Summary: The breathtaking moment when Din finally removes his helmet for you, and you get to see his gorgeous face for the very first time…
Rating: General
Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader
Word count: 308
Tags: Intense fluff, Mando’a language
Author’s note: I needed to reverse the GIF I just posted because I want more of his face, not less, and it got my creative juices flowing 😏 So here, have a drabble…
“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”
The galaxy seems to spin slower as his hands reach for the helmet. Your breath stalls, caught between lungs and throat, as if it knows better than to interrupt this moment. For a heartbeat or two… or maybe ten, you’re suspended in that fragile, trembling space, as your world teeters on the edge of transformation.
Then he lifts it.
Stars.
That’s the first thought that strikes you, sudden and dazzling, like you’ve glimpsed something too bright to stare at directly. Your mind scrambles to comprehend something so long imagined, so carefully hidden, now laid bare before you. His face seems unreal at first – too vivid, too alive, too him.
Your gaze roams his features, awestruck. The strong line of his unshielded jaw. The warm amber of his skin. His expressive eyes, no longer concealed behind the dark visor, but open, searching for connection. And when they find yours, you’re anchored for life.
You don’t realise you’ve stepped closer until the space between you has all but vanished. Your hand rises without conscious thought, drawn in by his gravity, hovering just shy of his cheek. You hesitate, just for a second, just long enough to understand the enormity of this gift.
Then you touch him.
Warmth floods your fingertips, real and grounding, and you almost gasp. This is not the legend, not the mask, not the untouchable warrior bound by his creed.
It’s your husband.
And he’s looking at you like you’re something just as rare.
Your breath escapes in a shaky rush, not quite laughter, not quite tears, but some messy hybrid of wonder and disbelief.
“Hi,” you whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.
But it doesn’t. Instead, his perfect lips form the most beautiful syllable you’ve ever watched being uttered.
“Hi.”
Translations:
Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde – We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors (these are the Mandalorian marriage vows)
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warnings: um description of illness I guess? this is straight up just Din fussing over you. fairly tame fluff, no smut, established relationship. brought to you by me being sick. no description of reader, no y/n, and absolutely no proofreading.
“Cyar’ika,” the Mandalorian called out, rapping his knuckles on the door to your bunk. “Are you alright?”
The clanging durasteel drew a hoarse groan from your limp body, the sound bouncing around your already-pounding head.
He paused. “Cyar’ika?” he tried again, quieter now.
You groan again, burying your face in your pillow before immediately pulling back. You already couldn’t breathe, you didn’t need to suffocate yourself.
“I’m opening the door,” he warns. When a beat goes by without protest, he presses the button on the side panel and the barrier between you disappears in a whoosh.
You squint at him and give a limp wave, if it can be called that. “Hi,” you croak.
He winces. “Oh, cyare,” he sighs. He tugs a glove off and it’s a testament to how sick you are that you don’t hone in on the bare, tan skin, or the thickness of his fingers.
He gently sets the back of his hand against your forehead and lets out a low hiss. “You’re burning up,” he mutters, and vanishes in a swirl of his cape.
You fall instantly back asleep. He could have been gone for hours and you wouldn’t have known the difference. That said, he’s back in under three minutes, a medpac in hand.
He doesn’t wake you until he’s done with the diagnostic scan. “Cyar’ika,” he says with a strange gentleness when he prompts you back to the waking world. “You’re very ill. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Was fine last night,” you mumble, cheek squished against your arm where you rest your head, eyes still shut.
“Dank ferrick,” he mutters. “Rapid onset. Okay. We’re going to have to stop at a port; I don’t have the right meds. It’ll be a few hours.”
His glove creaks as his fist clenches and unclenches at his side.
You know that move. You crack an eye open. “Not your fault.”
“There’s fluid in your lungs,” he says behind a clenched jaw. “I should have noticed. I should have—“
“Shh,” is all you can muster, reaching for his ungloved hand. “Stop.”
He softens, shoulders drooping. You’re right, of course. He knows that. Blaming himself does nothing to make you feel better.
He busies himself instead with what can.
After he’s dosed out enough meds to tranquilize a bantha—a joke he does not laugh at when you make it—he disappears again. You take the capsules with small sips from your canteen, spread out between coughing fits. They’re all just symptom maskers, of course. Fever reducer. Cough suppressant.
But he’s determined to make you as comfortable as possible until you reach port. That becomes abundantly clear when he returns with an armful of blankets and pillows that you didn’t even know he had.
Once he’s padded and insulated you enough to survive a winter on Fest, he disappears again. You’d complain, but you’re asleep again.
This time when he comes back, he makes you sit up, which is just downright cruel. You groan and whine but he’s unrelenting.
He presses a drink into your hand, and you see that he’s swapped your canteen for a clear duraplastic bottle. “Are you measuring my fluid intake?” you say. It doesn’t come out as chastising as you’d like, since you’ve got a frog-dog in your throat.
“Yes,” he says bluntly. Once he’s pushed a pile of pillows behind you, and on your sides, and in your lap, like he’s afraid you’ll topple over and crack your head open, he hands you a steaming bowl.
“Eat,” he says.
You attempt a glare, but again, your puffy eyes and swollen sinuses make it more comical than caustic. Not that he finds it funny in the least.
“Eat,” he repeats. “Or do I need to spoon feed you?”
“May as well, with how bad you’re coddling me,” you try to mutter, but it devolves into a coughing fit.
You can’t even deny that his concern is unwarranted after the wheezing, hacking rattle leaves you drained and trembling.
You take a spoonful of the soup, not knowing what to expect. You can’t smell a damn thing and he’s never made anything before.
The first gulp has you sputtering, eyes watering. “What the kriff—“
“The burn means it’s working,” he says, deadpan.
“You’re trying to kill me,” you protest.
“Eat,” he insists.
He wasn’t joking about the burn. You take tiny, cautious sips, and the potent spices set about your mouth and throat like they’re on a mission to set fire to the virus.
You sneeze something violent as your nostrils go up in flames and… somehow… you do feel a little better. It doesn’t clear the fluid from your lungs or drive out the fever. But you can almost breathe again, and the way your chest tingles is more like living than the congested coma you’ve been in.
He doesn’t stand down from his post until you reach port. You eat the soup and drink the water, you hold still for the cold compresses he lays across your head and chest, you let him fuss with the blankets and watch over you while you sleep.
He sits perched on the edge of the bed, like you’ll get worse if he looks away. Your hand finds his again, weaving your fingers together.
“I’m fine, Din,” you murmur.
“You’re not,” he says solemnly. “But you will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
Summary: As you and Din try and help Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens against the Great Krayt Dragon, a split second decision from Din’s part might just change everything and leave you heartbroken. Heartbroken and furious.
