Summary: A surprise. A crack in the wall. A desire. A dream.
Word Count: 900
Warnings: T, not much going on in this but some good old fashioned yearning. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.
Late in the evening, Din makes his way to the bunk to settle the child. He expects you to be in it already, but when the door shutters up it’s empty. He pauses, considering where you could be, before seeing what’s replaced you.
Summary: Mando offers a lesson in restraint. And blasters.
Word Count: 4000
Warnings:Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, grinding, descriptions of male and female bodies, allusions to sexual acts, female masturbation, descriptions of PiV sex, we’re fantasizing about one (1) sexy space dad in this house.
Notes: Don’t we all just love some weapons training? Someone explain to me why it is so attractive when Mando does it, because I have never found it sexy in real life. I’m also dedicating this installment to my Star Wars sister @amywritesthings because we just keep yelling at each other about how much this trope worms into our brains and I feel like she’s owed this as a treat.
Takes place directly after A Sweet Response to Tragedy. Like literally the next day.
The blaster in your hand is warm, sweaty along the grip and sticking to your palm. Your wrists are tired, your trigger finger stiff, but you raise the barrel to aim again before firing a bolt.
Zzzst!
“Miss,” Mando says, and you sigh comically, dropping the blaster from its durasteel target and tilting your head up to the sky.
“I don’t think this is a ‘practice makes perfect’ situation, Mando,” you huff, looking over at him. He’s sitting on a fallen tree, one elbow on his knee as the child stomps around in the dirt.
Excerpt:“You’d thought about the Mandalorian in that way a couple of times. In the quiet of hyperspace or dark nights on deserted moons, the idea of… Propositioning whatever man laid beneath the beskar seemed like an okay idea. But once the stars stopped blurring through the windshield or the sun rose on your camp, those thoughts evaporated like morning dew and you were left with a hollow feeling—more than a little lonely.”
Warnings: When I say 18+, I mean 18+. Unprotected sex (wrap it up, folx!), language, fingering, blow job, cursing, light choking, hair pulling, pretty unedited, just plan on a cold shower afterwards and probs don’t read on the work wifi.
Summary: Mando’s gone, the kids asleep, and you’re bored. And maybe feeling some other things, but you’ve never had a problem taking care of those things on your own. And just when you start thinking it’d be more fun if someone else was helping you out…
A/N:SMUT.I mean, ahem, smut. It’s all smut. Maybe a little fluff but 98% smut. Today is Pornhub’s 15th anniversary (don’t ask, shut up) and the 45th anniversary of the beginning of Star Wars so I put it all together as an excuse to get SPICY. Thank you so much to @creatively-analyticaland@peetiespetals for beta-reading and giving me feedback, love you both SO MUCH. As always, love you all. Come say hi and let me know what you’d like to see!
This could not get more embarrassing…
Months you had been on this kriffing ship. Months you had chased bounties and taken care of the Child while Mando was busy doing bounty hunter things. You couldn’t be too upset about it, though, the Mandalorian paid well and that little green creature had you wrapped around his claw almost immediately.
It was just so dullsometimes.
Especially during times like this. Mando had been gone for days, you and the kid had done everything on the ship to keep yourselves entertained, and now that he was finally asleep for the night there was nothing to keep you occupied except for your own thoughts. And those thoughts… Well, they were so much more fun to have when you had special company.
But that kind of company was hard to come by when, every time you stepped into a new town, people tended to avoid the hulking metal presence at your side. How were you supposed to flirt and make new friends when the darkness of his t-shaped visor was staring them down from across the room?
You’d thought about the Mandalorian in that way a couple of times. In the quiet of hyperspace or dark nights on deserted moons, the idea of… Propositioning whatever man laid beneath the beskar seemed like an okay idea. But once the stars stopped blurring through the windshield or the sun rose on your camp, those thoughts evaporated like morning dew and you were left with a hollow feeling—more than a little lonely.
So, it usually came to this. It was your own hand helping you seek release, your own thoughts and imagination driving you through fantasies of the touch of another. At least you knew how you liked it.
