Foreign Brunette

Ten hours, you mumble it in your mouth.

It has been ten hours since the contractions started with slight cramps and are now causing you to writhe in pain. With each passing hour, the pains grow, but you know that the more you suffer, the closer you are to your little baby.

“Haalur, ner ka’ra,” Din says as he strokes your aching belly. Your belly is distended, swollen, and full of budding life, and with each new pain comes a sudden and terrible tremble, your soft, supple flesh hardening to stone beneath his hand. And he feels it again, your muscles clenching like a vice against the squirming child within, and with each crescendo of your ragged, tearful voice, he feels a pang deep in the pit of his belly.

Since the day this little light came to life in you, he has always been with you. The sparkle in his eyes when he first heard the news was still in your mind; it was a sparkle that eclipsed the lights of all the stars.

He has taken care of you throughout your pregnancy, supporting and caring for you when you couldn’t even drink water because you were nauseous or craved the strangest fruit in the universe. And he knew that the birth would not be easy, but he could not have imagined it would be so difficult.

You hold on to Din’s broad shoulders as another wave of contraction sweeps over your body; the pain is so excruciating that you don’t realize you’re screaming. “Easy, sweetheart,” Din croons, his voice low and soft. “Easy now.” Your tears come faster now, washing over your face, and you chant your pain with almost desperate want, your voice a thin, high wail. Finally, the pain releases you, and your legs go loose; your sore body trembles with strain.

Din rubs your back, whispering, “Just a little longer, mesh’la, and then we’ll be done.” You try to relieve the pain by making circles with your hips; your fingers are buried in Din’s shoulders, almost trying to tear the fabric of the flight suit he is wearing.

When the contraction fades away, you let go of your grip on your husband and begin walking and squatting around the bedroom, remembering the doctor’s words: the more active you are during labor, the better.

The next contraction burns you in such a way that you lose your breath and feel your knees weaken. When you realize your knees fail to carry you, Din rushes, grabs your arms, and holds you tight even before you say his name. “Got you, cyare.” He waits for the contraction to end before he lifts your face into his hands so that you are looking at him, your eyes puffy and red from tears.

“My love,” he says, kissing you on the damp forehead. “I know you’re tired, but you’re so close now.” You try to smile, looking at him and running your shaky hands through his soft curls. Every word he says and every look he gives you fills your heart with warm love. You smile in pain and say, “I can’t wait to meet her.” Din takes your face in his hands and looks at you like he’s hinting at something. “Her?” he asks, and you answer with a giggle, “Yes, my love, mothers always sense.”

When the next contraction wraps your belly and back, you feel an immense urge to push. You writhe and squirm, and your hands hold Din tighter for purchase. As you’re standing, you can’t help pushing little by little with the contraction; you moan into Din’s chest, chanting prayers. You try to catch your breath and talk as soon as the wave of pain is over.

“Din,” you say, almost in a crying tone. His anxious brown eyes find yours, and he holds you tightly, knowing you’re tired of standing up. “I need to push.”

He knows you are at the final stage now; the passages he has read in the datapad help him understand the process you are going through. “Let’s call the midwife, then,” he says softly, and you nod. Before he grabs the comm, he helps you get the bed, laying you down on the pile of plush pillows.

Din quickly grabs the comm and returns to your side; he sits on the bed and rubs your thighs while talking to the med facility on the comm. “The midwife will be here in a few minutes, mesh’la,” he says as he glances at you with both anxious and thrilled eyes. “Are you excited, Mr. Djarin?” you ask him with a smile while trying to distract your mind from the excruciating pain tormenting you. He leans and kisses you while rubbing your baby bump. He coos against your cracked lips, “I can’t tell you how excited I am, my pretty girl.”

Din Djarin has never shown himself before you. You were the one who exposed all of his anxieties, weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and, most importantly, his precious heart. To him, the universe came to a halt when it came to you. You were everything to him, from the very breath he inhaled to the soul he carried. And having a child with you was the most wonderful feeling he could have imagined. He was so desperate to have a child who’d carry a piece from you that you knew he prayed to Maker every day until you told him you were expecting.

You are being ripped apart from this state of mind with a mammoth contraction. This is different from the others; it is as if your bones are splitting apart like you are being divided in two, as you go stiff and rigid. “Oh, please. Oh, please, Maker, not again.” You moan in pain as you hold on to Din’s hand, squeezing him like you are trying to break every bone or tear apart the nerves in his hand. “Take a deep breath, cyare; it’ll be over soon,” he assures you as you spread your legs apart and cry out a little before automatically starting to push. Din rubs your thigh and helps you put your leg back down when it is over. “My lovely doll,” he croons as he leans into you and gives you a kiss on the lips. “You’re doing so well.”

Din leaves your side for a moment to bring the necessary materials to the room before the birth starts: absorbent towels, clothes for the baby, and a med bag, just in case. He left nothing to chance, as he always did. He was also concerned about the birth: you intended to give birth at home, but Din was against it, arguing that a full-fledged health center would be a preferable option. He didn’t stop worrying until you and he discussed it with your doctor and received her assurance and approval.

At the next contraction, Din is right beside you, holding your hand tightly as he tries his best to coach you through it. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, his other hand slipping down to your belly. He feels how hot your skin is—how rigid and taut. “That’s it. Give it all you’ve got.” He gently caresses your damp cheekbone to encourage you when it is over. “Our baby will be here soon, mesh’la,” he says. “Just a little longer”.

The midwife enters the room into the mid-contraction through the entrance door that Din had left ajar earlier, and she can tell that you are getting close by the way you push through the contraction. When it is over, the midwife gives you a warm smile as she settles her stuff, preparing for delivery.

“Are you feeling the urge to push?” She asks, and you nod, spreading your legs out and rolling onto your back, knowing that she will have an examination. Din rubs your hand delicately as you moan softly, and he encourages you with sweet words as the midwife examines you. You wince and take a sharp breath at the discomfort. When the midwife’s hand is out, she removes the glove and gives you an assuring smile. “You’re nine and a half centimeters. If you feel like pushing, then go for it. Your baby is very low down; it won’t be long.” You breathe a sigh of relief, and Din gives his thanks to the midwife as she prepares you for the delivery.

“No, I don’t want the bed,” you protest. “I want to give birth on the floor,” you say as the midwife is about to lay absorbent towels on the bed. “I’d like to lean on my husband’s chest.” The idea of giving birth in a soft bed scares you; you feel the need to be supported and something to cling to, and you know that in Din’s arms is the greatest place to be.

She nods and lays the towels near the bed, giving you space to lean on. She also puts one of the pillows over the towels to protect your lower body from the stern ground. You know it is time to get up to settle down in your little birthing bed, but you’re too weak and delicate to move. Realizing that Din goes into action helps you get off bed. “Take your time, mesh’la,” he says as he slowly puts you on your feet. He supports your back as you kneel down to your place. “Here we go, my love,” he says, placing a kiss behind your head before scooping up to your behind. He settles behind you by taking you between his legs so you can lean onto him. He puts your hands on your belly and rubs you with the utmost care, like trying to end all of your pain. "Gar bid dral bal kandosii'la, cyar’ika."

You’re overwhelmed with pain and Din’s sweet words; your heart swells with affection and love. Like the deserts that stretch on forever or countless stars, his love for you knows no limits. You can’t help but feel tears fall from your eyes as you breathe shakily. “Never let me go, Din. Never”. You lean onto him and press your head into his chin to show your endless gratitude. And he replies softly, finding your hand and squeezing it gently. “I’ll be on your side forever, my sweet girl.”

The midwife takes her place between your legs and puts her hand on your knee to encourage you. “My beautiful mama,” she says, “your baby will be in your arms very soon; all I want from you is to bear down all your strength when the contraction comes, okay?”

When the next bone-shattering contraction hits, you howl like a wounded animal as the pain moves further down, contracting and squeezing your womb so that the baby can move down. As you start to push, Din holds your leg with one hand and your hand with the other, holding his breath with every push you give. “Just like that, sarad, keep going.” Din praises you and rubs your sore legs softly to ensure you’re doing well. When it is finally over, you pull your gown up and put your hand on your burning belly to feel the baby moving inside you.

You barely have one minute before the next contraction hits, and you push again, holding your breath and bearing down until you have nothing to give. When the pain fades away, you let yourself fall into Din’s body; he immediately embraces you, giving you a soft hug. His hand reaches your forehead and wipes the sweat off. “You’re so beautiful, darling, and so brave,” he murmurs against your cheek.

After almost 2 hours of pushing, you start to feel the baby’s head; you know you have begun to crown. The midwife helps you down there with every push you give, making the process a little easier. Every push you give, the sensation of burning down there tears you in two. “I can’t-” you pant, “I can’t push more; it is burning,” as tears fall from your eyes. Din holds your hand tightly and rubs your back to give you courage. “I know, baby girl, it hurts, and I wish I could do something to put you out of your pain,” he whispers softly, trying his best to coach you. “But you’re so strong, you know that?”.

He continues to praise you as you lean onto him, closing your eyes to rest, even if it’s for a few seconds. “Our adi’ka needs your help, my love,” he whispers in a low tone. You open your eyes as you feel wetness on your cheek, realizing it is a tear. And you see Din crying; oh, he is crying. He can’t bear to watch you writhe in pain.

You hold on to his words and wait for the next contraction to give you all you have in you. When it comes, you bear down again with your might, and the baby’s head slips out of you. “She’s almost here,” the midwife coos, supporting the baby’s slippy head with her hand. “She’s almost here, baby girl,” Din praises, pressing his face against your cheek. His heart rumbles with excitement and fear in his ribcage. “Almost, almost here, darling.”

“Do you want to feel the head?” the midwife asks, and you manage to utter a weak yes. The midwife takes your hand guide down there, and your fingers meet with the head of the baby. “Oh Din,” you gasp, “Oh, she’s almost here”. “That’s right, my love,” Din encourages you, “Feel her”.

“That’s her?” You ask in awe, trying to ignore the pain for a second. You feel the baby’s hair on your fingertips, and Din leans forward to kiss you. “That’s our baby.” He clarifies in a shaky whisper as your foreheads meet. “Alright, my sweet girl,” the midwife says as she puts her hand on your swollen belly, gives a smooth touch, and says, “Come on, let’s relieve your pain and have you hold your baby in your arms; I want you to push as hard as you can for the last time.” As the cruel contraction creeps up to your belly, you push with all your might; the midwife frowns and guides the baby out of you. “Here we go, love,” says Din, feeling you go rigid in his arms as soon as it begins. “Here we go, we’re in the final stretch.”

As the pain eases, you whisper in a crying tone, “C’mon, my beautiful girl, don’t tire your mom anymore.” The midwife reassures you, knowing how tired you are. “One more push, and she’ll be here.”

“You’re doing it, my cyar’ika; she’s right there.” Din embraces you tenderly and murmurs. And without a break, one last pain of waves takes control of you; you push push push again, and she comes.

You holler out as the baby is gently pulled by the midwife, and just like that, a brand-new life enters your world. You collapse against Din’s torso and try to get your breathing steady as Din looks at the newborn baby dumbfounded for a second. His emotions boil over, and he can’t help but cry as the midwife places his little girl on the puffy white sheets and pats her back.

The midwife announces you have a baby girl, and you and Din burst into tears. “Is she okay?” he finally manages to choke out, and once the midwife suctions out the gunk from her nose and mouth, the baby’s lungs fill with air, and the midwife doesn’t even have to answer his question. Before placing the newborn in your arms, the midwife hands Din the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. He cuts the cord with shaky hands while gazing at the beauty of the baby.

The midwife puts your little baby on your chest, and she leaves the room for you two to have time together for a while. You sob as you hold your little angel in your arms.

“Welcome, baby girl, my little one. Welcome.”

You’re so overjoyed with the happiness that your throat goes dry and stutter, “We’ve been waiting for you so long.” Reaching out to the baby, Din gently caresses the baby’s tiny head and whispers, almost crying, “Su cuy’gar, ad’ika.”

Din finds your hand, holds you tightly, and whimpers, “I am so proud of you, sweetheart.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “You did so well, my cyare.” You lean into him as an answer, feeling his warmth in your aching back.

“I love you so much, mesh’la,” Din whispers against your cracked lips, and you sob with him, your tears falling together as you manage to croak a reply.