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader
Word count: 3,7k
Warnings: this one is quite angsty, plus a few descriptions of injuries (burns and blisters), but nothing further than that
Notes: okay, this is my first time ever posting on tumblr (other than a few reblogs, that is). I’ve only just gotten around to creating an account and I’m currently working on adding all of my already existing works on here. So I really hope you enjoy this! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
This work is part of a series, but all of the parts can be read as standalone one-shots (they are posted in non-chronological order). Reader’s gender not specified.
Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3
Din couldn’t possibly discern what was wrong with you. You had been quiet for the entirety of the ride, your hands loosely wrapped around his waist. On more than one occasion he'd had to hold tightly onto your forearms while going over a dune, otherwise you certainly would have been thrown off the speeder. While he knew you weren’t particularly fond of Tatooine, too many bad memories tarnishing the planet for you, you had been fine when you first landed.
Once the speeder came to a stop near the entrance to the sarlacc pit you quickly hopped off, barely looking at him, and turned to move towards Vanth. But Din was faster and quickly grabbed your wrist before you could take a single step. Damn those bounty hunter reflexes.
“Is everything alright?” he said, almost reverently “You seem tense.”
Shaking your head you tried to ease him, and yourself, with a strained smile.
“It’s nothing, Mando. No need to worry.”
“You know I always worry.” that seemed to make your smile shift to a more genuine one.
“I just-” you sighed “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“About what?”
“This!” you opened your arms and gestured around you in frustration “all of this! Slaying a krayt dragon is madness!” your voice dropped almost to a whisper “That thing could kill us all.”
His heart clenched at the look of pure fear in your eyes. Yes, it was madness, it would probably get messy really quickly but he had to do this. Too many lives were at risk if they didn’t kill this dragon now.
“You know I hate this as much as you do” now he was the one to sigh “but we need to do this. The whole town and the Tuskens are depending on us.”
A sad smile appeared on your face.
“I know.”
You nodded at him and went to walk away but he held you in place with a hand to your upper arm.
“I won’t let anything happen to you” his voice was soft, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing up and down your arm “I promise.”
You chuckled halfheartedly.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
His thumb came to a halt mid rub as his heart skipped a beat.
“Be careful out there, Mando.”
He gave your upper arm a light squeeze.
“You too, Cyar’ika.”
“How is that thing not dead?!” the Weequay bartender shouted over the deafening roar of the krayt dragon. The giant beast had managed to somehow dodge the explosion and crawled its way up a cliff. Sickly green acidic goo was projectiled from the creature’s stomach, getting a much better range than before.
“Oh, for kriff’s sake!”
You knew from the moment you accepted Din’s (back then known as Mando) offer to be his live-in mechanic/nanny for The Child that this wouldn’t be a normal job. You just knew you would have to fend off bounty hunters, just like you had with Calican, and occasionally patch The Mandalorian up after a job gone wrong. But this certainly wasn’t on the job description.
“I’m so asking Mando for a raise.” (not that you needed it, having him and the baby in your life was already payment enough on its own).
Out of the corner of your eye you could see two figures fly up towards the dragon. Din and Vanth landed on a slope and started shooting but even that didn’t work, as the dragon went back underground.
Disorientated, you, Tuskens and townsfolk started frantically looking around trying to predict where the dragon would pop up next. Turns out that was a little bit too close to where you were currently standing. You tried to fire your blaster at it but nothing seemed to work as it kept coming closer to you. You heard your name being shouted somewhere behind you.
“Get out of there!” Din’s modulated voice barely registered over the thumping of your heart on your ears. Sprinting away as the dragon came in your direction, you stumbled over your feet a safe distance away.
Suddenly it changed its course. It started crawling towards Din, Cobb and… a bunch of explosives tied up to a bantha.
“Smart, Mando. Very smart.”
But your inner celebration was short lived. Din hit Cobb’s jetpack, making him fly away. But Din didn’t move; he wasn’t moving even as the dragon got closer and closer. In the few moments it took for you to realize what was happening and will your legs to start working again it was too late.
Your feet felt glued to the ground. Your breath hitched and you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. Din’s plan had worked: the krayt dragon had devoured the bantha and with it, your Mandalorian.
You faintly heard someone screaming as the beast, seemingly satisfied, retreated back under the sand. It took you a few moments and two pairs of robe clad arms holding you back for you to realize you were the one screaming. Soft sand came in contact with the fabric of your trousers as your knees buckled.
It hurt. Maker, everything hurt. Your chest was on fire and you couldn’t inhale without being acutely aware of every particle of sand mixed with air as you tried to fill your lungs with oxygen. But it kriffing hurt. Something warm was running down your cheeks, blurring your vision and rolling off your chin and onto the sand. Tears. You were crying, sobbing, having witnessed your Mandalorian die a second time.
The blood rushing in your ears almost led you to miss the distinct rumble of the krayt dragon re-emerging. Not again you thought. That thing already took too much from you, how was it not dead yet?
But then you saw something: as the dragon shot upwards something flew out of its mouth through an electrical storm, followed by the thing exploding up in flames. No, not something, someone. You squinted your eyes to try and get rid of the blur of tears against the harsh sun and realized… it was Din! He was alive and safe and very much not dead.
As he landed before the dead dragon both the people from Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens started to congratulate and cheer for him. In that moment, the relief you felt just seconds ago from seeing he was okay suddenly shifted to a strange sense of embarrassment and anger. Your face burned in humiliation as you scolded yourself. Your tears previously born out of sorrow turned to ones of anger. Maker, you felt pathetic. Crying over a man who didn’t seem to give two bantha fodders about his own safety, about who he’d leave behind if he died or about you for all it seemed.
Getting off the ground you decided to give your- (No, he wasn’t yours to begin with) -the Mandalorian a piece of your mind.
He did it. He slayed a kriffing krayt dragon, a giant one at that. As his feet touched the ground he felt a small twinge of pride as the villagers cheered him on, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by relief. He only delivered the final blow afterall, it took a lot of combined effort from everyone to kill this thing, the people from Mos Pelgo, the Tuskens, Vanth, you… Maker, you were great out there. Well, you were always great, at least in his eyes, always making sure the kid was safe and protected. Where were you by the way?
As he turned around in search of you he finally spotted you. But something wasn’t… quite right. You didn’t look happy or relieved, like he thought you would be. You looked downright pissed.
“Cyar’ika-”
The last thing he expected to happen was for you to shove him away from you. But his armor was still covered in stomach acid from the dragon and the moment your hands came in contact with his breastplate you pulled them away with a wail of agony.
“Cyar’ika, what are you doing?! Here let me-” as he took a step towards you and went to grab your hands in order to check them over you stumbled away from him.
“No!” you tucked your injured hands close to your chest “Don’t call me that!”
That made him freeze. He always called you that, ever since that fateful day in Nevarro, you were his cyar’ika. You may not have known what it meant but he knew you could easily guess it was something affectionate.