Oh my God hell to the yeah! I loved this! Mando finding you and just being a little tease, then absolutely learning what you like and how to please you? I’ll have one to go, please! And did I see just a little touch of inexperienced!Mando right there? That is some of my favorite content! I would have been absolutely happy with all that BUT THEN! YOU TAKE THE HELMET OFF! AND IT’S SO INTIMATE AND HOT? But also loving in a really surprising way? I just want to go there, your Honor. I loved it all!
Summary: Mando offers a lesson in restraint. And blasters.
Word Count: 4000
Warnings:Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, grinding, descriptions of male and female bodies, allusions to sexual acts, female masturbation, descriptions of PiV sex, we’re fantasizing about one (1) sexy space dad in this house.
Notes: Don’t we all just love some weapons training? Someone explain to me why it is so attractive when Mando does it, because I have never found it sexy in real life. I’m also dedicating this installment to my Star Wars sister @amywritesthings because we just keep yelling at each other about how much this trope worms into our brains and I feel like she’s owed this as a treat.
Takes place directly after A Sweet Response to Tragedy. Like literally the next day.
The blaster in your hand is warm, sweaty along the grip and sticking to your palm. Your wrists are tired, your trigger finger stiff, but you raise the barrel to aim again before firing a bolt.
Zzzst!
“Miss,” Mando says, and you sigh comically, dropping the blaster from its durasteel target and tilting your head up to the sky.
“I don’t think this is a ‘practice makes perfect’ situation, Mando,” you huff, looking over at him. He’s sitting on a fallen tree, one elbow on his knee as the child stomps around in the dirt.
Glorious. Utterly glorious! This has redeemed my shitty day. Thank you.
Thank you for the lovely comment! I’m so glad that Mando’s competency kink made your day! This was a super fun one to write, and I’m so glad you enjoyed it!
Mando – a honest-to-goodness (badness?) real Mandalorian – is in your rented room. Your now locked rented room. You are alone with a bounty hunter in a locked room. You are…
You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until the burning in your chest forces it out. Mando doesn’t flinch or get up when you finally (idiot) see him (careless). You are smarter than this (no), you know the dangers of being a woman (not smart enough) yet you are now alone in a room with a trained killer (kriffing idiot you’re so screwed).
Warnings:Fluff, mutual pining, Din being clueless, Established sexual relationship, live sick idiots, mild reference to smut.
A/N:req by @sturkillerbase for idiots in love. “You’re so cute. What did you just say? I said you look like a boot.”
Comments and reblogs really appreciated
Din couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus. He felt hot under all that beskar and he was vaguely aware that Cara was talking to him - rambling on about staying here, settling down. Why is that when she said that, all he could think about was you.
You, the mechanic he had taken on almost a year ago. You, who had broken down all his walls and pierced him straight in the heart. You, whose hands knew exactly where to touch to comfort him. You, who came along and filled that missing piece of his puzzle. You, who was currently playing with Grogu and the other children - putting thoughts of you holding a baby of your own in his head, his baby.
“If you stare longer, you’ll burn a hole into the side of her head.” He fell forward slightly, startled by what Cara had said before quickly recovering.
“What are you talking about?”
She smiled up at him - that sly smirk she always has around him - her eyebrow quirked. “The only person you’re fooling is yourself, Mando. Plain as day that you love her.” He’s just as bad as she is. She stood then, coming to stand beside him - her gaze drifting over to you.
“You better tell her before someone else snaps her up,” she says with a tilt of her head in your direction. Din follows her line of sight to find one of the local men talking to you. His hand reaches out for you and touches your arm and you laugh at whatever he’s said. It’s like a knife has been thrust into his gut - twisting around for extra effect.
You turn then - as if you can feel the heat of his gaze - and catch him staring. A sweet smile spreads across your face and you wave at him. Din clenches his fist as a wave of anger or jealousy - he’s not quite sure - washes over him. I can’t watch this. He moves away from Cara and storms off, leaving you staring after him with a confused look on your face. Your eyes meet Cara’s and she just shrugs before walking off. Maker, these two love sick idiots.
