carefully. "I need you awake for this."
But you were met with silence, again.
You tried again, firmer this time.
His head shifted slightly with a strained sound.
"Listen to me," you said gently. "You're hurt. I need to remove part of the armor."
At that, his hand wrapped weakly around your wrist. The visor turned toward you immediately.
"No."
You stilled. The word came out rough.
"It's just the chest plate," you said softly. "I'm not touching the helmet, I promise."
Din's grip tightened, the got loose again, like he was fighting himself.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
Silence. His ragged breathing filled the room for a moment.
"The helmet stays on." He ordered. You held his gaze through the dark visor for a long moment.
"Okay." You whispered, nodding your head.
There was relief in his posture and that tiny trust he had allow himself to have towards you, felt heavier than the beskar itself.
A few hours later, the storm hadn’t showed signs of leaving. The rain remained pouring fiercly over your roof while the traces of the fading daylight had been consumed to darkness, leaving the warm glow of the lamps inside your house.
Din was still sleeping peacefully, that’s what you thought.
After removing the chest plate and most of the damaged armor, you cleaned the wounds on his skin. The cut along his neck had been disinfected, you wrapped a bandage around his leg and had given him medicine that sent him to sleep right away.
Grogu—you had learnt that was his name— sat at your small kitchen table, wrapped in one of your blankets, his oversized ears poking out the fabric.
You couldn't help but smiling at him, at the bowl of vegetable soup in front of him. "You know," you said while stirring another pot on the stove, "I'm beginning to understand why he's so protective of you."
Grogu glanced up, his big eyes widened even more, then sipping his soup right out the bowl.
You laughed at that, “Exactly.”
The child made a pleased little noise. He looked relaxed and safe, and that alone told you everything you needed to know about Din.
Whatever else he was, whatever secrets hid beneath his beskar and creed and his silence, his first concern had never once been himself. It had always been the child.
A low groan coming from the room Din was laying at interrupted your thoughts.
Grogu's ears perked up and another sound followed the groan.
A strained exhale.
You set the spoon down ordering Grogu to stay where he was, but he jumped off the chair following you in.
Din’s head had turned toward the doorway with one arm bracing weakly beneath him as he attempted to sit up, but his body still irradiated pain.
His shoulders tensed and his breath itched as he swallowed the pain without uttering protest.
“Are you alright?” you asked, softly.
Din’s face turned toward you. Even without seeing his face, you could feel the irritation dancing inside his eyes.
"I need—" He begun.
"You need to lie down." You interrupted.
"I need my ship."
"You can go anywhere in the state you are.”
Silence.
"My ship..."
You stared at him. "Your ship is still outside."
Din seemed to relax slightly, nodding.
"Half buried in mud."
A soft chirp interrupted the conversation as Grogu climbed on the mattress and settled against Din's side. One of his gloved hands found the child.
Checking and protecting.
The gesture was so pure and innocent it made your chest ache and Din's shoulders loosened once he confirmed Grogu was unharmed.
Then did he look back toward you.
"Thank you." He whispered. His words were simple, but somehow so sincere.
The words were quiet.
You blinked, but smiled at him.
"You're welcome." You whispered, quietly.
The lamps flickered softly, casting light over your face. That’s what caught Din’s attention.
The warmth of your gaze, and the kindness that lingered in your expression.
He had encountered thousands of faces throughout his life. Faces twisted by fear, greed, anger, ambition. Faces those hid intentions behind disguised smiles and empty words.
Yet yours seemed incapable of pretending. Everything you felt appeared there openly.
And now, as you smiled at him, gratitude. Something in Din's chest tightened.
A strange, unfamiliar ache. Not painful, but overwhelming.
He couldn’t stop himself studying your face with a kind of attention he couldn't remember giving anyone before.
The curve of your smile. The light reflected in your eyes and the way your expression softened whenever you looked at Grogu and him.
Beautiful wasn't the right word.
No, that wasn’t enough.
Because what left him speechless wasn't simply how you looked.
It was who you were.
Din swallowed quietly beneath the helmet. You couldn't see the look hidden behind the visor, but perhaps it was for the best because you might realize that he was staring at you thinking you were a growing rose in the dessert.
You were someone he was already beginning to dread leaving behind.
Another hour passed by. The next hour passed quietly.
The storm continued outside, but it had ease with the pass of time, but inside the house everything felt strangely peaceful.
Grogu had fallen asleep and you looked at him evey few minutes as you stirred the soup before pouring it in a bowl.
Just warm broth, vegetables, and whatever spices you had left in the cupboard.
You walked back to where Din slept, balancing the bowl carefully as you crossed the room and set it down on the small crate beside the mattress.
"There."
Din glanced at it. Then at you and then back at the soup.
You folded your arms. "Don't even think about it."
His helmet tilted "What?"
"You're not convincing me you're not hungry."
"I've gone longer days without food." He spoke.
"I'm sure you have, but not in here.” You reassured but not because you wanted to be just a good guest, but because caring made you feel human.
“Please, eat.” You said, smiling kindly at him.
Din looked at the bowl once again, and then he at you.
The visor remained fixed on your face waiting for something to happen.
"Oh." Your smile faded as the realization clicked in your head. Suddenly, you felt ridiculous for not thinking of it sooner.
The helmet. He couldn't exactly lift a spoon through beskar.
"I'll..." You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I'll give you some privacy."
The tension in his shoulders eased and you left him with the soup, as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door mostly closed behind you.
Before giving another step, you leaned against the wall outside, trying very hard not to think about the man hidden beneath the helmet. Really trying not to be curious.
You lasted approximately thirty seconds because a movement caught your eye through the narrow gap in the doorway and before you could stop yourself, you glanced over.
Just for a flicker.
One of his hands reaching for the helmet.
Your breath caught and you looked away, but not before catching a brief glimpse of him.
The back of his head and the dark curls loosening in the curve of his neck and the tanned skin illuminated by the warm light of the room.
Nothing more. Nothing close to enough to a glimpse of his face.
Yet the sight of him hit you. It made him look real.
Not a Mandalorian, but a man beneath the helmet.
Your chest tightened, making you lift your hand right in there to ease the feeling.
But you stepped farther from the doorway, giving him the privacy, he deserved.
Din Djarin needed to heal and his ship needed repairs.
According to him, the ship required replacement parts in the enginee, but the weather conditions
You found him standing in the workshop on the second morning.
"Absolutely no!” you exclaimed as you saw him, making the Mandalorian froze.
"I was taking a walk"
"No, you weren’t"
"I was walking."
You pointed toward the mattress.
He stared at your lifted finger and eventually he returned to bed without another argument.
You considered that your greatest achievement since he arrived.
The child proved to considerably easier to handle for you. Grogu followed you everywhere.
If you worked in the workshop, he sat nearby watching you work.
If you cooked, he appeared beside the counter demanding to be feed.
And if you disappeared for more than ten minutes, you could almost guarantee he would find you eventually.
Din pretended not to find any of this amusing, but the occasional tilt of his helmet suggested otherwise.
And as the days passed by, conversations became longer and easier.
You learned Din preferred silence to small talk. You learned that he woke before dawn every morning and that he checked on Grogu before checking on himself.
Every single time. Every single morning.
You learned that beneath all the armor and the rude behavior he carried on the beskar, there was a man incapable of ignoring someone who needed help.
An in natural return, Din had learned things about you too.
Small things. Small gestures.
He realized you hummed a melody while repairing the gear. That sometimes when you thought he was sleep you muted to yourself because you were exhausted.
He had also become addicted to the way you smile when you caught a glimpse of sunlight across the window before to be swallow the grey clouds. The way storms still made you pause sometimes when thunder shook the walls.
He found himself smiling as well beneath the helmet.
The first time you heard Din laughed, the sound made you stop. It happened right after Grogu stole food directly from your plate and looked at you while eating it.
It was a rough sound that lasted for barely a second, but you realized you would yourself chasing that sound for the rest of your life if you could.
Your routine also changed.
You started making enough food for feeding three without thinking about it.
And Din began waiting for you before eating, slightly lifting his helmet to sip the soup, but still it wasn’t enough to caught a glimpse of his face.
And Grogu stayed close to you all the time.
The house felt less empty with the both of them in here.
Lonely stopped consuming you.
And you weren’t fond of the silence anymore.
Not when you had grown used to Grogu's happy babbling or when you already had learned the sound of Din's footsteps moving through the house.
You found yourself listening for those sounds without even realizing it.
Waiting for them. Wanting them to appear before your eyes
And when the house fell quiet, you caught yourself searching for the source of the absence.
Searching for him.
Searching for Din.
And for him, it wasn’t different. He unconsciously turned toward your voice whenever you stepped in the room.
He felt calmer when you were around, and his chest got warmer whenever he said your name.
Those dangerous things will make your heart hurt. It made the inevitable goodbye felt harder to face.
And neither of you wanted to admit just how much it would hurt when the time finally came.
"Do you need something?" you asked as you stared at Din.
Din paused. “No.”
Yet he remained standing there anyway.
You arched an eyebrow. The gesture would have intimidated most people that know you, but it didn’t have effect on the Mandalorian, in fact, it weakened him.
"You know," you said, setting down your hydrospanner, "It’s rude to stare people without telling anything.”
"I'm not staring."
"You are."
He tilted his head without uttering a word.
A small laughed escaped your lips. The sound echoed arounf the workshop. Din felt something tighten inside his chest.
He liked hearing you laugh far more than he should, especially when he was the reason behind it.
"I think Grogu is a bad influence on you," you teased.
At the mention of the child, Din glanced down at Grogu sitting nearby with a collection of stolen screws and parts spread in front of him.
"He's learning from someone."
Your hand immediately went to your chest.
"Me?"
Another slight tilt of the helmet. "You steal ship parts."
"They belong to me."
"You steal them from scrap yards."
"I gave them a second life."
Din made a low sound beneath the helmet and your smile widened instantly.
And there it was again that feeling burning him in the middle of the chest. The one that had become increasingly difficult to ignore over the past few days.
Because every time you smiled at him, something inside his chest seemed to soften.
Every time he heard your voice, the tension he carried on his shoulders drifted away.
Every time he entered a room and found you there, some part of him settled.
As though the galaxy had become safer for him when you were around.
He didn't know when it had started, but your presence had become something he sought out rather than merely tolerated.
You focused your attention to the machine on the table. For a long moment, only the sounds of tools and distant birds filled the espace.
"Din?"
"Hm."
You didn't look up. "You're still standing there."
Heat crept up the back of his neck. Thankfully hidden beneath beskar you couldn’t see the reaction you had on him.
"I know."
Your lips twitched, and a smiled spread on your face.
But like all good things, life was fleeting. When you get used to something good, you don't notice the passage of time because your focus is on what's happening right in front of you.
To the shared meals that became familiar and to the mornings starting with the sight of each other.
The days passed quietly after that. To quietly and too quickly that Din recovered faster than either you anticipated.
His bruises faded and the stiffness in his movements vanished until one morning you realized he wasn't limping anymore.
You tried not to notice or tried not to think about what that meant. Because every healed wound brought him one step closer to leaving.
The ship became another reminder of his departure.
Din worked every afternoon beneath the now so sunny days, repairing damage left behind by the storm. Replacing the broken tools, reinforcing the wiring and testing the systems.
You often joined him because helping him had become your favorite part of the day. You handed him tools while pretending not to notice how the light gleamed on his polished beskar.
And Grogu seemed determined to make matters worse. The child divided his attention between both of you, often dragging one toward the other, that’s how one morning you found ended up pinned between a workbench and Din because Grogu had stolen a piece needed to repair the engine, forced both of you into pursuit.
The space suddenly felt much smaller. Din stood close enough for you to notice the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, even beneath the helmet.
Close enough to feel your pulse quicken. Neither of you moved immediately.
Neither of you spoke, but Grogu chirped proudly from the roof.
That broke the spell, making you both to step back, ignoring what had just happened.
The following day, Din found you sitting alone on the porch. The sky above the valley burned gold and orange beneath the setting sun.
You hadn't noticed him approaching until he sat in the chair next to you.
For a while neither of you spoke. The silence felt familiar now.
"You know your ship is almost finished." You said, the mere thought broke your heart.
"I know." He said as his gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
Pain settled in your chest.
And after that, the Razor Crest sat in the clearing looking new again.
Ready and waiting to depart.
You stood in the doorway watching Din inspect the finished ship beneath the morning sunlight.
The sight should have brought relief, satisfaction even, but instead all it left was an unfamiliar ache beneath his ribs.
There was nothing keeping him here anymore.
Across the clearing, Din's gaze lingered on the ship, but he felt the ache to look up, finding you standing in the doorway.
Neither of you looked away.
But then Grogu waddled between you carrying a piece of metal far too big for him.
You laughed despite the sadness creeping in.
………………..
The rest of the day passed strangely. You both knew what his ship fixed meant.
The routine and the moments you had shared, suddenly felt fragile. And you started linger your gaze on him, on Grogu and on the small things that would become a memory at any moment.
"I'll miss him” you whispered to Din as he sat across you.
Silence followed after that; your heart started beating faster.
"I'll miss both of you." Your reassured, swallowing.
The room suddenly felt very still because Din didn’t answer and for a second you worried you had said too much.
"So will we." He replied making your breath itch.
A morning never had broken your heart the way this was doing it.
As you stood in the doorway of your homse with your arms wrapped around yourself as Din Djarin secured the last of his things aboard the Razor Crest.
Grogu sat in the cockpit, ears drooping strangely low. Like he knew what this meant.
Din climbed down from the ship one final time, boots crunching against wet gravel. For a moment neither of you spoke. His helmet tilted in that familiar way. Watching you. Memorizing you.
Your chest tightened painfully at the sight of him.
A fleeting stay shouldn’t have been enough to matter this much.
And yet you could still feel the weight of his body on you while you dragged him inside your house. You could still remember the heat of his skin beneath your hands while you cleaned him up. The first glimpse of him.
But now he was leaving.
Men like Din Djarin belonged to the stars.
Not here. Not with you.
“Take care of yourself,” you managed. The words sounded smaller than you wanted.
Din stood still, but suddenly; his gloved hand lifted toward his helmet.
Your breath caught.
For a second you thought maybe he was only adjusting it, but then the seals hissed softly in the silence wrapping you both.
And your heart nearly stopped. He removed the helmet carefully, almost reverently, like the act itself exposed the most fragile part of him.
You had imagined his face a hundred different ways over the last few days despite trying not to.
But one of them came close.
Dark curls flattened over his forehead. Tired brown eyes shadowed with exhaustion. A strong nose. Scruff scattered across his jaw.
But it was the expression that weakened you. He was just a man. A painfully tired, painfully lonely man looking at you with a kind soft eye.
Vulnerable and so devastatingly beautiful.
Your lips parted at the sight of him and Din swallowed under the weight of your stare, and suddenly he looked uncertain, almost nervous.
As if you seeing him mattered to him.
“This is the man you helped,” he said quietly.
Your eyes burned “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you whispered.
His gaze softened in a way that felt dangerous to survive.
“I know.”
But he had wanted you to see him anyway. Then Din stepped closer.
Close enough for you to see every detail now, the faint scar on his nose, the exhaustion carved into his face, the hesitant hope he clearly wasn’t used to carrying.
“You know,” he said voice low, “by creed…”
He hesitated. The words clearly tasting wrong in his mouth. “You should die now that you’ve seen my face.”
Your face fell. Din noticed it and he hated himself for even saying it.
“But I would never hurt you.” The confession broke you with startling intimacy.
Your throat tightened. Din looked so exposed standing there without the helmet, more vulnerable than he had been in your bed. Like this was the real injury. Letting someone truly see him.
“You saved my life,” he continued, voice rougher now. “You protected the kid. Gave us shelter.” His eyes lifted back to yours. “I trust you now.”
The honesty in his face ruined you.
And you stepped closer before you could think better of it, you felt his breath.
“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’d never hurt you either.”
His expression shattered.
Your hand lifted slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, but he didn’t. Your fingers brushed carefully over his jaw, his warm skin beneath rough scruff, and Din actually closed his eyes for half a second.
He leaned on your touch with the quiet exhaustion of someone who had gone far too long without kindness embracing him.
His breathing trembled. You could feel it ghosting on your wrist.
Din’s hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite know if he was allowed to.
Your thumb brushed softly over the scruff along his cheek, and a faint crease appeared between his brows.
In pure, devastating relief.
As though he couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him without wanting something in return.
His eyes stayed closed, but after a few seconds. He opened them again, and there was something unbearably soft inside them now. Raw. Honest. Almost frightened by how much of himself he had already placed in your hands.
“You make it difficult,” he admitted quietly.
“For you to leave?”
His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.
“For me to remember why I should.”
The galaxy felt very far away.
Din cleared his throat, closing his eyes again, “Goodbye,” he said.
One word.
Your throat tightened.
“Goodbye, Din.”
Not Mandalorian.
Not the stranger falling by your home.
Din.
He walked toward the ship with steady steps, but just before climbing aboard, he paused.
You held your breath. The distance between you suddenly seemed too big it hurt so much.
But Din crossed it in a handful of determined strides. You barely had time to process what was happening before he stopped directly in front of you again.
But then his hands rose, almost hesitantly, making your heart pound.
"Din..."
The sound of his name broke something inside him and he placed his forehead rested gently on yours.
For one flicker and perfect second, the entire galaxy disappeared.
His hands tightened on your cheeks.
His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Giving you every chance to step away.
But you didn't. Neither did he.
Then he leaned in. And his lips, surprisingly soft for a man hidden behind beskar and battle scars, found yours.
The kiss was so gentle and hesitant. As if he was afraid of moving too quickly would shatter the dream. Yet there was nothing unaware about the way his hand tightened around yours, or the lovely breath that escaped him when you kissed him back.
For countless days, Din had occupied every corner of your life.
Now, standing before you without armor between your hearts, the distance that had once existed between you finally disappeared in just one searing kiss.
His lips lingered on yours for a moment before pulling away. His forehead still resting on yours, brown eyes soft beneath dark curls tousled by the wind.
"If you ever need me," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours for one more moment, "light the beacon."
When a Feather-Light Touch is Agony | Din Djarin x f!reader | 4,9k
Summary: You own a small repair shop on Nevarro, where you settled to build yourself a new and quiet life. It just so happens you developed a good friendship with a Mandalorian and his son. But is it just friendship?
CW: alcohol, too much drinking, hangover, a little bit of angst, fluff, no smut here, Grogu being adorable, Din is not good with feeling, friends to lovers.
Reader is abled body and has no physical description, but if you notice anything please let me know.
A/N: This was written as part of the PPCU Fandom Writing Challenge on Tumblr organized by @pedroscurls
My prompt was "Someone's has a little too much to drink" and this is what I came up with. I would also like to point out that the title is actually from a scientific article I found while I was looking up for the different spellings of featherlight/feather-light 🤭
I want to thank a few people who have been very helpful while I was writing this, listening to me babble about it and giving me good advices: @sawymredfox @petalsinblood & @iknowisoundcrazy ily ♥️
Mando'a translations and notes at the end.
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
The sun was starting its descent on the rocky, deserted land of Nevarro, all barren and dry. Despite this, you couldn't help but love this planet, and especially this time of the day, when the sun started to skim the roofs of the low buildings of Nevarro City, casting an orange light that made the metal and stone glimmer like gold. It wasn't much, but the bustling town had grown on you since you arrived a little over a year ago.
You'd heard about the change, about how this planet became a place of peace in the outer rim, somewhere where one could start their lives over, as long as they brought something to the community. It prompted you to come and seek out the tranquility and carve yourself a quiet life, after years of oppression, wars, and now rebuilding hope in these uncertain times.
You opened your little repair shop. It wasn't much, but just enough to keep you busy and earn decent money. Apart from small appliances and droid repairs, you sold parts, pieces, and trinkets, and quickly grew a steady and faithful clientele.
It wasn't closing time, but today had been slow, and you were thinking of calling it a day, when you noticed a bright shape down the street, walking toward your shop, the figure shimmering with the low sun, almost blinding you.
"If it isn't my favorite Mandalorian!" You called out once he was close enough to hear you, a smile spread wide on your face. He wasn't only your favorite Mandalorian, he was your favorite customer.
"I'm your only Mandalorian customer." His voice was even, indicating he wouldn't fall for your teasing. A well-rehearsed act that only prompted you to tease him more.
"That's not true, you brought Bo-Katan a few times, and that other guy, the tall, imposing, and disapproving one."
The Mandalorian looked at you without a word, and you knew exactly what this meant. Or maybe you didn't, and you had always been reading him wrong, but he never seemed to mind, so you went on.
"I mean taller and more imposing than you, even though you are very tall and very imposing. But never as disapproving as you."
A modulated sigh was your reward. You took it as a win and let him off the hook for the time being.
"What brings you to my little pocket of sunshine in this maker-forsaken place, Mando?"
Wait, was that… A chuckle? You were sure you heard one underneath the gruff and stoicism. But it didn't last, and he soon started explaining the part he was looking for to repair a kitchen appliance.
As you rummaged through your stock of small parts, what could be considered like meaningless shit to some, but small treasures to you, you sensed him brooding. More than usual. Not that he had ever been big on small talk, but right now, he was so quiet and tense you could feel it irradiating from him.
"What's the matter?"
Silence was his only answer.
"Come on, pal, I know you, even in your silence, you seem more sullen than usual."
"Nothing." He snapped.
"Fine." You rolled your eyes but let it be; if he didn't want to talk, you weren't going to force him. But after a minute, he sighed, and you knew he caved. You couldn't help the little smirk, happy your back was still turned to him, so he wouldn't see it.
"Grogu is at a sleepover. And I'm worried."
"About what? That he'll eat too many sweets and be sick? Watch a scary holo and have nightmares? Cause I want to say, that's a normal experience for a kid his… well I was going to say his age, but you know what I mean."
Another sigh. This one sounds defeated, almost like he was saying, "You're right."
You turned around to look at him. Even if you liked teasing him, you knew this was new to him, and it was important to show him support. You sat on a stool, behind the counter of your little shop. No one was going to show up, and you had time to help out a friend. Because that's what he was: a friend. And a good one at that. In the past months, since he had been your customer, since he settled permanently on Nevarro, what started as a business acquaintance soon became a form of mutual respect, from talking to each other about work, to actually knowing each other's lives. Not all of it, but still. You didn't do much other than chat when he came over to buy stuff, or when you randomly met in the town. It wasn't like you went out for drinks or dinner, since he couldn't really…. But you were at the level of friendship where silences (his mostly) were comfortable, and chatting (you mostly) didn't feel forced. You even had the occasional evening out when there was a holo showing or something fun for Grogu to attend. It was comfortable, and you liked it. And you liked him. A lot. Maybe a little more than as a friend. Although you didn't allow yourself to go there.