“Are you kriffing stupid?!” you shouted at him, to which he stayed silent. “Why would you do that?! What were you thinking?”
“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.” he mumbled after a moment, still a little uncertain about this whole interaction.
You scoffed. That’s such a Mando thing to say.
“You jumped in the mouth of a Great Krayt Dragon, Mando!” you were practically shaking, vibrating with rage “You clearly didn’t think this through, did you?! Didn’t think about who you were leaving behind?”
He was about to retort, commenting on how he didn’t jump into its mouth, he was only holding the bantha and just happened to be in the way of its jaws when he saw it. Just a quick glimpse, barely there, but he managed to see it, his heart clenching as he realized what he was seeing. Beneath all the anger, the rage, was fear. The same look of unadulterated fear he saw on your face right before the fight began was back, and a lot stronger. Maker, he was so stupid, how could he be so dense? Of course you were scared, you just watched him die, again. It was the second time you thought he was dead in a too short period of time.
“I-I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I-” you shook your head, your eyes turning misty and clouded, and walked away before you broke down in front of him.
Din felt something warm, uncomfortable and almost suffocating grow on his chest, crawling up his throat: it was guilt. He felt so guilty, he was trying to protect everyone, protect you, but he ended up hurting you in the process, after you specifically told him to be careful because you were worried about him. But no, he had to go and get himself eaten alive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were feeling, first having left him to die (upon his request) in Nevarro and now this. He wanted to run after you, fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it, he would spend the rest of his days groveling if it came to it. But he knew you needed space.
His inner struggle was interrupted by a hand being clapped down on his shoulder.
“Trouble in paradise?” he could smack Vanth’s smirk right off his face.
After having harvested the dragon for its meat (and one lucky tusken finding an incredibly large pearl in its guts) it was time for you to leave and go back to Mos Pelgo where you would be staying until morning (“Only someone with a deathwish crosses the Dune Sea at night, Din.” you had told him). He approached you oh so slowly as if you were a scared wild animal that would flee the moment he spoke too loud or too fast.
“Are you ready to go?”
You barely looked at him, the only indication you even heard him was a slight tilt of your head. Was that how most people felt when talking to him?
When you didn’t answer, he sighed. Sensing the overall discomfort, Vanth chimed in from where he was tidying his speeder (if you could even call the engine of a podracer that).
“You could ride with me.” he said, taking a look at Mando, but quickly turned to address you again “If you want.”
That didn’t sit right with Din. He wanted you to ride with him, so he could know you were safe. So he could keep you safe. But when you nodded, he could only sigh as he watched you climb behind Vanth and speed off. A sad coo sounded from the rucksack strapped to the back of his speeder, as the baby’s ears sagged pitifully.
“I know, kid.” he addressed the kid, who was confusedly staring at him “I kriffed up.”
Holding onto Vanth during the ride back proved to be nearly impossible. Ugly blisters had started forming on the angry red skin of your palms, making them really sensitive to the touch. The only solution you found was locking your wrists onto one another circled around Cobb’s waist, resulting in him having to ride very slowly so you wouldn’t get catapulted off the speeder.
The slower pace was quite a nice change from the usual deafening engine roar as you could actually hear yourself think for once. After riding for a few miles Vanth’s voice broke you out of your trance.
“I get that you care about him.”
You knew exactly who he was talking about.
“I do.” you sighed “What are you getting at, Vanth?”
A beat of silence followed before he spoke up again.
“He cares about you too, you know?”
You blinked once, twice before his words finally registered and you looked down at your lap. Only a couple of moments later you found the strength to answer.
“I know.” a bitter laugh escaped past your lips before you could stop it “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?.”
“Come again?”
A sharp warm sting burned in your eyes but you refused to let the tears brimming in them spill over.
“He cares about me and the kid. A lot. But he doesn’t seem to care about himself in the slightest!” you protested frustrated “What does he think would happen to us if he’s gone? I would get stranded on this Maker forsaken planet, with no credits and a green magic baby to take care of!”
He stayed silent for a second before speaking up softly.
“I don’t think those are the real reasons you are so upset over this.”
You swallowed your tears some more.
“How does he think it would feel if he… how I would feel if he did…”
You couldn’t say it. Die your brain filled in for you. Din’s had multiple close calls, more than any person should have to go through in their entire lifetime. You understood that his job came with its fair share of dangerous situations, and had even been there to witness some of them. But he didn’t need to jump headfirst into it like he did today. He didn’t get out of the way, even when the dragon was charging right at him. There would certainly be another shot at killing the beast, there would be another option, but he didn’t get out of the way. He was ready to die. And it wasn’t the first time. Back in Nevarro he was ready to sacrifice himself so the lot of you could escape through the tunnels. That had absolutely broken your heart, even if you hadn’t known him for long. You had never wanted to feel like that again.
How could he possibly think you would be okay if he was gone? You finally had something good, the closest thing to a little family after so long on your own-
And then it hit you. Din wasn’t being reckless just for the sake of it; when he was originally traveling alone he would just do whatever it took to finish the job as quickly as possible to just get it over with and be done with it. He was so used to traveling on his own, to being alone, that he often forgot that there were people who cared about him now. Maker, you felt so stupid; while you originally meant it as an angry insult, you quickly realized that he indeed did not think how you would feel if he died.
A deep feeling of shame started crawling up your chest and constricting your throat. Feeling childish for your outburst and angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner, while still feeling upset over thinking he was gone for good this time. You overreacted, you told yourself, and guilt was threatening to consume you whole. How were you going to face Din again? He probably thought you were just a pathetic, whining child, exactly how you felt right now. The pain on your hands didn’t feel so bad now with the way your heart was clenching painfully tight on your chest.
So absorbed in your own spiraling guilt you didn’t realize Cobb had already parked the speeder in front of the cantina back in town. Swinging a leg over the side of the vehicle, he hopped off but before walking away he gently grabbed your wrists, wary of your injured hands.
“He just did what he did to protect us. To protect you.”
And that was the nail on the coffing of your shame and guilt. The tears you were so desperately trying to hold back started cascading down your cheeks, a sob lodged in your lungs. Getting out of the speeder as fast as you could without toppling over in the sand you quickly ran inside the cantina and up the stairs towards the small room you were sharing with Din. In your haste to get to your room and under the covers you didn't even notice the black visor of a helmet staring your way from the bar.
Finally in the safety of your shared room you leaned heavily back against the door at last acknowledging the turmoil of emotions swimming in your head and in your heart. While finally letting yourself cry freely, you couldn’t give in completely to the sobs that wanted so desperately to fly up your throat as anyone could hear it from downstairs. Instead, you felt yourself slide against the door and onto the ground, shoulders shaking and head tucked between your bent knees.