***
Sometime later, Din arrives back at the hut - having spent most of the day avoiding you - to find you dressed in a skimpy dress. He’s frozen in the doorway at the sight of you - dress clinging to the curve of your breast, flowing out at the waist. You look ethereal.
There’s a slit in the dress that he hadn’t noticed until you move. He can see the skin of your leg all the way up to your thigh and it’s making it impossible to breathe. Suddenly, the beskar armour weighs heavy on his shoulders - all he wants to do is reach out and touch you. Really touch you. Without the armour, without the gloves - without the barrier between you both.
“Din! Are you ok? You’ve been gone all day, Grogu was upset he couldn’t find you.” You’re standing directly in front of him now and he lets his eyes roam over you - hidden behind the safety of the visor. He can feel the heat coming off you - searing into his skin. Your scent - apples, cinnamon and something indescribably you - fills his nose from under the helmet and his brain short circuits.
“You’re cute!” He freezes. Did I say that out loud?
“What did you say?” You say with a soft smile on your face. You know exactly what he said.
“I said you look like a boot.” Trying not to laugh, you reach out to touch his arm but before you can - he pushes past you making his way behind the curtain separating your shared space. You stare at the space he occupied seconds ago, mind reeling. Does he feel the same way? Turning to follow him you’re interrupted by Omera and Cara entering the hut.
“Ready to dance and get drunk on spotcha?” Cara says as she wiggles her hips. They both stand staring at you, waiting for a response. “Eh..can you give us a minute?”
They share a look before turning back to you and nodding. “Can you take Grogu?”
“Sure”, Omera says as she bends down to pick him up. Once they leave you turn towards the curtain, heart racing. I need to know.
***
Din paced the length of the small space he occupied - embarrassment flooding his veins. Dank ferrek!
He’s ruined things now, he knows he has. You’ll think he’s an idiot and leave. Everyone leaves. The only one consistent thing in his life is Grogu and he doesn’t have much of a choice. I need to get out of this. Din begins pulling off his armour - piece by piece - throwing it on the ground haphazardly. He hears Cara and Omera talking and he figures you left for the celebration. It’s safe!
With both hands on either side of his helmet; he lifts it off. Holding it in his hands, he stands there and stares into the visor - his face reflected back at him. The mandalorians are his family, took him in when he was most alone in the world - he owes them his life. They are also his curse. Living by a strict creed that allows no one to see his face, not even the ones he loves.
You can never get too close. How could you when there is a barrier of beskar between you both. In the last couple of months he’s longed to find a peaceful planet somewhere in the galaxy - quite like Sorgan - and settle down with you and Grogu. Maybe you’ll agree to marry him and you can have a child of your own. She’ll never love you.
“Oh Din I’m…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean…”
Din turns towards your voice to find you w or h your back turned away from him and your hand covering your eyes. She saw my face! You have two options here, kill or marry.
Din tosses his helmet. The loud thud as it hits the floor echoes throughout the hut. He moves toward you now, slow and steady - like any quick movements will spook you. He reaches out to touch you and his heart races upon contact. He loves the feel of your warmth under his touch. Searing into his skin.
“Mesh’la, it’s ok.”
“No! No, I made you break your creed. I’ve ruined everything Din. I’m sorry…so sorry,” you say with a sob. He turns you around and places his hands gently on your cheeks.
“Mesh’la please, look at me.”
“No. I can’t. I…I won’t. I can leave…I won’t tell anyone what I saw…please don’t kill me.”
His heart clenches tight. I could never kill you. “I won’t kill you. I can’t, even if I wanted to. I…I love you Y/N and I want you to see my face properly, so please look. He pulls your hands away but your eyes are shut tight. “You can’t be a Mandalorian anymore Din, I made you….I’ve ruined it all…”
“I can still be a Mandalorian. I love you and I want you to see my face. I want to give you that. Give you all of me. Marry me?” He whispers beside your ear.