“I love you too, my sweet riduur.”

You pull your head back and reach it down to kiss the top of your little girl’s skull. She is covered in blood and gunk, but that is the last thing you care about. Both you and Din’s hands rub over her brand-new chubby body, and your faces breathe against hers as she calms down and finds a little comfort in the hands of the people who love her unconditionally.

“She’s perfect.” Din breathes as his face rests against your shoulder, and his finger gently strokes the droopy skin of his daughter’s cheek.

You close your eyes and use one hand to hold her brand new baby against her while the other rubs the back of your husband’s head. Your heart is so full that you can barely stand it, and you can’t help the constant sobs escaping from you.

The midwife does not want to ruin this lovely moment, but the birth is not finished; you still need to deliver the afterbirth. Your heart aches as the midwife removes your tiny baby from your arms and places her in her cradle. You don’t like the sense of emptiness in your arms. “It will be a short separation, my beautiful girl,” she promises. “She will come back to you as soon as I clean you up.”

Once more, you rest on Din while the midwife massages your belly with her hands. The midwife hears your sharp gasp as the cramps become painful and rushes to help, saying, “Push with the cramps, my strong mama, just like you gave birth to the baby.”

Wishing it your final push, Din gives your back a gentle massage. He soothes you, saying, “Hang in there, darling, it’s almost over.” And when you release a deep breath, the afterbirth slides out of you. The midwife confirms and congratulates you, and it is now time for you to clean up.

After a long cleaning and examination process, the midwife leaves the house, leaving you two and your newborn alone together. The bed have become your best friend because your body is so tired that you couldn't get up from the floor after birth. Without even saying a word, Din immediately realized and lifted you up, supporting your saggy belly, and then helped you to bed.

And now, Din is lying beside you on the bed, looking at you and the baby sleeping on your bare chest. “She looks just like you.” You breathe as your heart expands when you see the giant brown eyes on your daughter’s face; it is like staring into your riduur’s eyes. Din smiles against her, and he reaches his face up to kiss her head again.

“I’m so proud of you,” Din mumbles against his adi’ka, unable to fully comprehend how she managed to get his tiny little love into the universe, and you just kiss Din’s stubbly face in response before you both go back to admiring your little one, who is squirming against your warm, naked chest.

“I love you, my little ka’ra,” you whisper against your baby’s squished-up face, and Din chokes back more tears, his whole being overflowing with love for his girls.

As he keeps his hands around you, Din’s cheek nestles back into your exposed chest, and he stares at his baby as her hands grasp onto your sweaty skin. He just cannot comprehend that this perfect little girl in front of him is theirs. She is perfect, and she is his. He doesn’t understand what he did right in life to deserve two girls who are so breathtakingly beautiful.

You mumble softly, “I think we are a clan of three now.” Din answers, “Yes, cyare, there are three of us now,” with a great smile on his face.

“Aliit be ehn,” you say, looking at the sleeping babe.

“Aliit be ehn,” Din confirms as he looks at you with love and gratitude.

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Hi everyone! This is my first work ever and I am so happy to share it. Please bear in mind that I am not a casual fic writer, I am a reader + English isn't my first language. So, please don't hesitate to share your comments and ideas :)

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Mando'a Translations

Haalur, ner ka'ra: Breathe, my stars

Mesh'la: Beautiful

Cyare: Beloved, loved

Cyar'ika: Darling, sweetheart

Sarad: Flower

Riduur: Partner, Spouse, husband, wife

Adi'ka: Baby, child under 3

Gar bid dral bal kandosii'la, cyar’ika: You’re so strong and amazing, darling.

A magnetic energy simmers between you, and the intensity of his stare makes you feel like the only person on the planet. The unspoken desire that lurks on the fringes of the night air thickens, making your heart stutter.

He reaches for you, tentatively, with fingers stretched until they find the soft curve of your cheek.

“Not anymore,” he repeats, lips seizing yours.

The kiss is slow, his mouth sliding over yours, exploring and tasting as his hands drift to the small of your back to drag you closer. Even though you’re still lying on the ground, dizziness threatens to sweep over you, heat surging beneath your skin.

Calloused palms slide down your neck, his rough thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he deepens the kiss and moans against your mouth.

He releases you only to take a breath, staring down at you while his hand caresses dips and curves with a maddening patience. His fingertips drift lower until they reach the softness of your inner thighs.

Your legs spread apart, an invitation, one you desperately hope he accepts. He licks his lips, and the moment his fingers find the wetness between your legs, his eyes shutter closed.

Clutching his biceps, you exhale a shaky breath, whispering his name.

“Should I stop?” he asks.

“No, please. Don’t stop.”

His knees nearly buckle beneath the force of it, but he lifts you from the ground, wrapping your legs around his middle, not caring who else surrounds you.

Every slide of his lips is a brand, a claim. You belong to him.

He presses you into the crumbling wall…a throat clears.  

Zeb stands by the doorway; Grogu perched on his shoulder. “We’ll leave you to it, then, yeah?” He grins with a wink.

Grogu coos and searches for his cookies.

“Put me down,” you say, nudging Mando.

“Not a chance in hell,” he answers, before addressing Zeb and Grogu. “See you back at the ship. Keep him safe.”

Zeb nods with a wry smile. “Of course and take your time.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Mando murmurs.

Before you can chide him for his cheeky response, Mando covers your mouth with his once more. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I love you too,” you say breathlessly. “But what about….?”

He interrupts, his lips just a breath away. “I don’t care about any of it. Just you, just Grogu. I want this. I want it all.”

His next kiss is slow and thorough, as though you have all the time in the world. As though you’re not standing in the ruins of an epic battle. You deepen the kiss, reveling in the knowledge that he’s yours.

He stills, lips parted but you press a finger to their softness. “Don’t speak. I know what you’re thinkin’.”

His mouth closes but not before he kisses your fingertip, then drags his teeth down your throat, fists bunching around your pants.

His gaze meets yours, dark and unyielding before he slides his cock through the wetness between your legs. The teasing doesn’t last long, his restraint crumbling completely when he drives deep inside you.

The sound of his desire, his desperation, lights an inferno inside you, and you meet every punishing thrust of his hips with one of your own. Your fingers rake through his hair, deepening the kiss and holding him as close as possible, all your senses ablaze.

His armor digs into your soft curves, and you tilt your hips toward him, moaning his name when he sweeps your leg up and around his waist to sink even deeper.

“Again,” he demands, voice rough and low. “Say my name again.”

You climb together, clenching around his cock as he fucks you harder than he ever has. Your orgasm slams into you and he follows with a low rumbling sound, his cock pulsing as he spills his hot release, his name on your lips.

“Tell me this isn’t goodbye,” he whispers, still inside you.

“I could never tell you goodbye.”

Just as your bra falls he grabs your wrist and drags you against his chest. Every inch of your bare skin that presses into his armor erupts with goosebumps and when his gloved fingers cup your chin to lift your gaze to his a shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

“You live to torture me,” he murmurs, his free hand gliding along the soft curve of your waist.

“You can come with you know. That will make it less torturous, I’m sure.” Your words are saccharine and you bat your lashes in feigned innocence. “There’s no one here. Just us.”

At that he releases you and pulls the helmet from his head, his eyes sweeping along your body from your head to your toes buried in the sand.

“You can’t look at me like that,” you state, lifting your chin.

“Like what?” he shoots back with a smirk.

“Like you want to devour me.”

In an instant you’re back in his arms and he leans in, running his nose along the side of your neck, grazing the soft skin there with his teeth. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

“Mandalorian,” you warn, heat blooming between your thighs and your nipples aching against his hard armor.

He doesn’t move, keeping you pressed firmly to him, his dark eyes trained on your face as he rolls his hips into you. “Feel what you do to me.”

You’re already breathless, gripping his hand and freeing if from his glove. You guide it down between your breasts, and lower, until he’s groaning as your arousal coats his fingertips. You whimper his name. “Feel what you do to me.”

“Was this your plan all along?” he whispers into your ear as he grips the back of your thigh and lifts one of your legs.

“Yes,” you say, voice thick with want.

He grazes your clit with his thumb. “What are we going to do about it?”

Every one of your breaths is labored. “Please.”

The note of desperation in that one word makes his cock twitch, and he’s tempted to draw this out for hours, tempted to make you beg.

But the needy roll of your hips and the way your legs open up for him, has him caving. He strokes your bare skin, his breath catching at the contact.

“Are you going to stay quiet for me?”

Your lips turn up in a coy smile. “Because there’s so many people around to…”

The rest of your sassy retort is swallowed by his kiss, two fingers pushing inside you. He slides his fingers in and out in long torturous strokes, spreading your wetness over your clit and swallowing your lewd moans with another kiss.

“I need…I need more,” you gasp as you writhe against his fingers.

“Remember. I want you quiet,” he demands, still toying with you.

You let out a muffled whimper, digging your teeth into your bottom lip.

“The rocks won’t be forgiving,” he whispers as he gently pushes your back to their coolness. “And neither will I.”

He frees himself, sliding the length of his cock through the slickness between your legs. Every pieces of his armor is still on other than this helmet and gloves, and you love the feel of it against your naked skin.

A guttural moan escapes him as he pushes the head of his cock inside you, savoring the sweet sounds of desperation that you try to stifle.

And then he angles your hips upward and fills you completely. He keeps one hand anchored on the rock next to your head, the other gripping your thigh tight enough to bruise.

He grunts with every thrust, relishing in the every soft curve of your body. “You’re addictive.”

His words make you clench around him, grinding back against every pump of his hips.

“Yes,” you moan, uncaring how loud you are and at the sound, he feels himself spiraling out of control.

One hand falls between your legs, his eyes glued to where your bodies meet and he slides in and out of you. His thumb circles your clit, drawing you to the edge before you tip over, your body rolling and tensing, bringing him the edge until he’s biting back a shout as he fills you up.

Panting he leans into you, kissing along your neck and curve of your shoulder.

“Was that what you needed?” he asks, voice rough and husky, his body still trembling.

You cling to him, managing a breathless, “yes, exactly.”

Smiling softly, he slides from your body, running a gentle hand along your back. “Was I too rough?”

“You were perfect,” you reply as he gathers you carefully into his arms.

He kisses you soundly. “I live to worship you.”

You cup his face with your palm, brushing your thumb across his lips, tracing his soft smile.  “What about that swim?”

“If we make too much noise,” you whisper to Grogu. “We’ll get in trouble. We have to be quiet.”

Grogu’s ears fall back and he presses his lips together. “Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it. They’re finally ripe!”

You carefully free the stool of it’s hiding spot and tip toe toward the cabin door, peeking around the edge. “It looks like he might be asleep…”

Grogu stands between your legs, doing the same. You secure the stool against the side of your body, trying to hide it as much as possible before you walk out.

“Come on buddy, let’s go pick some oranges!”

He waddles out the door after you, both of you passing quietly by Djarin who’s seated comfortably against the side of the cabin, seemingly resting.

You don’t notice his helmet turn as his gaze follows or hear his exasperated sigh before he asks, “what are they up to now?”

You can smell the oranges before the tree comes into view and when you round the cabin to the back it sits nestled between some rocks, growing tall against the backdrop of the mountains beyond.

Once you find a flat spot on the ground you set the stool down, turning to Grogu with a smile.

“I can’t wait for you to try one!”

He coos and holds out his open hands. “Ok, let me just get up here….”

You’re just finding your balance on the stool when you feel a pair of strong, warm hands at your waist.

“If you’re trying to give me a heart attack, it just might work.”

His words are soft against the shell of your ear as he presses your back to his chest.

“I just wanted some oranges,” you pout, turning to face him and resting your hands on his wide shoulders.

“What did I tell you about climbing on things,” he replies, helping you off the stool. “And lifting…”

You place a palm on his armored chest. “I know, I know…lifting heavy things and carrying too much and not eating or drinking enough and making sure I rest…”

“I love you,” he whispers, his hand gently sliding along your hip to the soft curve of your stomach. “All three of you.”

He looks Grogu’s way, chuckling as he watches him study the oranges on the tree then focuses on you again, his hand caressing the gentle bump you’re growing.

The sweet moment is disrupted when you hear Grogu straining, his hand outstretched toward the top of the tree. With a  disgruntled sound he falls back just before a bunch of oranges fall loose of the tree and onto the ground.