After what felt like hours you heard a hesitant, almost silent knock on the door you're still slumped against. Your head was pounding from holding back sobs and you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone but that would be just downright rude. Getting up and swiping across your cheeks to get rid of the evidence of your despair, even though your tears had already dried, you opened the door, instantly regretting it.
Mando’s helmet was unreadable as he stared at you, his visor giving nothing away. Opening the door wider and stepping back into the room you allowed him in, but you kept your back to him. You heard the door close softly behind him and his boots coming further into the room, followed by a shuffling sound, as if he was going through his things. Or maybe he was going through your things. Oh, Maker, was he packing your stuff? Was he going to kick you out? Would he really-
“Let me look at your hands.” his stern yet soft voice cut through your inner rambling. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last one you were expecting, prompting you to turn your body sideways and glance at him out of the corner of your eyes.
“What?”
“Let me take a look at your hands, Cyar’ika.” turning fully towards him you caught a glimpse of a medkit clutched in his hands and a wave of relief washed over you. Nodding, you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to start assessing your injuries. He knelt down in front of you, gingerly grabbing your hands, holding them in his own, palms facing up. A small hiss escaped from his modulator as he pulled out a bottle of bacta spray to apply over the blisters.
He was handling you with such care that it made you feel guilty all over again. You couldn’t look him in the visor, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on his gloved hands. The cooling sensation of the bacta was wonderful against your palms, but did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart. He was being so gentle, why was he being gentle?
Din kept working on your hands, hoping to start fixing some of his faults. A sudden whimper made his head snap up so quickly it almost gave him a whiplash.
“I’m sorry.” you whispered. Although you wouldn’t look directly at him, he could see the trail of crystalline tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Din, I’m so sorry!” he could hear the desperation in your voice.
“What for, Cyar’ika?” he asked in the gentlest voice he could muster, the one he often used when talking to the kid.
“I-I was so rude to you a-and-'' your hiccups cut right through him, as he realized you blamed yourself for whatever your mind had conjured.
“No, Cyar’ika, no.” he shook his head and gently brought your hands close to his chest, almost tucked under his chin “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“B-but-”
“No buts. You didn’t do anything wrong.” oh how he wished he could kiss each and every one of your knuckles right now “If anything I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who made you worry.”
His words brought a small smile to your tired face. He stood up and brought your trembling frame into his arms, your face tucked safely into the beskar of his breastplate as you finally allowed yourself to fully cry.
“I just-” you sobbed before whispering the next sentence, which promptly broke his heart in a million tiny pieces “I don’t want to lose you.”
He shook his head.
“You won’t” he whispered back “I promise. Ni ceta, Cyar’ika. Ni ceta.” he felt like he could cry as well.
Din laid his head on top of yours, gently whispering “I’m sorry.” over and over.
As you slowly calmed down, you nuzzled further into his arms. Thinking with a clearer head made you realize that, while dangerous situations like the one you faced today would continue to happen, he would always come back to you, and you would always find a safe place in his arms at the end of the day. Now he had something worth coming home to.
Bonus: *gasp* “Where’s the kid?”
“With Vanth at the bar.”
*stare*
*sigh* “Which thinking about it now doesn’t sound like a great idea at all.”
*giggle*
don’t know you’re taking requests or prompts but just had this idea of reader drowning/near drowning, and in your near death haze you think you’re being kissed by din and can hear his voice and when you come to you sit up, still out of it but can feel someone supporting you as you throw up water, a hand patting your back to get it all out, and as you finally relax still breathing hard and a bit in shock, you lean back into whoever’s supporting you, and can hear the un-modulated voice behind you asking if you’re okay and you’re sitting facing away from him and say yea but then it hits you
It happens so quickly that you don't have time to call out or hold your breath. The ground shifts under your feet and then—crack, plummet, flood, asphyxia.
You sink like a boulder through churning blue, and despite the electric shock of cold on your nervous system, your limbs feel clumsy and lethargic as you try to force your way up. Your efforts to break the surface are futile—the black water is too claustrophobic and disorienting, too heavy and deep, pressing in on you from all sides, dragging you down, down.
Ice, panic, abyss. An iron circle closes around your wrist, and everything goes numb. Blank.
You drift back to consciousness slowly, to bright sunshine behind your closed eyelids, to a warm embrace. Soft lips close over yours. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it hits you: This is a dream.
A good dream.
Your eyes are closed, but you know the lips moving against yours belong to the Mandalorian, your Mandalorian. You know him by his smell—smoke, metal, worn leather—and by the hard lines of his beskar pressed against your body. You know because you've imagined this hundreds—thousands—of times.
Something heavy lands on your chest, and the bliss is ripped right out of your grasping hands. You're plunged back into nothingness.
You wake again when something angry and scaled claws up the back of your throat. Your eyes snap open, and you retch up water, your eyes stinging and lungs screaming. You're shivering, chattering, frozen—sitting on the cold ground, slumped against something solid—
Behind you, Mando makes a broken, choked sound of pure relief. A large hand smooths down your trembling back, pats hard, and you heave up more water.
"Thank fuck—that's it, cough it out—"
You choke and splutter, and he slides closer behind you when your gasping inhales slow to wavering hiccups. He fits himself against your back, knees bracketing your hips, his arms locked around you in a bone-crushing embrace.
His breath is hot against your neck when he buries his face there, his voice halting and fraught: "I thought I lost you, mesh'la. I thought—I thought you—"
His breath. His unmodulated voice. It clicks.
Your own voice is wrung raw, croaky and fractured. "Mando—your helmet—"
"It's okay," he reassures you. "Just close your eyes. I need to—"
"Close my eyes? Why—"
"Please."
Your eyes slip closed at his plea, and an ungloved hand frames your jaw to guide you around. You twist backward, and he leans forward, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy crash. It's a messy kiss, frenzied and hungry and cut short when he pulls away.
"We have to get back to the ship, get you warm. I can't lose you. I won't."
So I’ve seen some Hades!Din x readers and those are so elegantly written, what if it’s an Apollo!Din x reader? He just reminds me of the sun…so warm and beautiful… mmm ☺️
Apollo-esque!Din Djarin x gn!Reader
Tags/warnings: (No rating restrictions) not really any character description just that Din is larger, use of you/your, they have a child (sorry hope that’s okay), fluffffff, no helmet is a-okay in this AU
AN: again I truthfully dont know a lot about this topic or subject (Apollo), so I researched some stuff and I hope this suffices. I didn’t have an idea that Jumped out to me, so I just started writing and I ended with a hybrid mandalorian/modern but also not? God!Din that resembles Apollo lol. I’ve never written anything like this before, so it was a little of a challenge.
Inbox is OPEN! Ask away 😊
———————————————————————————
As you sit in a chair in front of your window, gazing out at the pond,the blades of grass swaying in the wind. Your eyes shift to your lover outside, and watch as Din tends to the cattle, giving them loving pats as he replenishes their water and hay. You smile, your hand resting on your child’s head that’s slumped on your chest.