After a hesitation, he sat on the stool next to yours, his back on the street, his helmet seeming to stare into the back of your little shop, where your small living unit was.
"It's just… It's the first time we've been apart so long, since all of the… stuff. And I can't help but be worried." You were privy to the past events of Grogu's life. It had been the moment your relationship had transitioned to something deeper, when you both confided in secrets you kept. How he came to be in charge of Grogu, what your past during the empire had been.
You took a second to think about what you could say to bring him comfort. "I think that's what being a parent is all about. And I think it's a good thing you care." You pat him on the arm. Physical touch wasn't something that happened often between you, as much as you knew about him and his people, you didn't know much about the boundaries they had, though you had gathered his, as you'd noticed he tended to shy away from it. He tensed whenever you brushed past him. But you knew an occasional brief pat on the arm was OK. And you wanted to show some warmth and kindness in a form other than words.
"Just, don't let it eat you up. What are your plans for the evening?"
"Not much, repairing that blending machine and … I guess nothing else until I pick him up tomorrow after lunch."
"Ouch, that's a long time with nothing to do… What don't you–" You stopped, feeling like what you were about to offer maybe crossed a line, but at the same time, this was exactly what you would have offered any of your friends. "Do you want to stay for a drink and a game of Sabbac? I'm sure we could find an arrangement for the drinking." Waving at his whole figure, "I can even offer some food. And at least you wouldn't be spending the whole evening alone."
You sensed him hesitating. But he didn't say no straight away. You knew him well enough to know that if he didn't want to, he would have said so. So you tried to give him another reason for him to stay.
"I got a bottle of Toniray wine that I've been wanting to open." You were sure that behind his helmet, his eyebrows had raised when he heard the name.
"How did you get a bottle of Toniray?"
"I traded it for some parts a couple of months ago."
"I thought you didn't trade."
"I do actually, just not with you. You have plenty of credits. And you never offered me extremely rare wine. Also, the people I did business with–" You hesitated for a bit, before giving as much information as you could, not wanting to betray their trust, "Let's just say, that's all they had, and they needed those parts quickly."
"I knew there was a soft heart under all this hard shell."
"Din! Are you actually teasing me?"
You rarely used his name, the one he gave you a few months ago, after you had walked almost all afternoon, one day when he met you by chance at the market, with Grogu in tow. First, the little fellow was walking (jumping really) to catch up with both of you, even with your slow pace. Then he asked to be held in your arms, and lastly he fell asleep in his father's arms, after munching on a variety of food, in such quantity you wondered where he stored it in his tiny body. Another milestone in your friendship. Trust growing so much that you told him your true name, the one you left behind when you left your life after everything. Not that it meant anything really, you had long changed it, but it felt nice saying it out loud. And he, in turn, told you his. It was shortly after that that he told you about Grogu.
Thinking about it, you felt your heart swell again, and you just knew it was so much more than a crush you were feeling for this man. But as always, you tempered it, because he never showed any inclination toward you. You didn't even know if he ever felt anything romantic or whatever toward anyone. That was not something he had ever shared with you.
You used that name with caution, only using it on special occasions. And Din teasing you was one of those. The chuckle he let out was worth it, because maker, you felt hot all over as you got up from your seat to grab the part he asked for.
"Do you want to play this? If you win, you don't have to pay me?"
"And if you win?"
What you wanted to say was not what you ended up saying: "You pay me the full price, no friends discount."
"You never give me any discount."
"Oh, but I do. I just don't tell you." There was a little moment, suspended, where you feel his disbelief, until he cloaked your earnest face. Something like embarrassment seemed to overtake both of you. Until he extended his hand.
"Deal." You took it and shook it. He squeezed your hand, and you both held it a little longer than necessary.
—
"Fine, you win!" You threw your cards on the table, sulking a little. You thought you would trick him when you offered to play Shah-tezh, since it was a game of strategy, and one you were very good at. But you had forgotten who your adversary was, and how clever he was.
"Don't sound so surprised."
"Well, to be honest, I didn't think you would, but I guess it's a fair win."
"It is." He sounded pleased with himself, almost smug, and you couldn't help but snort.
You were enjoying a slightly tipsy Din. And slightly tipsy you. The arrangement was easy; you had two boards, so each one of you could have one, while not facing each other. You just had to move the pieces of the adversary and your own on the board in front of you. And that way, Din could sneak in a drink or two, lifting his helmet without you seeing anything.
You knew you should have eaten a bit because you were feeling a little lightheaded and loose. But the feeling was exhilarating. And the silence that followed felt warm.
"Where did you learn to play this?" Din's voice was different; you heard the sound of a gulp, he was talking without his helmet, and the voice you heard made your insides fuzzy. It wasn't the first time tonight, but you never got used to it.
"I spent a part of my childhood years in a rebel camp on Seikosha, my parents were mechanics there, and there was a group of pilots that took me under their wing. I played a lot with them. Learned a lot of stuff.
"Like how to scrape parts from speeders and ships?" Teasing you again, tonight was a night of surprises.
"Yeah, and from pretty much everything." Your voice let show a little of the longing you felt for that time, when you felt invincible, when you thought you would win the war, without any losses or damages. "What about you?"
"It's a good skill to have when you travel the galaxy."
"That doesn't answer my question."
He sighed, modulated, this time. You were about to change the subject, feeling he didn't want to go there.
"I worked with a group of mercenaries, not my best moment in life. There was this brother and sister who would love to play it and challenge everyone, it was hard to say no. Eventually, I became very good at it, better than them, actually."
He left a lot unsaid, and you should have left it at that, but you couldn't help yourself.
"It feels like there is some story behind this with… the sister? Or the brother!" You wanted him to feel like whatever he said, it would be OK.
"Xi'an, the sister."
You can't help yourself, you turn around, eager for more information.
"Oooooh! Sounds like drama! What happened?"
"It… she wasn't… It was unhealthy. Toxic, I hated them, hated what we did, just kind fell into this… thing. It didn't end well." He sounded so remorseful that it made you regret prying.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried." You said with a low voice.
"It's OK."
You felt bad, you had made him tell you something that he didn't want to talk about. He had always been very private about, well, about his private life. You should have known better, but your curiosity had made him uncomfortable. You felt like you owed him a little of yourself as a trade-off.
"Do you want to know about my worst relationship?"
Din's head perked up, and he finally turned to face you. You had his undivided attention.
"I dated a pilot when I was working on Coruscent as a senator's assistant–"
"You what?" He interrupted, his astonishment evident, but you waved your hand. "Another story for another time. Anyway, he was away a lot, I was still young and naive, and I listened to all his stories and promises. Until one day his wife came to my door to explain he was actually a droid mechanic, had two kids, and was currently in jail for gambling debts."
"No."
"Yes."
"I hope he got what he deserved for the duplicity." His voice sounded a little angry for you.
"His wife did leave him, and I had my little revenge, but I lost my innocence in a way. And I haven't trusted many people since."
"I haven't either."
The stillness that followed felt like a shared understanding, something like recognition between two people who had learned through disappointment and didn't let many people in. It was heavy, and you didn't want to linger on it. You gulped down your glass of wine and redirected the conversation to something lighter.
The evening turned to night, as you both talked and drank, trading stories that were part dark, part fun, secrets about parts of the galaxy you'd both been to. Until the bottle was empty, until it was too late to eat anything, until you were both so out of it, you were both slumped on your chairs. But eventually it was time to call it a night.
When Din got up, he staggered a little and almost fell back on his seat.
"Wow, easy there. Someone's had a little too much to drink."
"I'm fine." He said as he tried to stand straight, but failed and grabbed the table to steady himself.
"You aren't walking home in that state, you can crash here and get home in the morning."
In the same state, you weaved him to your couch, pressing a button that flattened the back, turning it into a bed, and eased him down.
"You're gonna be alright?" you asked him as you stood up, ready to walk away. Instead of answering, his hand grabbed your wrist, holding you tight, but also tenderly, his gloved thumb slowly caressing the palm of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.
"Mesh'la." His voice was so low you barely heard the strange word he said, but the tone in which he said it made your body warm and your already fuzzy brain get even more troubled, ready to do or say something you shouldn't. But before you could, the hand pulled you a little closer. "Stay."
"Din." It was all you could think of saying. He wasn't in his right mind, and neither were you. You shouldn't comply with whatever he was suggesting, even if he wasn't really suggesting anything bad, even if you wanted to lie next to him. But you felt the threshold, the bridge you were about to cross, the cliff you were about to jump. This thing right here, it would change everything between you, you sensed it in your bones.
"Please." He didn't hide the plea in his voice, didn't hide the vulnerability.
And that is all it took for you to cave, to settle next to him, his arm around your shoulder. You thought it would be uncomfortable, but your head found a soft spot, right in the crook of his shoulder, your own arm tentatively settling around his torso. You couldn't help but whisper, "I don't want this to change the way we are, I don't want you to regret anything."
"Cyari'ka, I'll never regret anything when it comes to you." You both squeezed each other, settling and sighing with content. Your world was spinning a little, you just didn't know if it was from the drink or from the way your life was about to change.
You woke up with a headache and a foul taste in your mouth. But apart from this, you felt at peace. Holding something warm and cold, large. No, not something. Someone. You opened an eye, light shining from the window showing a dark and shiny form in front of you. It was on its side, and you were holding it like a giant plushy. You barely had time to grasp the situation that last night's event came rushing back in your brain: how you fell asleep in Din's arms, the state you both were in, the words he had said, what did it mean?
Slowly, as if not to wake you up, the form untangled from your arms, sat on the couch, and sighed. A deep sigh that broke your heart a little. It sounded full of remorse. Din's head turned to you, and he noticed your open eyes. You could see him shrink himself a little, his head into his shoulder. If you were already uncertain, now you knew, he deeply regretted whatever had happened last night. Not that anything did happen, but–
"I have to go get Grogu." And in a swift motion, he stood and left the room. You barely had time to get up and call after him that he was gone, leaving your little place as empty as your own heart was feeling.
As you sat back on the couch, head spinning, your gaze fell on the parts he left. And you wondered if you should bring it back to him or just let it be and accept that you might probably never really see him again.
Standing in front of Din and Grogu's front door, you were second-guessing yourself. You had the parts with you as an excuse for this visit, but maybe you shouldn't have come. Maybe you should have waited for Din to come and get them if he really needed them. Letting him choose his own terms and his own time. You had almost turned around twice, the walk to Din and Grogu's cabin on the outskirts of the city taking longer because of your indecision.
Before you could turn away or knock, since you still hadn't decided what to do, the door opened as if on its own. No one was on the other side until your gaze was drawn down by a small coo. Grogu was there, smiling at you, as if he had been expecting your arrival. Your nerves ease for a bit, and you knelt to greet the kid.
"Hi, Grogu! How was your sleepover?" to which he proceeded to answer with his own words. By the tone and the way his ears, eyes, and mouth turned upward, you just knew he had had a good time.
Upon meeting him and Din, you quickly realized that Grogu understood basic perfectly well, even if sometimes he acted like he didn't, he just couldn't express himself the same way.
Grogu motioned with his little arm the inside of the house, with a questioning sound.
"I'm sorry, kid, I'm just going to leave these parts for your dad and go back home." But as soon as you had finished your sentence, the man himself appeared in the doorway, "Grogu, where are you? I told it's time for dinner–" His voice breaking as he noticed you, and you got up from your position.
"Sorry, I didn't want to intrude on dinner time, you forgot– I'm just– Sorry." You faltered, unable to bring yourself to look at him.
Handing him the items, you turned around, but both Grogu's small whine and Din's "Wait!" made you stop and turn your head to them.
You saw them looking at each other, a silent question from Grogu from the turn of his ears, and a silent answer from Din as he nodded ever so slightly. The way they were both connected, the deep bond they had for each other, made you feel something like longing.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Din's question surprised you, but you managed to look at him when you answered.
"I don't want to impose."
"Please." He didn't hesitate, and his tone was almost the same as last night when he uttered that same exact word. It felt like he wanted you to stay as much as Grogu wanted.
"OK." You smiled shyly as you entered the house.
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Grogu made most of the conversation, happily eating, showing interest in your plate, babbling cheerfully, and you couldn't help but ease a bit. It almost felt like before, and maybe this was how it would go, forgetting anything had happened and resuming a friendship, albeit a little awkward for some time, until everything was back to normal.
After dinner, Grogu wanted to play with you a bit, and you entertained him before his bedtime, until Din declared it was time for bed. You were ready to leave, but before you could even stand up from the floor where you had been tossing a ball with the child, Din's stare behind his helmet pinned you in place.
"Please. Stay. I need to–. Just stay. Please."
"Of course."
Sitting on the couch, your fingers worrying a loose thread on your tunic, you couldn't help but go over every possible outcome of the conversation that was about to happen. At dinner and after, with how the evening had been, it felt almost impossible to guess what might happen. Last night, Din had said he wouldn't regret anything, yet this morning, he seemed like he did. But now, he was open again. And what about you? Should you risk jeopardizing a friendship by admitting your own feelings? Too soon, Din was back.
"Thank you for staying." He said, as he sat on a chair, across from you. It wasn't far, but it felt like a mile had been put between you, and you couldn't help but feel that this was intended. A silence settled, enveloping both of you in its wake, casting an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach and nervousness in both of you.
"I'm sorry about this morning." Finally, Din broke the stillness. "About last night, I shouldn't…" but he stopped, his helmet looking down, at his own hands. He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm not good with words."
"Allow me to say something first, then." His helmet turned to you, and even without seeing his face, you could feel the emotions on his body, relief that you were taking the lead in the conversation, but also tension at what you were about to say. In that moment, you knew you owed yourself the truth.
"Din, I trust you, and you trust me. I want us to be honest with each other." He nodded, and you continued. "Last night, you said you wouldn't regret it, but I think you do. And that's OK. I don't want this to get between us."
He motioned to speak, but you held your hand out to prevent him from talking. You needed to say it all now. "I like you, Din. I really do. As a friend, as maybe one of my best friends now that I come to think of it. You know probably more about me than most." You frowned a little as you said this, realizing in the moment how true this was, how in a few months, this person had become the one person who knew you the best. "But I also have other feelings for you. Feelings that go beyond friendship. I have never said anything, because I didn't want to ruin what we have. And if you don't want this, for whatever reason, I respect it. Because I don't want to lose you. I really don't. So I need you to know it's OK if you don't feel the same. It really is."
During this speech, you stared at your lap. You couldn't look at him because it would have taken away all your bravery, so you didn't see him move, you only felt him sit next to you once you had finished, and felt him take both your hands that were wringing together, the only testimony to your anxiety.
"Cyare." That's all he said at first. When you face lifted to him, one of his hands went to your cheek, delicately stroking it, with the same care he had shown before he asked you to stay last night. You stared at where his eyes might be, willing him to say words that would help quiet all the thoughts and questions in your head.
"You are also the person who knows me the most, and I wouldn't want anything to come between our friendship. But I also have other feelings, and it's been hard keeping them quiet."
A small gasp was all you could muster, as you felt his helmet delicately rest on your forehead. You let your eyes close in reverence, knowing the meaning of this gesture, the intimacy it held for him, and now for you.
The moment stayed suspended in time, one of his hands still holding your cheek, your own slowly going to his helmet, not touching his skin but still giving your touch the same reverence as if you were. And the breath he let out made you shiver with desire.
"Cyar'ika, –" His voice was full of longing, and it was almost too much. But curiosity will always make you ruin the best moments.
"What does it mean?"
He chuckled in response before answering. "It means something like sweetheart, but it's not exactly that. Cyare means beloved, Cyar'ika darling, or sweetheart."
"It's beautiful." He hummed, and his helmet moved slowly away. You knew his eyes were staring at your own, as he asked, almost shyly, "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
"I would very much. But… How would it work?" You can't help but ask the question, feeling suddenly timid.
"We don't have to do anything. I would actually maybe prefer if we didn't. I would like to take it slow if it's OK with you." His voice sounded a little uncertain, and you couldn't help the warm feeling that went through you, as you discovered this side of him. Someone soft, with insecurities, as mighty and scary as he seemed. It made him so much more human. And you fell a little harder.
"Of course." You reassured him.
"I won't keep my armor, but I will keep my helmet."
"And the flight suit?" You were greedy, you knew it. Greedy for his touch and for his skin. But when he hesitated, you felt bad for having asked too much."You don't have to take it off. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll never ask for anything you aren't ready to give."
"I… I don't know." His voice was a little uneasy.
"How about we take it one step at a time?" Your hand caught his gloved one, and you brought it to your mouth, your eyes asking a question he answered with a slight nod. You kissed the covered palm, feeling the leather on your lips, and hearing his breath hitch at the sensation. The tension left his body, and he answered.
Toniray is sparkling wine from Alderaan. It was already pretty rare, even before Alderaan was destroyed by the Galactic Empire.
Shah-tezh is a strategy game for two players that looks a lot like chess.
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Summary: On a journey while being protected by the Mandalorian, you nearly die after a recent battle, and at your request, he agrees to reveal himself to you.
Pairing: Din Djarin x Princess!Reader
Tags: Fluffy; first kiss; discovery of love; physical contact; inexperienced couple; mentions of death.
Note: For months I've been imagining a story like this. It's just so sweet and innocent, I'd love to develop it into something more. Maybe a series? I don't know. They're both so innocent and cute.
Word count: 1,2k.
In the silence of the cabin, after an intense battle while fleeing from smugglers, you blink your eyes open after hours unconscious. The ship is dark, fabrics draped over your body, a small improvised pillow cushioning your head. You lift your head slowly, feeling the ache of a blow you don’t remember taking. You look around and get to your feet, hands brushing along the walls as you make your way toward the cabin door.
The darkness of the galaxy isn’t nearly as frightening as the quiet of peace. There are moments when you miss the bustle of villages, especially when flashes of memory surface, fragments of a childhood that seems to have been yours. Images of a younger version of you in a white dress, running through fields, your mother’s voice echoing as she calls out for you.
For a long time now, you’ve been forcing your mind, trying to remember your past. A past taken from you for reasons you don’t know. You don’t even know if you ever truly knew it, and you’ve had to settle for nothing more than fleeting flashes of memory.
Your last clear memory is of your home being invaded, and somehow, Mando saving you from something you still don’t understand. And no matter how much you try to find out, how many times you ask him along the way, you never get a single clue.
Your life has become jumping from galaxy to galaxy, running, hiding, following Mando wherever he goes.
He rarely speaks unless you start the conversation. In recent days, though, things have shifted slightly after you nearly died in an explosion. You’re still recovering from bruises on your face, but he fractured one of his arms and remained unconscious for hours. It was the perfect chance to remove the helmet and satisfy the curiosity that gnawed at you from the inside. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, and when you finally tried, he woke instantly and stopped you.
No matter how much you begged or pleaded, he held firm. He had made a vow and couldn’t show his face to you. Sometimes he would lose his patience, starting an argument that sent you storming off to lock yourself in the cabin. Hours later, he would knock on your door, asking if you were hungry. That was Mando’s way of showing he cared.
There was a fragility in him that you began to notice over time, in his voice, his gestures, the way he retreated from deeper subjects. He never admitted to weakness, always positioning himself as the one in control, a true bodyguard.
So you took advantage of the quiet of the night to watch him sleep in the cockpit. Slumped in the chair, his head tilted to the side. It’s so dark you almost don’t notice when he moves, lifting his head as he wakes.
He says your name.
“Hey, kid” his mechanical voice sounds rougher than usual.
Mando uncrosses his legs from the control panel and walks toward you without hesitation. His hands rest on your shoulders as he studies you calmly, intrigued.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, nodding toward the cut on your eyebrow.
“A little” you answer as he lets go. “I thought I’d died.”
“Why?”
“I dreamed of a beautiful field. Green, full of flowers, with children playing,” you smile softly. “But I don’t know if they actually exist. If any of those faces were ever real. And then I woke up.”
He stands there listening. No comments, no questions, just paying attention.
“What if I really die next time?” you ask, as much to him as to yourself. “I don’t even have someone real to remember.”
You cling to the faint memories of the past, of children playing somewhere in the universe. Laughter echoes inside your mind.
Mando calls your name again, and you lift your thoughtful gaze.
“Remembering enemies on your deathbed isn’t the best way to die.”
“If they’re trying to kill me, I won’t have much of a choice,” you offer a weak smile. “But I’m talking about someone important to me. Someone I can think of fondly when I die.”
He says nothing as he considers your words. You take a step closer and, with great reluctance, look directly at the helmet — as if you could see through the visor.
“And that someone is you,” you confess, swallowing hard afterward. Your hands tremble slightly as they rise to the sides of his helmet, touching the cold material. Mando, who hasn’t reacted or moved as you approached, gently holds your wrists.
He whispers your name.
“No one will know,” you plead softly. “I promise. Just…” you trail off, anxiety and nerves overwhelming you. Your eyes trace every line of the helmet. Suddenly you think of everything you’ve talked about, every time he’s refused. But this time feels different. You need this — something to hold onto in your memories, in case he can’t save you next time. “Let me have something to cling to. And I’ll never ask you again.”
The sound of his breathing echoes loudly inside the helmet. Mando remains still for a long moment, until his hands release your wrists.
Your heart pounds at the gesture. Drawing in a shaky breath, you set your jaw and grip the sides of the helmet, sliding it slowly back off his head.
Your first reaction is shock. Your mind takes a moment to process the image before you as you remove the helmet completely. A normal face — like yours, like the few you can remember seeing. Dark eyes, but not cruel like the ones you’re used to. Well-shaped lips, a straight nose, short hair the same shade as his eyes. Pale skin with faint lines at the corners of his eyes.
He is… beautiful.
You blink, your gaze still tracing every detail of his face. And then you notice him watching your reaction. There’s apprehension in his eyes, eyes shining with a mixture of emotions.
You let out a quiet laugh to yourself.
“You are…” you lift your hands and touch the face you’ve dreamed of seeing for so long, startling him slightly as he stiffens at the contact. But he doesn’t pull away. He stays rigid. “Perfect.”
His eyes lock onto yours. They say so much. You wish you knew exactly what he was thinking, but something in his gaze speaks to you all the same. He wants the same thing you do.
It’s risky… but it feels right.
Your hands still cradling his face, you sway forward, closing the distance. Rising onto your toes, you press your lips to his without knowing how to do it. You can’t remember ever seeing a kiss you act purely on instinct, as if his lips are a magnet drawing yours in.
Your mouth touches his gently, without pressure. He doesn’t react, and for a moment you wonder if, like you, he didn’t expect this — didn’t know how to respond.