“He’s making me look bad,” Djarin grumbles.

You raise an eyebrow. “How?”

“I could have done that!” he says, hands resting on his hips.

“Not like that!” you tease.

Even though you can’t see his face you know he’s giving you a challenging glare.

“But I can do it like this,” he says and pulls out his blaster, masterfully aiming and shooting down three oranges in succession. Each one falls to the ground, not a spot singed and even a leaf or two intact.

Grogu’s ears fall and he looks at you with big eyes.

“Aww, you did great kid!” you say, patting his head softly. “Thanks!”

You start to reach for an orange but Djarin swoops in and grabs some before you can and you give him a pointed look. “I can bend down!”

“But you don’t have to,” he says in answer, ushering you back toward the cabin with his free hand splayed at your lower back.

Grogu follows behind already digging into an orange.

Once you’re seated comfortably just outside the cabin, cushioned by the blanket Djarin insisted you use, you show Grogu how to properly peel the orange.

“See,” you say, digging your thumb into the soft skin. “Just get it started like this then you can pull the off the rest.”

Grogu’s ears move up and down like antennae as he watches you, then he takes his own orange and sticks one of his fingers in. Some juice squirts out into his face, and he squeals before falling backward.

“Good start,” you giggle.

He tries again and stabs holes in the orange more than peels it before giving up and just biting into it, skin, and all.

“That works too” you smile.

Djarin comes back outside to join you, cup in hand.

“Freshly squeezed,” he says as he hands it to you.

Your eyes light up and you take a sip. “Delicious! How did you manage it?”

“Don’t ask,” he says and you hear the smile in his voice.

He sits down next to you then pulls the helmet from his head. You immediately run your fingers through his hair, tousling the already mussed curls. You pop an orange slice into your mouth, moaning around the juicy and sweet taste.

Feeling the weight of his gaze you turn your face his way, holding up a wedge of orange. His lips part and you feed him the piece, leaning closer when you notice some juice escape. You kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you.”

It’s a whisper against his lips and he kisses you, tasting of sweet orange.

“For?”  he murmurs as his fingers trace the column of your neck before splaying along your cheek, thumb delicately brushing your bottom lip.

“Searching the galaxy for an orange tree,…” you murmur, kissing him again. “And bringing it here.” Another kiss. “And planting it and making sure it grew.”

His eyes close, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his smile meets your kisses.

“I told you,” he says softly. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask.”

SUNSHINE @zialltops

Post Mandalorian series, Din settles on Navarro and enrolls Grogu in school. And falls for the teacher hard. Reader is a teacher with glasses who loves gardening… secret past. Din has a glorious breeding kink, possessive/protective, pregnancy…DARK LUKE…

BESKAR DOLL @justagalwhowrites

Din + ex Naboo handmaiden who is wanted by the Empire. Cargo to much much more. So prolific and exciting! Slow burn, eventual pregnancy

BEST KEPT SECRET @lincolndjarin

Bodyguard Din + unhappily married princess on Naboo… her husband is to be king, is a monster, but luckily not yet interested in her. She and Din grow closer, rules are put in place, being found out would be deadly…

STITCHES @djarinsbeskar

Grumpy, gruff, hardened Mandalorian Din + lady medic that is so hot it will burst into flames. Portions of series events, but takes off on its own action and adventures. This is not a fluffy sweet Din OMG. Eventual Din’s breeding kink emerges

WRITER SPOTLIGHT! @absurdthirst

FROZEN SERIES Din + Lady reader and Mandalorians obsessed with breeding and pregnancy

THE RETURN OF THE MANDALORIAN Din + Lady reader have a night together before he leaves on his quest to find his covert. He returns to find the reader pregnant with his daughter…

NEW DESIRES Part of the HIDDEN DESIRES SERIES, having decided to keep the reader plugged with cum until it takes, Din has the Armorer forge items out of beskar that is not armor…

THE EVENT HORIZON series on AO3

Din + self conscious plus size reader, she becomes the child’s nanny, attraction, he buys her dresses!, pregnancy and Din’s breeding kink. (This series is left hanging and unfinished 😬)

SECURITY @dindjarindiaries

Prolific series of Din + princess of destroyed planet, marriage, pregnancy, adventures…

KEEPING SECRETS @drewharrisonwriter

Din + lady reader discovers she is pregnant and fears telling Din thinking that he’d leave her. Cara helps talk her through it, adventure forces the truth to come out…

VERD’IKA on AO3

Lady reader wakes to war on her doorstep and flees in her ship to whatever coordinates she hurriedly enters. Arrives at an unknown planet, escorted to a covert and learns the way of the Mandalorians with the help of Din… 17 chapters, but a quick read, finished series.

NOTHING IS WRONG and NOTHING IS WRONG: IN ABSENTIA on AO3

Din + lady reader who he discovers injured while collecting a bounty, bring her aboard the Crest so she can heal… quick and fun read through chapters, slowish burn, Mandalorians are all about reproducing, eventual pregnancy…

@omgreally ‘s stories

WOULD YOU Din and reader discovering their desires

WITH YOU In the Crest with time to kill, pregnant with Din’s baby

MY GODS ARE NOT KIND TO LONELY MOTHERS @fanfreakinfiction

Din, during a difficult time, spends a night at a brothel with a virgin woman. Months later he has a dream of her, pregnant and in distress. Grogu helps lead him to her, finding her on a backwater planet climbing up a mountain to give birth…

**Heavy rating alert for Darkest Din series below, read series warnings 🪦🕊️**

WHISPERS IN THE DARK @kewwrites

This is uber dark Din capturing a lady reader against her will, some Stockholm syndrome, abusive, pregnancy… too much? (but that’s what we’re here for 🤤)

TO TOUCH DARKNESS @djarincore

Dark Din under the influence of the Dark Saber and having just let go of Grogu to Jedi training, becomes obsessively possessive of the reader fearing she could leave him

FALLEN GODS and AFTERMATH @divinehedons

Din leaves his working partner as she is captured and tortured. They meet again and he takes her to atone for his wrong doings…

DIN DJARIN SINGLE STORIES

RETURNS on AO3

Din reveals his breeding kink while injured and reader is patching him up.

LACTATION @supernaturalgirl20

Short story with a little bit of everything beginning with leaking breasts…

BESKAR BRACELET on AO3

Din + wife have been trying for a baby for some time. During a Mandalorian festival Paz gives them advice and keeps Grogu occupied for their privacy, She’s the daughter of Obi-Wan, they have Jedi children.

BREEDING on AO3

Lady reader puts herself up for sale to pay off her parents debts. Sold to Din for his very specific purpose… single story, would be an interesting expanded story

MANDAL’OR DIN @divinehedons

Mandal’or Din sees his riduur hold a new born baby…

WRITER SPOTLIGHT! @charnelhouse

YOU BECAME ALL THE THINGS I WISHED FOR, ALL THE THINGS I HOPED Short of Din + Lady reader who discovers she’s pregnant.

YOUR HEART IN MY HANDS Birth of the baby, domestic life with new baby, Din, and Grogu.

THE REST. Twins! And a sprinkling of reality with a house full of babies

OVULATION SCENT Din can smell when you’re ovulating and is eager to take advantage of the opportunity…

HAZY DAYZ @theywhowriteandknowthings

Reader exposed to sex pollen and Din helps her through it…

BRED @saradika

Din and reader drop Grogu off at school on Navarro and go about their day. At pick up the teacher refers to the reader as Grogu’s mom and Din goes feral with the thought of breeding the reader…

FILL @say-al0e

As Din and reader are saying their goodbyes to Cobb Vanth, the reader and Vanth continue to flirt to irk Din. When they return to the Razor Crest it’s time for her punishment and to remind her who she belongs to…

CREED @wheresarizona

Din and his wife have never taken their helmets off in front of each other… until today. Din is insatiable about having babies

PARTNERS @pedge-page

You’re bounty hunting partners with Din, but feel pretty helpless and useless except for your sexual situation-ship. Frustrated you’re ready to leave him and a night at the bar sets him ready to claim you for good

CAUGHT IN 4K @beskarandblasters

**Heavy rating alert for Darkest Din stories below, read warnings 🪦🕊️**

THIS IS THE WAY on AO3

One shot story of Din kidnapping teacher to mother Grogu and potential children

PAZ VIZSLA

Mirror mirror on the wall, Paz has the biggest breeding kink of all

PAZ + PREGNANT RIDUUR @sprout-fics

Just a short and sweet snapshot of Paz as an adoring father and his pregnant wife.

BREAKING THE RULES on AO3

Reader is a Mandalorian tired of staying indoors and decides to sneak out. Paz finds her and brings her into his quarters for “punishment”. Consensual throughout. Paz has a huge breeding kink and reader becomes pregnant…

ACHE @maybege

Paz + wife with a baby is having trouble with over abundance of milk - Paz to the rescue! A+O dynamics, Paz is eager for baby #2…

LONESOME NO MORE on AO3

Paz comes home after being away for 6 months…

CABUR @whiskeynwriting

Paz + reader who he marries and she is pregnant with Ragnar

WARRIORS and ARMY @getwrecktwriting

Shorts of Paz’s feral breeding kink in action 🤪

BOBA FETT

HOMECOMING @thefact0rygirl

Boba returns home to reader who’s been instructed not to touch herself for 7 days…

FAMILY @say-al0e

Boba has his private quarters in his palace where only the reader and Fennec are allowed to enter. The reader and Boba have been together for some time. On this day the reader’s implant was removed but could not be replaced until later- they decide they want children together…

THRAWN

THE GALLERY @thrawns-babygirl

Royal Imperial Gallery curator, attending a gala, you desperately need to secure funding. You meet Thrawn and invite him for a sneak preview of the next exhibit…

Looking for Joel Miller, Javier Peña, and other Pedro characters pregnancy and breeding kink recommendations ? They’re now in their own list here

New! CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE pregnancy and breeding kink recommendations

As he exhaled, dispelling the rest of the sleep-filled fog from his mind, Din realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten that kind of deep, restful sleep. It certainly had been since before the kid entered his life, because after he'd taken on Grogu, he'd learned to sleep with one ear open. That ear was used to alert him to the kid's antics and enemies alike.

Din lifted his head from the back of the couch and couldn't help but let some of his initial disappointment go at the sight of Grogu curled into Dorothy's chest. The kid's head was poking out from under the blanket, and the tip of one of his pointed ears brushed the bottom of your chin with each slow inhale.

Watching you and Grogu stirred strange, confusing, long-dormant feelings inside his chest.

Warm. Safe. Comfortable.

Three words that he'd never used to describe him, his circumstances, or his life. 

Ever.

Since Grogu, Sorgan was the closest he'd come to experiencing that feeling. He'd let himself get wrapped up in the peaceful thrall of the quaint shrimping village. He'd allowed Omera to seep through his beskar and armorweave, awakening a slumbering part of his soul that yearned for the kind of comfort and stability a village like Omera's offered. The kind of comfort and stability that Omera offered. She'd extended the proposal for the Mandalorian to make his home on Sorgan. Her other offer, of her and sharing her home - her life - with him was implied but never spoken aloud. The picture she painted of Grogu growing up with her daughter, Winta, along with the other children - of Grogu getting the opportunity to be a normal boy - was tempting. Not just any boy, but his boy. Maker, he almost caved to that vision when her hands cupped his helmet.

However, while Din was tempted, there was something about the way his blood pumped through his heart with every beat that told him he wasn't meant to settle on Sorgan. Din wasn't ready to take that next step. The village was peaceful, yes, but he knew the novelty would wear off after a couple of months. Omera was kind and beautiful, yes, he wasn't blind, but it was the idea she offered, not her, that called to him.

Din Djarin wanted more than that. If he was going to be with someone - really, truly, and honestly be with someone - he wanted to be with them because they were carved from the stars themselves to complete him. Not because it was a convenience.

And as easy as it would be to let himself fall into the steady routine that someplace like Sorgan offered, his soul belonged to the stars. There was also the not-so-small fact that he'd only just rescued the kid. Yes, he could have claimed him as his own, but Din knew that was only an offer he was prepared to make after he'd exhausted all other options. If he wasn't the type to settle down with a beautiful widow and enjoy a peaceful rest of his life living in a quaint shrimping village, then he wasn't the type to give up reuniting a child with his family. He owed it to the kid to attempt to find his own people.