As you watch you can’t help but remember the past.
Many years ago , after the fall of your covert only one man was able to assist, only one man was able to help relocate you. He was single handedly able to save your people from destruction.
He stayed and helped rebuild. He became one of the people. He became the leader of the people.
He was light incarnate.
Din Djarin was a modern day God, literally.
He was magnificent, and you loved him. Immensely.
Din Djarin wasn’t a small man, he towered over you. Not to mention he had a larger than life presence.
‘He reminds you of the sun itself. So…warm, so beautiful.’
He has a fluffy, tousled head of brown hair. Deep brown eyes that perfectly reflected the suns light, they expressed everything to you that his words couldn’t. A large nose, a dusting of facial hair, and plump lips adorned his strong face.
He wore a golden baskar headband, a remnant you think, of his past life. It perfectly fit his forehead, the shape of it coming down towards the bridge of his nose, a perfect T shape. It has a simple line of silver running through the middle of it.
Strapped to his utility belt was a blindingly bright golden baskar sword, you swear it emits literal warmth of the sun. He often was dressed in his armor, but unlike its gold counterparts was a polished silver.
When you were with him, he often told you of his life. He had a lot of darkness inside him, you knew. He has told you of his twin sister, of her death. Tales of the battles he’s lived through, of the people he’s helped.
You will admit he is astounding, but rather arrogant. Although to you, his actions speak more than his attitude. Clearly he deeply cares about helping the people, not just the praise or the scarce rewards.
His power is intimidating.
He had been elected the King, nicknamed “Averter of Evil.”
And he was.
He was the protector, he had helped you and your people more times than you know.
You had fallen in love, slowly, but did nevertheless.
Slowly the people moved on, and you and Din had also. You’d moved to a planet rich in soil, you’d settled. Now living off the land, carrying for cattle. You’d planted an expansive garden.
You have a child together.
Your thoughts come back to you as Din walks in the door, stomping his boots against the mat before stepping over the threshold. You turn your head towards him, a warm smile gracing your features.
You laugh to yourself sometimes thinking about your lover. A god, with true power, doing such mundane things. And happily, you might add.
“Hello love.” He says as he makes his way quietly towards you and your child. His hand settled over his sims head, spanning the entire length of it.
Of all the rumors you’ve heard of the gods, their wrath, their unpleasantness. Din never ceases to amaze you, he seems so different. But sometimes you think, could it be that he has lived so long he has finally come to realize what’s important.
“Hi.” You say lovingly, as he leans down to plant a kiss to your waiting lips.
“How is he?” He asks as he moves to your little kitchen to clean his hands.
“Better.” You whisper, leaning down to place a soft kiss against your child’s sweaty forehead. He had been under the weather, a fever. A simple virus. Din could heal him, but you’ve both agreed that when it is a simple sickness you’d let him ride it out, as long as he was in no danger. “He’s exhausted.”
“No surprise.” Din says quietly, returning to you. He leans down and arranges your son into his arms. “I’m going to put him in bed.” You simply nodded.
You can’t imagine your life in any other way now, Din has effectively come in and joined your life course. Before you flew alone, soaring through the vast emptiness of space, then his soul had twined with yours. You spun together now, your paths the same. You both believe the maker had blessed your union, giving you the gift of immortality.
When he returns he stands in front of you, reaching a hand out to you. You smile warmly, grasping it. He lifts you up to your feet.
“Dance with me,” He states simply.
“Okay.” You say.
And you do. Your head on his shoulder, as you sway.
Summary: You accidentally fall asleep while waiting for the mandalorian to return
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: None
A/N: I just noticed that I have 150 followers! Thank you so much for the support, I really appreciate it! I know this oneshot isn’t ST related, like most of you followed me for, but I wanted to take a little break from Eddie content so I don’t get burned out or anything.
I reread some of my old ideas and decided to write something for Mando. This is technically a prequel to a different oneshot (which is why there are hints at a deeper plot), but I never finished it. Maybe I’ll write the rest sometime later, I really love the concept so I think it will be fun!
Btw, I usually check my stuff with grammarly after proofreading, but this time I only proofread it. Hopefully it’s not too bad lol
Masterlist
It’s dark. Too dark. You’ve been sitting for hours in the pitch-black of the cargo hold, staring emptily at the small blinking red, green, and blue lights of the control panels. Your vision is blurring, the colours are melding into one. How long have you been sitting here? How long has it been since the sun has set? How long has he been late? He’s never lied, at least not to you, why would he lie about when he’d come back? He’d commed you earlier; you remember his words exactly.
“I’ll be back before nightfall.”
Simple, precise, concise. He always says so little, but there’s no reason to fluff your conversations. An employer and an employee. You get enough information to do your job, anything else is a bonus, a treat. Like when he’d complimented your knot-tying skills. Something small and unforgettable to someone else, yet something that you had held onto for weeks. You’re so used to having nothing that you scarf down small scraps of attention like they’re your last meal.
Waiting for him to come back is never easy, so many things can go wrong on a job. He’s the best, you know he’s the best. He’s heavily armed, he’s vigilant, he’s quick, he’s adept, he’s capable. You could list hundreds of things he is, but it does little to quell the fear that lingers in your gut. Because, above all things, he is human. He can be hurt, or surprised, or overpowered, or tricked.
You’ve already been on edge. In your eight months of work, this is the longest hunt you’ve ever experienced. Typically, you’d stay on a planet for a few days, sometimes a week if the bounty is especially elusive, but you’ve been here for three weeks. There’s an unsettling feeling that you can’t escape; old, buried memories that scream at you to heed their warning: staying in one place too long is dangerous, fatal. You’d learned that lesson as a child.
The child. A part of your job you weren’t expecting. When you joined, there was no baby, just you and he. He’s lucky you’re comfortable caring for an infant, especially one who has decided to rebel. It seems the same scenery and lack of the mandalorian has angered the small boy. His frustrations manifest in temper tantrums, refusal to eat, throwing small items with his ability, and more. He’s even bit your finger on a few occasions.
You’ve tried your best, truly, but you aren’t his father. You can’t compare. The best you can do is let the child listen to his voice when he calls, occasionally allowing him to babble into your mic as if they’re having a conversation. These moments are small, yet, again, you clutch onto them as if they’re precious, invaluable. These moments are so intimate, it feels like you’re a family. These kinds of thoughts are always pushed into the deepest depths of your mind. You’re an employee, he’s your employer. There are more important things to do than fawn over a man.
Important things, such as the changes you’ve made to the Razor Crest. Cargo has been rearranged to save fuel and allow the ship to fly faster, wires have been detangled and redone to increase electricity efficiency, damaged panels on the outside have been replaced to make the ship more aerodynamic. You will admit, it was nice to be able to make changes without him silently watching, presumably judging you behind the cover of the helmet.