You pull back slowly and open your eyes. Mando does the same, his chest rising, jaw clenched as he swallows hard, the expression of someone who has just realized what he’s done.
Your body feels frozen in front of him. Then, in a sudden movement, he grabs the helmet and puts it back on quickly. He gives you one last look and before you can say anything, before you can even apologize, he turns away and leaves the cabin.
Summary: Travelling with a great bounty hunter is not the easiest. But it's even harder for Din when he slowly develops feelings for you. But being the silent one, he never tells you anything. Not until one night.
Warnings: helmetless Din, yearning, MDNI (+18), slight swearing, male masturbation, blindfolding, Din eating it from the back, fingering, unprotected p in v, Din has nipple piercings, soft aftercare, one playful ass smack
Word count: ~ 3,3k
You didn’t remember anymore the time you’ve been traveling with Din. Since the moment he passed by your planet and asked for your help, he’s been a quiet presence beside you. You never expected to meet a bounty hunter, asking for your help with a creature you’ve never seen before. He called him the Child, Grogu.
He was a serious man, not talking much, but if he did then it happened only so he can give out orders. Sometimes you wondered if there was a part of him that was yearning for small conversations too, or if he was just trying to keep his distance from you for different reasons. Either way, you still tried to talk to him, even if the only answer was a soft hum coming from under his helmet.
You did your research during your travels, became aware that the helmet was a part of him. A good mercenary told you about the Mandalorians’ history. How their planet became lifeless and what rumors revolved around it.
And in that moment you understood that Din didn’t wear his helmet all the time because he had to — though it’s true that his Creed required it — he wore it because it brought him peace. It wasn’t that heavy beskar armor that kept him safe, it was the helmet because without it he could only feel guilt for breaking the law of the Mandalorians.
You never questioned him when he walked away to a quiet corner of the ship with Grogu at dinner time, instead you settled into the front of the ship so you could give them their space, so he could lift his helmet just for the time he finishes his soup.
But lately you started to wonder what the man really looked like under that heavy armor, and behind the tall walls he built around himself.
Grogu cooed in your lap as you sat in the seat besides Din at the front of the ship. The small creature reached for the small silver ball in your hand, and you held it out so he could take it freely. But instead of taking it like he would normally do, the ball flew up in the air, and you watched, completely mesmerized how it landed perfectly in his small hand.
“Hey, you’re using your powers better and better every day,” you cheered him on, and the Child only leaned against you, playing with his new toy.
Your eyes lifted from his small frame, landing on the man sitting beside you. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that he was already turned towards you, and you were sure he watched the whole interaction through his t-visor. You flashed a shy smile in his way, and he quickly turned forward, the seat creaking under him.
You got used to this routine, him not saying anything, you sitting there, trying to pretend like nothing happened, but sometimes this silence grew a little too thick, making you confused.
Your thoughts were broken by the loud yawn of Grogu, and you took that as your cue. You took the silver ball from his hand, placing it on the console as you stood up with him in your arms. Din didn’t hear you, or he just pretended like that, so you walked up to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. His body immediately went rigid under your touch before he relaxed again.
“I’m going to put Grogu to sleep, then I think I’ll call it a day too. Try not to crash the ship until then, alright?” you tried to joke, but you only got a nod in return.
Your hand fell from his shoulder as you walked to the back of the ship, the door closing behind you with a loud hiss, and Din let out a long sigh. He hated to pretend like he didn’t care about you, hated to see how well you could bound with the Child, he hated every part of himself that told him to keep away from you. And still, he couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to your touch.
It was like every cell of his body focused on your hand on his shoulder, the feeling spreading in him rapidly.
He tried to focus on driving the ship, but the growing bulge in his pants made it impossible. With a loud sigh he smashed the auto-pilot button on the console, tearing the gloves off of his hands, and letting them land beside the chair. He gripped the armrest of the seat to try and get himself in control again, but the his needs won, his arousal building with each passing second.
His right hand fell to the tent on the front of his pants, and he threw back his head, the helmet clinking weakly as he started to palm himself through the rough fabric.
His thoughts wandered, imagining you doing this to him. That soft hand that was on his shoulder just minutes ago, pleasing him while he was just watching from behind his t-visor. He was sure that he was going against his Creed’s law, but he didn’t care at that moment.
When he felt like he couldn’t take it anymore, he made quick work with the fly at the front. His hand immediately wrapped around himself the moment he freed his cock, and a loud groan left his mouth as he started stroking himself at a steady pace.
He wondered if it would be the same if you were the one stroking him. Surely not, he answered himself, your hands were softer, his were full of callouses that built up throughout the years. And what if you were using your mouth?
Din imagined you kneeling in front of him, his hand replaced by the warmth of your mouth. His hand moved faster on his length, his precum making every movement easier as he chased his orgasm.
He hated the way the glass of the t-visor blurred with every breath he let out, but he didn’t stop.
In just a few more seconds he was on the edge, and with the last stroke he came hard, ropes of his cum landing on the floor of the ship. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, his hand slowing down as he looked at the mess he made. He felt frustrated, but relieved at the same time, a feeling that he never got to experience before.
And this went on like this for three more weeks. Every time you touched him, even for the briefest little connection made him hard, and the moment you left, he never hesitated to relieve himself of the pressure.
Until one night at an inn.
Din was skeptical about it at first when you told him you had a friend at an inn where you could stay, but he had to admit that the thought of a normal bed was really alluring for his aching body.
The problems only started when your friend announced that they only had one room left.
Din immediately wanted to back out of the plan. Being in the same room as you for so long seemed almost impossible to him, especially after everything he has done while you were peacefully sleeping rooms away from him. But somehow you still managed to convince him, saying that it was only for one night.
The next obstacle was Grogu. The small creature decided to start his own little life, finding other children that could play with him, resulting in him not coming back to your shared room.
Din was on the brink of losing it, pacing uo and down in the room despite your tries to calm him down. Eventually you both agreed on going to sleep. At least you tried to, but both of you knew that you were just going to lay awake beside each other.
Din started to feel more uncomfortable at the sudden proximity of your body, and he tried to keep a distance, but it was hard when he felt like he could combust any moment if he didn’t get to touch you.
The helmet wasn’t doing justice to him either, the metal pressing into the back of his head as he tried to remain as rigid as he could. He wondred if he would commit a crime if he took it off and slept like that. The beskar was pushing heavily against his skull, and he was sure that if he continued to lay like this, then he would have to say goodbye to a deep sleep.
“Cyar'ika?”
“Yeah?” you hummed, turning your head towards him in the darkness. His armor shone in the light of the moon, and you were sure that you caught just a small glinpse of his eyes behind the helmet as he moved to push himself to a sitting position.
“Can I… Can I take off my helmet?” he asked hesitantly, and your breath caught at the unexpected question.
“But isn’t that against the law of your Creed, Din?”
“Not if you’re not looking at me,” he answered.
You didn’t wait for further questions, only turned on your side, your back facing him, and that was all he needed as a confirmation. His hands lifted the heavy helmet, the metal being placed on the ground carefully, and he finally took in a deep breath. As long as you weren’t looking at him he was fine with being helmetless.
The moment his head hit the pillow he fell into the deepest sleep of his life.
You woke abruptly in the middle of the night when a hand sneaked onto your waist. Your first instinct was to try and turn around, but you quickly remembered where you were and what happened the evening before, so you just remained on your side. Din’s hot breath landed on the back of your neck, and deep down you wished that you could just see how he looked like while fast asleep, when he didn’t have to worry about anything.
Your hand covered his, and he instinctively moved closer to you, his body now pressing flush against yours. You could feel everything. A blush crept on your face when you felt him pressing hard against you, and you tried to put a little distance between you, but he simply pulled you back against him, his head burying into your hair.
You felt yourself grow wet at the thought of him being aroused, and you couldn’t help the small roll of your hips against his groin. He let out a soft growl, his hand tigtening on your waist, and in that moment you knew that you woke him up.
“You’re playing with fire, cyar'ika,” he warned you. This was the first time you heard his voice without the helmet and you couldn’t help, but clench your thighs together at the soft rumble. But you didn’t miss a chance at pushing your ass back again.
He quickly steadied you, pushing you on your stomach and climbing behind you. He leaned close to you, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re not good at taking warnings, huh?”
You were looking at the pillow in front of you, and when you tried to move your head to the side, his hand carefully turned it forward again. His body suddenly disappeared from behind you, and you were tempted to look where did he go and what he was doing as you heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of metal, but he quickly appeared again.
“I’m going to blindfold you, alright? We can’t risk anything here,” he murmured, and he lifted a thin strap of fabric in front of your eyes. Your vision went pitch black as he tied it in a firm knot at the back of your head, and your other senses heightened immediately.
Din lifted you onto your hands and knees, and even though you were still fully clothed, you felt the most naked in your life under his gaze. His palm drew a path on your spine, down to the waistband of your thick pants, and he pulled them down in one swift movement, exposing your panties to his eyes. You were sure he could see the wet patch on it when he let out a quiet curse.
What you didn’t expect though was how suddenly he pulled them to the side, the cool air hitting your pussy quickly replaced by the warmth of his mouth. A moan left your lips, and the sheets bunched up between your fingers as he groaned behind you, the waves traveling up your body.
His tongue drew a path from your clit to your entrance, and he repeated his moves with more firmness, his hands gripping your hips to ground himself. His mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking gently at it, and your moan filled the room.
You didn’t even notice when one of his hands moved from your thigh, but the feeling of one of his fingers dipping between your folds made you aware of it. Before a moan could even leave your mouth, he buried his finger inside you, leaving you completely breathless.
He started to move it at a steady pace, his mouth still connected to your clit, and the feeling was absolutely overwhelming. You’ve never felt anything like this in years, and while in the last few months you often got yourself off at the thought of him eating you out, you never thought that one day it would really happen.
Your thoughts were broken by your own moan of Din’s name as you came on his finger, your body falling forward between the pillows as the waves of your high washed all over you.
Neither of you moved for a few seconds, him waiting for you to recover, and you too spent to even move a muscle.
He was the one to break the silence and peace that settled in. You felt the mattress dip beside you, and you tried to use your hearing to understand what was happening.
“Come here, cyar'ika,” he tapped your side. You weren’t expecting him to let you be on top, and you were slightly intimidated by the task when you clearly couldn’t see anything. He saw your hesitation, so he helped you.
You didn’t expect to meet bare skin, and a surprised moan left your lips when you felt his cock behind you. Your hands landed on his chest, and your palm was met with something cold, almost as cold as his beskar armor usually was. But you didn’t question him, instead you started to move your hips back against him, and a soft groan rolled off of his lips when you covered his length in your wetness.
You reached behind you to take him in your palm, rising slightly from his lap so you could line him up with your entrance. You slowly started to sink down on him, and you felt his hands shot to either side of your hips, helping you. Your mouth opened to a soft moan, and your head fell forward as he bottomed out. You quickly remembered that your top was still on, so you made quick work with the zipper, chucking the fabric to the side, leaving you completely bare for his eyes. You slowly started to move above him, your movements guided by his hold, and the feeling was overwhelming.
Din could only groan beneath you as his eyes were glued to your body. He planted his feet firm on the mattress as he met your moves with powerful thrusts, and you gave control to him completely when you leaned forward, bracing yourself on his chest. He didn’t check twice as his arms wrapped around your body, and his thrusts became faster and harder.
He buried his face between your breasts, kissing up his way to the column of your throat. He delivered a particularly hard thrust at the same time he nipped at your throat, and this was all you needed to fly over the edge again. He felt your walls tighten around him, so he slowed down his movements. Your hands gripped his shoulders as you rode out your orgasm, him softly rocking his hips against yours.
When your grip disappeared from his shoulders, and your body stopped trembling, he started to chase his own high too, speeading up again. He listened to your soft moans as his mouth got closer to your lips, and the moment he sealed them together in a kiss, he came hard, not leaving a moment for him to pull out.
The kiss laste long after he came down from his own high, and you only pulled back from him because of the lack of oxygen. You carefully laid down beside him, the loss of him making you whimper. You felt him shift next to you, and the next thing you knew was that the blindfold was lifted from your eyes. You had to blink a few times before the room came back to you, and your gaze immediately fell on the man beside you — now with his helmet back on.
“Are you alright?” he asked you, and your response was a nod with a weak smile. You moved to lay down on his chest when your eyes caught something shiny. You braced yourself on the bed, your gaze falling to his nipples that were pierced.
“Are these…”
Deep down he was grateful that instead of pointing out his scars, you chose to ask about his piercings. But now he had to explain it all to you. “Piercings?” he finished your question, and you nodded, your fingers lifting to touch the metal.
“Where did you get them?”
“I was young. Got back from my first mission, received my first payment of beskar. I didn’t really think back then,” he explained, stopping for a second as you touched the tiny beskar rod again, goosebumps breaking out over his whole body. “Used most of it up for a new armor, but I kept the scraps. I was curious, so one night I just pierced myself.”
“Yourself?” you asked surprised, propping yourself on his chest and looking straight into his t-visor.
“Yeah. It hurt like hell, and it still doesn’t have any purpose to this day.”
You moved your head down on his chest, leaning to place a soft kiss on the piercing while your gaze remained on his helmet. “Well, I like them.”
“You do?”
“Hm. It was an unexpected surprise, but not an unpleasant one.”
He hummed under the helmet, reaching to pull the sheet over your bodies. He hugged you close to him, feeling the warmth of your body. His hand was resting on your lower back, and you let out a quiet chuckle when you moved, and it fell down to your ass. He didn’t say anything though.
“Din?”
“Hm?”
“What will we do with Grogu?” you reminded him, and he let out an annoyed sigh.
“That damn kid. Sometimes he can be so damn stubborn.”
“He really reminds me of a certain someone,” you teased, and it only earned a playful smack on your ass from him.
“Sleep, cyar'ika,” Din said, and you laid back down with a chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder as he pulled you closer.
Sleep immediately pulled you under, the exhaustion finally catching up with your body. Din made sure that you were alright, studying how your face smoothened, the worries disappearing, and only then did he let his head rest against the soft pillow.
He didn’t even care anymore about the helmet pressing into the back of his head. He had you in his arms, and that was all that mattered to him in that moment.
Tags (let me know if you'd like to be added or if you don't want to be tagged anymore): @bergamote-catsandbooks, @rosharanfiction, @cozymochaa, @misstokyo7love, @canonisoptional, @picketniffler, @harriedandharassed
Summary: After months of lingering glances and silence thick with tension, you and Din finally gave in to what had always been waiting. The silence between you is no longer empty. It’s full of love.
The wind howled against the outer shell of the wrecked transport, muffled only by the makeshift insulation Din had rigged over the hull. Outside, the world remained painted in ice and snow, an endless sea of white under the morning light.
Inside, the world was still.
You stirred slowly under the thick furs, breath warm against the bare skin of Din’s shoulder. He hadn’t moved all night. Still in his undershirt, arms curled around you.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and for a brief moment, you simply laid there and listened.
His skin smelled like cold metal, fire, and the faint trace of something quieter.
Him.
Your hand rested just above his heart. He was warm.
And last night had not been a dream.
You remembered the way his gloved hand had shaken before he touched your cheek.
The way his voice cracked when he said your name.
The way he had kissed you, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to, and then kissed you again like he couldn’t stop.
It had been soft. Hungry. Clumsy in moments. Gentle in others.
It was everything.
You moved slightly, and his arm pulled you closer.
“You’re awake,” you whispered, though your voice was barely louder than the wind.
He didn’t open his eyes.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, voice low, rough with sleep and something else. “Didn’t want to miss this.”
You smiled against his chest. “Miss what?”
His arm curled around your waist tighter. “You. This. The morning after.”
You tilted your head up to look at him. His eyes were open now, dark and unreadable as ever, but softer than you’d ever seen.
He blinked slowly, and when you reached up to brush your fingers across his jaw, he leaned into the touch.
“Are you alright?” you asked quietly.
His brow furrowed faintly. “Are you?”
You gave a small nod. “More than alright.”
He exhaled, chest loosening. “Good. I... wasn’t sure if it changed anything.”
“It changed everything.".
He looked at you like you were something holy. “I wanted it to mean something.”
“It did,” you whispered. “It does.”
His hand found yours. There was a silence between you, but it was full now. Full of warmth and love.
You turned slightly so you could look at him properly, tracing the line of his collarbone under the fabric of his shirt.
“You don’t regret it?” you asked, not because you doubted him, but because the morning could be cruel to dreams.
Din shook his head. “No. I regret waiting this long.”
Your breath caught. “Din…”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “I didn’t know how to be with you. I still don’t. But last night, when you touched me like that... I felt whole. Like I finally arrived home.”
You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it, soft and sure. “You are home.”
He shifted closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “Say it again.”
You smiled. “You’re home. With me. You always have been.”
Din sighed into you, and you felt his hand move slowly down your back. “I’ll protect this. Whatever it is. Us. Even if I don’t have the words yet.”
“You don’t need words,” you murmured. “You have me.”
He kissed you then. As if he had all the time in the galaxy.
Outside, the wind howled again. But inside the broken vessel, you held onto him.
And he held onto you.
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
Wattpad
/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
Warnings: Sexual training/grooming, mentions of creeds and honor, cults, playing fast and loose with Mandalorian traditions, removing helmets, forced weddings, nudity, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, fingering, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, humiliation, dishonor, pregnancy
Comments: You arrive with the Armorer to take your place as Din Djarin's riduur, one that he had no warning of. Trained to be the spouse of the next leader of the covert - you will be dar'manda if he rejects you. And Din is horrified to learn that you have been trained for his pleasure.
A/N: We leaned into the cult-like mindset for this fic. Beware.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“It is your duty to wed Din Djarin.” You have heard these words for weeks now, nerves settling in your belly even though nothing of your anxiety is reflected in the dark visor of the beskar helmet covering your face. You swallow as the ship bringing you to Nevarro starts its descent into the atmosphere and you hear the comm tower direct the Armorer to a docking bay near the town, but she ignores that and turns to the north of the city. Making you chew your lip as the lava flats pass underneath and you see the rockiness of the desert starts to appear. This will be your home, where you will make your family. With Din Djarin, as his riduur, only he doesn’t know it yet.
Another day in Nevarro and Din is settling down to clean his weapons when there’s a knock at his door. Grogu is at school and he is immediately on edge. Working fast to put his blaster together, he stands up and slowly makes his way to the door, pressing the button to open it just as he aims the weapon. “Din Djarin.” The Armorer greets him and he lowers his blaster but keeps it in his hand. His eyes flick beneath the visor between the Armorer and the mysterious Mandalorian beside her. “Can I help you?” He asks, a little perturbed at being disturbed in his solitude.
The mandalorian in front of you does not seem to be expecting you. Your stomach bottoms out and the Armorer speaks again. “We have some business with you.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, stepping inside the house and you reluctantly follow. You’ve heard of him, seen him from afar but his beskar is impressive upclose. Taller and broader than you imagined, you feel your cunt clench as you imagine this warrior bedding you. He steps back and you look around the little house that he has been living in since the retaking of Mandalore. It’s suitable, but you can tell that he’s not frivolous or used to creature comforts. You can change that for him.
Din is tense, his shoulders back and his legs spread evenly in case this is some kind of trap. He trusts the Armorer to an extent but his upbringing means he doesn’t trust anyone, not even himself. “The business?” He asks, not offering a refreshment like his fellow Nevarrians would. He is a Mandalorian through and through.
“It is time that you take a riduur.” The Armorer tells Din with a hint of irony in her clear voice. You can tell that he’s shocked by the way he rears back and you know that he had no clue what the covert and Mandalore had planned for him. “I have brought you the woman you will enter a riduurok with, create warriors. She is fertile.”
Din can’t help it. He lets out a shocked chuckle and he shakes his helmet, “I do not want a riduur. I have said this many times.”
Your helmet tilts towards the Armorer who shakes her head, “you have avoided the responsibility long enough. As a Mandalorian, it is your duty, your creed, to protect the covert and that includes breeding to add to our numbers. This one is made for you. She will do as you say. You simply have to breed her after your riduurok.”
Din’s fingers flex against the side of his blaster, “I am not ready.”
Still, you don’t speak, even though your head turns towards the Armorer when you are so obviously being rejected by the man you have been raised to marry. “You are ready.” She insists, motioning towards the other rooms where the child that Din has taken under his wing is obviously napping. “Your young charge would do well with having brothers and sisters to help him.”
Din sees you step forward and he shakes his head, “she’s not staying. I do not want a riduur. You need to take her back to the covert.” He demands and shakes his head. “I am not suitable for a riduur. I never will be.”
“If you do not take her as your riduur, you will be dar’manda once more.” She insists. “Part of your creed was to the covert and the covert requires this of you. Mandalore requires this.” The Armorer tells him and you feel ashamed that you are obviously lacking whatever quality that Din requires in a riduur.
“I will be a good riduur.” You tell him. “Trained vigorously for one day giving life to the next generation of Mandalorians.”
Din recoils, not wanting a bride who hand picked for him, reared for him. It is a practice he knew of back when the Mandalorian fled Mandalore and had to recoup their numbers. He doesn’t want to be dar’manda again. He had to find the waters to redeem himself before and it’s not a journey he wishes to repeat. He swallows harshly and takes a moment, “fine. Join us now.” He demands, wanting to get this over with.
The Armorer nods in approval but you almost wish to protest. He does not seem happy. However, you do not say a word, being trained that this is your fulfillment of the Creed. Your duty to Mandalore is to marry Din and have his ad. Your gloved hand reaches out to join with his, only to be ignored by the bounty hunter. You drop your hand, happy that you have not removed your helmet yet due to your embarrassment. “Repeat your vows.” The Armorer insists, turning her head towards you to start.
Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You recite softly, hoping that Din just needs some time to adjust to the idea of a riduur.
Din inhales deeply as you recite your vows and he isn’t sure what he could say to prevent this. All he can do is take you as his riduur, offer you shelter and make sure you’re well kept. He won’t touch you to consummate the riduurok. He sighs and looks at you. Wondering what you look like beneath the helmet. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He repeats, back stiff.
Once the vows are repeated, you reach for the locks on your helmet. The Armorer had warned you that Din was also a part of her sect, he did not remove his helmet as you might, in front of others. You only hope that he might remove it once she leaves and you are alone. Slowly slipping the Beskar off your head, you look up into the visor of your now riduur. “Hello, Din.” You greet him softly with your name, since that hadn’t even been exchanged.
His eyes widen under the helmet. You’re gorgeous. He is taken back by your beautiful face and it is a few moments until he recovers. “Hello.” He says your name but doesn’t take off his helmet. “Is that all?” He turns to look at the armorer.