Slowly you open your eyes and you’re met with the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen. You take him in. His hazel eyes, his brown hair that’s slightly dishevelled from the helmet and the light facial hair he has along his jaw. He was beautiful.
“Will you marry me?” Your eyes search his, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. A smile spreads over your face.
“I love you too Din. I have for a long time. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Din reaches down and his lips touch yours in a soft kiss. A moan slips past your lips and he devours it with his. Pulling back he leans his head against yours - his eyes gazing into yours. “Just repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, Mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde”
You repeat what he says word for word and then he reaches into his back pocket and places a ring of beskar into your finger. “What did we say?” Din smiles - his eyes glued to the ring, his ring, adorning your finger before looking straight at you.
“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors. They are mandalorian vows.”
“So we’re married now? That was easy.” He chuckles before his lips meet yours again in a heated kiss. His hands begin to roam a little and you can feel him harden against you. “Maybe we should start working on those warriors?”
A growl emanates from deep within his chest as he grabs your ass tight, pulling you close. “How long do you think we have?”
“Hmm, I’d say maybe an hour before Cara comes to find us.”
Warnings:Gambling, strip Sabacc, nudity, wagers on sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex
Comments: A Mandalorian sits down at your Sabacc table on Canto Bight, wanting to play for the ship you have offered up as collateral. Except you decide that you won’t play for money, you’ll play for clothes.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
ClickKeep 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 wasn’t often that you spent much time in one of the gambling dens on Canto Bight. Often the atmosphere was too much, or the table too rich, but this was interesting. When the Mandalorian had sat down at the table, several were concerned that the obvious bounty hunter had pucks on them. It was clear by the way they quickly gathered their credits and scattered to the four winds. You had been annoyed at that, seeing the potential profit you had been betting on slip through your fingers. Instead, he hadn’t got up to go after one of them or pull out a puck for anyone still seated. He pulled out a pouch of credits and tossed them down, obviously wanting to play. You raise a brow and toss down your latest hand, forfeit since so many left the table. “You’re gonna play, Mando?” You ask in disbelief.
Din tilts his helmet, glad for the visor which makes it easier for him to bluff. “I heard from others that you are betting a ship. I need one. Let’s play.” He orders, gesturing for the dealer to cut the deck. You hum, picking up your drink to take a sip, the others warily looking at each other, unsure of whether they wish to play a Mandalorian. If he loses, he could decide to kill them then and there. Once Din has his cards, he is careful to make sure they are not reflected in his visor as he eyes his hand.
It had been almost a year to the day since you had last laid eyes on Din Djarin and not a single day had gone by where you didn’t think of him.
For the most part you were left with the last memory you had of him - the pain that seeped through his words after you had all but questioned why he had helped you before he stormed off your ship never to be seen again. When you finally found the energy to make your way to the cockpit - around an hour after you had silently watched the Crest crash through the tops of the trees and bolt into hyperspace - you flew back to the Covert, truly believing that Din would already be there.
You fought off the unnerving feeling in the pit of your stomach as you brought your ship in to land with no sight of the Crest below, convincing yourself that Din needed to blow off some steam and had gone on another bounty. When you walked through the tunnels towards your room you never thought he would be gone longer than a few days, a week at most, and that this was just another argument that had gone too far and would be resolved by an apology before you went back to your usual teasing and taunting.
But then a week passed, and another, before it was coming up for a month and you began to panic. You had gathered your weapons and spent the following weeks searching every corner of the galaxy for a rogue Mandalorian, asking everyone if he had been seen or heard. It didn’t take long before you were begged by your parents and Adrean, the Armorer, and even your own heart that was growing exhausted from how desperately you had been searching for him, to stop.
When you returned to the Covert, empty handed and broken hearted, you threw yourself into bounty hunting and were only returning to the Covert to sleep and eat between bounties in the hope that you would have no time to think of Din… but that never worked.