Now, almost two years after Omera's proposal, he was no closer to reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, and the two had inadvertently been flung to some strange, primitive backwater planet in an unknown corner of the galaxy.

Now, almost two years later, you had proposed something similar to Omera's offer on Sorgan - The chance for him to simply be. 

The only difference between your offer and hers was that when you looked into his eyes, you knew yours wasn't meant to be permanent. It was as if you could see the lost stars he yearned for reflected in his soul. You hardly knew him, but could somehow tell from just a look that he wasn't going to give up on finding a way back. Instead, you reminded him that it was okay to take this momentary setback as an opportunity to heal. And if he found it in him to enjoy himself, well, then that was okay too.

Whatever event brought them here could have just as easily taken them somewhere else.

Din Djarin had seen a lot of the galaxy, and despite the seemingly lackluster, primitive limitations of the planet they'd found themselves on, this strange place called Earth, he knew they could have ended up on worse planets.

A grunt from his left brought an easy smile to his face as he watched you mumble something incoherent in your sleep, then your arm instinctively wrapped around the kid, holding him to your chest as you rolled onto your side and buried your face in the pillow.

They definitely could have ended up with a worse host.

He studied the soft lines of your face as you slumbered beside him, still stretched across the couch with your feet across his lap. Din's own feet were propped on the small wooden table in front of the couch, and he kept one hand over your bandaged leg so he'd know if you tried to sneak off in the middle of the night. Although judging by how hard he slept, he probably wouldn't have noticed if you had gotten up. He was so exhausted that he probably could have slept through another tornado.

Din let his head fall back against the couch again.

Now that the initial fog of the waking world had cleared, he begrudgingly accepted that you had been right about needing a solid night's sleep. His headache from the past few days had almost dissipated, leaving his head feeling clearer than it had since he first landed on your truck. The low undercurrent of nausea was completely gone as well. If it weren't for his exposed face, Din would say he almost felt like he was back to normal.

Leaving his right hand on your ankle, he brought his left hand up to rub at his face.

The instant pang of his missing helmet stabbed him in the chest, but he worked through the pain with a deep breath.

Now that he was awake, he knew there would be no going back to sleep. If he were on his ship, there would usually be something for him to do. There was the kid and his bottomless stomach, a course to plan, entertaining the kid, a repair to make, chasing the kid out of his hiding spots, weapons to maintain, the kid, and, when he exhausted all of those options, and had no bounties to track, his own personal physical fitness routine to ensure he stayed in shape. 

However, here, on Earth, he found himself adrift.

Yet instead of the swell of panic he'd experienced yesterday, something else was flowing through his veins. Din took a deep, grounding breath, relishing the fact that he could do that without his head feeling like it would explode. Even the blood flowing through his veins was no longer screaming at him. Instead, it buzzed. Like something in the background was reminding him that he was warm, safe, and comfortable.

He chewed that over in his mind. Those emotions were infinitely better than the feeling of not belonging in his own body he'd been experiencing, but for Din Djarin, they were just as confusing.

"Maybe it is kinda fortuitous that you ended up here." Your words from last night replayed in his head. "You get some more time with him." Din's gaze landed on the sleeping toddler tucked against your chest, surprised by the happiness that blossomed from that thought. As much as he still intended to follow through on his promise of getting Grogu to his people, Din couldn't argue with the fact that he wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to the womp rat just yet, either. "Assuming no more followed you through whatever portal sucked you in and dropped you on my truck, Death Troopers don't exist here. Aside from the one that is in pieces in my storm shelter. Your Empire doesn't exist here… Not saying that I don't want you guys to get back home, but… Maybe the universe decided you needed a break."

A break.

The thought was almost too absurd to wrap his mind around.

Warmth. 

Safety. 

Comfort. 

Those were words that left his vocabulary the moment the first sentry droid landed on Aq Vetina.

Although now that he was in this strange new world, Dorothy's suggestion to be a regular ole human had taken root somewhere deep inside his chest.

It surprised him, too. 

His lost stars still called to him. He wasn't yearning to settle down by any stretch of the imagination (especially here, without a means to get off-world), but it was more your offer to take a break that resonated with him. Somehow, his mind could wrap around the concept of this being temporary - that he could take a beat to breathe, to heal without having to look over his shoulder, waiting for Gideon or the Empire to track them down - that he could have more time with the kid, where they could enjoy the moment without their normal terrifying burdens of reality hovering over them.

Every word you spoke last night while you were bandaging your injuries rang true. He was tired. Had been tired. Din Djarin had been running on empty since they landed on Sorgan, only to sputter out when he crashed on this strange world. 

Aside from Grogu's mysterious missing powers, the kid seemed to be enjoying himself. You clearly enamored the child. Case in point, he slept on your chest all night. Normally, the kid found his way back to him at the end of the day, so he was a little surprised when he woke up to find the only thing in his lap was your legs.

Din's head lolled to the side again, allowing him a moment while you slept to study the woman sprawled across the couch.

You were… different - in a good way - but different. For someone who had allegedly never met an alien before, you were handling yourself remarkably well. Aq Vetina had also been a primitive planet. Before the droids and the Mandalorians came, he'd never interacted with someone from another world. Now that he was more experienced, at first glance, he would assume someone like you - someone with delicate curves and naturally beautiful features wasn't used to hard work. Then he began noticing the little things: Your hands may be soft, but they had calluses and a firm grip that told of the manual labor you'd grown accustomed to over time. Then there was your occupation, a healer, a difficult, noble job that he had an immense respect for - especially as a bounty hunter.

Physical attributes and occupation aside, you were easy to talk to. Even when you thought he was out of his mind or mentally disturbed, you still heard him out and treated him with respect. Even when he was a man of few words, you seemed able to read between the lines, figuring out what he was getting at when he sometimes couldn't even find the point he was trying to make. You listened to him. He'd say you didn't make him feel crazy, but you did, to no fault of your own. If your roles were reversed, he wasn't sure he could have navigated your introduction to his world with as much grace as you showed him yours. Not to mention how you had no problem defending him at that karking Walmart when his own body began to fail him. Then there was your wit, which was perhaps his favorite quality. Your ability to banter with him, combined with kindness and the ability to know when to put your foot down, made you that much more interesting and complex. He didn't realize how much he appreciated that quality until you took that blaster bolt to your calf. Even then, you eventually found a way to smile.

His lips pursed at the memory of that karking Dark Trooper. 

Din's boots came to a halt in the middle of the field, mesmerized by the pink and orange sunset that seemed to set the land on fire. A fire similar to the one that flowed through his veins when you started describing the robot you'd found. He'd sprinted, faster than he had before in his life, ready to fight the damaged Dark Trooper to the death without a scrap of beskar. That was also the last time he would let Dorothy convince him that he didn't need at least one weapon on him wherever he went.

As if sensing his thoughts, your leg weakly kicked out in your sleep, striking him in the gut. Even in your sleep, you were chastising him over his weapons.

He rubbed his palm along the bandage covering your leg as another wave of guilt crashed over him.

Guilt for how scared you must have been when the droid shot your leg, especially after learning of your previous injury. Din risked a peek under the blanket to check on your injured leg. He was relieved to find the bandage clean and dry with no evidence of strike-through. In time, it would heal, but it still didn't ease his guilt that he'd allowed you to get injured in the first place. He'd been so wrapped up in the search for his helmet that he hadn't been paying attention, and now you had a new scar to add to the ones already marring your legs.

His eyes quickly flicked to your face, checking that you were still asleep before he allowed a calloused fingertip to gently trace the old scar that tracked down the outside of your leg. You may be a healer, but he shuddered to think what kind of primitive care you'd endured that earned you such barbaric scars. His finger traced over the bandage, following the invisible scar beneath it until he reached the end, then he let his hand return to its resting place over your ankle.

Like everything else about you, your skin was unbelievably soft. He'd had the same thought last night before he realized what you must think of someone like him, a bounty hunter - a killer - holding your leg in hands that have killed. He hadn't meant to touch you, but he'd been drawn to the scars, surprised to find something like that on someone like you. Those were the kind of scars that he had. Those weren't supposed to be adorning the warm, soft skin of a healer.

Din continued to stare at you while you slept as a new slew of confusing feelings entered his thoughts, only adding to the others haunting him.

The gravel road that ran past the house crunched, pulling him from any more thoughts of the warm, soft skin in his lap, and his head snapped to attention.

Carefully, Din eased himself off the couch, doing his best not to disturb your sleep as he lowered your legs until they lay where he'd been sitting. When he heard the even steps of someone walking toward the house, he took one final moment to ensure the blanket was tucked snugly around you and the kid before slipping his vibroblade from under his cushion. This was the last time he would ever let you go to bed or leave your home without locking the karking door.

The growing list of lasts he had begun compiling in his mind didn't escape him either.

As he rounded the corner, he shifted his dagger to his left hand and flipped it so the blade was tucked against his wrist while keeping the hilt in his palm.

An older, plump, gray-haired man wearing blue coveralls that covered his arms and legs came up the porch steps as he entered the hallway. Din narrowed his eyes at the intruder before recognizing him as Dorothy's mechanic, who'd stopped by to look at her truck yesterday.

The mechanic adjusted the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose as he climbed the last step, then finally looked up and came to a halt when he saw Din looming on the other side of the screen door. It only took the older man a moment of confusion before he relaxed and raised his hand in greeting.

"You must be the new farmhand," he began with a friendly smile. "Howdy!"

Din's jaw twitched. Was everyone on this planet so gullible as to accept that there was a stranger in their friend's home? Or that friend leaving her karking door open for anyone to waltz in?

The man's smile faltered when Din brought his left hand to rest on the wooden door, discreetly hiding the vibroblade from the other man's view.

"Oh, shoot," the mechanic scoffed. "Forgot she said ya don't have papers," he said by way of apology, as if that explained who he was or what he was doing at Dorothy's home. "MY," the gray-haired man began yelling through the screen. "NAME. IS. RICK." Din's brows rose higher with each word the man shouted while he patted his chest. The older mechanic attempted to enunciate each word slowly, unnecessarily dragging out the few syllables he yelled at him. Loudly. "I'M. HERE. TO -"

"Rick?" your rough, sleep-filled voice called from the next room over, saving him from further subjection to the mechanic's shouted introduction.

Din only took his eyes off the older man long enough to check on you when you stumbled blearily toward the hall. In your half-awake confusion, you seemed to realize that he was looking at the bandage wrapped around your calf and turned back at the last minute to grab the other green blanket from the pile on the chair to wrap around your body, hiding your injury, before you joined Din in the hall.

"Rick? Hey," you croaked, rubbing sleep from your eyes. After you greeted the other man, your eyes slid to him, but you did a double take when you caught sight of the vibroblade he had hidden behind the door. With a subtle, displeased look and an elbow to his ribs, you returned your attention to your guest.

"Hey, sweetheart," the man, Rick, greeted you with a bright, friendly smile. "I was just introducing myself to your new farmhand."

"Yeah, I heard," you yawned out, covering your face with the green blanket. "I think the neighbors three miles down heard you, too," you grumbled, giving the older man a pointed look as you opened the screen door for him to come inside. "He speaks English. He can understand you just fine. Rick, Din - Din, this is Rick. He's the one who came out to look at the truck yesterday. He and his wife are like family to us."

With Dorothy's eyes narrowing at him, Din tucked his weapon under the waistband of his sleep pants before offering his right hand to the mechanic. "Nice to meet you," he greeted with a nod, giving the other man a firm shake.

He caught a flash of what seemed like surprise in your eyes during the interaction. For whatever reason, you seemed to think he had no manners or couldn't hold a civil conversation.

Then again, you ended up staring down the end of his blaster when he woke up on your couch his first day here, so perhaps your views of his interpersonal skills weren't entirely unfounded.

"Oh, nice to meet ya, son!" came Rick's enthusiastic words as he eagerly returned Din's handshake. "Sorry 'bout earlier. We get all types looking for cash jobs 'round here. That's what I get for assumin'. I didn't mean to offend." Din waved him off, making Rick breathe out a sigh of relief that he hadn't insulted Dorothy's new 'farmhand'. "I was relieved to hear you're helping out the girls for a bit. They've been tryin' to manage on their own, but -"

"But," you interjected, tossing a tired, warning look at the old man, "they have been managing by themselves just fine."