“I will leave you to become better acquainted.” The armorer seems pleased as she clasps her hands together. “She has never had a man, so take care her first time.”
You bite your lip, embarrassed that she would be so casual with that information, although he is now your riduur. “Thank you for bringing me here, safe journey back to Mandalore.”
The Armorer nods. “This is the way.” You repeat the phrase and soon she has disappeared out of the house to leave you alone with Din.
Din sighs as he makes his way back to the table, disassembling his blaster so he can continue with the work he was doing before he was interrupted. “If you have things…you can take the spare room.” He jerks his helmet towards the door across the cabin, opposite of his room and Grogu’s. He doesn’t plan to consummate the riduurok. He plans to leave you untouched. He did as the Armorer asked and he has fulfilled the requirement of his creed.
Tilting your head, you stare at the Mandalorian that both the Armorer and Bo-Katan have talked about with pride. He is uninterested in you. “Do you wish that I had a cock instead of a cunt?” You ask bluntly, wondering if he preferred male companionship. “I know that we must have sex to breed and if you prefer, you can take me from behind.” You offer. “I can use my mouth to arouse you?”
Din snorts, he can’t help it. “No. I don’t wish you had a cock. I don’t wish - I do not wish to take you without us - I don’t know. We don’t know each other and now you’re my riduur. I am not consummating this riduurok. You are welcome to live here but I will not touch you.” He says with finality.
You stare at him in shock. “But we have to.” You insist. “Part of our vows are to create warriors.” You are panicking slightly since this is what you’ve been trained to do. Be a Mandalorian spouse and to bear his children. “We cannot have warriors if you don’t fuck me.”
“I do not desire warriors. I have a foundling. I don’t want ads.” He tells you and you appear gobsmacked. “I’m sorry, riduur. I did not ask for this. I was perfectly happy on my own in my cabin here. The Armorer wishes for more than I can give.” He says, grabbing the cloths to start cleaning his blaster.
It’s clear when he doesn’t speak again and refuses to look your way that he is ignoring you. Speechless, you turn and walk towards the door that he had motioned to. The spare room where you were supposed to sleep. Your pack with all your belongings was still on your shoulder and you felt like giving him some time might be best.
Din diligently cleans his weapons, taking more time than necessary to do so. He sighs when he hears the door open and he looks up after putting his last blaster together to find you standing before him. “Why- dank ferrik what are you- why are you naked?” He demands to know, turning his helmet to avoid looking at you to give you some dignity.
You are used to your own nudity, spending hours naked in the covert while other Mandalorians barely undress for their showers, or don’t undress at all if they use a sonic shower. “So you can breed me.” You answer, moving closer to him. “I wish for you to breed your warrior into my belly. I can provide great satisfaction and pleasure to you.”
Din recoils, confused by your desire for him to get you pregnant, for you to pleasure him. “Riduur. Why…you act like you’ve been raised for this?” He offhandedly comments. “I don’t want to fuck you, to breed you. Please. Get dressed.” He pleads, unable to look at you.
“This is my purpose.” You are so confused and distressed by his attitude. Has he not been taught that for breeders to keep to the Creed, they must exhaust all efforts to bear warriors? “I have no wish to be dar’manda.” You shake your head. “I will learn however you wish to receive pleasure and make sure that you are satisfied every time.”
Din can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t - that isn’t what you are here for. Your creed…it’s not to be my baby machine, riduur. I will not breed you. You will not pleasure me. I will not touch you. Please get dressed.” He says coldly, deciding that acting like he’s indifferent to you would make you do what he says.
You start shaking, terrified of breaking your creed and you can’t help the tears that start falling. “I’ve - I’m going to be- I can’t- I’ve failed.” You sob, turning around and rushing back into the room that you had undressed in. The Armorer had assured you that Din would breed you and now you are being rejected.
Din sighs, closing his eyes beneath the helmet, and he knows he has hurt you but he cannot breed. His life has only just settled and he has the kid. He doesn’t need another one, or several, distracting him from doing what is needed to keep Grogu safe and healthy. That’s his creed. He hears you sobbing and decides to give you some space, heading out to pick the kid up.
It takes you some time to stop crying, but you know that you cannot force a warrior like Din Djarin to bend to your will just because of your creed. He must want this as much as you do, so you set about to make sure that he understands how you will improve his life. Your armor laid aside, you do not need to wear it inside your home with your riduur and you put on some of the outfits you had worn while you were in training for comfort. Leaving your room and making your way to the small galley style kitchen to fix him and his foundling a proper meal to enjoy when they return.
When Din returns home with Grogu, the kid coos in surprise at the smell, always hungry, and Din can’t deny that his own stomach rumbles as the scent wafts through his filter. He opens the door and finds you in the small kitchen, wearing tight pants that cling to your ass and he muffles his groan. Din has always been an ass man when he picks his holos and Maker, yours is gorgeous. He can’t let you know that. “This, uh, this is Grogu. My foundling.” He introduces you to Grogu who tilts his head and offers you a smile.
“Hello, Grogu.” You tell the child your name and smile in delight when he waves his arms for you to pick him up. “I hope you are hungry.” Din scoffs. “The kid is always hungry.”
Din watches as you pick up the child and his back straightens a little defensively as you hold the kid he’s fought so hard and sacrificed so much to protect. You notice but don’t say anything as Din watches you. Grogu lifts his hand to your cheek, cooing, and Din watches the awestruck look on your face and he can’t help but think about how pretty you look.
The kid has some powers, the Armorer had warned you about it. The kid was a Jedi. But you didn’t realize he could show you things. You see Din, saving him, protecting him.
Din wonders what Grogu is showing you but your awed face makes his stomach twist and he sighs, “come on kid. Let’s sit you down for dinner.” He says and takes the child from you to put him in the high chair so he can have his food. He won’t eat in front of you. Even if you are his riduur.
“You are allowed to take off your helmet in front of me to eat.” You remind him softly, fixing Grogu a plate and then one for Din. “But I can go into the bedroom if you wish to have some privacy.” He might eat in front of the child but you want to show him that you can bend to some of his ways like a good riduur should. Perhaps it will help him become more comfortable about the situation.
Din shakes his head, “I will eat after. Sit. Enjoy the meal you cooked.” He orders and you set the plate down in front of Grogu. He doesn’t want you to miss out on enjoying the meal you spent time cooking.
You feel bad, knowing the food is better when it’s hot, but you listen to him. Using the plate you had fixed for him and sitting down at the small table. “I will be quick.” You promise.
Din doesn’t argue, he sits down and watches you and Grogu eat. It’s unusual, having another Mandalorian around him, but you don’t seem to have the edge that most Mandos have. You are softer, less hardened by war and survival. “You have known the Armorer for a while?” He asks, wondering how long this has been planned.
Nodding, you look up at his visor and then back down to your plate. “I was a foundling, like you.” You explain. “But I was raised by a sect that removed their helmets. When I was of age, I was sent to your Armorer for training.”
Din frowns under his helmet, watching you eat. It's strange to see someone eating in front of him that isn't the kid. He never sits down to eat with others. "Training? For - for battle?" He asks, glad you can't see the confusion on his face.
“No.” You shake your head. “I was training to be a proper riduur to a leader.” You tell him quietly. “To be able to pleasure you and stand by your side as you guide our people into the light.”
Din is half glad you can’t see the horrified look on his face beneath the helmet. “You mean you…you’ve been trained to be mine?” He asks, “or for - for a leader in general. I’m not - I gave up being Mandalor. I don’t understand why you’re mine. If you’re mine.”
“Yours.” You clarify. “The Armorer had chosen me for you when you were still bounty hunting for the covert here on Nevarro. Actually….” You wipe your mouth and set down the napkin. “I was supposed to be joined with you three years ago. Before the covert fell.”
To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Din inhales sharply at the news and he doesn’t know how to react, grateful once more that you can’t see his face. You’re meant for him. You’ve been trained to be his. “Why me? Why- why not give you to another Mando?” He asks, confused now he’s no longer the Mandalor.
“I don’t know.” You shrug slightly. “The armorer made her decision and that was enough for me.” You know that the armorer would not give you to someone who wasn’t worthy. You were trained to be a good riduur, you cannot be a good riduur to a bad one. “Do you wish that I had been given to another Mandalorian?” You ask, looking up at him under your lashes. His broad frame nearly overwhelms you as you sit while he stands and you wish you could show him some of the pleasure you can provide.
He doesn’t know how to react. Any way he reacts will hurt you or him and he doesn’t want to do that to you. You deserve more than him placating you. He sighs and shakes his helmet, “I never asked for a riduur. I never asked for you.” He confesses, “I don’t know how to feel. We are bound now so I will do my best by you. You will stay here. Fed and clothed and you’ll have whatever you want but I cannot give you me. I’m- I can’t do that when you are only performing a duty.”
You frown, unhappy with his answer. You gesture to the child who is smearing his food over his face. “You do your duty towards your foundling, do you not?” You ask softly, standing up. “You did not love him when you first found him, yet you would seemingly break your creed to save him.” Din stiffens and you quickly shake your head. “He did not show me your face. He keeps that for himself.” You assure him, knowing that it would upset him to know you know what he looks like, even if you are his riduur. “Your fondness for the child grew.” You collect your plate and sigh. “I hope that can be the same for us.”
Din decides to not continue talking with you. He sighs and watches you as you clean the dishes. Grogu coos and tilts his head at him and he raises his eyebrows at the kid despite him not knowing his facial expression. “Don’t.” He murmurs before he looks over at you. “I have a duty to you but that duty does not include taking sexual pleasure from you without cause.”
“Cause?” You snort and set the plate of Din’s food on the table after you finish cleaning up. “I didn’t think there needed to be a cause beyond wanting to give and receive pleasure.” You hum, moving over to the child and picking up the foundling. “Eat your meal, Din Djarin. I will make sure that Grogu is cleaned up.”
He doesn’t say anything else as you leave the room and he is tense when Grogu looks back at him but he doesn’t comment, wanting you to feel like he trusts in your riduurok even though he hasn’t trusted anyone for a long time until he met the kid. He listens for several moments as you take Grogu into his room until he decides to unlatch his helmet and he sets it down on the table. He scratches his cheek and picks up the fork, digging into the meal you made. He groans softly at the taste. Maker, you’re a good cook.
Cleaning up the kid, it’s cute how easily he settles into your arms. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I was tasked with raising warriors.” You murmur to yourself and to the heavy eyed little one. “But I hope that I help, rather than be a burden. Your dad doesn’t want me here.”
Din finishes his meal and washes up his plate, setting it on the side to dry. He secures his helmet just as you knock on the hallway to come back into the kitchen. “I’m covered.” He declares and you walk in. “The kid asleep?” He asks and you nod, sitting down on the chair opposite him. “The meal was good. Thank you for cooking. I don’t remember the last time I had a meal cooked like that.” He confesses, “maybe my mother.” He winces at the unlocked memory.
“I’m glad you liked it.” You tilt your head, watching his body language and realize he must not like to talk about his past. “If you don’t mind, I will take over cooking.”
Din chuckles, “I won’t argue that, cyar’ika.” He promises and clears his throat as he watches you. You are beautiful. In and out of beskar. He wouldn’t tell you that though. You’re here because of the Armorer and he needs to remember that.
“Well….I have a feeling you won’t be comfortable removing your armor if I am awake, and you probably need some time out of it.” You are guessing he’s like a lot of the Mandalorians from the Nevarro covert. “Let your skin breath.” With that, you stand and give him a small smile. “Good night, riduur.”
“Good night.” He murmurs, watching you go and when the door to your room closes, he sighs and rubs his helmet. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s bound to you now but to know that you’ve been bred for him makes him anxious and uncomfortable. He’s never been “in love” or anything close to it. Never allowed himself to get close to anyone. Emotionally or physically. He has seen holovids of sex but he is painfully inexperienced in that department. He has paid for oral, has had a few women he’s fingered behind a cantina, but he’s never experienced penetration.
In your room, you strip down naked, comfortable with your form and lay down. The fullness of Din’s shoulders and his trim waist has you dripping and it should be a sin for his voice to be so sexy through the vocoder of his helmet. Raspy and shooting straight through you. Your fingers slide down your stomach and you moan quietly, imagining that they are his fingers, even with the gloves on. They slide down, circling your mound before delving into your slit and whimpering quietly when you rub your clit.
Din swallows harshly, walking into his room to strip out of his beskar, and he is annoyed with himself that he’s half hard at the thought of you in the other room. You’re beautiful and he hasn’t been around a woman this much since Omera and he isn’t sure if what he felt was attraction to her or protective. He sits down on the edge of his bed, torn until he grips his now hard cock in his hand.
“Oh Maker.” You moan softly, slowly rubbing your bundle of nerves and letting your legs spread apart as you massage your breast. “Fuck.” You hiss, feeling your nipple harden and you slide your fingers down to dip into your slick cunt. Imagining what Din would look like under his armor.
Din grunts as he fists his cock, now hard and aching. It’s been so long since he touched himself, too preoccupied with the events that happened before he settled on Nevarro. He imagines your lips wrapping around his cock. It’s so wrong but you’re beautiful and meant for him. It’s hard to stay away. He will but for tonight, he will indulge in the thought of having you.
With your hand between your thighs, you imagine all the ways you would pleasure your riduur. All the ways you could learn to share pleasure. You’ve never taken a man before but you are well acquainted with a cock, wondering how impressive he is beneath the flight suit he wears. “Din.” You moan softly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your lips.
His hand pauses and he thinks he heard his name. He shakes his head, knowing he's imagining things, and he continues pumping his cock. He imagines pushing into you, seeing your face as you take his cock. He groans as he imagines filling you with his cum, watching it drip out of you.
Your fingers dip inside your cunt again, making you moan louder and brace your feet on the bed as you push them deeper. Wishing that you were sealing your vows with your riduur instead of fingering yourself. Even being in the training room was preferable. “Fuuuuck.” You hiss in frustration, not feeling as good as you know you could.
Din grunts as he fists his cock, getting closer and closer. He hisses as he squeezes his cock and he can't hold back anymore. He cums, spurting onto his chest and hand, groaning your name softly as he imagines taking you as his riduur but he can't do that. He closes his eyes as he rides his orgasm until the guilt hits him. You're innocent and pure. He isn't. He doesn't deserve you.
Sighing when you finally find that spot that feels so good, you rub your clit. Pinching your nipple and moaning as you imagine it’s Din. He’s a warrior, one that can also be tender and you imagine him taking you apart with his cock and his fingers, his helmet on in your imagination. “Din, Din.” You moan softly, getting closer to that peak and your thighs start to shake.
Din soon settles into bed after cleaning himself up and he swears he heard his name again. Sighing, he closes his eyes and allows himself to sleep without his helmet, the door is locked and he needs to process the day. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do but he’s bound to you now so he needs to care for you but he won’t touch you. He can’t. Not when you are doing it out of duty, of obligation.
Your peak is satisfying, but you know would be so much better if it were with Din. You had been trained to want sex, to crave it and yet now that you could have a man, he was rejecting you. Getting under the covers, you wonder if it is just a matter of him getting to know you before he gives in and touches you. You hope so.
The next morning, Din is dressed and feeding the kid by the time you wake up. "Good morning." He greets you softly and the kid coos at you before he digs back into his porridge. "I could've done that. You should've woken me up." You huff and Din shakes his head, "you are not here to serve us."
Your shoulders slump and you can’t help but feel like a failure. “I don’t know what to do.” You whisper quietly. “I- my creed- my purpose- you don’t want me here.” This is nothing like the armorer had told you it would be, and you feel like a failure. “I will no longer be mandalorian.”
“You are my riduur. You’re not failing. I - I don’t mind you here but-” He says your name, “you aren’t my servant. You’re my equal and I can make our foundling breakfast.” He declares and your beautiful face turns down.
You frown slightly and sigh. “Even if I am your equal, you would have me do nothing, contribute nothing.” You are stubborn in some ways and now you are clawing to find your place here. “I cannot share your bed, I cannot care for you and your foundling, I cannot share your burden.” You turn away and shake your head. “I am not allowed to share your life.” You walk back to your room quietly to put your armor back on.
Din sighs, looking at the kid who clicks his tongue at him in reprimand. “I know.” Din sighs and Grogu finishes his food. After he’s finished eating, Din cleans up and takes Grogu to school, wanting to give you some space.
Once you have your armor on, you pull your weapons out, intent on cleaning them. Knowing that Din would be happier if you weren’t here, you decide to leave your bag packed. Bringing your weapons out to the table to start disassembling them.
Din returns home without Grogu to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, back in Beskar and even wearing your helmet. That disappoints Din a little, already missing seeing your beautiful face. He can still imagine you naked. Wants to even if his conscience won’t allow it. He sighs and makes his way onto the porch, deciding to look through his holos to see if anything new has come in
You finish cleaning your weapons, reassembling them and sliding them into the holster on your hip. Your helmet tilts slightly when Din comes back into the room. "I am going into town." You tell your riduur, giving him more consideration than he had given you when he left.
Din nods, not wanting to show you that he’s a little bothered by you leaving but he grunts softly, “be careful.” Despite knowing you’re more than capable as a Mandalorian to look after yourself.
You nod, turning and walking away from the small dwelling and checking your map that is pulled up on your bracer. You try not to take his warning to heart, it doesn’t mean that he cares, probably that he would just prefer not to have to provide any backup.
****
It’s been a week since you arrived and Din has tried to keep his distance. It’s clear to him that you’re not happy to not be fulfilling your duty but he doesn’t try to rectify that. He needs to keep away. It’s hard though. Every day he’s spent around you is making it harder to not touch you. You are beautiful. Inside and out he’s discovered. He spends his nights touching himself, jerking himself off to thoughts of you.
It is probably the longest time that you have spent in your armor in years. When you were training, you had kept to fitted clothes, with your helmet on as you moved through the tunnels, but when you were in your training room, you didn’t have it on. It wasn’t needed. Now, in deference to your riduur, you were wearing your armor and helmet unless you were sleeping and it’s driving you insane. Chaffing and making you feel too encapsulated. You had been eyeing the hot spring that was behind the living quarters, knowing that a soak would go a long way to restoring your spirits.
Din just dropped Grogu off at school when he is walking across the sand and sees you. He knows it’s you. His visor zooming in to see you getting into the hot spring. Naked. He should look away. He should go inside. He can’t. His cock twitches and he changes direction to hide away from your line of sight so he can watch you. It’s so wrong, but fuck, his hand is sore from jerking himself off. To know you’re his in name, in creed, has him hard and aching for you. Especially now he knows what you’re like. You’re sweet and kind, gentle with Grogu and he knows he is getting more and more lenient with his strict vow to stay away from you.
Moaning at the heat and how good it feels on your skin, you settle down onto a little rock ledge inside the spring that acts as a natural seat. You wonder if Din has ever soaked in the spring, but figure that he is so ridged, he would not for fear of someone coming up on him. Throwing your arms back, you close your eyes, sighing at the freedom and sense of pleasure you get from being out of your armor.
Maker. He is aching in his flight suit, watching you as you arch your back to expose your breasts over the swell of the water and he groans at the way your nipples harden. He moves closer to watch you, knowing this is wrong but he wants to see you.
You had reached out the armorer to talk to her, only getting the advice to stay firm and not let Din drive you away. So here you are. Right now, the problems that you have with Din feel minute, the sun isn’t too hot today and there is a nice breeze coming from the city that seems to temper the weather.
Din watches you from the shadows. He feels guilty for watching you but he can’t help it. He groans softly, reaching down to squeeze himself through his flight suit, his eyes drinking in your form as you relax.
The steam rises around you and it strikes you that this is a really romantic spot. It would be very sensual and you decide to push off the wall and submerge yourself completely, going under the water. Imagining being here with Din and having him naked in the water beside you.
When you get out of the spring, Din inhales sharply, and he loves the way the water slides along your skin as you stand up. He groans softly, squeezing his cock through his pants and he watches you, caught under your spell as you stand there naked and glistening under the sun.
You don’t want to get dressed again. You don’t want to go back into the little house where you don’t fit into any role. Instead, you sit on a stone on the edge of the hot springs and stretch out, letting the sun bake your skin dry.
Din knows he shouldn’t be watching you like this. He swallows harshly and closes his eyes, making his way back into the cabin, working fast to pull his aching cock out of his flight suit. He sits down on the edge of his bed and forgets to shut the door as he grips his cock and starts to pump himself.
The door closes and your eyes open, lifting your head to look around. “Din?” You ask, sitting up and standing quickly. If he is back home, you should go back in the house with your armor on, but you don’t. Quickly walking inside nude and calling his name again. “Din? Are you here, riduur?”
Din pants as he gathers the pre-cum from the tip of his cock, working his length as the sight of your figure burned into his retinas. He will never forget it. He groans and doesn’t notice you coming into the cabin, calling his name. His usually razor sharp senses are dulled by the pleasure and lust racing through his veins.
“Din?” You can hear him grunt in his room, pausing near his door. You shouldn’t go inside, you’ve never been in his room. Respecting his privacy - but what if he’s hurt? You bite your lip, reaching for the button to open the door and rush in as soon as the door slides open. “Din, are you-” You stop in shock, seeing him grip his cock. A thick, long cock that has you instantly dripping wet. “I-”
His eyes widen as you enter his room and he gasps your name under the helmet. “I- riduur. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” He lets go of his cock and starts to tuck himself away from your sight, you shake your head, moving fast to kneel before him and take his cock in your hand and then within seconds, you’re taking his cock into your mouth. “Dank Ferrik.” He hisses, “you don’t- you don’t have to do this.” He chokes out, not wanting you to do this if you feel obligated.
You swallow around him before you pull off with a small pop. “I want to, Maker, I want to.” You promise, squeezing the base of his cock as you look up at him with a lustful smile. “I’ve found you sexy from the first moment I saw you. Even in your old armor. I want to touch you.” You repeat before you duck your head again to take him deep into your mouth. Loving how thick he is and the way his vein throbs on your tongue.
He can’t argue, not when your lips are wrapping around his cock and taking him deeper. Maker, you’re gorgeous. Your eyes look up at him and he reaches out to caress your cheek with his gloved hand. “Riduur. You - fuck - your mouth.” He pants, refusing to close his eyes as you take him into your mouth.
You wish you could see his eyes. To mark how he looks when he cums rather than the expressionless visor. Instead of focusing on it, you decide you want to pull moans out of him. Swirling your tongue around the head and bobbing up and down until you are taking him deep into your throat and the fabric of his flight suit is against your nose.
“Fuck. Cyar’ika. I- shit. You’re so good. So good.” He rambles slightly as you take him deep enough to push him down your throat. “Fuck.” He chokes, unused to this. You are taking him without issue and it’s pushing him closer to orgasm quicker than he’d care to. “Riduur. You’re - I’m going to-” He grunts as he twitches in your mouth.