Most of the time your mind went to the memory of watching him storm off your ship, his helmet refusing to turn back no matter how many times you shouted after him. Every time you thought of this moment you played out what would have happened if it had gone differently - if you had thanked him and asked him to stay with you until you had enough energy to fly home. You would have sat by side, a comfortable silence covering you both - perhaps some pleasant teasing rather the kind that left you feeling empty - and you would share out your energy bars until wishing each other a safe journey home before your ships landed side by side back on Nevarro.
Times you weren’t stuck replaying, or reimagining, this moment were filled with emotions just as painful as regret: anguish at the thought that perhaps something had gone wrong and his body was abandoned on a planet somewhere; grief at the thought of never seeing him again; and anger whenever you were having a particularly low day and let the thought pass through your mind that Din had just… ran.
Today when you looked in the mirror you no longer recognised the reflection, a once strong and powerful Mandalorian reduced to a shell of her former self after forcing your body to work to exhaustion each day in hope of going five minutes without being tormented by thoughts of him.
Even if you could go a day with your mind too distracted by a bounty to think of him - which was rare - every night when you went to sleep he was there waiting for you. Some nights you dreamt of the both of you living side by side in the Covert, sitting beside one another with pinkies brushing by each other as the Armorer spoke out to the crowd before you were both placed on armory duty together and you would silently clean the weapons, stolen glances shared. Other nights you dreamt of his first night in the Covert, the memory of sadness that had given way to a soft smile for a moment as you waved over your Father’s shoulder at him. There had even been a few dreams where you were with him free of your helmets, an image drawn up of what he could look like now - the same dark brown eyes he had as an ade and messy, dark hair with a smirk that never left his face. It didn’t matter what you dreamt of - happy or sad, simple or complex - you woke each morning in bed by yourself, a second of peace passing where you forgot that Din wasn’t here before it hit you and you had to drag your body from bed.
Last night’s dream had been a memory, a time you were injured in training and placed on armory duty until you were better. Din’s armory duty just so happened to coincide with yours for the next few weeks, your bodies that were still growing into their armor standing side by side in silence every evening for three weeks.
It was the knowledge that you wouldn’t have any more memories that made it so hard to get up from bed; that, and your aching limbs from returning after midnight after dropping your latest bounty off at the Cantina. You knew your parents and Adrean would try to dissuade you from going out again today and so you quickly washed, sneaking back out through the tunnels towards the Cantina with the sun already so high in the sky.
It was too late in the day for a decent bounty and the only ones that would be left now really wouldn’t be worth the hassle but hopefully enough to take you off planet for a few days including travel to some backwater planet.
You could feel Karga’s gaze on you from the second you stepped into the Cantina, his eyes following you carefully as you tried not to limp too much from the pain in your side after yesterday’s bounty had thrown one hell of a punch against you. You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle the pained groan as you slipped into the booth across from him, his hand hesitantly reaching for a puck.
“When was the last time you slept?”
You didn’t answer, your hands resting on your thigh and your helmet tilting back to rest against the booth as he stared into your visor. Some days Karga played this game, concern etched into his words before he finally gave in and handed you the puck. Other days he didn’t bring the subject up at all, his eyes avoiding the shawdy patched up armor that covered your body after a particularly nasty run in with a bounty.
Today was apparently the former and you stared back at him until he spoke again.
“I heard you dropped off a bounty this morning before I got here… and you’re already back for another?”
“And?”
Your word hung in the air, Karga raising an eyebrow across at you as he made a point to let his eyes drag down the armor covered in a ridiculous number of dents and scratches. With your mind almost always elsewhere - stranded wherever Din was - you had grown careless and had more close calls in the last year than ever before.
Sometimes you could convince yourself that Karga was doing this because he cared - he questioned your suitability to be taking another bounty because it could always be your last - but other days when you were particularly moody you took it as an act; he had already lost his top bounty hunter and now he could only watch as he was close to losing his second to carelessness.
Eventually Karga relented, sighing and pushing the puck the rest of the way across the table and into your hand. Your palm settled over it, scratching it along towards the edge of the table as you stood up. When you looked back down Karga was shaking his head and your hands were fidgeting with your rifle strap as you fought whether or not to ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue.