Din's eyes flickered between you and Rick, attempting to figure out what had prompted the defensive response. As if sensing his eyes on you, Din quirked a curious brow, silently asking for an explanation when you caught him staring. However, it seemed his silent question would go unanswered for the time being.

"Coffee?" you offered Rick with another stifled yawn.

"No, thank ya, sweetheart, already at my limit for the mornin'. I just came to drop Rita's car off before I start on my honey-do list from the boss," he explained as he passed you a metal ring with a plastic fob and what appeared to be some type of metal and plastic key. "Now, it's got a full tank of gas, and don't worry about toppin' it off before you bring it back. Rita told me to tell ya that if one of those berry pies you made for Thanksgiving last year comes back with the car when you're done, we'll call it even," he finished with a wink.

Din watched as your face melted into a thankful smile and moved to wrap your arms around the mechanic in a tight hug. "I'm sure that can be arranged," you murmured, still clinging to the man. "I don't know what I would do without you and Rita. Cassie gets back into town next weekend. I'll get it back to you then."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. We're just glad we could help ya out," he replied, giving a couple of fatherly pats to your back before the hug disbanded. "Now, for you, Din, was it?" Rick continued, turning his attention to Din. "The girls under this roof are family to me, so if I hear any bad reports, you'll have me to deal with." Din smirked when he caught you rolling your eyes at the man's overprotective comment. It would seem that your balking at being cared for wasn't unique to just him. When Rick motioned for Din to lean in closer, Din's brow furrowed in confusion before he leaned closer to the man. The man was only an inch shorter than he was, and when Din got close enough, Rick whispered, "But between you and me, the three of 'em get to be a handful sometimes, so come find me if you need some peace and quiet or you have any questions about how the place operates."

At Rick's words, Din smirked, and you rolled your eyes again as you began waving Rick towards the door. "Alright, alright," you grumbled, shooting Rick an annoyed look. "Thank you for dropping the car off at six forty in the morning," came your flat, pointed comment, followed by another yawn. "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out."

Rick tossed you another teasing wink before he shook Din's hand again and departed.

"He seems friendly," Din commented once the man was down the porch steps and out of earshot.

"Which is precisely why we don't greet people at the door with weapons," you snarked, eying the blade tucked into Din's side.

Din turned his pointed gaze to you. "You left the front door to your home wide open."

You gave a sleepy blink before asking, "Yeah?"

"All night."

Another blink. "Yeah?"

With an exasperated sigh, Din explained, "It could have been anyone knocking on your door!"

"The keyword there is knocking, Spaceman," you pointed out with another yawn. "I don't know of many intruders who announce themselves by knocking on the unlocked screen door before letting themselves inside." Din's glower only prompted you to roll your eyes rather than come up with a better defense. "I told you, the house is over half a mile from the main road, no one comes up this way unless they have a reason."

A thousand reasons ran through his head, each more nefarious than the one before. However, even when you were still half asleep, you had that determined look in your eyes, and he knew you had a whole line of excuses ready to go.

Din shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh, begrudgingly accepting he wasn't going to win this argument. Yet, he added to himself, because he was determined to help you make it a habit to ensure your house was locked and secured before he and Grogu returned to where they belonged. When his eyes landed on your leg, he asked, "How's your leg?"

"A little sore," you shrugged. "Kinda itches, but that's a good thing. I think it should be tough enough to go back to work on Monday."

"And today is?"

"Saturday," you yawned.

Din's eyes stared at you as he processed that before asking, "How many days until Monday?"

"Saturday, Sunday, and then Monday," you explained with an amused smile. "Saturday and Sunday are what we call the weekend, and Monday through Friday is considered a normal work week."

Din frowned as he put the pieces together. "So you've only got two days before you go back to your job?"

"Yup."

Stubborn woman. The Dark Trooper may have only grazed you, but your wound was deep enough that Din knew from personal experience that unless you stayed off of it, or cauterized it, the stickers you seemed so fond of wouldn't be enough on their own to heal it in only two days.

What he wouldn't give to get his medpac from the Crest and introduce you to Bacta.

Instead, Din did the only logical thing.

At your answer, Din shook his head, and before you could give another slow, sleepy blink, he had you cradled in his arms, blanket and all. You rolled your eyes, but the slight blush on your cheeks brought back the confusing feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort to the forefront of his mind as he carried you into the kitchen.

"You shouldn't be on your feet," he started, talking over you before you could fully form your objections.

You let out a soft sigh as Din lowered you into your chair at the table. "As much as I appreciate you being my pack mule, it's really unnecessary." You tried to free Din from his chivalry, but he ignored your words and instead propped your leg up in an empty chair. "Really," you tried again, leaning forward to rest a hand on his forearm, stilling him with a tender touch. "I know that you feel obligated, but I'm a big girl. This is not my first time getting around with only one leg. I've got some crutches stashed in the garage I can use. Besides, I'm gonna have to get started on chores -"

"You mean your farmhand is gonna have to get started on chores," Din reminded you with a pointed look as he gently pried your hand from his arm. As if his thumb had a mind of its own, it swiped across your knuckles, deepening the pink blush on your cheeks and eliciting an embarrassed flush up his neck before he let go of your hand. "How do you make caf?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to shove his embarrassment aside as he turned from the table.

Your silence was deafening in the quiet kitchen as he approached the machine you'd used to make caf yesterday, and pretended to study the glass carafe intently, kicking himself for being so bold as to hold your hand like that. You were a healer. He was a killer. You were probably revolted by even the thought of him touching you - by him helping you.

Those blissful feelings of warmth, safety, and comfort he'd awakened to this morning were slipping with each passing second of your silence.

"Din," you called for him, voice quiet, maybe even slightly nervous. Din braced himself for whatever you were about to say, knowing that it must be serious for you to use his name instead of calling him Spaceman. "Thank you," you whispered, making him turn to give you a surprised look over his shoulder. "For taking care of me last night. It's hard for me to accept help, even from people close to me. After my car accident, my family kinda… imploded," you began, eyes taking on a haunted look. "If I hadn't stepped up, we would have lost the farm. No one, except for Cassie, Rick, and Rita, thought I could do it. A lot of people in town turned their backs on me when I came home after my accident. It was like the whole town was watching - waiting for me to fail… It's been a little over ten years of pulling myself up by my bootstraps and proving myself to people who wrote me off. My therapist once pointed out that I use that as a shield, and that asking for help isn't admitting failure… So, thank you."

Suddenly, Dorothy's irritation over Rick's earlier comment started to make a little more sense.

"I guess it's nice to know that there are still good guys out in the world - or galaxy, I guess," you paused to let out a subdued, breathy laugh. "I am appreciative of your help," another pause as you held his gaze, "but I really am capable of handling myself."

Din watched as you seemed to shrink into yourself at your admission, looking embarrassed after bearing something so obviously personal to you. He wouldn't prod you for more, not when you already looked so small and vulnerable after your brief explanation. Instead, he found himself wanting to know the names of every person who had turned their back on someone like you - someone who didn't hesitate to run into danger to save the stranger who destroyed your vehicle - someone who had returned the feeling of warmth, safety, and comfort to him for the first time in his life since becoming a Mandalorian. No, instead, Din Djarin found himself wanting to track down each of those people who abandoned you during your time of need, tie them upside down by their feet, and use their bodies as a punching bag.

"Never mind," you muttered in his silence, shaking your head in embarrassment. "Forget I -"

"Dorothy," Din called, turning to give you his full attention. He leaned back against the counter, bracing his hands on the worn surface to fix you with a knowing look.

Because without a helmet, he could do that now.

The thought chipped away at him, but when your nervous eyes met his, he took a deep breath through his nose and shoved it aside for the time being.

"I never said you weren't capable," he began lowly, locking his eyes on your wary ones. He stopped himself before he could continue. He wasn't good at this - The uplifting speech filled with flattery and words of encouragement. That wasn't something he received much of in his formative years, so it wasn't a skill he'd fully developed. However, now that he was looking into your eyes, noting how they had lost a little of their spark after speaking about your accident and the subsequent fallout, he wished he could pluck the right words from the air to bring you the same kind of warmth, safety, and comfort you'd allowed him to feel. But those words didn't magically come to him, so he said the only thing that came to mind, hoping it would land the way he'd envisioned it. "In fact, for someone so primitive, I bet you are the most capable, confident person on this entire backwater skughole."

There, in the bright morning light coming in through the kitchen window over the sink, Din let himself relax when he saw that spark return to your eyes. The immediate snort of amusement you let out brought a smile to Din's face. 

"I'm like, the only person you've met," you scoffed, unable to hide the mirth in your voice.

"Not true," he defended. "You took me to that Walmart place yesterday," he reminded you, smirking when that elicited an eye roll. "Compared to that, I'm surprised that you're not a planet leader of some sort."

"Glad to see that your bar is set low," you chuckled, shaking your head.

"No, Dorothy," he stopped you, shaking his head. When you lifted a skeptical eyebrow, he let his smirk transform into a warm, thankful smile. "You just set the bar too high."

Waves of confusion, anger, and laughter battled his newfound feelings of warmth, comfort, and peace for the rest of the day, in no particular order.

Din grunted as he dug the metal mouth of the rudimentary tool - post-hole digger, you'd called it - into the ground. The leather work gloves you found in your garage were slightly too big for even his hands, and his fingers slipped from sweat as he gripped the wooden handles and brought them together, allowing the metal mouth to take a bite of the red-brown dirt. Releasing a tired breath, Din brought the post-hole digger out of the hole he had been working on and deposited the clump of dirt onto the small pile before he drove the tool into the ground and leaned on one handle while his other hand wiped the sweat from his brow.

His brief reprieve of warmth, safety, and comfort from earlier evaporated after the two of you finished two cups of caf a piece, and his new title of farmhand, which he had accepted, reared its ugly head.

It would seem that while you were thankful for his help, you had no idea how to actually let him help. You'd insisted on trudging after him with those kriffing crutches up the gravel road, rapid-firing through your daily routine without taking a breath or allowing for any questions.

Din tried to retain all the information, but between listening to your instructions, keeping an eye on the kid, and keeping an eye on you after you almost toppled over when your right crutch landed on a large rock, it was hard to focus. 

Not to mention the clothes. He felt like he was wearing someone else's skin. He was used to the layers, the heavy beskar and weapons restricting his movements. Now, wearing only the thin white shirt he'd slept in last night and a pair of trousers (jeans, you kept correcting him), he felt utterly exposed. However, he did applaud your choice of boots. They were thick, durable, and had plenty of ankle support. The rest of what you considered appropriate work attire was questionable, but the boots made up for it.

Despite your almost falling three times because your crutches slipped or got stuck in the clay-like dirt that was still damp from the recent storm, and Din accidentally locking Grogu up in the chicken coop after he followed your directions on how to clean it and collect the eggs from their nests, he completed the morning chores unscathed. 

Well, almost unscathed.

When they first reached the barn at the end of the gravel road, he took one look at the enormous black menace inspecting the same mud puddle he rolled in yesterday, and Din decided to leave the horses for last. The pain in his ass had been just as stubborn for him yesterday evening as its owner was when he tried to take care of his wound. As if sensing Din's presence, Jackass looked up from the mud puddle beside the barn he was staring at, let out a huff, then returned to pawing at the ball in the mud.

Once the chickens were taken care of and Grogu was freed from their coop, Din reluctantly entered the horse pen, attached to the barn with you and your crutches on his heels. The second the gate was closed, Din stopped, picked you up under your armpits, and plopped you down onto a large block of straw while you carried on, rattling off instructions without missing a beat.

It was hard but simple work. Mucking the stalls and filling them with fresh straw, hay, and water buckets. You suggested saving their special breakfast of alfalfa mixed with other pellets for last to entice them back into the barn.

However, it seemed Jack was the only one of the three who might need to be enticed. As if sensing their breakfast was near, the other two horses meandered in from the pasture to the pen, stopping to inspect their owner and the small green child in your lap.

Your other two horses were also large and, at first glance, appeared much gentler than their black counterpart. They both had mostly chestnut coats, with the larger male being slightly darker, while the female's coat had more red tones, and both had the same black manes, white blazes, and extra-hairy white legs near their hooves.