You want him to cum. Want him to spill down your throat to taste him. To milk him dry. You hum around his length and start swallowing, knowing that he will enjoy the pressure and buck into your mouth if he wants to be deeper.
He lets out something between a cry and a moan as he starts to cum. Spilling down your throat as you swallow around him and he clenches his fists beside his thighs as you work him dry. It’s more than he’s ever experienced and it’s intoxicating.
You don’t let up, not pulling off until he stops throbbing. Swallowing every gloriously salty drop of his release and listening to the laborious pants that slip from underneath his helmet. You slowly start to pull off his cock, humming as you rock back and look up at him innocently. “Good, riduur?”
Din gulps, trying to catch his breath as you look at him with wide eyes and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Maker, riduur. I- fuck. You need to get on the bed. I want to touch you.” He says as he tucks his cock away and he reaches for his gloves, “I want to see how wet you are.”
You are thrilled that he wants to touch you. Watching him strip off his gloves as you move to the bed and spread out. There’s no shame as you spread your thighs to reveal your dripping cunt. You had leaked onto the floor when you were sucking his cock. “Dripping, riduur.”
He groans at the sight of your folds. Maker, you are beautiful. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, reaching out to slide his fingers through your folds. Fuck, you are dripping. He groans and moves his fingers up to rub your clit.
You bite your lip, moaning in pleasure as your nipples hard in desire. Finally feeling your riduur touch you has your cunt throbbing. “Din.” You whimper, rolling your hips down, greedy for his touch. “Please, Riduur.”
He loves the way you moan his name. So sweet and so needy. He slides his fingers down to push two thick digits inside of you. He groans as your walls surround his fingers, wet and tight, and he imagines how you’d feel around his cock. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He rasps, voice modulated but you can hear the lust.
“For you.” Your fingers dig into his flight suit as you hold onto him. Rocking your hips up and clenching down around him when he strikes something gorgeous inside. “Wet for you. I want- I want you to fill me.” You beg quietly. “I want to experience it- you. Your cock inside me.”
Din groans at the way you beg, "cyar'ika. I've never - you'd be the first. I don't want to disappoint you." He confesses as he works his fingers inside of you. "I've done this. That's it." He reveals, working his fingers and his thumb presses against your clit.
“I- I’ve never- you would be my first.” You remind him, whimpering and jerking your hips up to his touch. “I have no- no expectations. We would learn together.”
"Maker." He hisses as you reveal you're a virgin too. He had tried so hard to forget that. "You'll be mine. All mine." He growls and works his fingers a little faster. You are made for him. You are his riduur and that makes him feral.
“All yours.” You moan, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Fuck, Din, please. I- oh fuck.” You cry out when he pushes against that spot again and your entire body lights up. “It’s so good, please, cyar’ika.”
He wants to watch you fall apart around his digits. "That's it, mesh’la. Cum for me." He demands, pushing his fingers against that spot that makes you gush around him. "That's it baby. Cum for your riduur."
Whimpering, his words flash through you and make your body light up in pleasure. Pushing you over the edge and your walls clamp down around his fingers. Body shaking as you cry out.
Din groans as you soak his fingers, working you through it, and his cock is hardening again at the thought of you being his, completely his. Something switched in him when he saw you in that spring and his previous qualms and morality have gone out of the window. He’s spent too long alone and he wants you. He craves you.
Your whines finally give out to breathy pants and you close your eyes. Expecting your riduur to pull away now that you’ve both been satisfied. “Riduur…” you murmur quietly. “That was- was so good. Your fingers are so good.” You praise quietly.
"I want to taste you." Din declares, knowing he can remove his helmet in front of you as your riduur. He is nervous, hands shaking as his damp fingers unlock the seal of his helmet and your eyes carefully watch him as he removes the last barrier between you. He's still in full beskar but the helmet is his most precious protection against the galaxy - not just physically, but emotionally.
Your eyes widen when he actually lifts the helmet up. So sure that he would never break that barrier with you. Watching as a strong jaw, sharp now and soft brown eyes are revealed to you. “Maker.” You whimper softly. “My riduur is the most handsome man in the galaxy.”
Din blushes, actually blushes as his emotions are on clear display without his helmet. Unused to censoring his facial expressions. “Riduur. You don’t - we are already bound.” He mutters, setting his helmet down on the side.
“And I am lucky.” You smile, biting your lip at how demure he is being. It’s very appealing since he looks so intimidating with the helmet on. “Only I get to see you.”
His heart skips a beat in his chest, making it feel like he can hardly breathe as you look at him like he’s the only one in the galaxy. He swallows and nods, reaching out to caress your thighs. “Wanna taste you, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, shifting you down the bed until he’s lying between your spread thighs.
You know that he’s never tried something like this, so you nod. “Whatever you want, riduur.” You promise, Reaching down and running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He groans and you know it’s a good sound. You always want to scratch your head when your own helmet comes off.
He groans as he leans closer, breathing you in, and he tentatively slides his tongue through your folds. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s seen this in holovids he’s watched late at night but he’s never done it. The tangy taste makes him smack his lips and he does it again, sliding his tongue through your folds until he’s flicking your clit.
“Oh!” You gasp, shivering at the contact and you want to close your thighs together. You can’t because of the broad shoulders and armor between them. Looking down at him is the sexiest sight and your cunt bottoms out around nothing, making you fling your head back against his pillow. “Maker, oh fuck, how- it’s- keep going.” You beg.
Din doesn’t want to stop. The breathless cries coming from you have him ravenous. He doesn’t know what he’s doing so it’s sloppy and uncoordinated but what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with enthusiasm.
You love how eager he is, devoting himself to the task with a singular determination. “Din!” You cry out and roll your hips down to meet his eager tongue. “So good! Fuck, you’re so good.”
He groans at your praise, sliding his tongue through your folds again until he sucks your clit into his mouth. His hands squeeze your flesh, pushing your legs back so he can access more of your flesh.
You keen at the way he devours you. Completely gorging himself and not being shy about it. Greedily sucking and licking at you like it’s his only task. “Oh fuck, right there!” You gasp out.
He follows your gasped demand, repeating the motion that makes your thighs tighten around his head and his cock is aching against his flight suit. He grinds into the bed as you thrash and he throws his armored arm across your stomach to keep you still
It doesn't take you long, just a few more minutes of his tongue swiping through your folds, until you are flying. Crying out a loud "Din!" before your entire body locks up and you clench down on his fingers to soak them with your release.
Din groans as you clench around on his fingers and he sucks on your clit until you’re pushing his face away from you. He kisses your mound and rests his chin there, mustache glistening with your cum as he offers you a small smile.
“I can’t- that was so good.” You admit breathlessly. “I could be addicted to that, to you.” You admit, reaching down and caressing his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, leaning into your hand and letting you touch him. “I want you to claim me.” You tell him. “Make me your riduur completely. Let me give you what no one else has experienced.”
Din nods, shifting off of the bed to work on removing his armor. If you are to be his, he will reveal all of himself to you. He swallows harshly as nerves threaten to grip him and he works methodically to remove the beskar until he is shrugging out of his flight suit.
“Mesh’la.” You whisper, looking at the scars and imperfect skin that makes up the body of your riduur. A warrior who has survived every battle he has faced. He is a Mandalorian, and you are proud to be his. “Come to me.” You beg him.
He can’t deny you. Shifting onto his hands and knees, he crawls over your body and leans down to caress your waist, his hand grabbing your tit as he leans down to kiss you for the first time. The first time he’s kissed anyone. It’s messy and he hits your nose with his at first. “Sorry.” He murmurs, feeling unsure.
You giggle and cup both of his cheeks with your hands, cradling them and try again. “It’s okay.” You promise, moaning softly when his lips land like they are supposed to on yours. Closing your eyes and sinking into the sensation. You love it, could live with his lips pressed to yours.
Din groans, pecking your lips several times, and he slides his hand along your leg, "tell me if it hurts." He murmurs, unsure and lacking confidence as he grips his cock and squeezes, positioning himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, riduur?" He asks softly, nudging his nose against your jaw.
“Yes, Din.” You moan softly. “I am ready for you.” It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you’ve been waiting for him your entire life. You don’t think that he would believe you, but you have been waiting for him and now that he’s here, you are eager to have him inside you.
He nods, shifting closer and he locks eyes with you as he starts to push into you. This moment - it’s one that Din never imagined having. Naked in bed with his riduur. It’s almost enough to make him cum. He groans as he pushes into your tight, wet heat and he swears he sees stars.
You whimper, the thick length of him stretching you out in ways that you could have never imagined. So much bigger than the fingers you had earlier, your eyes roll back. You can feel his body tense and from your training, you know that he will cum before you do. “So good.” you coo, caressing his back. “Move, riduur, please.”
He grunts, clenching his jaw to control himself as he starts to move inside of you. You’re his dream. The woman he’s always imagined when he jerked his cock was faceless but now he knows who she is. It’s you. You belong to him. He groans and leans down to kiss your neck, biting down on the flesh like he’s wanted to do since he saw your face as he starts to move inside of you.
Whining, you can’t help but tighten down around him. Loving how he had sunk his teeth into your skin. “Din!” You cry out, holding onto him desperately while your entire body rocks up on the bed.
He loves the way you moan his name, rocking into you over and over and it’s too much. “I - fuck. Mesh’la. I- Maker.” He pants and grunts as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and within seconds he’s painting your walls with his hot seed.
You moan, loving how hot it feels inside you. How full you feel as you roll your hips down. You caress his back and sigh happily, kissing along his shoulder as he rides out his pleasure.
Din groans at the way you take all of him. "Fuck." He pants, coming to a stop as his cock twitches inside of you, turning his head to press his lips to yours. "Riduur." He murmurs, "thank you."
Din gathers his senses and his eyes widen as he looks down at you, “I- riduur. You didn’t - I’ve failed you.” He chokes, feeling guilty and he doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he took your innocence and you never got to climax from it.
Frowning, you shake your head, unsure of what he means. “Failed me?” You huff. “You didn’t- I didn’t make you cum.” Din chokes out and you are astonished. “Riduur, I will not cum every time we have sex. I know that. It’s okay. You made me cum before and it was better than any pleasure I’ve ever had in training.”
Din frowns, carefully pulling out of you and he looks at you as you offer him a doe eyed look that has his stomach twisting with confusion and guilt. “Training? As in - as in fighting?” He asks, his brow furrowed and he’s not used to his emotions being on full display.
You tile your head in confusion, sure that he was aware of what was involved in your training. “I was trained in fighting when I was younger, but I am talking about the training for pleasure.” You correct him.
Din’s eyes widen and he shuffles away from you in shock. “Plea-pleasure? But I thought - you said you were-” His brow furrows once more, “you said you were a virgin and I- shit. I’m confused.”
“I was.” Sitting up, you ignore your nudity and look into his eyes. “While in training, since I could remove my helmet, oral sex was the focus of my lessons.” You explain. “No one was allowed to penetrate me. Not even fingering me. They could rub my clit, but most just wanted their own release.” You smile at him. “You are not a selfish partner.”
Din doesn’t know how to feel. You’ve been trained to be his riduur, even trained to please him sexually. He feels sick. Not because of you, but because of what you’ve been through. For him. Because of him. “You- oral sex? With who?” He asks, unsure of what to do other than ask questions.
You shrug casually, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed and standing. You need to clean up since his cum is starting to drip out of you. “Whoever came into the training rooms.” You say simply. “Sometimes the armorer would turn away some, but there was always someone willing to let me train with them.”
He feels violated on your behalf. The armorer essentially forcing you to train in oral sex for his pleasure. “Maker.” Din shuffles off of the bed, immediately reaching for his flight suit to pull it on. “Because of me. You went through that because of me.” He chokes and stumbles out of the room.
You frown as he rushes out of the room, wondering why he is so upset that you would be trained. Cleaning up quickly, you realize you are in his room and have none of your clothes so you walk out to find your riduur.
Din is panicking. He’s just taken your innocence, given you his, and he’s found out that you were trained to be his by members of the covert. Men he knows. Men who would know you. He is fuming at the thought of those men knowing what his riduur is like, what her body looks like. He stalks through the cabin back to his room to find you gone and he takes his Beskar to put it back on.
Upset that he has left, you put your armor back on. Wanting the comfort of the physical shielding between you. It’s like you’ve been rejected all over again and it’s even more painful now that you know what he looks like, what he feels like.
Din doesn’t know how to handle the knowledge, deciding to take his blaster outside to do some target practice before he picks up the kid. Not that he needs target practice but it will take his mind off of things.
Waiting is the worst part. Sitting around and not knowing what is happening. You hear blaster fire in the distance and sigh. Deciding to send a message to the armorer, hoping she will know what to do.
Din tries to process what just happened. He had sex with his riduur who has been groomed to be his. It makes him sick. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and if he’d known you in the covert, he would’ve liked you naturally, but to know you’ve been raised to be his has him on edge. Grogu senses it when Din picks him up and when the duo arrive back at the cabin, Grogu toddles over to you and coos.
“Hey.” You choke out the word, grateful for your helmet so you don’t show your tear stained face. Bending down, you pick up the little one. His presence and obvious adoration makes you feel a bit better and you concentrate on that instead of the man behind him. “How was your day?”
Grogu coos again, lifting his hand up to press to your helmet, showing you his day including Din picking him up and bringing him home. He had picked up the distress in his father and Din is just as tense now as he watches you and Grogu interact.
You manage to grin, bolstered by the child’s antics, including sneaking a cookie from another kid and you chuckle. “You had a good day then.” You hum. “Do you want to go chase frogs while I make you some dinner?” You aren’t asking Din if you can, knowing he would have some objection to it.
Grogu waddles off after you set him down and Din calls after him, "don't go too far." He is glad Grogu keeps the door open so he can keep an eye on him and he sighs as he turns towards you. "So...how was your day?" He asks, knowing that he took your innocence today but he's trying to make some kind of conversation.
You don’t look at him, but your visor is turned towards him. Instead of answering him, you just turn and walk towards the galley kitchen to start making a meal for the young foundling. He had been upset by your training, so you don’t think that having a conversation is a good idea.
Din suppresses the sigh that works its way up his throat and he heads outside to sit down on the porch to watch Grogu chase the frogs, floating them up in the air. “Don’t torture them, kid.” He shouts out and Grogu trills as he lets the frog drop into the water. Din fiddles with the edge of his beskar, unsure of what to say to you. It’s him, he’s the one who has made this awkward and he doesn’t regret that. He doesn’t know if you’re doing this out of obligation and duty. He doesn’t want you to want him because of duty or creed.
You move around the kitchen quietly, heartbroken that Din doesn’t want you anymore. You had done everything that you had been taught. Tried to please him and be the partner, the riduur, that he deserved. And still he doesn’t want you. The armorer told you that no one could come for another three weeks. Until then, you are stuck on Nevarro, with a man who doesn’t want you.
****
It's been four weeks since you arrived on Nevarro and Din has kept his distance, sleeping in his own bed, and he hasn't touched you. You've mainly avoided him, taking over caring for Grogu and spending time in your room. He feels guilty, for you being bound to him and him not fulfilling his duty as your riduur but how can he when you were trained to be his? Groomed to be his? It's too much to handle and he has kept away.
Today is the day. The armorer sent you a halo message, telling you that Kledo, another mandalorian from the new covert on Mandalore, will be here by the time the sun is setting. After Din leaves to take Grogu to school, you pull out your bags to start packing your things. Over the week before you had slept with Din, you had spread your things out, so now you methodically pack them away.
Din drops Grogu off and comes back to the cabin, entering with a sigh as he expects to see you in the kitchen preparing lunch but you’re not there. He calls out your name, frowning under the helmet. He calls your name again, a little more frantic, and he rushes through the cabin to try and find you. He enters your room and finds it empty of your things. “Dank Ferrik.” He curses, grabbing his blaster and he tries to figure out if you've gone to the transporter station. He makes his way there and looks around, trying to find you but you’re gone.
When you break atmo, you start to cry under your helmet. Silent tears that stream down your cheek and gather at your chin. Dripping down onto the fabric of your flight suit and absorbed into the fabric. If Kledo had questions about why he was picking up Din Djarin’s riduur and bringing her to Mandalore, he never voices them, just concentrates on your trip there.
Din interrogates the ticket staff who tell him no Mandalorians have come through the ticket hall and he growls, stalking off to the cabin and he immediately calls the Armorer. "Din Djarin." Her cool voice makes him vibrate with annoyance. "Where is my riduur?" He demands and she shakes her helmet, "you rejected her. She is returning to the covert with Kledo." She declares and Din doesn't waste another second. He hangs up and rushes to the school to collect Grogu, getting into his ship to make his way to a place he swore he'd never return to: Mandalore.
You sleep for most of the journey, after you cry yourself out. Waking when you feel the engines change, approaching Mandalore. “We are here.” Kledo tells you, preparing for landing. “The armorer is waiting for you.”
"You've returned." The Armorer declares as you enter the welding room. She stands tall and you shrink into yourself. "You failed. You have failed your mission as a riduur to the Mandalor." She says without sympathy.
“Yes.” You swallow under your helmet and try not to cry. “Din Djarin rejected me, but not before taking my innocence. I was not good enough.” You tell her. “I have come to ask that you break the riduurok. He should not be bound to someone who is dar’manda.”
The Armorer shakes her head, "you have failed and he has not succeeded in getting you with child?" She asks, wanting to confirm this before you are made dar'manda.
“I-“ you frown slightly, faltering because you don’t know if he had planted his seed in your womb. “I have not bled.” You admit quietly, “but it has only been three weeks since I shared his bed.”
"You will not be dar'manda until we confirm. If you are indeed pregnant, you shall remain with the covert until you give birth...then you will be sent away. The babe would remain." She declares and you nod, despite screaming inside. Din has never traveled faster in his life through the galaxy until he is landing on Mandalore. Many of his kin greet him by bowing their helmets but he doesn't pay attention, rushing into the lower sects of the covert to find you.
Your hands shake as you start to strip your armor and flight suit. Feeling shame for the first time as the armorer had ordered you to prepare to be examined. You have become used to being covered in your time with Din, feeling exposed as you reveal your skin and sink down to your knees to await the covert doctor with nothing but your helmet on.
Din is rushing through the halls, demanding to know where you are. His heart pounding as Grogu swings from the satchel he’s in at Din’s side. Din pushes people out of the way, some shouting at his back as he rushes through the halls to find you and eventually, he discovers you and the Armorer in her quarters. “Riduur.” He rushes over to you, your helmet on and your body covered in a blanket. “What is going on here?” He demands to know.
The Armorer looks at Din and then back down at the piece of steel she was crafting into a cuff. “We are waiting to see if she will be dar’manda now,” She intones. “Or if carrying your child will delay her exile.” Your head lowers even further, shamed that you have failed and unsure why Din is here, unless it is to demand the shuk’la riduurok himself.
Din's eyes widen beneath the helmet, horrified at what you are going through and all because of him. "Is this necessary?" He demands and the Armorer nods, "this will be the next leader of Mandalore, we need to see if she is with child." Din shakes his head, "with an audience?" He hisses as you are naked and he wants to cover your body with his. "This is the way." The Armorer declares and Din's upper lip curls in disgust even if no one can see it. "She will not be dar'manda."
There is a hushed silence and your head lifts slightly. “Then you claim her as your riduur?” The Armorer asks loudly, and there is shuffling behind you, other mandalorians filing into the chamber to witness your shame. “She is under the impression that you wish to break your riduurok. That you regret taking her innocence.”
Din is horrified, shaking his helmet. “I do not regret taking her innocence because of her. I regret - she was groomed. Forced to be what I need and I- she should have freedom of choice. To not be forced to be my riduur because she’s been trained to be so. To find out she has given oral sex to most of the men here…she’s been violated and I feel guilty that I was the cause.” He confesses, “it’s my fault.”
“How is this your fault?” The Armorer tilts her head curiously. “This is her path, she could have chosen not to walk it.” She informs him. “She chose to take the oath and to train, it is just as honorable as the path you have walked.”
Din stutters, “she didn’t - I didn’t ask for my riduur to be trained for me. She deserves freedom of choice. To be allowed to be who she is and love who she wants. She - I don’t want a riduur who is ordered to want me. I want her to want me because she wants me.” He explains, his hands sweaty in his gloves.
“She does love you.” The Armorer tells Din, motioning to you as you kneel on the ground in front of her forge. “If she did not, she would have stayed. Keeping you bound to vows you didn’t not wish.” There is a smug sense of rightness in her tone and you wonder if you are so obvious in your motives. “Shuk’la riduurok would not affect you. You would continue to be as you have always been.” She tilts her head and hums. “Perhaps you have your heart on the line as well, because why are you here, Din Djarin? If not to fight for your riduur.”
Din rears back as the emotional impact of the past month hits him. He is here to fight for you, the same way he'd fight for anyone he loves. He fights for the people that mean the most to him and suddenly that includes you. Between the distance and the closest he's ever been with another, blurred in those lines, Din Djarin has fallen in love with you. He swallows harshly, "I am here to claim my riduur...and my ad...if that is the situation." He adds and Grogu coos from his satchel, gesturing to you.
Your helmet slowly lifts, shocked to hear that coming out of Din’s mouth and you swear you are imagining things. He wants to claim you? “You claim your riduur?” The Armorer demands once more, finishing with your name. “I do.” Din nods, untwisting his cape from around his cowl and draping it over your shoulders to cover your body. “She is mine by vow and creed.” He adds.
Your helmet tilts up towards his and he shifts to kneel, Grogu jumping out of his satchel and Din leans in to press his helmet to yours. “She is mine and I am hers.” He promises and the Armorer nods. “Very well. Let us see if she is with Ad.” She demands and Din shakes his head. “No. Not like this. Let me take her to her room and we will find out in private.” He says and helps you stand up with his cloak still wrapped around you.
Still in shock that he’s here, you let Din lead you out of the forge room and off to a secluded hall. “Din?” You whisper, reaching out to touch his cloak, wondering if you are imagining this. If you are living inside a little fantasy. “Are you- you claimed me?”
Din doesn’t answer you as he looks down the hall, Grogu following his steps. “Where is your room here, cyar’ika?” He asks, wanting to get you somewhere private before he talks to you.
Your heart sinks, sure that he is just getting you alone so that he can reject you. Keep it private and publicly have the illusion of claiming you. “Through here.” You motion down the hall to a door next to the training room.
Din swallows harshly, guiding you into the room and Grogu follows at your feet. Once you're inside, he takes a breath and turns to face you. "Why did you leave?" He demands, wanting to know why you left him without even saying goodbye.