It was the end of the first week when you’d started to feel lonely. By the end of the second week you’d run out of things to do, repeating the same tasks over and over again just to feel like you were contributing something. At the end of the third week, you’d give anything to have the mandalorian silently watch you from afar, even if it turned out he was judging you from behind the helmet.
Early on, you’d learned that it isn’t the things he says that matter, but rather the things he does. He could call the child a womp rat all day, but those words are meaningless when he holds the boy up like he’s the most precious star in the sky. He can make teasing comments about your strict organization, but you see the appreciation when he stands in the cargo hold, subconsciously nodding his head as he surveys the work you’ve done for the day.
Over the months, you’ve gotten better at reading his body language. You lie to yourself that it’s out of necessity, that you need to understand his intent to be able to work under him, but you know deep down that you have such an in-depth understanding because of how much you watch him. You’re not sure if he’s noticed or not. He’d be blind not to see it, but he hasn’t said anything to you about your embarrassing habits.
All of this internal turmoil because of a crush. A juvenile, stupid, ridiculous crush. You feel terribly about your emotions. It’s so far from professional, which is what you both are. An employer and an employee, not friends, not lovers. There’s no room for love or living. Both of you have dedicated yourselves to the hunt, there’s no turning back.
Yet, here you are. Staring at small blinking lights in the dark, struggling to keep your eyes open so you can see him arrive, so you can see if he’s alive, if he’s hurt. Forcing your head to turn, you check on the baby. He’s sleeping soundly in his hammock. Maker, you wish it could be you. You’re too cold, too uncomfortable, and too worried for the safety of your companion to sleep.
Gripping the edges of your blanket, you pull it tighter around your shoulders, sinking into the soft fabric. Falling asleep has always been difficult for you, but it’s even harder when you’re covered in the itchy old scraps of cloth the mandalorian calls blankets. You’d spent a good sum of credits on your blanket, but it had been well worth the price. The warmth from your body is trapped inside the cocoon you’ve created, and you can feel yourself nodding off. You’re trapped in an odd limbo, not fully awake, but not asleep either.
You open your eyes. When did you close them? It takes a few seconds, but you realize you’ve dropped your tooka plush on the ground. You pick up Spectre and hold her up to look at the detailing on her face. He had bought the stuffed animal for the child, but the kid was terrified of it. Neither of you knew why he had such an exaggerated reaction to the toy, but you were happy to take her. You’d named her Spectre because the kid had reacted like he’d seen a ghost, you thought it was funny but the mandalorian had seemed less than impressed. He’s always short on humour, though.
Leaning your head against the cold wall, you pull her to your chest. Her fur is soft and long, when you thread your fingers through it, you feel how delicate the strands are. Trying to stare at the patterns on her back is hard, your vision too blurry to see anything regardless of how close or far the item is. Closing your eyes, you decide that you’ll just rest them for a second. Your vision will improve if you give your eyes a break.
Soft skin consumes your senses. The feeling of a hand brushing against the side of your face. The movement is gentle and soothing, it lulls you further into your dreams. Dreams. It’s not a dream. Panic courses through your veins as you sit up blindly, prepared to fight to protect the child. Your vision is blurry from sleep, but you see enough to instantly calm down. Silver helmet, reflective visor. The rest of his armour is gone, and you pinch your brows confused. When had he returned? Where are his armour and gloves?
…no gloves? Suddenly, you realize he was touching you with bare skin. Barely able to comprehend what’s happening, your mind rushes to ask him multiple questions, but in your sleepy state they’re all reduced to an incoherent mumble of, “gloves?” He chuckles, modulator crackling as it affects his voice. The sound makes your heart pound, he’s really back!
“‘M sorry, cyar’ika,” he whispers, again brushing his knuckles across your cheekbone, “didn’t mean to wake you.” Cyar’ika? You’ve never heard that word before. Are you losing your mind? Is this real? Are you even awake right now? You flutter your eyelashes rapidly in an attempt to blink away the sleep.
Spectre rests in the crook of your arm as you bring your hands up to rub your eyes. Murmuring, you slur your words, “S’okay?” You don’t intend for it to sound like a question, but you’re still half-asleep and convinced you’re dreaming.
“You need sleep,” he comments, observing your sluggish and confused behaviour. He moves to pick you up, and you go limp against his chest expecting he’ll take you to your little “room” on the opposite side of the hold. Instead, he moves you further into his bunk and follows, shutting the door. Both of you are engulfed in darkness. It’s disorienting, and you swear the room is swaying around you.
Your eyes are still struggling to adjust to the dark as you swivel your head in a lame attempt to understand your surroundings. His hand on your shoulder halts your movements. He puts gentle pressure until you’re fully on your side, still wrapped in your blanket cocoon. This is the most uncomfortable bed I’ve ever laid in, is your immediate reaction, your thoughts unfiltered due to lack of sleep, no wonder he has back issues. Maker.
It’s not all bad, though. The space gets warmer and warmer, so you know he’s laying down too. There have been very few times you’ve experienced this, but he’s like a heater. His body heat radiates far when he’s not wearing all the armour. Not to mention, the limited space means you’re both touching, no matter how much you shift around. Just as you’re drifting off, you feel an arm drape over your waist and pull you closer. The warmth makes you feel fuzzy inside. No matter how hard you try to open your eyes up to see if you’re imagining things, it doesn’t work; you’re asleep.
The next morning, you wake up alone, save for the child. You can’t help but wonder, was that real or was it just a dream?
CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.
TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.
A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!
Enjoy!
- Kiwi
Masterlist
You.
He didn't know what to do with you.
He couldn't explain what you made him feel.
He couldn't explain how you made him feel.
But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower.
He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.
How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.
You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.
“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded.
“What a beautiful name” you smiled.
He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.
You two are the most precious purposes to him.
Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.
He knew the curves and nicks of your body.
You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.
He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.
He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.
You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love.
You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.
--
He knew your actions.
He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.
The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.
Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.
But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.
How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.
He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.
But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.
He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.
Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.
He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore.
If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.
A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.
You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.
--
But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.
He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.
He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.
One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.
He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.
But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.
After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.
You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.
After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.
He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.
But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.
"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze.
Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.
"...about today".
Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.
"Mando I think you shou-"
"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.
--
You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…
Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!
You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.
Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.
He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.
Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-
He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a
"I love you too"
Huh?
Oh-
OH!
He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would.
It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself.
He was irrevocably happy.
Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.
You loved him. You loved him.
You loved him back.
You-
--
He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.
This has been like that ever since.
Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his.
Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.
It’s been a while, he thinks.
Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.
It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.
But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.
Since your Riduurok.
Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.
To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth.
The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.
Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.
"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.
"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"
"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.