After he finished mucking the stalls, Din left the barn to empty and refill the water barrel in the pen. The smaller female came to inspect him, sniffing his head and shoulders while he filled the barrel. When Din lifted a cautious hand, the gentle mare instantly brought her muzzle to his palm and let him stroke her white blaze.

"That's Bonnie," you said, holding Grogu in your hands so he could pet the other horse still hovering by you. "And this is Clyde. Bonnie is about as sweet as they come. Actually, they both are, but I don't think Bonnie has ever met a stranger. They were my dad's original Clydesdales. Lord, they have to be almost as old as I am now. Back in the day, they would pull around that old-time buggy, that's broken down beside the barn, for special events - parades, and whatnot."

Din tensed when he watched Grogu stick his tiny hands directly into Clyde's nostrils and grip them tightly while he squealed. When you made no motion to stop Grogu, Din watched as the massive horse stood there, seemingly resigned to accept his fate of being tormented by the ornery toddler.

"Alright," came your quiet chuckle as you pulled Grogu and his hands away from Clyde's snout. "Give grandpa here a break."

And then all heads, including Bonnie and Clyde's, turned to watch the muddied, black Sir Jackass enter the pen.

Din swore the other two horses let out heavy sighs at the sight of their younger, obnoxious brother. Even Bonnie, the one you claimed was as sweet as they came, shook her head at Jack and sauntered away to the other side of the pen.

He hadn't realized how much larger Jack was compared to the other two until he walked past you and Clyde, completely eclipsing the other male as he made his way to where Din was still holding the hose to fill their water barrel.

"Jack," you drawled from your spot with your legs dangling over the block of straw. "Make good choices."

Din lifted a skeptical brow at the wild glint in Jack's black eyes as he approached.

Before Din could say a word, or offer a hand to greet the meddlesome horse, Jack snatched the hose right out of his hands.

"Jack!" you tried to scold, but it was too late.

Sir Jackass took the opportunity to wildly shake the hose around, dousing Din in his new clothes in the cold water.

"You karking mudscuffer!" Din growled, ignoring the giggles from your corner of the pen as he snatched the hose back.

As if the massive creature were laughing at him, Jack lifted his head high into the sky, lips smacking in amusement, before bringing his snout into the barrel, only to start sloshing water wildly from the steel container.

Your giggles turned into vicious cackles, undercut by the kid's amused squeals at his current predicament.

Thanks to Jack's antics, Din was now completely soaked. Hair flat against his head, white shirt and blue trousers drenched and clinging to his skin. Even his socks were wet through his boots.

Din's teeth ground as he squared his shoulders at the obnoxious creature. He wasn't about to let your horse think he could walk all over him. If he was gonna be your farmhand, he was gonna have to put his foot down. He had tamed a Blurrg before, so by the Maker, he was going to earn your horse's respect. However, Jack wasn't a wild creature. For all intents and purposes, he was already tamed. Din just needed to earn the stubborn creature's respect.

So he did the only thing he could think of to fight back. To fight fire with fire… So to speak.

With the hose back in his hand, he partially covered the nozzle with his thumb, building up the water pressure until it was intense enough to take aim. Din lifted the hose and aimed it at Jack's shoulder, taking him by surprise. For such a large creature, he let out a rather pathetic-sounding whinny, making Din smirk as he kept aiming the sharp jet of water at the horse while Jack tried to walk away. When he bumped into Clyde, the older horse kicked his back leg at Jack's hindquarters, giving him a subtle warning that made Jack instantly quiet down.

"Alright, alright, boys," you laughed. Din gave Jack a triumphant smirk as he returned the hose to the steel barrel to finish filling it up. "Grandpa has spoken, Buddy," you said, giving Jack a knowing look as you stroked Clyde's cheeks. "If you don't behave, Clyde's gonna wallup ya one. And after your little display, you'll be lucky if Din's gonna give you breakfast," you threatened the black menace, making him huff and look away from you.

However, Clyde wasn't done, because the older draft horse trotted after his younger, larger brother until he herded him to the opposite corner of the pen. Then, the elder stayed in the middle, between Jack and the humans, as if he were their own personal sentry.

In a very matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone, Din announced, "Clyde's my favorite."

When he turned to look at you, he glowered at your pursed lips as you got your first full glimpse of his completely soaked wardrobe. A snort escaped you, and you quickly brought a hand to cover your mouth and nose. Din rolled his eyes at your failed attempts to smother your amusement. Not even a second later, you dissolved into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Try as he might, he couldn't help his own smile that crept across his face.

The memory still brought a quirk to his lips, especially when he decided he had had enough of your cackling at his expense and directed the hose at you and Grogu, careful only to do a short burst to avoid getting your bandage wet.

As punishment for getting your shirt wet, you had forced him to stay behind while you took the borrowed car to get the groceries.

Well, Din told himself you had forced him to stay behind, but he suspected you had picked up on how he bristled at the thought of returning to Walmart, and that you had only said that to make him feel better. He tried to argue, willing to make another attempt so you wouldn't have to walk around the large, sprawling store with your crutches, but you held up your phone. 

"No walking required," you explained, making him confused. "Already put the order in on my phone. They bring it to the car and everything. I'll be gone an hour tops. In the meantime, you can work on digging some post holes for my fence while you're drying out." In your next breath, you had conjured a primitive contraption made of wood and metal, a shovel, and a large pair of leather gloves.

Din looked down the gravel drive, hoping to catch your vehicle returning, but nothing, save for the sounds of birds, crickets, and chickens clucking, could be heard. When one of those clucks turned into a high-pitched scream, Din sighed and turned his attention to the coop to find Grogu clutching a small white chicken with a long neck and so many feathers on the top of its head that you couldn't see its eyes.

"Grogu," he snapped, tilting his head to level a look at the toddler who was clutching the white chicken in a death hug against his chest. "Be nice to Dorothy's chickens, or they won't lay the eggs that make your omelets in the morning."

Grogu hesitated for a moment before releasing the poor bird from his clutches with a series of mumbled, unintelligible noises.

Din shook his head and looked up at the sky. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, and there were only a few small, random white, fluffy clouds that offered no relief from its rays. At least he'd had enough time to dry out, only for the sweat he'd worked up while digging post holes for your fence to cling to his skin and shirt instead. With a grunt, he gripped the wooden handles of the post-hole digger and yanked the metal mouth from the ground to finish the hole he was working on.

A small stretch of the white wooden fence that ran the length of the space between the gravel road and the field directly across from your house had been damaged by the winds of the storm that brought them here.

He accepted the task with a solemn nod.

This was something he could do. This was something he could fix.

Din grunted as he drove the metal end of the tool into the dirt.

He didn't know where his helmet was.

Grunt.

He didn't know how they got here.

Grunt.

Which meant he didn't even know where to start looking for how to get back.

Grunt.

And even if he did know how to get back to Tython, there was no way he could leave without his helmet, even if he could never wear it again, even if he could never call himself a Mandalorian again. That helmet was his.

Stars, that helmet wasn't just his; it was who he was. It was his whole identity.

A frustrated growl ripped from him as he angrily speared the dirt again. Din sucked in a ragged breath through clenched teeth, telling himself his eyes were burning from sweat, not tears.

He stopped, leaning against the wooden handles, when he felt a gentle touch on his calf. Din closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep grounding breath through his nose. Once he felt a fraction calmer, he opened his eyes and found Grogu clinging to the rough denim of his pant leg, looking up at him with his large, concerned eyes.

"Hey, kiddo," he murmured as he crouched closer to the womp rat, removing his leather gloves before gently rubbing the top of Grogu's head. "You doin' okay? Any magic powers yet?" he asked, wiggling his fingers at the kid. 

Grogu cooed, latched onto his fingers, and tugged at them. Din smiled at the silent request as he scooped the kid up and stood back up. Grogu stared intently at his face and, as if sensing the ache in Din's chest, reached out to gently rest his hands on either side of his jaw.

Din smirked at the feel of the kid's tiny, clawed hands in his growing scruff, letting his head move back and forth, tickling Grogu's green palms with his prickly facial hair. Grogu gave him a big, toothy grin as he let his talons scratch through his scruff.

"Pretty funny looking, huh, kid?" Din said with a half-smile. Grogu blinked and tilted his head at his words before grabbing onto his nose. "Thanks for pointing that out," he grumbled, shaking his nose from the kid's grip. When Grogu's quiet giggles floated around him, Din couldn't help but smile - a real smile - one that managed to break through the heavy weight of his anger.

The kid's powers may not have returned yet, but it felt like magic when Grogu pulled a smile from him.

Grogu's ears perked a fraction of a second before the sound of tires on gravel reached his own ears, and Din tucked the kid against his chest as he watched you drive the borrowed vehicle up to your front porch.

"C'mon, kid," Din murmured, holding him tighter against his chest as he started to walk back to the farmhouse.

Grogu cooed and pointed at you as you slid out of the black vehicle, looking back at Din to make sure his guardian saw you too.

"Y'all finish with the holes already, or are ya just slackin' off?" you teased in greeting, giving him a quick wink.

Din opened his mouth to reply, but immediately snapped it shut when he saw what you were wearing. He knew you had changed so you weren't wearing wet clothes on your trip, but you had already been loaded up in the car before he waved you off.

Those confusing feelings he felt this morning came rushing back.

And Din thought that seeing you in your shorts last night was too much… There was no point in denying you were beautiful. He could recognize that even when he was concussed. However, he'd immediately stalled when he opened the privy door last night and was greeted by the sight of you and the expanse of skin before him. Not just beautiful, but effortlessly beautiful. Even with your hair wet, and skin flushed from the hot water of your shower. But now…

Now you were wearing a pair of tight black pants that clung to you like a second set of skin. The tight fabric didn't look particularly sturdy, but accentuated the swell of your hips and every curve, leaving nothing to his imagination. Your top was bright orange and flowed in the breeze, but the neckline plunged just enough to catch a glimpse of plush - 

"Give me a hand?" you called, smiling at him as you opened the back hatch.

Grogu struck his jaw, letting out a quiet raspberry from his arms, and Din's mind rebooted. He cleared his throat and shot the kid a glare, quietly telling him to shut it as they approached.

Stars help him.

Din gulped, grimacing as his throat burned. What the karking hell was wrong with him? He was acting like a teenager who'd never seen a woman's body before. It's not even like you had stepped out of your vehicle naked - which was another thought that he immediately banished.

Din Djarin, the bounty hunter, had seen almost everything. He'd tracked quarries down in brothels. He once used a courtesan as an informant while hunting down a disgraced government official. Hell, one of his quarries a few years back gave him a strip show and flung her naked body into his lap, hoping that she could buy her freedom with her body. Then there was the disastrous incident with Xi'an… Din shuddered, not wanting to think about her or that. Ever.

However, it would seem that Din Djarin, the regular ole human, was stunned speechless by a low-cut blouse and a pair of skin-tight pants.

He blushed at the thought, missing his helmet and armor that much more. If he were wearing his normal attire, at least you wouldn't have been able to tell he was gawking at your figure or see his embarrassment so clearly on his face.

"Hey, you okay?" you questioned, concern dripping from your eyes as you studied him. "You look a bit flushed. Are you feeling okay?" you asked as you brought a hand up to his forehead. "I should have made sure you had plenty of water before I left. You've been out in the sun too long. Hopefully, you're not dehydrated or coming down with something -"

"I'm fine!" he all but yelped, stepping away from your hand on his face. He cleared his throat when you shared a look with Grogu, then returned your concerned gaze to his face. "Sorry," he mumbled, lowering his gaze to the ground as he tried to regain control of his body. "Was just thinking about my helmet." Not quite a lie, but not exactly the truth. However, his words seemed to have their intended effect.

When he finally risked a look up, your eyes softened, and you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "Help me bring the bags inside and put some stuff away, and then we can take another look," you offered. Din immediately went to work, placing the kid on his shoulder before grabbing as many plastic bags as he could hold. "I still say we keep our search closer to the house and barn," you continued, grabbing the last two bags he couldn't hold or string on his forearms. "I was somewhere between the two when you landed, and if it's not in the field, then it has to be over here somewhere."