“You did not want me there.” You remind him. “You left me after- after we had sex.” You pull the edges of the cape around you and bite your lip under the helmet. “I did what was needed to give you back your freedom.” Shaking your head, you shrug. “What else was I supposed to do?”
Din's stomach twists, guilty for being so scared that he ran as soon as he touched you. For ignoring you after the event until today. "I- riduur. I have been alone my entire life until Grogu came along. He was my only purpose and I never imagined finding someone. I accepted being alone and then you came along and you - you changed everything. You took care of us - of me. You loved me. It was more than I could handle especially when you were doing it because you were groomed to be mine. I hate that you never had a choice."
“I did have a choice.” You tilt your head and frown under your helmet. “I - Din…the Armorer told me who I would be joined with if I took the Creed.” You explain. Maybe you had messed up by not clarifying before. “She had already chosen you to be the next leader of our covert after her. I knew this. I want this, I wanted you.” You bite your lip. “You were the one who didn’t have a choice, I guess.”
Din shakes his head, "maybe I didn't have a choice but I do now and I- I claim you, riduur. I want you. I - I love you. If you want me, I am yours. If you want me to leave, I will go. I won't force you. You pick your path, you choose your destiny."
Letting go of the cape, you reach up and unlock your helmet. Slipping it off your head so you can look your riduur in his eyes. “I want to go back to Nevarro with you.” You confess softly. “If I am not carrying your ad, I would like to. Soon. I want to raise warriors with you. Not just because of my creed but because I want to have children with my riduur.”
Din looks into those beautiful eyes and doesn’t hesitate to reach up to remove his own helmet, setting it down before he cups your cheeks so he can look into your eyes without the visor. “Mesh’la. I want you to come home with me.” He declares, leaning in to kiss you softly.
Your lips melt against his and you sigh in relief. Tears started pouring out of your eyes again even though you had sworn you couldn’t cry anymore. “I want to come home with you.”
He caresses your cheek and rests his forehead against yours, “good. Let’s go home, riduur.” He is so pleased that you want to be with him. “Are you- do you want to find out if you’re carrying our ad?”
As if to answer his question, there is a knock on the door to your room. “That would be the covert doctor.” You tell Din. “You should put your helmet back on.”
Din nods, placing the helmet back on his head. Just because he loves you, doesn’t mean his habits will die. He locks the latches just as the doctor comes in and Din stands straighter, suddenly defensive of you.
“I hear you might be expecting.” The tone of the mandalorian doctor is chipper and you’ve always liked her. The chipper purple armor of her Beskar makes you smile. “I am hoping you can tell us that.” You admit, gesturing to Din. “My riduur.”
Din nods, his stomach twisting with nerves as the doctor pulls out the holopad and what looks like a scanner from her satchel. “Din Djarin.” Din introduces himself and the doctor nods, “Mand’alor.” She bows her head in respect and Din shakes his head, “please. Just Din.”
You bite your lip, knowing that it’s futile to argue that while most of the Mandalorians follow Bo-Katan, they view Din as the real Mand’alor. Even Bo has wished Din would come back to the planet to help her lead. “Will you be able to tell? It’s only been three weeks.”
“We have advantaged technology to be able to tell.” She promises, “please lay down.” She says and you shift to lay down on the bed. Din follows, hovering over you and the doctor asks you to remove your cloak, “just so we can get close enough.” She explains and Din is tense as she pushes buttons on the holopad before the scanner whooshes to life and she hovers it over your lower stomach.
You reach for Din’s hand, hoping that will help him relax. You are used to the doctor, so you are comfortable with her and bite your lip as you look for any indication from the doctor’s helmet. She hums and moves it around, making you shiver at the slightly energetic feel of the scanner above your skin.
Din squeezes your hand, anxious and feeling a little nauseous until the doctor smiles, pointing out the small dot on the screen. “There they are. It’s - it’s very early but you are with ad.” She declares and Din inhales sharply. He’s terrified. He’s nervous but he’s happy. So happy. “Our ad.” He murmurs, a little in shock.
“Our ad.” You repeat in wonder, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. “We are going to be buirs.” You whimper, squeezing his hand. “The very first time you touched me.”
Din leans in to press his forehead against yours, wishing you could see the wonder on his face, but that will have to wait for later. Grogu coos and Din turns to look at him. "Big brother." Din tells his foundling who straightens up as if ready to take on the role.
You choke out a happy giggle when you see the little foundling’s happy stance and look back at Din. Reaching up to caress his helmet. “I want to go home, riduur.” You tell him quietly. “Tomorrow. For now….i want to rest and celebrate.” Your eyes widen as you realize what this pregnancy means. “The first child born after retaking Mandalore.”
Din smiles under his helmet, “our first child.” He says and rests his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian you know, Ele, comes in about ten minutes later after the doctor leaves to ask if you want anything to eat or drink. “She will eat. And so must Grogu.” Din says and Ele nods, “I will take him for food and will bring him back with some for you. I am certain you wish to celebrate the news.” She says and your eyes widen at the fact that the news has spread so fast. Din hesitates, anxious to be separated from the kid but you know this woman so he will trust her. Grogu coos as he is willingly escorted to where the food is and Din wastes no time unlatching his helmet, throwing it down so he can lean in to press his lips to yours.
“We are having a baby.” You whisper against his lips, giggling. “I cannot believe it.” You are amazed that it happened so quickly. His seed is potent apparently.
Din nudges his nose against yours and kisses your forehead. “We are having a baby.” He murmurs, grinning as his hand caresses your stomach. “I love you, riduur.” He murmurs, “want to show you.”
“You do?” Your brows lift in surprise and you bite your lip. “How? How do you want to show me?” You don’t want to assume that he wants to touch you, although you have been told that men love to show their affection through sex.
Din slides his hand a little lower until he’s cupping your bare cunt, “I want to make you cum. I want to cum inside of you.” He murmurs, “claim you again. I want - I want you to ride me. Ride your riduur.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck.
You whimper quietly and tilt your head. This is a very different side of your riduur than you’ve previously experienced and you like it. “Ride you? You’ve imagined that?”
“Yes.” He confesses, his hand sliding lower until his fingers slide between your bare folds. “I want you to take your pleasure from me.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit with his fingers.
You moan softly, arching your hips up to his touch. “You will pleasure me.” You decide with a groan. “Strip your armor off, riduur.”
He nods, pulling his hand away from you to work diligently to remove his beskar until he’s in his flight suit. “I’ll look after you, riduur.” He promises and moves to remove the flight suit, his hard cock bouncing as he kicks it aside after removing his boots.
“You are- excited….” You murmur, sitting up and reaching out to wrap your hand around his hard cock. “What has you so worked up, riduur? Do you like your baby in my belly?”
He nods, a grunt escaping his lips. He never imagined he'd be so turned on by the idea of you round with his ad but he is. He pants when you start to pump him and he leans in to press his lips to yours, "yes, mesh'la."
“Then lay down.” You order softly. “I’ll show you how you planted your ad in me by riding your cock until you fill me up again.” You squeeze him gently before you let him go.
He groans and nods, quickly shifting to lay down on the bed beside you and his hands caressing your sides as you shift to straddle him. “Mesh’la riduur. My riduur.” He murmurs, proud of his claim over you. His hands slide up to gently squeeze your tits.
You moan quietly, closing your eyes as you shift to letting him lay down. Straddling his waist and grinding down onto his hard cock.
Din groans as you grind onto him. “That’s it baby. Keep - keep going. Want you to fuck me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking up towards you. “Take what you need, cyar’ika.” He tells you, wanting you to be pleasured.
It’s different, keeping the control instead of giving it up to your riduur. It might be intoxicating because of how much it turns you on. Having your riduur submit to you and want you to take your pleasure from him. Reaching down, you line up with his thick length and slowly sink down onto him with a moan of his name.
Din watches you in rapture as you take his cock inside of you. He’s groaning your name and watching his length disappear inside of you. “You’re so right, mesh’la.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking up towards you and he reaches up to caress your cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too, riduur.” You whisper back, leaning over once he’s fully seated inside you and kissing him softly. Gazing into his eyes and watching him with wonder. He's here, he’s claiming you and you’re going to have his ad.
His hands slide down to caress your body, taking in your beauty and he loves you. “You’re mine. I will protect you with my life.” He promises, thrusting up into you as you grind down onto him. “After this, we will return home.” He promises and you nod, “home.”
He wants to return to Nevarro with you. To have you in the little home he has on the edge of the desert. You have fallen in love with it, with him and his foundling. Even the strange friends he has with the people there. “I love you, riduur.” You promise, having to kiss him again and caresses his cheek softly. “My riduur.”
Din smiles against your lips and he slides his hands along your back. “Baby, you - you are so good to me.” He murmurs against your chin and he kisses along your jaw. “My riduur.” He sighs, his hands sliding down to your hips and he helps you rock on his cock.
This time is just as sweet as the first. Just as awe inspiring. Even if you are slightly stiff as you find what position is best for you to ride him. Finding that you love it when you are pressed against his chest most of all.
He caresses your back and down to your ass, squeezing and smacking your cheeks playfully to get you to move on his cock. “That’s it baby. Ride my cock. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, groaning at the new position. It’s more than he could ever imagine. He’s clenching his jaw to try to hold off his orgasm, wanting you to cum for him.
“Rub my- oh rub my clit.” You beg, grabbing his hand and moving it between you to the sensitive little bundle of nerves. “Oh fuck, Din.” You hiss when he presses and starts to quickly rub tight circles.
He follows your order, rubbing your clit a little faster and he loves the way you flutter around his cock. “That’s it, riduur. Maker, your cunt is so tight.” He groans and thrusts up into you, his feet flat on the bed and you’re pushed up his body as he works to make you cum.
Your chants of his name start to get loud, filtering out of your room and you know that anyone nearby would hear it. Making you gasp as you realize everyone in the covert, everyone on Mandalore would know that you are his. It throws you over the edge and you cry out in pleasure when your cunt clamps down on his cock.
He loved the way you cry out. It’s intoxicating and he knows that you are going to keep him on his toes. His eyes squeeze shut as you clamp down around his cock and he leans in to press his lips to yours, smothering the rest of the cry of his name and he squeezes your hips. “Baby. I- I’m going to - shit.” He hisses, “I’m going to cum.” He chokes and thrusts up into you three more times before he twitches inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.
Your eyes close and you smile as you lean down to burrow your face into his neck. “Fuck, that feels so good.” You whimper. “I hope you want many ads. Because I feel like you are going to keep me pregnant.”
Din chuckles, “we have nine months to make you feel good while you grow this one.” He says as he caresses your back. “Then we will make another. And another. And another.” He says as he kisses your neck over and over. “I love you, riduur. We were made for each other.” He murmurs, leaning back so he can cup your cheek. “Now, let’s get dressed and get you home.”
You reluctantly pull off his cock, dressing in the clothes that had somehow been brought back to your room after being stripped in the forge room. Reaching for your helmet and turning to look at your riduur one more time before his own helmet goes back on. “Let’s go home, Din.”
After you both redress, Din finds Grogu and escorts you to the dock where his ship awaits. The Armorer stands there, hands behind her back. “You will be back Mand’alor. The covert needs you. We shall see you when you are ready to return.” She says and Din stares at her for a second before he nods. After settling his family in the ship, he gets in and begins the journey to Nevarro. He isn’t sure what the future holds, if he is going to return to Mandalore. One thing is for certain, he will be spending his days with his riduur, raised his ads, his foundling, and he will protect them with his life. That is his creed. This is the way.
This was written for @penvisions Give a Little Love writing challenge. I'm so late, I'm sorry! My prompt was Din Djarin and the Shared Past trope.
Summary: You wake up wounded in the Mandalorian's ship. He brings you back on Nevarro to heal. Trying to hide parts of your past, you battle with your growing feelings for the man and his child, who welcomed you into their home.
CW: mention of torture but nothing graphic, mention of wounds and broken bones but no description, mention of healing process, light angst, slow burn. Reader is abled body has no physical description, but if you notice anything please let me know.
A/N: This wasn't easy to write, I think writing in the Star Wars universe intimidated me a lot, I tried to be accurate but some stuff might have slipped my mind. All mistakes are my own. I would like to thank a few of you who helped me: @burntheedges & @secretelephanttattoo (you might not even remember it but I'm still hugging you for your encouragement) @iknowisoundcrazy you know exactly why & @djarins-cyare for the mando'a translation, for your encouragement and also for your Be-All And Endor that inspired me so much. And finally, thank you @eupheme for the beautiful moodbard you made me. To all of you, thanks 💖
More notes at the end
I wrote a short sequel: Stars are Fire
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Your head felt heavy and foggy. Emerging from the depths of unconsciousness, you didn't know where you were.
« Who are you? » A voice. You couldn't tell right away where, who, or what it came from. It sounded computer-like. You turned your head and saw a form, shiny, metallic. You couldn’t see more, eyes still blurry, brain banging inside your skull. But your annoyance with the question was very real.
« What? Who are you? »
The voice didn’t answer. But you could make more of the shape. A human form, an armor, the voice masculine, filtered by a modulator, a helmet. A Mandalorian. Shit. You were in trouble.
« How do you know my name? » His next question stopped your train of thought. You frowned. The pounding in your head grew louder, more painful.
« I didn’t… I don’t know your name, I don’t know who you are. » Silence again. Now that your eyes had adapted to the semi-darkness, you could make out his stature, the way he leaned on a wall. A head tilt, questioning. Not a chatty person. Taking in more of your environment, you realized you were lying down, head propped, on what looked like a makeshift bed, you couldn't make more of the place you were in.
« Where am I?» You tried not to show your fear, but you could feel it bleed out in the quiver of your voice.
« On my ship. You were hurt. »
"What? I need to go…" You tried to get up, to leave, you had to go, but it hurt everywhere. Head spinning, the blood drained from your upper body, and darkness surrounded you. Before you succumbed to it, you heard the voice "Don't get up, you're badly…"
And then nothing.
The next time you woke up, it was harsh. Light blinding, noise banging in your head. A cool hand on your arm, a sting and blackness, again.
The rest was a blur. In a state of barely consciousness, you felt like you were gliding through time. Awake, the surroundings changing. Asleep, dreaming, or drifting.
Another time, you woke to the sound of voices, muffled, modulated. Room in the darkness and hushed tones further away.
"She's been through a lot, those injuries..."
"How long..."
"I can take her to the medcenter..."
"No, that's not what I'm asking, she can stay here..." And you drifted back into oblivion.
And then you were awake. It was sudden, you felt doozy, but conscious. Eyes closed, you listened to your surroundings, trying to gather your thoughts. You opened your eyes, but it hurt, so you closed them again. You let your mind scan your body. It was whole, every limb was accounted for, and apart from the headache, nothing else hurt. Softness surrounded you, fluffy mattress and soft sheets around your body.
Then a sound, like little feet pounding on the ground, a thump like something small jumped on the bed you were sleeping in. An animal? But the small voice that cooed sounded more like a child. It was shuffling closer to you. You opened your eyes again, tentatively, and glimpsed a small form, green, with large ears and brown eyes, that bore into you, curious and worried. You couldn't help the smile on your face.
"Hey, little one, who are you?"
A sigh and a modulated voice came from further away.
"Grogu, let her rest."
You turned your head to the voice. The Mandalorian, the one from before, was standing at the doorway, and the little one, Grogu, apparently, babbled excitedly, something you didn't understand, arms extended toward the man. He walked in and picked up the small creature that instantly snuggled into the arms holding him. You had so many questions just from this small interaction, but first, you needed to know where you were. Before you could ask, the armored man spoke.
"You are in my house, on Nevarro. You refused to go to a medcenter; you were very adamant about that. Do you remember ?" You shook your head, the motion bringing a soreness in your head, and you knew your face showed it because he sighed and added, "You need to rest. Don't worry about anything, you're safe". You wanted to talk more, ask all those questions that were bustling in your brain, but exhaustion overcame you, and you felt your eyes shut, the warmth of the bed and the weariness of your body letting sleep overtake you.
The room was quiet, the house dark. You felt the need to use the 'fresher all of a sudden. A quick mental check of your body told you all your bones were healed, and nothing, not even your head hurt. You slowly sat up, one tentative foot after the other on the ground. Everything seemed to work. You were kept in that cell so long, bones barely mended that it was like a new sensation, not to hurt, no pain, just weariness of the body. Standing up and one small step after the other, you managed to get out of the room. You felt slightly weak but not too much. You were probably fed and changed during your stay. You imagined you had slept for at least a few days.
"You shouldn't be up." The voice startled you, and you almost fell, but two hands gripped you tightly, without hurting you, keeping you upright.
"I need to use the 'fresher." Without a word, the Mandalorian guided you to it.
When you were done, he helped you back to bed and brought you some water. No words, just small acts that made you feel safe. You should be wary, you knew Mandolarians, you'd been around them enough to know how deadly they could be. Especially his type, if your suspicions were correct.
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days. The doctor came twice a day to take care of you. He says you had old injuries that didn't mend right. He took care of it. But you might need more time." This felt like the most you'd heard him speak. The modulation was soothing, something from your past that always brought comfort.
After a beat of silence, he added. "You said my name before you lost consciousness. Do you remember?"
"You mentioned that before. Are you sure? I don't know you, have never seen …" Behind your unfinished sentence lingered a question you didn't voice: "Do you know me?" A shake of his head brought relief. He didn't know you, but you were safe.
Instead of dwelling on the matter, he embarked on another subject.
"When I found you, you were hurt but outside your cell..." His hesitancy made you interrupt him.
"I was running away, your intervention was what I needed to try to escape."
There was a beat of silence as he was trying to find the right question to ask.
"How long were you held captive?"
"When are we?" At his answer, you did a quick calculation." About 8 months."
"Why were you captive?" His questions were measured and straight to the point.
"Why? You want to bring me in? You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?"
"I don't have a quarry on you." That seemed to be enough for him to settle the matter. It wasn't for you, but you knew he would feel less wary of you if he had all the information. At least part of it. You settled into telling him the reason you were captive.
"The person you were here for, he didn't appreciate my thieving skills."
"You stole from him?"
"Let's say I took what he had stolen in the first place and gave it back to the people it belonged to. He was enriching himself and stealing the resources of the inhabitants of that planet. I just wanted to help. But got caught after a while."
At your confession, there was a slight pause. The Mandalorian didn't give much, you couldn't see his face, and his posture was calculated to give little tell. But you'd been enough of his kind to know he was hesitating and about to ask another question, a difficult one.
"Did he... did he hurt you in other ways than what the doctor saw?" You understood what he meant.
"No. No, just light torture here and there. It happened less recently, he forgot about me. I was entertainment when he had receptions."
You could tell he wanted to ask what type of entertainment, but you were happy he didn't press further. You didn't feel ready to talk about it now.
He stayed quiet, his helmet tilted toward you, his gaze searching even through the beskar. You didn't speak, studying his countenance.
You had so many questions. What were you going to do? When should you leave? Where would you go? It started to feel overwhelming, yet his steady presence grounded you. You only voiced one question, one you didn't even have to finish.
"Did you bring him...?"
"I brought him cold." The finality of his statement took away the weight you still had on your chest.
"Good."
As if satisfied by this, his search over, he started to leave you, but just before he added, "You can stay as long as you need."
"I don't want to impose." Your protest was barely out.
"You are not. Besides, Grogu likes you. We can talk more in the morning."
And with this, he left, and you surrendered to slumber.
The next few days passed in a daze. You felt yourself heal slowly. Heal from your past injuries, but also from the running around of the past years. You rarely settled anywhere for more than a couple of years. And while young, it was exciting, growing older, it got tiring. You knew you couldn't stay here, that eventually you would have to leave and start the cycle of moving again. But this forced rest helped you recharge. Mando, as he asked you to call him, never pressured you to leave. He inquired after your health in a way that showed it wasn't urgent but caring, going about his daily business around you as if it always were like this.
Your routine evolved, from getting out of bed only a few minutes at a time, long stretches of sleep in between, to staying up for hours, walking outside, and playing with Grogu.
Those quiet moments brought you too much joy and comfort. A sense of ease and belonging you shouldn't feel.
And so you settled comfortably. Way too comfortably in the presence of a Mandalorian, you knew his kind, the faceless and nameless Mandalorians, and of their creed. You should have been guarded. But instead, you felt safe. And you slipped, giving access to parts of yourself you didn't want to. Apart from jobs you did, your approximate age, and the name you gave yourself when your new life began almost two decades ago, you started giving more. Things from your past that you didn't want anyone to know, places you'd seen, people you met, and a small knowledge of his culture.
You felt his caution slip, day after day. As welcoming as he was, he always seemed guarded in the first few days. Never bringing back the fact that you apparently called him by his real name on your first encounter, something you didn't remember and barely believed. Studying you as you moved around, trying to understand you, deciphering your every move and word.
But eventually trusting you with, you soon realized was like his son, a quick explanation giving little details of you, they became a clan, one you didn't need, being very well aware of the necessity of foundlings in the Mandalorian culture, one of your first blunders. One he noticed but let pass, probably storing it somewhere in his brain for later.
And then it was trusting you with himself. Shedding some pieces of his armor, being more at ease in his own house, walking around in his flight suit and helmet. You even notice his gloves off more and more. Which sometimes meant you could graze his skin when you passed objects, Grogu's toys, a glass of water, a mug of caf. Light touch that brought tingle and warmth.
And as you got better and better, as you were able to stay up longer, you both evolved to spending evenings together, quiet moments of reflection and discussion, ones that seem like old friends when you forgot that none of you actually talked about your past, of certain parts of your situation. But you managed to talk about parts of the galaxy, as you are both very well-traveled, about Grogu, about your days.
And you learned to respect him, and, if you were honest, even admire him. His devotion to his son, to his tribe, creed, even if he didn't talk about it much. It was something you always respected and admired. But his steadiness, his skills and unaffected intelligence, his quiet presence, all of it turned your admiration to something more. Something that made you feel warm in his presence. Something you hoped would stop once you leave.
So you started talking about finding a job, here or elsewhere, Mando telling you he could talk around if you wanted to stay, and you accepted, startled to realize you wanted to put roots here.
One day, as you were playing with Grogu, about a month after your arrived, letting a ball roll between the two of you, him catching it, squealing with delight and tossing it back at you, with a precision you fond uncanny for a child his age (even if he was over 50, you still couldn't wrap your head around that fact). The game was starting to tire out Grogu, who showed signs of boredom and started looking for something else to play with. As you were getting up, you absentmindedly talked to him, never sure he understood, but his eyes, always expressive, showed signs he might, so you continued.
" Grogu, when do you think you're Buir is coming back?"