"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"
"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close
He still chuckles at the memory.
Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.
You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.
Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies.
Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.
The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.
Yet another day with the two of you.
It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.
He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you.
Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.
He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.
“Ner Ali’it” he called you.
He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.
He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.
Summary: Din takes you on a picnic date
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader
Word count: 2,106
Tags/warnings: Excessive fluff, feelings, food consumption (including meat and dairy; sorry to those who don’t partake, finding photos of vegan Star Wars food is hard!), fleeting thoughts about bunk-sharing, helmet removal, kissing, hand-holding, gift-giving
Author’s note: Happy 1st Tumblr birthday, Moon Fairy Mina @evolnoomym! I made a moodboard for your first birthday party with the prompt “having a picnic date with Din”, and then I couldn’t stop myself from writing something to go with it. It ended up far fluffier than I usually aim for, though maybe I’ll write the smut that inevitably follows next year! Much love, darling 😘
Din instructs you to close your eyes until the loading ramp has fully descended, then guides you a few steps forward onto the sloped surface. The thrum of suspense rises in your gut like a hyperspace engine coming to life, only to be cut short when he has to dart back inside for forgotten supplies. With his grand reveal delayed, you’re left to interpret the world on which you’ve landed through your other senses.
You notice the air’s freshness first. After a whole week cooped up aboard the Crest, it hits your lungs like water on a parched throat, quenching your thirst for freedom. Warm sunlight caresses your skin while a soft breeze carries the heady perfume of grass and wildflowers. A low, static-like buzz mingles with a closer chorus of wildlife and birdsong, each sound weaving its own melody into the moment.
“Open your eyes,” Din commands at last, his smooth, modulated baritone adding a final note to this sensory symphony.
A gasp escapes your lips as you obey… the sight that unfolds is kriffing spectacular.
A verdant meadow stretches out before you, overlooking a sun-drenched valley beyond. The low background hum is the distant roar of waterfalls, where vast torrents of azure water plunge into a sparkling lake before winding through the valley to your right. Along the banks, large grazing creatures – shaaks, you think – lumber at their leisure. A tall, lush forest fringes the meadow to your left and behind the ship, its ancient canopy whispering secrets of a new world.
It’s breathtaking.
“Are we on Naboo?” Only that planet’s renowned vistas could rival this incredible display, but you can’t be there. It doesn’t match the heading you were on.
The Mandalorian shakes his helmet. “The biosphere is similar, but this world is in the Unknown Regions and, so far, it’s uninhabited. I discovered it by accident a couple years back. Once the Nav Guild drops a hyperspace marker out here, the New Republic will settle it fast, but it remains off the grid for now. What do you think?”
“It’s stunning, Din. Are we here for a bounty?” Your gaze drifts back to him – the only other thing in the galaxy that could rival the landscape’s splendour in your eyes. The sunlight glints in his armour as if he belongs among such beauty.
“No…” he replies, a trace of awkwardness in his tone as he gestures toward a basket by his side – the forgotten supplies. “I thought we could have… a picnic.” Before you can fully register your surprise, he adds in a soft, playful tone, “A… date?”
Astonishment renders you mute for several drawn-out moments, freezing you in rapturous inertia. Then, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, you finally reply, “I’d love that.”
After months of pining for him, you’re not about to look a gift traladon in the mouth.
He spreads out a couple of blankets on the grass and begins unpacking the basket. As you watch him lay out enticing treats, it becomes clear why he’d insisted on making every meal for you both since his supply run at the last outpost yesterday. He’d filled the cooling chamber with surprises for this ‘date’.
When he extracts a chilled bottle of blue milk, a nostalgic lump forms in your throat. “You remembered!” you exclaim softly.
“Of course,” he responds warmly. “I drank it as a kid, too. We both have good memories attached to it.”
Din puts together a carefully crafted three-course meal. Hunks of bucco bread slathered with soft moof milk cheese and topped with slices of red fruit make for a simple but tasty starter. Next, he serves up a mouthwatering main course: cold cuts of nerf steak paired with vibrant purple topato mash and buckwheat noodles. Just when you think you’ve reached your limit, he unveils a plate of Parnassos swirl cake – squares of sweet, buttery, purple-swirled indulgence.
You eat back-to-back in the seamless rhythm you’ve become used to – his helmet near at hand, of course. After months of gaining his trust, removing it to eat together was a welcome victory, and you don’t take it for granted. Instead, you savour the resonance of his unfiltered voice as you each describe your favourite things in the galaxy (besides this delicious food and epic view).
You can’t find the words to confess that he’s one of your favourite things.
After the meal, you lay back on the blanket, digesting both the sumptuous food and the surreal notion that this is a genuine date.
It’s been nearly a year since Din first took you aboard, and almost six months since Grogu left for his Jedi training. In the wake of their parting, you brought the grieving Mandalorian to your homeworld and looked after him while he brooded. With his ship destroyed, he seemed grateful to have a ‘home base’ of sorts when he started taking bounty missions to finance a replacement Razor Crest. There was never any doubt that you would fly away with him again once Peli found him a new ship.
You’ve always been close, but it’s never been anything more than mutual respect and a deep friendship – or so you believed. Perhaps you aren’t the only one who’s spent your nights wishing you could crawl into your shipmate’s bunk. The idea of two warm bodies pressed together softens the chill of deep space and makes the galaxy seem that little bit less lonely.
A rustling beside you interrupts your reverie. Curious, you prop yourself on your elbows to find Din unbuckling his belt and lifting off his bandolier, his cloak already a charcoal pool behind him. As he begins to unfasten his cuirass, you comment, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take your armour off outside the ship before.”
“Who’s gonna see?” he drawls, his tone laced with a secret smile. “Even the shaaks are too far away now to catch a glimpse.”
Despite his relaxed demeanour, you notice how he extracts his blaster from its holster, resting it within easy reach at the blanket’s edge. The beskar may come off, but the warrior remains.
Once he’s down to his flight suit, he rolls up the sleeves and unzips the front, revealing his dark undershirt. This is virtually naked for Din.
You offer an approving smile. “Way to relax, bounty hunter – I’m impressed.”
“Yeah? Good,” he rasps, those two husky syllables igniting a surge of desire within you.
Then, once again, he catches you off guard. Reaching up, he does the unthinkable. He removes his helmet.
“Din!” you exclaim, clamping your eyes shut and laying back on the blanket to direct your now unseeing eyes at the sky instead of his uncovered face. You press a hand across them for good measure. “A little warning, maybe?”
“You already saw my face when Grogu left,” he reasons, though his words only deepen your confusion.
“Yeah, but then you put your helmet back on and haven’t taken it off since,” you counter. As you protest, you feel him lift your hand away from your eyes, but you keep them firmly closed. “What— why— your creed, Din!”