Din gave a grim smile, but nodded as he followed you inside. Grogu's fingers clutched his hair as he climbed the porch stairs, and even gave the curls a playful tug. Although he supposed that his hair would be something new for the kid to fixate on, considering he'd never had the opportunity to see them up close and personal until now. He walked slowly, noting that you were walking slightly better, already able to handle more weight on your injured leg than you should.

"The radio was saying that we might have a chance of storms this evening," you carried on, filling the silence as the two of you reached the kitchen.

Din hummed as he deposited his bags on the table in the middle of the kitchen. "Sit," he ordered, taking the two bags you were carrying. "Might as well learn where things go," he pointed out, smirking when you gave in and sank into your seat with a glare. "And I doubt it will do anything. There are only three clouds in the sky."

You scoffed and propped your legs up on the seat beside you, shaking your head as you said, "Yeah, but that means that if it does storm, it's gonna be bad." At his skeptical look, you responded with, "Trust me."

Din just shrugged and held up the first bag.

"Fridge," you ordered, pointing to the stainless steel cooler with double doors. "No, that's the freezer," you corrected when he opened the left door first. Din nodded, opening the correct door this time. "All of those can go in the very bottom drawer along with… this bag," you explained.

The two of you carried on like that, bag by bag, you passing him the next while Grogu supervised from his perch on his left shoulder as Din shuffled back and forth between the table, the cooler (fridge, you corrected), and the pantry. Bag by bag, Din put away vaguely familiar food: onions, potatoes, apples, bananas, learning where every item belonged. Naturally, the kid instantly recognized the yellow package that you explained was cookies, and almost toppled off his shoulder trying to reach for it.

His mouth watered at all the real food, the kind you have to cook with other ingredients to make it edible. Not the ration packs, dehydrated meals, and protein bars he normally stocked on the Crest. After Grogu accepted that there would be no cookies yet, he stopped tugging at his hair and watched intently as Din placed each item away.

When Din turned back to the table, there was one bag left, but your focus was directed at your small comm device.

"Everything okay?" he asked, noting your frown and furrowed brows.

You sighed and placed the device on the table to rub at your temples. "I texted Cassie before we headed to the barn this morning, and then tried to call her on the way to the store when she hadn't replied, but it went straight to voicemail. For someone who was prepared to call the National Guard on me when it took me a little bit to get back with her because someone," you paused to glare at him, "shot my old phone, she has apparently decided that the same rules don't apply to her."

"Maybe she's busy with her mother," Din suggested with a shrug.

"Yeah, that's what concerns me," you grumbled. At Din's head tilt, you explained, "Let's just say that our parental trauma runs deep." Din frowned at your vague explanation, but you were already moving on before he could prompt you for more information. "I just wanted to open the discussion about my new farmhand," you sighed, waving your hand in his direction. "I feel like I'm lying to my best friend because I haven't told her about you yet."

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't… but… He didn't like it when there wasn't a smile on your face.

"So I guess the sexy weirdo you told her stayed with you was someone else?"

Din contained his smile until after your cheeks flamed red. That embarrassed look, the way you paused as you went blank when he called you out on something, filled him with warmth.

"Yeah," you finally shot back, smirking up at him from your chair. "That guy wasn't a dick."

Din snorted and reached for the last bag, but you waved him off. 

"It's okay, I've got this one."

Din sighed and reached for the bag again, but you pushed it out of his reach.

"Really, you don't have to."

"I didn't have to put away anything, but I offered," he countered, giving you an expectant look. "It's the last bag, and there's just one box in there. Just tell me where it goes."

You stared him down for a beat before you shrugged. "Fine. That one goes in the cabinet under the sink of the upstairs bathroom."

"Bathroom?" he snarled, pulling the box from the bag and looking at the unfamiliar words staring back at him. What food could you possibly be keeping in the privy?

"They're called tampons," you explained with a snort, mouth breaking into a wide smile. "Or do women not menstruate in your neck of the galaxy?"

Oh.

Din's face paled when he realized the purpose of the items in his hands. In his surprise, the box slipped from his hand and landed on the kitchen table with a loud thud that was hardly heard over your laughter.

"Oh, Spaceman," you wheezed, trying to regain control of your hysterical laughter. "Sorry - Your face!"

Din heaved a sigh, tamping down his embarrassment, before snatching the box back off the table. "Bottom cabinet, upstairs bathroom," he grumbled, doing an about-face and stalking toward the stairs, shaking his head as your laughter bubbled higher.

"Grogu," Din sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. When the kid chirped, he turned his head to look at the child perched on his left shoulder. "Tell me it's okay to go find someone else, anyone else, from Earth to help us."

The angry raspberry was all Din needed to hear before he released another sigh and continued his trudge to the bathroom.

After a quick sandwich and water bottles in hand, the three of you headed back out into the warm, humid afternoon.

It had taken him five whole minutes before he noticed you'd conveniently left your crutches behind. Din turned around, but you stopped him from retrieving them by grabbing his wrist.

"Look, I've barely been limping. I swear it feels okay!" you promised, clutching his wrist in your hand to prevent him from going back to your home for the crutches. "It's only going to slow us down. Besides, if it starts to hurt, I promise to use you as a crutch."

Din's annoyed glower melted into something softer - something uncomfortable - when you gave him a playful wink before giving his wrist a little tug as your thumb brushed across the sensitive skin along the underside.

Not to confuse uncomfortable with something bad, because there was not a single bad thought in his mind when your thumb continued to stroke the underside of his wrist. Uncomfortable in the sense that, one, he wasn't used to people caressing his bare skin, and, two, if he put on his bounty hunter lenses, Din Djarin was fairly certain you were flirting with him.

But you weren't trying to get out of a bounty. You'd made it clear that you didn't need him. In fact, you were trying to help him. Which made your behavior curious, because flirting with him wasn't going to get you anything. Unless you intended to set him off-kilter, in which case you succeeded. What other reason would you have for your behavior?

The moment seemed to end before he could analyze it further. 

You gave him a soft, embarrassed smile before you released his wrist and slipped a band from your wrist to tie your hair up, pulling it off your neck. "C'mon, now that we've checked under the porch, let's move to the vegetable garden."

That uncomfortable feeling flared when your hand dropped, leaving the skin where your grip was feeling cold at the loss of contact.

Your words from last night floated back to the forefront of his thoughts, taunting him with possibilities.

A break.

A chance.

A chance to be someone he hadn't been in a very long time.

A chance to be Din Djarin, the regular ole human, not Din Djarin the Mandalorian nor the bounty hunter.

A chance to learn who he would have been had he not lost his homeworld - had he not taken the Creed.

You hadn't removed his helmet in battle. He hadn't removed it for you. It was truly an unfortunate circumstance… 

Maybe… Maybe he should embrace this unexpected opportunity as you suggested. What if he allowed himself to succumb to his baser instincts? Could he? Could he allow himself to take this break - this chance - to enjoy himself? And once he returned to Tython with his helmet in place, no one would know…

His feet moved after you. Din wiped his palms on his jeans as he caught up to you again. You were watching Grogu toddle along the perimeter of your vegetable garden with a smile on your face.

No one would know.

A gust of wind made him stop before he reached you. His breath stilled in his chest as he watched the wind blow the tendrils of your hair across your face and your orange blouse. When you looked back at him, your smile was like a shock to the nervous system. With that smile, he let all of those chances he had started to consider blow away with the warm breeze.

And just like that, the confusing tides withdrew, leaving him clear-headed.

Because he would know.

"Hey," you called, quietly, mistaking the disappointed look on his face. "We're gonna find it. I promise."

Din nodded, forced a smile, and offered you his arm. The smile returned to your face, but for him, it was a double-edged sword.

He escorted you through your garden, listening as you explained what you were planning to plant and where this year. Lots of cucumbers for you to experiment with pickling recipes. Tomatoes, green beans, pumpkins, the list went on, and Din listened to every word as he pushed his confusing feelings aside.

The two of you walked arm in arm around the property nearest to your home. You searched the gardens, under the front and back porches, overturned buckets, planters, and tree branches as you went. Grogu insisted on walking the entire time, forcing you both to stop and wait for him to catch up. Anytime either of you tried to pick him up, he would squirm out of your arms until he was back on the ground.

"Let him have his fun," you said, bumping into his side. "I say we still have… oh… another couple of hours before the storm comes through?"

Din looked up at the bright yellow orb in the clear blue sky before returning skeptical eyes to you.

"I'm telling you. The bad leg doesn't lie."

"So metal detectors and predicting the weather," he teased.

"I'm a woman of many talents," you shrugged, unable to hold back your smile as you held your head high.

Din's deep chuckle brought a similar one bubbling up from your chest.

So what if his arm gripped yours a little tighter?

By the time you made it to the barn, Din's smile dropped at the sight of the looming black monstrosity grazing in the field.

"Now, now," you tutted, giving his arm a patronizing pat. "That's why we came prepared."

Din sighed and reluctantly released your arm to dig into his back pocket and pull out a clear plastic bag of sliced apples to show you he still had them, then slid them back in until the time came.

While the horses were in the field, you suggested taking advantage of the empty barn and searching here before moving to the pasture. Well, he searched the barn while you studied the hole in the barn roof.

"I didn't even see the hole in the wall," you pouted, pointing to the broken-out wooden pieces that led to the pasture. "What are the odds I could talk you into getting up on the roof and putting a tarp over the hole before it rains again?"

"Sure," he mumbled absently, poking a pitchfork into a bale of hay to see if his helmet was hiding in the depths of the bound, yellow straw, to no avail.

"I'm gonna go check out in the pasture for a little bit before we call it a day," you called as you exited through the back door of the barn with Grogu speedwalking on your heels. "I want to make sure we've got time to get the tarp up before it storms."

Once he was alone, Din jabbed the pitchfork into the hay and brought his hands up to cover his face.

What was he doing?

On this planet.

Thinking he could take a break.

Thinking about you in ways he shouldn't. Ways that would lead to attachment. Ways that he should not be thinking about someone he'd only known for a few days. Ways he shouldn't, knowing that once his helmet was back on his head, his break would be over, and he would be back amongst his lost stars, and the woman he met on Earth would be another character in the story of his life he would never see again.

Maybe his body was still adapting to this new planet. That would explain the tumultuous, confusing feelings plaguing him.

He'd already broken his Creed by losing his helmet. He didn't need any more sins hanging over his head. He didn't want to watch that spark leave your eyes when he told the kind, soft healer of his body count.

Din took a deep breath in through his nose and steeled himself.

He would find his helmet.

He would find a way back to Tython.

He would find Grogu a Jedi.

And then, once he fulfilled his vows, he would find his tribe's new covert and fall on his knees before the Armorer.

His calloused fingertips dug into his face as he pulled them down, and with one final breath, he squared his shoulders and followed the path you'd gone out the door into the field.

The bright afternoon sun hit his face the moment he stepped outside. He could hear you talking to Grogu around the corner, so he went the opposite direction, searching the other side of the barn for his helm. Not because he was avoiding you, because he wasn't. He was just broadening the search grid. It had nothing to do with wanting to avoid you or your smile. It had nothing to do with not allowing you to crack through his newly patched up, weak defenses with your beauty, humor, or the way those black, skin-tight leggings hugged your curves perfectly.

A soft, nearby huff pulled his attention from his distracted search, and he braced himself for the bane of his existence, only to relax immediately when he found Bonnie and Clyde munching on grass not far from him, watching him intently.

"Glad it's you two," he said, greeting them with an easy smile as he pulled his secret weapon from his back pocket. "Rather give these to you guys anyway."

Din cracked the seal on the bag open and offered an apple slice to each. Both of the large draft horses seemed to perk up at his offering and walked in sync to accept their treat. A quiet chuckle escaped him when their velvet mouths and whiskers tickled his palms as they each gently took their respective slices from his open palms.

"Patu."

Din turned his smile to the kid, watching him feed apple slices to Bonnie and Clyde from the other corner of the barn. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Needing no further invitation, Grogu shuffled across the concrete foundation, grunting every few steps until he reached his guardian.

Din stooped down to pick the child up and withdrew another apple slice from the bag before slipping the rest into his back pocket. "Gotta save the rest for -" A loud, excited whinny came from the other side of the barn, and four sets of eyes turned to watch Jack hoof at the mud puddle, splashing it everywhere before bolting in the opposite direction. "That," Din deadpanned, sharing another look with the two senior horses as he split the slice in two.