"What did you say?" Mando was standing by the door to the living quarters, his stature looming over you, still like a statue. You could feel how dangerous he was. Not that you didn't know it, but you sometimes forgot.
"Kriff, you scared me. I didn't hear you come in." You were stalling, you knew it, and he knew it.
"That word, how did you know it?" His tone was not menacing, but not kind either.
"I've traveled, you are not the first Mandalorian I've met." You tried to look innocent and added, "although I haven't seen a Children of the Watch in a long time." That was a mistake you realized as soon as it left your mouth, still tired or too comfortable with him. He came closer, wide and menacing. Your brain screamed danger.
"How do...?"
"I told you. I traveled." You brushed it off and quickly turned to Grogu, who had been watching the exchange with some worry, busying yourself with putting toys away and talking about dinner.
You could feel Mando watching you, searching, trying to see the truth and lies. But eventually his countenance changed to slightly more relaxed.
"Greef Karga, the magistrate, mentioned there might be some work for you. If you still want to stay. You don't have to leave right away, but..." Again, you interrupted him.
"That's fine, I'm feeling much better, might as well get a job and find a place to live." You knew you needed to go. Too many mistakes were made, and you are feeling attached too much. To Grogu, yes, but also to Mando, if you stopped lying to yourself.
He looked at you like he wanted to say something. But instead, you heard a sigh, frustration, or regret, it was hard to tell.
The next day, walking to the city for the first time, you listened to Mando as he showed you around, taking in the streets, the market, and the people surrounding you. You felt good here, at peace, in this growing community, rebuilding itself from past wounds, a little like yourself.
That's what you got from your exchange with Greef Karga, explaining with grandiloquence the past this planet lived through and the ideas he had for the future. You could envision it, he made compelling arguments. You knew the type, you knew that he was the king to embellish things, just so you would agree with him. But he seemed sincere, and you wanted to believe him. And if Mando brought you to him, you would trust him. Your decision was made on the spot. You would take the job, and you would move into the unit he was offering. You would stay for the community, for what it had to offer, for a glimpse of ease and a sense of belonging you felt. Not for a silent Mandalorian and his child.
That was a lie, but you didn't want to acknowledge it yet.
Life in Nevarro was exactly as you expected it. Quiet, yet bustling, easy, yet interesting. You settled in your small but cozy unit, decorating it, sensing your desire to settle for a bit. Your job was challenging and kept you busy. People were welcoming, and after a month, you realized you actually liked your life here. That, without really deciding it, your thoughts of leaving the planet were slowly being pushed to the background, and you were making plans for the next day, next week, next month. You were staying.
You thought you wouldn't see Mando and Grogu much, no real need for it. While you had stayed at their place, they hadn't been much into the city, their life was further out.
But eventually your path did merge. In town, in the market, at Karga's, more and more. Small talks, longing looks. Walking around the city is comfortable and easy. You hated it because every time your eyes would see a reflection akin to the sun on beskar, your heart skipped a bit. And when it was actually him, you would feel the butterflies in your stomach. And every time, Mando would come to you, walking a small distance together, Grogu stretching his arms so that you would pick him up for a cuddle for the duration of your walk. Walks that got longer and longer.
And then, before you knew it, they were both fully back in your life.
It started with helping out with Grogu, picking him up from school when Mando was late from whatever job he was doing, apparently helping the Marshall. You loved doing it, helping, and spending time with the child. You felt so thankful for the trust Mando gave you. Trusting with his son, but also, you felt it, trusting in you, even with your secrets, like he had decided that whatever your past and knowledge of Mandalorians were, he accepted it and wouldn't push.
And each time, the moments you spent at his place stretched longer. From just waiting until he got home, to staying a bit, to actually having dinner together, that is you and Grogu with Mando at your table, but eating later. Until one night you stayed over because it was late, and he insisted you didn't walk back home. And then you were staying the night more often because you watched on Grogu while Mando was off-world.
It was so easy, you were surprised. It shouldn't be, it always was easy. It was as if you had always been here, part of their little family. And every time you came back to your unit, you felt lonely. This was bad because you were getting attached. You could feel it. And you were afraid Mando was too. It was not something that should have happened.
One night, it slipped into the conversation, this something growing between you. Both of you on the couch talking, Mando in his flight suit and helmet, gloves off, Grogu put to bed, you needing to leave but staying. Talking about work, yours and his, and like a confession, it pours out of his mouth, the word "mesh'la" (beautiful).
The silence that ensued, his from the realization of what he said, yours from the understanding, heat creeping up your neck, it puts weight on the word. And he notices your reaction, of course, he does. The question that comes out of him flusters you even more.
"Have you been. ..?" He stopped, the end of the sentence settling on his tongue but never spilled.
"What?"
"With a Mandalorian… you know so many words."
You pondered your answer. "No. Never."
It was time to go back home.
You woke up suddenly, groggy from sleep as a dream slipped away through your consciousness. Warm hands touching you, cold metal under your own, voice deep and metal-like murmuring in your ear, "Would you look at that," as his lips unraveled you, a feat only possible in the daze of unconsciousness, face masked and unmasked at the same time. You felt the need inside your body, slick and deep. The vision was slowly going away, and you tried to catch it, willing yourself to fall back to sleep, to fall back in those beskar arms that you've wished to feel for so long. You knew it was not possible, even if you felt that sometimes the unnamed feeling was reciprocated, even if you felt his gaze and persistent touches. But how could it be with the secrets that surrounded both of you? Dreams were the only moments where you let yourself feel it, where you let the heat of your desire overtake you. Those dreams that grew more intense whenever you stayed in his house, reminiscing on those first days, weeks, when you observed him in quiet and learned to admire and respect him, before you learned to love him. The scent and feeling were overpowering in this house, your dreams always more intense, like this one you tried desperately to fall back into, cursing whatever woke you up, until you heard it again. A sound, something falling, or banging, it was hard to tell. You jolted awake, a million thoughts running in your head. The more logical, Grogu was awake and full of mischief, the more anxious one, someone had broken into the house. You pushed the fear aside and got up, tiptoeing to the sound, trying to understand what it was.
Walking quietly, you heard heavy breathing as you rounded to the 'fresher and were faced with a sight you didn't expect. Skin. Bronze skin displayed, a naked back, muscle and softness, tan and bruises bent over the sink. You let out a gasp before closing your eyes, before the head turned to you, hiding behind a wall.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see anything! I didn't see your face! I swear, Mando. I'm so sorry," you were pleading, hoping he believed you, because you didn't see anything, just glorious skin that made your own tingle, food for thought, but not his face. Part relief and disappointment, something you pushed aside.
"It's OK, I believe you." The voice was modulated, the helmet back on.
You opened your eyes and peeked inside the 'fresher. He was standing by the sink, armor off, the top of the flight suit pushed back, leaving his upper body naked. You couldn't help but rake your eyes over his body until you noticed more bruises and a wound on his side, gushing and deep.
"Mando! You're hurt!" You rushed to his side, hands ready to help, when you stopped, not wanting to cross another boundary.
"Do you need help?"
The helmet was on you, and you sensed his gaze, searching you, overwhelming as tension settled around you. Then a sigh. "Yes"
Rummaging through the medpac, you got what you needed, pushing Mando to sit on the side of the bath so you could help him better, allowing better access to his body. A wet towel in your hand, you lightly washed the wound. As delicately as you tried, you heard the pain he felt, a whimper, almost like a moan, coming out modulating. A sound that had you flustered, rubbing your legs together, need encompassing you. It was only now that you realized how you were dressed, only a long shirt covering your body to your thighs, both in a state of undress you had never been in each other's presence. The breath you drew as a reaction brought Mando's gaze to you.
In the midst of this realization, it was as if all pretense had fallen. After applying the bacta patch on his wound, you picked up the towel and continued to clean his body, even if there was no real need, except to bring comfort with a cool cloth. Soothing the bruises sustained even through the armor. It must have been a mighty opponent. And hearing his breath heavier and heavier, your own, echoing. Caressing his strong arms, his shoulders, settling on his torso. His hands gripped your hips, and his voice sounded like a warning.
« Cyar'ika. »
You breath hitched at the word, and Mando pulled slightly away, head tilted to study your eyes.
You felt his gaze piercing you as his hands on your hip started to stroke you. Hands without gloves. A rare occurrence, the brush of his fingers on you. When you were hurt, once or twice, as you were healing in the comfort of his home, fingers brushing when he handed you something. And now soft fingers gently circling over your shirt.
« You understood that word, didn’t you? »
You didn’t say anything. Just looked at him, imagining brown eyes. On instinct.
“Tion’cuy gar?” (Who are you?)
You didn’t answer, just shook your head, not because you didn't understand, but because you couldn't answer, not now. The silence was charged with more than questions, and your hands, now on his shoulder, continue their caress, light strokes on his body. Towel forgotten, so you could feel his skin under your own. You were so close, closer than you ever had been. His fingers boldly went under your shirt, making your breath catch. A slight whimper that made him pull it up slightly, discovering parts of yourself. Skin for skin. A dip of your head and your lips connected with his shoulder, a slight touch, barely a kiss. You wanted to lick his skin, taste the salt on him. Your eyes were drawn to his back, catching something you hadn’t seen earlier, when you caught a glimpse of him. A mark on his shoulder blade, an exploding star, faded and distorted by time and age, but one you knew so well.
And as you realized this, you felt Din's hands freeze on your body, a shock sound coming from his mouth as he surely recognized your own mark, one that looked like a shooting star, on your hipbone. The one you used to joke was a mirror of his, yours before the crash, his after. In a time when helmets and armor weren’t yet put on, they weren’t deserved or won. Before the creed. Before you left.
And both your names echoed in the other's mouth as you push out of each other's arms.
The daze of the moment is gone, but there is horror that lies ahead as you run away, run to your room, pulling up clothes, hearing his steps, usually so calm, so silent, now heavy and loud.
Your name, your real name, the old one forgotten when you left, rings out, a whisper, hurt in his voice.
"You were dead."
You stopped, back turned, you didn't want to see his face, even with the helmet, you knew you would feel it, the hurt, the anger.
"I faked it, I ran away."
"Why?" You turned. His voice was cold, mean, you couldn't bear it.
"I couldn't… I couldn't swear to the creed, so I left." There were no words, there was nothing but a helmet, voiceless, a mask in front of you. You have lost him, you knew it, lost the connection, lost the sense of belonging to this small family. You felt the tears and closed your eyes, willing them to go away. When you opened them, he was gone.
The steps that brought you home, the way back, were blurred in your mind from the overwhelming thoughts and blurred in your vision from the tears, the one falling freely.
It was over.
As you went through the motion of your life the next couple of days, waking, working, eating, poorly sleeping, rinse and repeat. Yet you couldn't help but feel a lingering hope. It oscillated with despair as your life moved in front of your eyes, one you barely participated in, lost in that night. If only it were repeated in a loop. If you had talked sooner, maybe he wouldn't be angry? If you had not helped him, touched him, you might still have his presence, you could live with only that. And as you lost yourself, you thought about what was next, but were unwilling to decide until you saw him again, and hoped that after thinking, he might forgive you and at least talk to you, if only that.
But that thought was crushed. Walking through the market, you saw him, his figure first, giving you butterflies, seeing him with the child buying food. When the purchase was over, his head turned your way, where you stood frozen, people pushing past you. A second that felt like a century, one of suspended hope and dread, one where you forget to breathe, hear, and see. Until he turned and was gone. The cold you felt was real, shivers and weight, surrounding you as you went back to the sanctuary of your home, where you decided to pack and leave.
Nothing held you back in Nevarro, not anymore.
Unfortunately, you had responsibilities. You could just pick up and leave, but you liked it here, liked the people with whom you worked, and you wanted a chance to say thank you and goodbye. So with a lie ready you announced your departure, giving yourself a couple of days to gather your things and find your next place to go to, studying your datapad, with different planets on your radar, ready to buy a one way ticket to a promising place, green and lush and cold, needing the opposite of Nevarro, the opposite of heat and dry, the opposite of metal and warmth.
The bangs on your unit door startled you. Three knocks, decisive, not giving you any second thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, but you were definitely not expecting Din, as you opened the door in surprise, and when he pushed past you. Standing inside your small space.
You hadn't seen him this agitated, this restless, since you left the Tribe. Before you stood a reminiscence of a teenage Din, the hot head, full of revolt, subdued by time but never tamed. The one you shared your dreams with, your sorrows, your first kiss. He was angry, he was demanding, but he wasn't speaking.
With your back against the closed door behind you, you waited. And you tried not to let the small hope bloom in your chest as soon as you saw him.
"You are leaving. Again. Running away, without owning to your actions." The accusation, the underlying insult of cowardice, crushed the hope but flared the anger. You might have left long ago, you might have forgotten a lot of your Mandalorian upbringing, but you couldn't stand being called a coward. Even if you had fled, even if you were doing it again. Suddenly, resentment made you push away from the door, stride toward him, stand tall and large, looking at him straight into his eyes behind the helmet.
"Yes, I'm leaving. Why would you care?" Daring him to say anything else, after he had turned away from you.
"We welcomed you, we were your family, the Tribe was there when you needed. You betrayed us."His voice was rising with every word, standing in front of you, menacing and dangerous. Everything that wasn't said but didn't need to, echoed in the silence: leaving without saying goodbye, betraying his trust.
"But you weren't! My family died, and I never felt accepted. YOU never felt accepted either. I remember our talks, I remember what we used to say! I couldn't swear to the creed. I respected it. And I respected your own wish to swear, but I couldn't, because I never felt part of it. So I just left."
"You could have said it! They would have understood!"
"They wouldn't! And maybe leaving like I did was wrong, but I was an angry teenager, and my only ally left me when he swore to the creed. I felt abandoned because you were going away, I felt utterly alone, so I just left."
"You left us! You left me." Finally, the words were out. You could feel his anger abating, so did yours.
"I'm sorry. I truly am. I regretted it as soon as I left, but couldn't look back."
"I missed you. I grieved you." He was so close to you, so close you could hear his breath, the tremor in his voice, the sadness. It made your heart break over again.
"I know. I'm sorry." The tears were back, you didn't want to cry because you were the one who inflicted the hurt, but you couldn't help it. "I missed you, too. So much." Closer even now that you could almost touch. An untouched boundary that needed to be stepped over. One Din crossed when his hands pulled you into him.
"Close your eyes." He breathed it like a plea, desperate.
"Din…" You hesitated, knowing what was about to happen, overwhelmed by the idea, the faith placed in you.
"Do it, Cyar'ika. I trust you."
And so you did. You closed your eyes, the last tears falling from your lashes, down your cheeks, hearing the unmistakable sound of his helmet being taken off and put on the ground. You felt his breath before his touch, then his fingers, lightly brushing the tears away, before you felt his mouth on yours. Lips light, tentative. A second kiss that felt like the first, after so many years. But one that soon felt like home, meant to be, and like no time had flown by, not years, not decades, but merely seconds, as both of you reacquainted yourself with each other. Lips full, tender than demanding, touching, pulling, your teeth grazing his lower lip, a moan coming from so deep inside his throat.
And hands, hands that touched each other, that took off gloves, pieces of armor, and clothes.
In the darkness of your place, shutters closed and drapes blocking light, only shapes that could be seen, you rediscovered his face, under the beskar, his skin under the armor, bodies alight with need and pleasure, shared past and shared breath, to the point of not knowing where you began and ended. Soft cries and gasps and sweet praises murmured in the dark.
Tomorrow, you'd have to reclaim your job, tomorrow, you'd have to think about your future here.
A/N: The sound Din makes when he is hurt is directly inspired by this post and what he murmurs in reader's dream by this one
Read more about Din and his cyare: Stars are Fire
tagglist: I also added people who seemed interested (please let me know if you want to be added/removed) : @grogusmum @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @mani-pedro @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @cuteanimalmama @sawymredfox @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy
Summary: During one of Nevarro's summer rainstorms, (Y/N) goes into labor and Din must overcome his own fears as they anxiously await their baby's arrival.
Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Reader
Word Count: 5.8k
Warnings/Disclaimers: Childbirth (not graphic)
A/N: Hi guys! Baby Djarin is finally on their way! Last chance, do you think it'll be a boy or girl? Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter Fifty
The Goten
(Previous Chapter)
Summer rainstorms on Nevarro ranked as some of the strangest meteorological occurrences that Din had ever witnessed; humidity filled the air as the planet’s atmosphere crackled with electricity, and the incessant downpour of tepid rainwater making contact with free-flowing molten rock across the lava flats to create thick clouds of steam as far as the eye could see. The smell of sulfur overwhelmed the senses and the balmy temperatures forced residents to air out their stuccoed homes by opening their windows, to the point where many never bothered shuttering them until the storm passed them by. All in all, storm season was a downright miserable aspect of living on Nevarro, and no one was afflicted by its harshness more than Din’s heavily-pregnant wife.
“Dank farrik!” Din cursed as he dropped the soldering pen and wildly shook his hand in the air to cool his burnt fingertip. “Bic ni skana’din…I swear, I’m never buying another thing off those kriffing Jawas to the south of the lava flats; it’s like they set everything to break the moment you bring it home!”
(Y/N) hummed tiredly. “Almost makes me wish I’d taken Greef up on that offer to ride out this rainstorm in the Magistrate’s House.”
Glancing up from the disassembled fan spread out across the dining room table, Din was overwhelmed by guilt at the sight of the captain lounging on the couch, her forearm thrown over her head and her eyes squeezed shut in discomfort as her free hand caressed her protruding belly; now over nine months pregnant, (Y/N) was only a week away from her estimated due date and growing increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin, plagued by sporadic contractions, bouts of nausea and insomnia. Buying a top-of-the-line fan had been Din’s attempt at making the storm season more tolerable for her but in their moment of need, the fan sputtered out and sent him into a simmering fit of rage, his desperation to help his suffering wife driving him to attempt fixing a piece of machinery he couldn’t make heads or tails of.
Din stood, swallowing his frustration at his own failure as he dampened a washcloth in the kitchen sink and moved to kneel beside the couch, wiping the sweat from her brow with the softest of touches. “Alor’ad, please forgive me.”
“Whatever for?” (Y/N) asked, opening her eyes and giving him an inquisitive look. “I’m the one who couldn’t bear to leave my little nest here for a couple of days, not you. I guess this is what I get for thinking my Naboo blood stands a chance against Nevarro’s delightful weather patterns.” Her half-hearted joke was met with silence and her lips turned downwards as she reached up and caressed his jaw with her fingertips. “Sweetheart? C’mon, you can talk to me…”
“I should be doing more to help you.” Din, avoiding his wife’s sympathetic gaze, folded the washcloth to drape across her forehead and rested a palm against the swell of her stomach; their baby was restless beneath his touch, shifting around and kicking out with a strength that always took him by surprise. “Every minute of every day for the past nine months, you’ve been giving life to our child. The stronger they grow, the more strain you’ve been put under and the more helpless I’ve felt. The very least I could do was provide you with a kriffing fan to help you endure the storm season, but I couldn’t even do that.”
The captain smiled patiently while he offloaded his burden of guilt onto her, waiting until he was finished to slide her hand down to press against the center of his chest. “Din, you’ve spent every minute of every day for the past nine months helping me; whether it’s been getting up in the middle of the night because of another one of my strange food cravings, taking charge of Grogu’s lessons to give me a little time to rest or just holding my hand through every doctor’s appointment, you’ve been right here by my side every step of the way.”
“But the fan-”
“You tried to fix it and the moment you realized you couldn’t, you immediately brought me a cool washcloth instead. Thanks to you, I don’t feel like my skin’s melting off anymore,” (Y/N) pointed out with a good-natured laugh. “You’re doing everything right, sweetheart, I promise. Try to be easier on yourself, okay? For me?”
Din’s shoulders sagged as he allowed himself to relax into his wife’s comforting touch. “I will. Thank you for reminding me again, alor’ad.” His thumb rubbed gentle circles across her bump and his lips twitched upwards when he felt their baby’s movements beneath his palm. “Our ad’ika must be excited to meet their beautiful mother.”
“You’re sweet, ner cyar’ika riduur, but I don’t feel particularly beautiful right now.” (Y/N) grimaced when the baby landed a particularly hard kick against her stomach. “Your child keeps treating my spine like one of those null-grav trampolines.”
“My child, huh? How come they’re only my child whenever they’re kicking you?”
“Because I’m the pregnant one and I said so.”
Din chuckled. “I suppose that’s only fair.” His smile vanished and his brows pinched together in concern when a pained gasp escaped the captain’s lips. “Ad’ika, be gentle with your mother,” He lightly scolded, slipping a hand beneath his wife’s back and pressing his fingers along her spine until she released a sigh of relief. “Does that feel better?”
Nodding, (Y/N) propped herself up on her elbows and worked on regaining her breath. “I think that prodromal labor might be worse than a blaster shot to the bone.”
“The med droids said that completing a meditation session can help to ease their discomfort…” Din suggested, schooling his expression to mask his trepidation regarding the droids’ involvement in (Y/N)’s birth plan. “Did you wanna give it a try while I fix you some lunch?”
With another nod, the captain allowed him to help her maneuver into a sitting position, her smile of gratitude morphing into a frustrated frown as she started pushing herself off the couch. “Put a pin in that, sweetheart, it’s time to visit the ‘fresher…again.”
Din pressed a sympathetic kiss onto her brow and watched her waddle away down the hallway to the refresher, waiting to hear the sliding door close before turning and heading to the kitchen. “Grogu?” The child, who was perched on the counter and meticulously polishing his beskar rondel, looked up with an inquiring coo that made Din smile. “Why don’t you take a break from cleaning your armor to meditate with your mother? I’ll fix you two some soup for afterwards, okay?”
“Patu,” Grogu readily agreed, hopping off the counter and hurrying to take his usual seat on the couch, leaving a chuckling Din to fold his cleaning rag and carefully set his rondel aside; while Din handled the more physical aspects of the child’s training, his little apprentice preferred to meditate with his mother, enjoying the moments of calm they shared and focusing in such a way that Din could hardly believe he was the same rambunctious child they had to scold for chasing Kowakian monkey-lizards and spoiling his dinner with stolen cookies. If only he focused that intently on his weapons training as well, he thought to himself with a smile as he began filling their stock pot with water.
Thunder rumbled and shook the very foundation of their cabin and a downpour of rain pelted the roof overhead, loud enough to put Din on edge and begin resurfacing the all too familiar memory of losing his parents on Aq Vetina. Squeezing his eyes shut, Din took a deep breath and forced the memory out of his mind, concentrating instead on the fragrant oppim incense wafting in from the living room, the softness of the cotton shirt (Y/N) had sewn for him and the sounds of Grogu’s absentminded babbling; the comforts of his home and his family engulfed his senses, helping him drive away the darkness and successfully grounding him in the present. Instead of the darkened cellar his parents had hidden him inside, he blinked his eyes open to see the stock pot beginning to overflow with water, and he released a short sigh of relief as he switched the faucet off and continued preparing the batch of soup.