“Have you-” you cleared your throat, tapping the puck nervously on the edge of the table. “Have you heard anything?”
It had been weeks since you last asked. You knew that other than you, Karga was the next person who would have heard news of Din being back in the bounty hunting game. At first you would ask Karga on every visit but as disappointment gave way to embarrassment each time you asked you did so less and less, only bringing it up every so often.
Karga looked back at you, shaking his head with a sympathetic look in his eyes. You nodded once, turning back to the door before he could speak.
“Sorry, Kid,” he said and you shrugged, already heading for the exit before he could say any more.
The second you were on the ship you set course for Vandor - the last planet the bounty had been spotted on - before staring out of the window for the whole flight there. You didn’t even take your helmet off, the hard beskar resting back against the soft headrest as your mind was lost in the lights of time and space that whizzed by until your ship zoomed out of hyperspace and you took over the controls while bringing her in to land.
Vandor was a cold planet, even more so at this time of the cycle when the snow was starting to freeze over, and by the time you jumped down from the cockpit the cold air was already seeping through the scruffy metal of your ship. After opening and closing almost every drawer you finally found an old cloak, tying it around your neck and letting it hang over your shoulders to drape down to your calves. The hood and rim was lined with fur, stopping any heat from escaping beneath your helmet as you stepped off your ship and buried deeper into the thick material as you walked through the small forest at the edge of the city.
This part of bounty hunting had always been monotonous work but it kept your mind busy; asking for information on the bounty until you were finally led to the dark corners of the city. You had almost done a full circle, ending not far from where you had first entered the city through the thick rows of trees and as you climbed the steps towards the flashing sigh of the club you shook the snow off your boots and hood.
The doorman stood bored with his arms crossed until you pulled out enough credits for him to step aside, opening the door and letting the thumping music spill out. You dimmed the volume on your helmet as you stepped in, avoiding the busiest part of the club where the lights were flashing wildly and the dancefloor was full as you walked along the wall until finding a table at the back.
“A drink?”
You looked up from where you had been brushing the snowflakes from your cloak to two bar staff, dressed in very little and leaning across the booth.
“No,” you answered gruffly, adding a quiet “thank you,” before they walked away.
As you continued to keep your guard up and scan around the room, you couldn’t help the swirling in the bottom of your stomach. You were well past the days of bounty hunting making you nervous, the only real effect it had on your body any more being the spikes of adrenaline that made your body shake and heart race as you came down once you were safely back in the cockpit, so you weren’t sure what was causing it now.
Never one to ignore your instincts, you kept your fingers within reach of your blaster; your years upon years of training meaning you could have it out of the holster, aimed and fired within a heartbeat.
You sat at the table for a while longer, a few more people coming up to try their hand and buy you a drink or attempt to convince you to ditch the helmet and meet them in the bathroom, and just when you were about to give up hope the tracker began to buzz against your belt.
You didn’t lift it, not wanting the red flashing to draw any attention, and so you let it be as you scanned across the club for the bounty you had seen on the puck. Eventually your eyes landed on him, standing at the bar relaxed and unaware of your hunter eyes trained on him as he ordered another drink and let his head bob to the music.
It was always almost amusing to you how, despite having a bounty on their head worth a decent amount of credits, the bounties always seemed to go about living life without concern that anyone could be watching them. You smirked as your hand fell to your blaster, feet already carrying you through the sea of the bodies towards him.
But then came a flash of light.
Your eyes had instinctively begun to search out the cause that had sparked a fire in the pit of your stomach, your eyes eventually landing on the familiar beskar that knocked you breathless as you stood in the middle of the dancefloor.
The lights of the club were flashing around and every couple of seconds, if you stood in this exact spot, they would flash off a beskar helmet and blind your vision for a moment.
He was already staring at you, his arms relaxed over the back of a booth and legs spread wide as a twi’lek clung to his side. For a second - the tiniest, fraction of a second - you were relieved. Din - your Din - was alive and he was here. After months of thinking the worst, thinking that he had been killed and he would never be offered a proper Mandalorian funeral as his body lay in the depths of the outer rim - that you would never get to say goodbye - here he was, living proof that he was okay.