“It’s already broken; the transgression has been committed. I’ve just been… hiding behind my helmet ever since. But you’ve already seen me, and nothing will change if you see me again now.” Still holding the hand he just peeled off your face, his voice grows warm and resolute as he implores, “Look at me, cyar’ika. Please.”
It feels surreal – perhaps you’re dreaming or teetering on the edge of sanity – but you can’t deny him what he so earnestly requests.
Slowly, you relax your eyelids and blink them open, expecting to see your stoic Mandalorian. Instead, you encounter a nervous, messy-haired, forty-something knockout, propped up on his elbow and hovering over you. He’s just as gorgeous as you remember, except his eyes are no longer shadowed by sadness; now, they sparkle with an unspoken promise.
For several long, heavenly moments, you simply gaze at each other, absorbing this rare, unrestricted view – the second mind-blowing sight of the day. The fluffy clouds drift onwards overhead, the waterfalls cascade endlessly into the churning lake, and the blazing sun edges ever closer to the horizon. This beautiful world spins on, yet you see only each other.
Before long, you notice Din’s focus keeps drifting lower, and when you wet your lips, he audibly inhales. You watch him wet his own in kind before his eyes dart back to yours beneath a questioning eyebrow.
A soft smile, an encouraging nod – that’s all it takes. And suddenly, he’s kissing you. It’s tentative and shy – he moves with a gentle hesitance that makes you reach up and cup his cheek, urging him to let go. He breaks off to draw a steadying breath… once, twice. Then his lips return to yours with greater passion – eagerness filling in for his obvious inexperience.
You soon find a reciprocal rhythm, slowly deepening the kiss until every touch of his tongue against yours sends sparks crackling through your body. With low hums, you encourage what you like, and his impressive ability to observe and learn soon elevates him to the best kisser you’ve ever known.
When he finally pulls away, he remains close, hovering above you with kiss-swollen lips. “So, how am I doing?” he asks.
“How are you doing?” you echo, unsure what he means.
“The date,” he clarifies softly. “Mandalorian dating mostly involves sparring; this kind of thing is… new to me. Is it what you hoped for?”
Flustered by his assumption that you’d hoped for any kind of date, you stammer, “Y-yeah… it’s wonderful. You’re doing… kriffing amazing.”
Relief washes over his features, and you marvel at seeing it on his face as well as in his body language.
“Cara suggested the picnic, but I planned the details myself,” he confesses, explaining how he knew you wanted this.
Nevarro’s marshal has been your confidante for months, though she swore she’d never tell Din of your feelings for him, conceding it could only complicate your friendship.
“So… she told you? About… me liking you… like this?” you ask, put out by her broken promise.
He smiles at your euphemism. “Only after I told her that I like you… like this. Then she threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t act on it.”
You snicker as you realise you’ve both been as foolish as each other, instantly forgiving Cara’s breach of trust in pursuit of your happiness.
Looking into his sparkling brown eyes, you shake your head and whisper, “This is crazy. I never imagined you’d feel the same way – that what I’ve been feeling all this time could ever be mutual.”
Din closes the distance once more, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring, “Oh, ner mesh’la dinii, it’s mutual, trust me.” You pull him back in for a deeper kiss, slowly and blissfully making out as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.
When it’s time to leave, Din carries his armour back to the Crest while you pack away the picnic things. You watch your gorgeous, messy-haired man return to your picnic spot against a blazing sky, the lake beneath reflecting amber flames.
As you take a final, lingering look at the vista below, he steps up behind you, pressing in close. His arms encircle you, drawing you back against his unarmoured chest, and he whispers, “I have something for you.”
Before you can speak, he raises his hand and uncurls his fingers. And there, nestled in his palm, a silver mudhorn pendant sparkles in the vestiges of sunlight. Your breath catches as you recognise his clan symbol – a silent declaration that you are his family.
Swallowing tears that dare to betray your emotion, you can offer only a breathy whisper in response. “Stars, it’s… I— thank you so much.”
You long to voice the thousand other words that churn within – that you consider him family too, that you’re in love with him, that you’d happily spend the rest of your life with him. Yet you hold them all back. Words have never been your way, nor Din’s.
Gestures are your language.
Once he’s lowered the mudhorn around your neck, you turn to face him, drawing him close and resting your foreheads together in a wordless Mandalorian kiss.
When you part, your hands entwine as you saunter back to the ship, savouring the setting sun’s enduring glow. You came here as friends, but you leave as something more. And with this planet’s sun-drenched beauty etched in your memories, even the darkest corners of the galaxy don’t seem so lonely anymore.
Translations:
cyar’ika [SHAH-ree-kah] – sweetheart/darling
ner mesh’la dinii [ner MESH-lah DEE-nee] – my beautiful lunatic
Just a few notes in case anyone’s interested:
Yeah, the title is a Hozier lyric. Unoriginal, I know, but I couldn’t come up with anything decent!
The first photo in the moodboard is actually Naboo; it’s from Episode II: Attack of the Clones when Anakin and Padme have their picnic up in the Lake Country (I just cropped them out), so technically, it’s Lake Como in Italy.
Definitions: Shaaks are grazing animals, mostly raised as livestock because of their massive bodies, and are the SWU’s equivalent of sheep. The Unknown Regions is an area of the galaxy that isn’t mapped. The Nav Guild is responsible for mapping the galaxy. Hyperspace markers (also called navigation buoys) mark coordinates to keep ships on course, and all planets and astronomical objects have one. A traladon is a Corellian animal, but they use “gift traladon” across the galaxy in the same expression we use on Earth (“don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”), meaning one shouldn’t question a gift. A cooling chamber is a refrigerator. Blue milk is the SWU’s ubiquitous version of cow’s milk and comes from banthas. Bucco bread is a type of golden loaf made from grain farmed on planets in the Outer Rim. Soft moof milk cheese is the equivalent of ricotta cheese and comes from the milk of moofs (SWU goats). Red Fruit is the in-universe name for tomatoes. Nerfs are another type of cattle, rather like buffalo. Topato is the Star Wars word for potato, and though they’re usually green, we have purple potatoes on Earth, so I figured they’d have purple topatoes in the SWU. Buckwheat noodles are usually from Corellia, but I assume they can be made anywhere. Parnassos swirl cake looks and sounds fucking delicious.
Screw canon and that stupid midlife-crisis N1 starfighter – I prefer to imagine that Peli got Din a new Razor Crest like he asked for.
A note on the images in the moodboard: I want to reassure everyone that I don’t use AI when creating images for my fics; I use an ancient and outdated program called Adobe Photoshop CS4, which was released 17 years ago (well before AI even existed). I do my best to manually extract, layer and blend elements from different images, then tweak them until I’ve created the image I want. It takes forever, but my blood, sweat and tears go into the process, and I take pride in doing it myself. Once I have the images, I use Canva for moodboard layouts.
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