They were the perfect size for Grogu's palms, and Din nodded at the child to take them. For a brief moment, he half-expected the kid to eat them himself, but after a moment, Grogu apparently thought better of it and reached out his stubby arms to offer each senior a piece.

Clyde immediately leaned in to accept the sweet treat, but Bonnie seemed more interested in the green alien toddler in Din's arms than the red apple that the toddler was holding for her. Her large nostrils sniffed his head and ears as she inspected him, eliciting a shrill squeal of delight from Grogu when her whiskers tickled his cheek, before her mouth moved to take her portion from his clawed hand.

"C'mon," he said, reaching out to scratch Bonnie and Clyde between the eyes before carrying Grogu to the other side of the barn, where he assumed you were.

Grogu waved goodbye to the other horses before tucking himself against Din's chest and letting out a sleepy yawn.

"You're not getting tired already, are ya, kiddo?" he murmured, bringing his free hand to ruffle the kid's ears.

"Bah," the child grumbled as he tried to bat Din's hands away, only to giggle when Din moved his fingers to tease the kid's stomach.

However, Din's smile faded when he rounded the corner of the barn and found you.

Found you karking bent over to inspect something in the mud puddle, giving him the perfect view of your karking ass in those karking tights.

"Maker," he muttered under his breath, directing his gaze to the sky above him. "You're testing me, aren't you?" he asked no one. When none of the gods or the sun answered him, he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

Only before he could find his composure, he felt a puff of air against his cheek, not from the slice of the wind, which was starting to intensify as the afternoon progressed, but rather a warm, gentle puff of air from something living. With a disgruntled sigh, Din dropped his head and opened his eyes.

You were standing there, staring at him with that smirk you had right before you did something that annoyed him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the creature breathing on him.

"Jack," came his resigned greeting as he turned his head to acknowledge the newest pain in his ass.

"When you're done losing your macho man staring contest with my horse, come look at this."

Din's head whipped to shoot you a withering glare, but it only made you smile brighter. The kind of smile that could light up even the darkest rooms. The kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle in mischief and brought a healthy blush to your cheeks. The kind that made those confusing feelings he tried so hard to tamp down start to simmer under his skin.

That was the smile he would remember you by when it was time to leave.

"Not having a staring contest with your horse," he grumbled, turning to leave the sleek black behemoth behind and join you.

Jack let out a grating huff before trailing after him.

"Jackass is an appropriate name," Din said as he reached your side.

"Whoever had him before me named him Blackjack," you explained, keeping your eye on the barn. "But sixteen-year-old me just liked Jack. He earned the rest of his name himself."

"You don't say," Din deadpanned, pulling his attention from the hole in the side of your barn to level another glare at the horse in question after Jack nudged his hip with his large head.

The quirk of your lips was the only indication you gave that you heard his comment before you pointed at the hole in the wall. "I could see the hole in the roof from the house, but I guess I missed this one," you started, moving back to align yourself with the hole. "But if you look just right, it almost looks like something shot through the barn."

"Uh huh," Din mumbled, half-paying attention to you while trying to juggle a squirming toddler who had just spotted a frog and your horse, which kept nudging his hip.

"Almost like they are entrance and exit wounds."

"And?" he sighed, giving in and letting Grogu chase the frog so he could try to focus on what you were saying.

"He can smell the apples in your back pocket," you chuckled as you turned to look out across the mud puddle.

"Yeah, and if he gives me a second, I'll give him one," Din shot back, giving a pointed look at a horse.

He'd gone from his arch-nemesis being a Moff for the Empire to a karking horse.

Oh, how the once mighty Mandalorian had fallen.

Din turned from Jack to join you at the edge of the large mud puddle. He clocked Grogu running as fast as he could after the frog leaping away from him, and Din wondered how frustrated the child was that he didn't have his powers to help him.

"So," he breathed. "Entrance and exit wounds?" he asked, looking out over the mud.

The patch stretched from the barn to the perimeter fence, likely formed by the horses stomping out the grass in this area. The edges were drying, but just a step in was still a thick, viscous substance that looked as if it would pull you under if given the opportunity. The ball that had startled Jack yesterday evening was still stuck in the mud, its blue, red, and white patches barely visible through the brown mud caking it.

Another nudge at his hip pulled his attention from the mud to the demanding horse. Jack's complete attention was directed to the plastic bag containing his precious apple slices, which was poking out from his back pocket.

Din shook his head and returned his attention to you, noticing your eyes locked on the ball, studying it with a strange expression. "Dorothy?"

However, before you could explain anything, Sir Jackass decided he had waited long enough for his treat and knocked his large, blockhead against Din's back.

Hard.

Hard enough to send him crashing into you.

"Hey!" you screeched, while Din cursed as he tried to grab onto you to at least save one of you from the embarrassment of falling face-first into the mud.

Unfortunately, the two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, each trying to save yourselves, until you pulled just a touch too hard on his arm, knocking him off balance and sending you both toppling into the mud.

There was a moment of silence that settled over the outside, when even the wind died down, setting an ominous tone over the land.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" came the first sound breaking through the moment as your rage echoed around them.

Din was flat on his back, looking up at the blue sky. Judging by how far his body sank into it, he could now confirm that the puddle was deeper than he anticipated. Din's head rolled to his left in time to watch you prop yourself up with your elbows. Your face was a turbulent storm, attempting to settle on one emotion in particular, while you sat in the mud, and clumps fell from the back of your head, painting your right cheek and orange shirt.

"Unbelievable," you growled dangerously, glaring daggers at Jack.

Only when Din turned to send an equally dangerous glare at your horse did his glare falter upon seeing Grogu standing there as well. He had to blink because surely the kid wasn't holding what he thought he was.

The loud snap of the seal breaking on the clear plastic bag confirmed that the kid did, in fact, have what he thought he had. It would seem that, in the middle of the flurry, in the seconds before both of you crashed into the mud, Sir Jackass managed to snag the bag containing the apple slices Din was holding onto.

You both watched, too stunned to move, as Grogu took a bite of the slice, then offered what was left to Jack, who hovered eagerly over the toddler for his treat.

"That mudscuffer."

His head swiveled in sync with yours, and he shared a dumbfounded look with you. Your mouth hung open, too stunned to say anything.

Finally, a huff escaped you, followed by a low chuckle.

Din smiled, sharing in your quiet laughter, before you both broke.

You collapsed back beside him, your laughter leaving you breathless, while Din's laughter came out in weak wheezes until he realized he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Simultaneously, you both lifted your heads from the mud and watched Grogu munch on another apple slice, then passed what remained to Jack, sending you both into another hysterical fit.

Din struggled to catch his breath while you were already trying to sit up.

When you reached out to swat his shoulder, he laughed and batted your hand away. "Hey!"

"I can't believe you!"

"Me?!" he shot back, but relaxed when he saw no real anger in your eyes.

"All you had to do was give him a fucking apple!" you groaned, playfully shoving at his shoulder.

Din snatched your wrist before you could pull away. "I was going to!" he defended, his smile matching yours. "All your horse had to do was wait for another kriffing second, and I was gonna give him one!" At your scoff, he continued, "Actually, if you want to blame someone, you can blame yourself."

"Me?" you gasped, attempting to pull your hand back. Din kept his loose grip on your wrist. Firm enough to keep you from hitting him, but loose enough that you could easily pull it away if you really wanted to. "I'm not the one withholding treats from the one horse you were supposed to give the peace offering to! And I'm also not the one who sent us both into the biggest mud pit in the county!"

"You've turned that thing into a demanding, self-entitled monstrosity that thinks it can do whatever it wants!"

You let out a gasp and stretched your hand, the one with your wrist still in his grasp, until your fingers streaked mud across his cheek. "You take that back! That is my son!" you defended, using your free hand to point back at the black horse, watching you from the outskirts of the puddle beside Grogu. "He is my own flesh and blood!" Din rolled his eyes, which seemed only to spur you on. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Spaceman! I will remind you that he saved our lives last night!"

"I had it under control!" he defended with a low, rumbling chuckle as he watched you shift, pulling yourself up to your knees to tower over him.

"Just like you had it under control before you shoved me into the mud along with you?"

"I was attempting to save you! You karking insufferable, woman!" he laughed, shaking his head at you as you attempted to find purchase to stand up stubbornly.

"Insufferable?" you gasped, eyes as wide as your mouth.

Din saw your strike coming and let go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest to block the slap he correctly predicted.

You wobbled precariously once his hand left your wrist, no longer balancing you. "You're such a dick!" you shouted, but your words, combined with your laughter, sent you off balance.

Din watched helplessly as your foot slipped, sending your upper body lurching over his. Your hand shot out to stop yourself, but ended up landing on the ball, which slid across the mud, sending your body along with it. In an attempt to keep you from falling face-first into the mud again, Din grabbed your hips to keep you still. You slipped and fumbled for a second longer before you gave in and collapsed on top of him.

"That was all you, Dorothy."

At Din's chuckled accusation, you lifted your head from his chest to glare at him. "Oh, I'm gonna make you pay, Spaceman," you threatened, shifting to brace your hands on either side of his chest.

You began to lift yourself from him, but when Din's hands gripped your hips tighter, ready to help push you up, you froze.

Din was about to ask you what was wrong before he realized the very precarious, intimate position the two of you had found yourselves in.

Your legs were straddling his waist, while your torso hovered over his, with your lips precariously close to his.

Din's eyes locked on yours, and he was fairly certain that the next planet over heard the dry, nervous gulp he gave.

Your eyes were wide, likely with surprise or embarrassment at your position, but neither of you moved.

Din's eyes flicked to your lips, losing the battle to keep all those uncomfortable, confusing feelings at bay.

When you broke into a slow smile, he blinked in confusion as the playful spark in your eyes shifted to one of sadness.

"Dorothy?" he murmured, prepared for the fact that he was about to break the strange bubble surrounding you in that moment.

"The soccer ball was deflated," you whispered, giving him another sad smile.

"Huh?"

"Just remember that I was the first girl who told you that you had a nice smile."

Din frowned at that, but before he could ask any follow-up questions, he froze as your right hand lifted from his chest and closed the distance to his cheek. His eyes went wide as you tenderly cupped his jaw, and your thumb stroked through the coarse scruff there. Everything seemed to stop around them except for his traitorous heart pounding against his chest.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't blink, couldn't do anything as your thumb stroked the corner of his lips and found his head leaning into your palm, seemingly on its own accord, seeking your warmth.

And then the moment was over before it began.

"I want the full fashion show," you whispered as you pulled your hand from his face and sat up straighter.

Din sat there frozen in confusion, hands still on your hips as you twisted your upper body and reached somewhere to his right where the mud sank deeper.

"We couldn't see it with the mud, and because the soccer ball deflated and molded to it," you continued, grunting as you pulled something from the mud.

Din's breath caught in his chest for the second time in as many minutes when you brought the mud-encased object you pulled from the mud to hold before him. He was too stunned to move as he watched you study it for a moment, likely determining where the front was before bringing the hem of your shirt to it to wipe some of the mud away.

Din's heart nearly exploded right there when you spun it in your hands so he could get a better view.

There, in your hands, was his helmet. Mud coated most of the surface, except for the very front, where you tried to wipe the mud away, leaving brown streaks across the black, transparisteel T of his visor.

"I think this belongs to you."

With trembling hands, he released your hips and cautiously reached for the beskar helm in your hands.

The world faded and blurred until all he could see was his helmet.

Mud and grime aside, it appeared structurally intact. With a good cleaning and a polish, he'd have it back to new in no time.

There was no more confusion about the emotions flooding his chest. They took hold, casting out an anchor, tethering his unmoored, adrift soul back to his body.

Warmth.

Comfort.

Safety.

Peace.

For the first time since landing on this backwater skughole, Din Djarin finally felt whole again.

🌪️ A/N: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So many things going on. I really do love this chapter. I hope y'all enjoyed Din's new arch-nemesis 🤣 Now, friends, we are gonna switch back to Dorothy for the next chapter. Chapter 10 will complete our first "Act," so to speak, and we are gonna get our first flashback... so... brace yourself. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

🧡 Tag List: @racheldon @leeroyjagginz @djarins-cyare @higgsvoidout @abandonedreaper @brunlocc @foreignbrunette Please drop a comment or send me a message if you'd like to be added to the tag list 🧡

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