It didn’t take long for the relief to give way to the rage that spread through your body; he was alive and he was here, running away from you and what had happened almost a year ago to the day.
You noticed the puck on his table, reminding you of your very own, and you quickly turned, forcing your body away from the man you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and scream “thank the maker you are alive,” no matter how angry you were; if you didn’t leave now you didn’t know what you would end up doing.
The bounty was right in front of you when you turned around, his eyes falling to the red flashing light on your belt. He was massive, his arms larger than your helmet and your helmet only coming up to the middle of his chest, but in the moment it was no match against your fury. Before he could even drop the glass in his hand and run in the other direction you had already raised your fist, his body slumping to the ground as soon as it connected with his face.
Only a few people noticed - most too busy dancing - and so you were free to wrap a rope around his legs and carry him towards the door without much fuss.
For a year you had dreamt about Din following you home, back to the Covert, but now you hoped more than anything he would stay. You didn’t trust yourself with him. You didn’t know whether you would cry and proclaim your love or shout and knock him out as quickly as the bounty.
Usually you would have taken a little more care as you brought the bounty back to the ship but you needed to get out of there as fast as possible, quickly tying his legs together and ignoring the pain in your back as you dragged him towards your ship. You had almost made it halfway, your boots dragging through the icy snow and your hands catching your falling body on more than one occasion, when you heard the familiar voice call out to you.
“Verd’ika.”
You dropped the rope from across your shoulder before turning around to face him.
“Djarin.”
It was dark now but you could just make out from under the moonlight that was fighting through the trees how he had been leaning against a trunk before pushing off it, walking slowly over to you. He held himself… differently than you had remembered; the same armor, the same voice, everything telling you that this was Din but as he stood before you, you knew that this wasn’t yourDin.
“Been a while,” you said, forcing your voice not to shake.
He didn’t reply, nodding once before coming to a stop far closer than need be so your helmet had to tilt up towards him. You refused to speak first again, tilting your helmet and waiting for him to go on.
“Miss me?” He asked.
You sighed, rolling your eyes under your helmet and reaching for the bounty who you had left - rather uncomfortably - on the ground. Fuck him - he doesn’t even see what his running off has done to you.
“Listen, I’ve got places to be but it’s nice to know you’re alive since you just disappeared off the face of the earth.”
He quickly reached for your wrist as you turned around, his leather pressing tight against yours and holding you in place as you gasped before turning to the side and looking up at him.
“Are- are you leaving now?” He asked and you wrenched your wrist from his hold; his warm touch that had almost begun to feel natural disappearing.
“Yes. Looks like you were quite busy back there anyway,” you nodded your chin over his shoulder towards the Twi’lek who was making her way through the forest towards you, shouting for “Mando”.
“I-”
“It’s fine, Din,” you said and you noticed his shoulders fall at the bite in your words, “I’m glad you’re still alive.”
You didn’t wait for an answer this time, turning on your heels and marching back to the ship as the tears that were spilling down your cheek blurred your vision.
This time it was Din who was forced to watch as you walked away and nothing about it felt good.
//
Additional notes: so there we have it, the year without Din! I will be continuing on with the main story on the 8 June however I am on holiday an out of the country on the date so if there is trouble posting it will be pushed back to the following week when I am home! I hope you all enjoyed
His silhouette remains far more intimidating than any other armored man you’ve ever seen. And you’ve been working in that shop for years, you’ve seen plenty of creatures, droids and half-humans making their way to you to request for spare parts. You’ve become acquainted with Mandalorians, the most familiar face of them that of Boba Fett, now Daimyo of Tatooine.
But this particular Mandalorian, there’s something intriguing and inherently poignant about him.
after wandering the galaxy alone for so long, a chance encounter with the Mandalorian leads you toward embarking on a wonderful journey with him, and the precious foundling he calls his own