Since the reclamation of Mandalore and the semi-peaceful life they’d managed to carve out for themselves on Nevarro, Din had discovered that the memory of his parents’ deaths during the Clone Wars didn’t affect him as badly as it once had. He reasoned that because he’d opened himself up to (Y/N) and Grogu and allowed himself to be vulnerable in a way he’d never been with anyone else, he’d finally discovered how to live with the grief of losing them instead of bottling up his emotions and barricading himself behind his beskar as he once had. Their baby’s impending arrival had also helped, in a way; instead of ruminating on the losses of his past, Din was hyper-fixated on ensuring the continued safety the newest addition to Clan Mudhorn, desperate to keep his nightmare of losing his family from coming true in the future.
“As long as we’re together, everything will be okay,” Din quietly recited the mantra he’d held onto for over a month, allowing the familiar words to wash over him and pacify his anxiety; no matter what the galaxy had in store for them, he and (Y/N) had shown their enemies time and time again that together, they were an unstoppable force that would rain fire upon anyone who dared threaten their family.
A sharp gasp tore through the sound of the storm raging outside, and Din glanced up from the cutting board to see (Y/N), a look of shock written across her features as she braced herself against the hallway’s doorway. “Oh no…”
The knife he’d been using to chop vegetables clattered onto the cutting board and he vaulted over the counter, crossing the room in three long strides; his hands hovered uselessly over her as his eyes frantically sought hers. “What is it, alor’ad, what’s wrong?”
“My water just broke…” Din followed the captain’s stunned gaze and sure enough, there was a small puddle of liquid pooling directly beneath her skirt. “The baby…Din, the baby’s on their way.”
Din’s mouth went dry as he was overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotion; he was concerned for the well-being of his wife and child and fearful of the impending labor she would suffer through, of course, but despite his swirling apprehension, he was also overcome with excitement to finally meet their baby boy or girl. Staring into (Y/N)’s widened eyes, Din could see that she was growing more distressed by the second and in an instant, he steeled his nerves and put on a brave face for her. “All right, we have a plan and we’re going to see it through together-”
“B-But what about the storm?”
“I’ve driven through worse storms than this, alor’ad. I’ll get us to the clinic in one piece.” Din’s hands cradled her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones while he flashed her a fleeting grin. “Hey, you don’t have something against the driving abilities of bounty hunters, do you?”
(Y/N) gave him the barest hint of a smile as their familiar banter, and Din was pleased to see the worry slowly fade from her eyes. “I do, actually, but I guess I’ll make an exception for you.”
Chuckling, Din pressed an adoring kiss to his wife’s brow before resting his forehead against hers. “You and I have prepared for this day for nine months, ner kotir alor’ad, and I swear to you now, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety and comfort. Do you trust me?”
“With every fiber of my being, Din Djarin,” (Y/N) emphatically replied, her eyes welling with tears as a soft smile illuminated her features. “A part of me can’t believe we’re finally going to meet her.”
Din’s smile matched hers. “Her?”
The captain shrugged. “Call it a mother’s intuition.”
“Well, why don’t we head down to the clinic and see if that mother’s intuition is right?” Din’s gentle coaxing drew a nod from (Y/N) but just as he leaned in to give her a kiss, a distressed whimper made them both quickly look down. Grogu was standing at their feet and looking between the puddle of amniotic fluid and his mother’s protruding stomach, his mouth turned downwards into a concerned frown. “It’s okay, Grogu, your mother’s not hurt; it’s just her body’s way of signaling to us that the baby is on their way.”
The child’s eyes widened and he cooed in delight before leaping into (Y/N)’s waiting arms. “You’re excited to meet your brother or sister, aren’t you, little guy?” She laughed, giving his wrinkled forehead a soft kiss and affectionately rubbing one of his ears. “C’mon, let’s get changed and pack your overnight bag while your dad puts on his armor.”
Pressing a kiss to Din’s lips, (Y/N) turned and disappeared down the hallway with Grogu bouncing excitedly in her arms, leaving Din standing alone in the living room. “Everything will be okay…” He mumbled to himself as he strode across the room to their armory, pressing a button and watching the door slide open to reveal his beskar armor. He stared at his reflection in the polished metal, noting his widened eyes and flushed cheeks, and for a moment, his mind flashed back to his days as a young Mandalorian apprentice; the same widened eyes and flushed cheeks would greet him in his pocket mirror’s cracked reflection while he prepared for battle, until he steadied his nerves by imagining the success he’d be fighting for. While he looked on at his own reflection, he pictured a tired but beautiful (Y/N) tearfully smiling down at their baby nestled safely in her arms, the physical manifestation of their unconditional love and devotion; after months of eager and nerve-wracking anticipation, they were finally going to meet the child they’d created together. A serene sense of calm settled over him and washed away his fears, and as he continued focusing on the image of their near future he’d conjured, he fixed his reflection with steadfast eyes and nodded to himself. “Everything will be okay.”
And with that, Din set about the methodical task of putting on his beskar armor piece by piece, his hands steady and his mind blessedly calm all the while.
(Y/N)’s voice was hoarse, the eight hours of labor she’d endured taking its toll on not just her body but her vocal cords as well. Din, who’d been methodically dabbing away at her sweat-coated brow, met her exhausted eyes and offered her an encouraging smile. “What is it, alor’ad?”
“Are you angry with me for choosing the med droids over the midwives?”
He didn’t hesitate to shake his head. “No, of course not.” His brief connection with IG-11 and his growing fondness of R5-D4 hadn’t diminished his distrust of droids, but when (Y/N) had insisted early on in her pregnancy that the med droids assist in the birth instead of the clinic’s midwives he’d kept his mouth shut; it was (Y/N) who would labor for hours to bring their baby into the world, not him, so he supported any decision she made regarding her own comfort during childbirth. “I could never be angry with you, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.” He spared the med droid currently measuring her dilation a fleeting glance before turning his attention back to the captain. “They’ve taken good care of you and our child for the past nine months, and I trust that they’ll continue taking care of you both. That’s why you chose them over the midwives, after all.”
(Y/N)’s eyes roamed across his features as she shook her head. “That’s not the only reason I chose the med droids, sweetheart. I couldn’t do this without seeing your eyes; I-I thought I could, I spent nine months bracing myself for it, but I…” Her words trailed off and her breath sharply caught in her throat, signaling that another contraction was upon her; Din murmured reassurances and encouragements to her as she latched onto his free hand and writhed in pain, her agonized cry piercing his heart. He allowed her to squeeze his hand tightly and he calmly talked her through the labor pains until they subsided, and he released the breath he’d been holding while the captain sagged against the pillows once again. “I…I needed…”
“Haalur,” Din soothingly crooned, smoothing her hair back and wiping the sweat from her brow with his cool cloth. “You’re doing so well, ner kotir alor’ad, just keep breathing for me.”
(Y/N) shakily breathed in and out as she brought her hand up to cradle the side of his face. “When I look into your eyes, I feel braver than I’ve ever felt before, and I knew the minute we stepped into the clinic that I couldn’t do this without seeing all of you. I-I know that you’re distrustful of droids and I’m sorry that I-”
“I am, but this isn’t about me, alor’ad, and you have nothing to apologize for,” Din reassured her and turned his head to give her palm a kiss. “I told you, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety and comfort, and if that means allowing the med droids to attend to you so that I can remove my helmet, then so be it.”
As her eyes welled with tears, (Y/N) brought their joined hands to her lips and reverently kissed his knuckles, and then again for good measure. “I love you, Din Djarin.”
Din smiled tenderly. “I love you too.”
“Captain (Y/L/N),” One of the med droids interrupted, hovering by her bedside while Din resisted the urge to rest a hand atop his holstered blaster. “It is time to begin pushing.”
(Y/N)’s tearful eyes widened and Din, noting the twinge of fear in her expression, set aside the cool cloth to caress her cheek. “Our child is almost here, ner cyar’ika alor’ad. Are you ready to meet them?” She nodded and he chastely kissed her cheek. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise. I swear on all the stars I’ll never leave your side.”
Releasing a shuddering breath, (Y/N) nodded again and allowed him to help maneuver her into the proper position. Once she was sitting up and her feet were braced on the stirrups, he slipped an arm around her back and held her hand securely in his while two med droids assumed their positions at the foot of her bed. “When your next contraction begins, you must push as hard as you can.”
The captain gritted her teeth and nodded to herself, a flash of her usual fiery determination filling her eyes as she gripped Din’s hand. “I can do this…”
“That’s right, alor’ad,” Din readily agreed. “You never give up and you never give in. Ner atin riduur, you can do this, and I’ll be right here with you the entire time.” As another contraction started, (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed with all her might, her grip on his hand ironclad and her back braced against his arm. While she continued pushing, a steady stream of encouragements and praises passed from his lips, joining her pained cries and the sound of thunder rumbling outside; the memory of his mother and father’s deaths once again encroached on Din’s thoughts, but he forced himself to remain in the moment and continue supporting his wife through her contraction. “That’s it, that’s it, you’re doing so well! You’re so strong, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, so strong and so brave, just keep pushing!” The contraction ebbed away, and Din ducked his head to catch his wife’s hazy gaze. “Good job, alor’ad, you’re doing great, just keep breathing for me. Lean against me, c’mon, take a quick break before the next one.”
(Y/N)’s head collapsed against Din’s shoulder and she moaned when the cool beskar pauldron touched her heated skin. “I think…I think the baby’s almost here, sweetheart.” She glanced over at the med droids. “That’s normal, right?”
“Quite normal, Captain (Y/L/N),” The med droid replied, and (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief. “With proper prenatal care, many babies are born after only one to two pushes. Yours is expected be born with the next push.”
Din beamed. “Did you hear that? Our baby will be here soon, you just need to push one last time.”
“Mir’sheb.” (Y/N) flashed him a teasing smile and shook her head. “You make it sound so easy…”
Leaning down, Din pressed an apologetic kiss to her sweat-covered brow and tucked some stray hair behind her ear. “Then let me help you. Keep leaning against me, squeeze my hand as hard as you can – hell, break my fingers for all I care, it doesn’t matter – and all I want you to do is take my strength and use it. Use it, all right?” His wife nodded and he gave her another kiss. “They’re right here, we’re so close to finally meeting them. You can do this, ner kotir alor’ad, I promise you can do this.”
“I can do this,” (Y/N) repeated with a self-assured nod before glancing up at the room’s skylight and smiling. “You know, my mother always said that babies born during a rainstorm are blessed with resilience and strength.”
“With all due respect to your mother’s beliefs, this baby’s resilience and strength won’t come from Nevarro’s meteorological patterns. They’ll come directly from their mother…” Her eyes met his and softened as he brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “The bravest warrior I know.”
(Y/N) surged forward and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, the force of her embrace taking him by surprise and nearly knocking him to the ground; at her urging, he slid out of the chair he’d posted himself in for over eight hours and sat on the edge of the hospital bed, silently reveling in his closeness to her as he returned her ardent kisses. Just as she pulled away to take a breath, the captain went rigid in his embrace and her widened eyes quickly met his. “I think this is it. Maker, I can feel them coming!”
Din’s heart pounded with excitement beneath his beskar armor, and he was quick to guide his wife’s back against his chest while she began to push through her contraction. He was only vaguely aware of his own voice among the med droid’s robotic encouragements and (Y/N)’s pained cries, his endless praises echoing off the walls of their suite as he watched her bear down with all her might; in that moment – drenched in sweat and roaring louder than a krayt dragon as she clutched his hand with an almost otherworldly strength – she’d never looked more beautiful to him. A piercing wail cut through the cacophony of voices and Din’s words caught in his throat as one of the med droids gently guided the squirming baby into their grasp, his eyes already stinging as the captain burst into exhausted tears of joy and fell back against his chest.
“We did it,” (Y/N) panted tiredly. “We did it, sweetheart…”
Tearing his eyes away from the med droids attending to the newborn, Din peppered kisses across (Y/N)’s forehead and cheeks and gently brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “No, you did it, ner cyar’ika alor’ad. I’m so proud of you, you were so strong and brave…”
The captain stroked his cheek with her fingertips, smiling adoringly at him as her eyes sparkled with happiness. “I couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart.”
“Congratulations, Captain (Y/L/N) and Mr. Djarin.” The two of them looked up to see one of the med droids hovering beside the bed and holding their baby, who’d been cleaned off and loosely wrapped in the blanket that (Y/N) had sewn for them. “You have a healthy baby girl.”
Din grinned broadly and watched as the med droid placed the newborn in (Y/N)’s waiting arms, the baby’s fussing ceasing the moment her mother’s skin touched hers; he hadn’t said anything for fear of being wrong or inadvertently upsetting his wife, but for as long as they’d known about the pregnancy, his gut had told him that they were having a baby girl. But seeing (Y/N) with their daughter, her features illuminated by her breathtaking smile and her eyes shining with tears of joy as she looked down at the life they’d created together, was better than anything he’d ever imagined. “Hi Milla…” (Y/N) cooed at the baby girl nestled in her arms, who was staring up at her with wide, inquisitive brown eyes. “Hello, my little flower. Oh, isn’t she beautiful, sweetheart?”
“She’s perfect,” Din breathed in awe, unable to tear his eyes away from their daughter. “She’s absolutely perfect. She looks just like you, alor’ad.”
“But she inherited those pretty brown eyes of yours.” The captain’s shoulder playfully nudged his. “I was really hoping she would. Would you like to hold her?”
Din froze. “I-I’ve never-”
“Neither have I but it’s just like holding Grogu, I promise.” Encouraged by (Y/N)’s kind smile and his own parental instincts, Din set aside his apprehension and allowed his wife to carefully place their daughter into his waiting arms. “You see? You’re a natural, sweetheart.”
With Milla settled in his arms, Din’s shoulders finally relaxed and he shakily released the breath he’d been holding, smiling once again when his daughter’s inquisitive brown eyes met his for the very first time. Any lingering resentment he held for the med droids vanished in an instant and a crushing, overwhelming love for their baby girl settled in his chest; he couldn’t comprehend how he, a battle-worn Mandalorian warrior who’d long ago entrenched himself in the scum and villainy of the galaxy, managed to help create something so pure and perfect as their little Milla. “We’ve waited so long to finally meet you, ner sarad’ika.” He gently shifted her to rest in the crook of her arm and brought his free hand up, caressing her plump cheek with the tip of his index finger and marveling at the softness of her skin. “You only just arrived and you’re already so loved, you know that?” His breath caught in his throat when the newborn’s tiny hand wrapped around his finger, reminding him in an instant of the first time he’d ever seen Grogu; the memory caused his eyes to sting with unshed tears, but he smiled through his emotions as he continued. “I promise, ner sarad’ika, I’m going to protect you until my dying breath, and I swear on all the stars I’ll never leave your side.”
(Y/N) gently tucked the edges of the blanket around Milla and brushed her fingers across their signet she’d spent hours hand-embroidering onto the fabric. “Welcome to Clan Mudhorn, Milla Djarin,”
The two of them exchanged loving smiles and after Din leaned in to press another kiss to his wife’s forehead, they both went right back to admiring the baby girl they’d fought so hard to bring into the world.
The next few hours were filled with a flurry of activity; after the med droids delivered the afterbirth and checked both (Y/N) and Milla’s vitals, they were moved to a recovery suite where both mother and daughter could rest and recuperate in peace. While they napped, Din quietly went about filling the suite with some touches of home – oppim incense burning on the windowsill, the captain’s favorite sweater draped over the back of one of the armchairs, a thermos of caf placed on the bedside table and a cozy knit blanket tucked around her legs – and once word got out that the town’s beloved seamstress had given birth, he was tasked with finding places for all the congratulatory vases of flowers they’d been sent. By the time he finished, (Y/N) had woken up to feed a hungry Milla and nearly burst into tears as she took in all the decorating he’d done for them both.
“You didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart,” (Y/N) sniffed as she fastened the top of her medical gown and cradled the sated newborn. “We’re only going to be here one more day.”
Din retrieved her sweater from the chair and crossed the suite, placing it over her shoulders before pressing a reassuring kiss onto her temple. “I wanted to do it, alor’ad. You both deserve to be comfortable, no matter what.” Bending down, he lightly kissed the top of their baby girl’s head and brushed a fingertip across her plump cheek. “Isn’t that right, ner sarad’ika?”
Glancing up, he was pleased to see (Y/N) smiling again. “And to think that only yesterday, you were worried that you weren’t doing enough for us all because the Jawas sold you a defective fan.” She reached out with one hand and gently cupped his cheek. “Milla and I are the luckiest ladies in the galaxy, to have a husband and father who cares so deeply about our comfort.”
“Believe me, it’s me who’s the lucky one,” Din replied, leaning in for a brief kiss and pulling away to meet her gaze. “The med droids came by a while ago and mentioned that Karga and Grogu were in the waiting room. Are you feeling up to a visit, or would you like to rest some more?”
Although still visibly tired, (Y/N)’s eyes brightened at the mention of their son. “You can bring them in; I’m sure the little guy’s anxious to meet his sister.”
After sharing another kiss with the captain and giving their daughter one final lingering look, Din slid his helmet on, donned his gloves and left their suite in search of their visitors. There was an uncharacteristic skip in his step and despite over forty pounds of beskar strapped to his body, he’d never felt lighter in all his life. In hindsight, it was almost laughable how worried he’d been leading up to (Y/N)’s due date, but finally meeting their baby girl had truly brought everything into perspective for him, allowing him to breathe in a way he hadn’t been able to since before he’d learned of the pregnancy. Milla’s every bit the daughter of a bounty hunter and a smuggler, Din thought with a proud grin, she managed to steal every single fear and worry of mine the moment her beautiful brown eyes met mine.
“Mando!” Greef Karga exclaimed as Din burst into the waiting room; the High Magistrate crossed the floor and firmly clasped one of his arms while Grogu leapt into the other. “Congratulations, my friend! The whole town’s already talking about our newest little resident, but we haven’t yet heard if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“It’s a girl.” Greef beamed at the news and Grogu happily clapped his hands together. “We’ve named her Milla, after Naboo’s prized millaflower.”
“And are mother and daughter recovering well?”
Din nodded. “Yes, they’re both healthy and rested, and they’re ready to receive visitors.” The High Magistrate gathered up the pile of wrapped presents he’d brought and followed Din down the hallways to their suite, and Din spared Grogu a glance as the child babbled in excitement from the crook of his arm. “I know you’re eager to meet your little sister, but you have to be gentle with her. No rough-housing or squeezing like you do with the Anzellans, okay?”
Grogu nodded in confirmation. “Patu.”
Satisfied with his son’s answer, Din gave his ear an affectionate rub and continued walking while listening to Greef’s plans for a celebratory festival to be held in (Y/N) and Milla’s honor. He was sure to knock on their suite’s door and waited for his wife’s welcome before opening it and leading the High Magistrate inside. “It’s so kind of you to visit, Greef. I’m sure I look a little worse for wear-”
“Nonsense, my dear, you look as radiant as ever!” Greef grinned good-naturedly and set the pile of wrapped presents down on the nearest table while Din sat on the edge of (Y/N)’s bed. “Gifts for you and the newest little Djarin, courtesy of myself and our friend Bo-Katan Kryze; the Mand’alor extends her congratulations to you both and tasked me with presenting her offerings on her behalf.” The High Magistrate approached her bedside, his eyes twinkling and his smile softening as he observed the newborn resting in her arms. “Beautiful. As the High Magistrate and a treasured old friend of your parents, it’s my great honor to welcome you to Nevarro, Milla Djarin!” Beneath his helmet, Din rolled his eyes in fond exasperation at his old friend’s formality. “Now, I have a city-wide festival to plan in celebration of such a momentous occasion, so I must take my leave.”
After thanking their friend for his gifts and congratulations, Din and (Y/N) watched with thinly-veiled amusement as the High Magistrate departed their suite with a swish of his burgundy cloak. “He never does anything by half, does he?”
“Not a single thing,” Din replied with a chuckle. A soft coo drew his attention down to Grogu in his arms; the child was staring transfixed at Milla, his large ears perked up in interest and his widened eyes filled with curiosity as the newborn’s brown eyes met his. “This is your sister, Grogu. Would you like to meet her?”
The child nodded and Din shifted closer to (Y/N) before setting him down on her lap, watching him crawl onto his mother’s softening stomach while his gloved hand cautiously hovered nearby. “This is Milla, little guy.” (Y/N) readjusted her hold on the newborn and gently smoothed her fingers over their son’s wrinkled forehead with a loving smile. “Milla, darling, this is Grogu, your brother.”
“In our culture, it is the old who protect the young, keeping them safe as they find their place in the world.” Din looked on as Grogu stretched his arm out and allowed Milla’s tiny fingers to wrap around his clawed hand. “It is your responsibility to watch over your sister and once she is old enough, she will learn to do the same for you. This is the Way.”
(Y/N) cupped the side of his helmet with her free hand and guided him to meet her gaze, pressing her forehead against his in a Keldabe Kiss and pulling away to give him a breathtaking smile. “It looks like we achieved our suum ca’nara after all, didn’t we?”
Lips curving upwards into a blissful grin, Din cupped the captain’s cheek and dipped his head forward for another Keldabe Kiss. “Yes, we did. Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.”
“Ni kyr’tayl gar darassuum, her cyar’ika beroya,” (Y/N) whispered back, her (Y/E/C) eyes brimming with tears of joy as Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. After sharing one last Keldabe Kiss, they watched their children interact with one another for the first time and in that moment, Din was the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life.
Goten-Birth
Bic ni skana’din-That really ticks me off/vague expression of anger
Alor’ad-Captain
Ad’ika-Little one
Ner cyar’ika riduur-My darling husband/wife
Ner kotir alor’ad-My brave captain
Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain
Haalur-Breathe
Ner atin alor’ad-My stubborn wife
Mir’sheb-Smart-ass
Ner sarad’ika-My little flower
Suum ca’nara-The state of blissful rest and peace
Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain
Ni kyr’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika beroya-I love you, my darling bounty hunter
A/N: Milla Djarin is finally here! Now comes the difficult part: how to integrate little baby Djarin into the plot of The Mandalorian and Grogu lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created two Spotify playlists, one filled with of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars and the other compiled with all the songs I listen to for inspiration while writing this series, so if you’re interested in checking them out the links are down below!
Star Wars Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd
Din Djarin/TCoB Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5HIv4pIIgtzRW3Nyv5x7ry?si=15e457550bd94966
Taking Care of Business Masterlist
