I’m Just Here.

The chime at your door goes off, quickly followed by Boba calling your name. Shit. You contemplate for a split second whether you should pretend you're not there or if you should dry your face and let him in. Neither option feels quite right. Because you don't want him to see you like this. Weak. But you don't want him to leave you alone with your thoughts, either.

He chooses for you, though. "I know you're there," he gruffs. He doesn't have to ask if you'll let him in - you both know he'll get in one way or another, by your doing or his.

"Coming!"

And you shouldn't be irritated because isn't this what you wanted? But you're more irritated that he's caught you being so vulnerable, so human when all you've ever tried to do is prove yourself to be strong enough and worthy enough of the trust he puts in you. And you hate that you care so much.

There's nothing to read on the beskar face that mirrors you on the other side of the door, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same. Probably noting how bloodshot and puffy your eyes are, the dampness just under your nose and in the shadow of your jaw where you missed a few spots. With all the gear he has wired into his helmet, you wouldn't be surprised if he could read your heart rate or pick up on the embarrassed heat in your cheeks and chest.

The helmet tilts to one side so slightly that anyone else may not have noticed, but you know him. You notice. You always notice. "Are you injured?"

"No," you sigh as you duck your head. "I'm fine."

His answering scoff sends your head swiveling back toward him. "Don't lie to me."

"It's none of your business."

You know it's not fair. He's not the villain here. He's your employer, yes, your ally and maybe even your friend if you really stretched it, but you trust him more than you've trusted any other employer. You trust him more than you should. Crime lord, former bounty hunter, murderer and all. Okay, so maybe he's a bit of a villain, but he's not the one responsible for your foul mood, so you shouldn't be taking it out on him.

He's just hitting a little too close to home right now.

You can't look the helmet head on, can't venture too close to the visor or what lies beneath it, so you settle for bowing your head in his direction and murmuring an apology. "I'm not myself right now."

Boba is a mountain of impenetrable confidence and quiet strength. Even now in your quarters, even as he removes his helmet, even as he lays his face bare before you, he remains the enigma you've never been able to get close enough to.

"Tell me."

You shake your head. "You don't need to hear it." Maybe if you put some distance between you, it'll be easier. Ironic considering how you normally can't stand close enough to him.

"That wasn't a request."

Anger flares up in your chest again. He's being awfully presumptuous, taking up space in your little corner of the palace that belongs to him, this one place that is yours alone and not subject to the whims of the Daimyo. Demanding you tell him your troubles?

"Well maybe I don't want to tell you, Boba," you hiss. Tears are returning unbidden along your waterline and it's infuriating. He's infuriating. "It's my shit. You don't have to worry about it, okay? Just."

Just what? Leave you alone to wallow in your misery? Pretend he never saw you in the midst of falling apart over a fucking sunset? Your gaze lingers on the swell of his biceps as he crosses his arms over his chest and something panicked leaps in your chest. Hope against all hope, just hold you, maybe?

Leather whispers across the skin of your elbow and a chill runs up your spine as you realize that he's touching you, Boba's actually touching you. It's everything you've ever wanted, but it's all wrong because he's doing this because you're crying. You never thought he'd see you like this, that he'd touch you beyond offering a helping hand in the heat of battle. This? It's almost too much.

He's gentle with you, though. He takes your shock in his stride, doesn't acknowledge the sharp, startled inhalation you almost choke on. He turns you toward him with all the wariness he might give to a frightened animal and then his hand is tucked under your jaw, the tip of his thumb on your chin as he tilts your head back, back, back until you're looking at him. Really looking at him. You can't look anywhere else.

"If it's made you cry, it is my business." His voice has never been softer. And that look in his eyes, those big brown eyes set against that beautiful backdrop of warm brown skin, you've never felt safer. "Tell me."

And something stubborn and bitter cracks under the pressure of the sudden surge of your fondness for him. You don't know why he's doing this, you don't understand why he would concern himself with your affairs or your tears or your heart, you only know that you never want him to be farther away from you than he is in this moment.

"It's just a memory."

Confusion furrows into his brows. "A memory?"

It springs to life in the back of your mind, the hurt and betrayal and the way your heart felt so, so broken. Sometimes you still feel broken. Like your entire essence is a wound that never healed right.

"It's silly, I know," you start, hoping that he won't find you utterly ridiculous. I'm stronger than this, you want to scream, it takes more than a memory to break me down. Don't laugh at me.

But to your surprise, Boba shakes his head. His mouth has set itself into a firm line and the lines in his brow have furrowed even deeper. "I know something about memories," he mutters as his eyes rove over your face like a caress. "The ones too potent to be forgotten. The dreams that linger."

You trace the line of the scar that runs between his eyes with your own hesitant glance. He has lived a life you can't even imagine, but still you wonder - who hurt him? This strange man who glints green in the sunlight and looms in the shadows of the night, who you carry so secretly in your heart.

"It was a long time ago," you whisper. Boba waits, his hand never leaves the curve of your chin. He lets you tell your story, he doesn't interrupt beyond the low rumbling of his chest when he disagrees or disapproves of something, and he doesn't shy away when you cry. He stays.

He stays until your breathing has evened out and the suns have set and the only light that illuminates you both is the light on his chest plate and the last whispers of twilight lingering in the sky. There's something brave about the dark, about knowing that he can feel you but he cannot see you and vice versa. It makes the air thick and heavy, and your lips tingle.

His tunic shifts under his armor as his body moves, then the puff of his breath hits the bridge of your nose. Something drops in the pit of your stomach and, in a panic, you blurt out the first thing you can think of as your mind struggles to play catch up.

"How did you know I was here?"

Why do you sound so breathless and hoarse?

He laughs and his breath hits you again, warm and light. "Fennec."

"Of course."

Boba rumbles again low in his throat and you can feel it vibrate down into his fingertips. "She knew I was looking for you."

Looking for you? Why does that one simple statement set your heart off like a racing fathier? He's gone searching for you before, for a mission, an assignment, but something tells you that's not the case this time.

You're sure he can feel your heartbeat by now. "Why?" you croak. "Why, uh, did you need me?"

The hand under your chin twists until its palm rests flush against the swell of your cheek and his fingers brush your ear and your hairline. His warmth radiates into you and spreads down to your toes in an instant. Maker, he's so close. He's closer than he's ever been.

"Had something to ask you."

Your heart is in your throat. "What is it?"

The last remnants of twilight sparkle in his pupils and you swear you can make out a smile in the darkness. His voice shakes just slightly. "You tell me, mesh'la." And then his mouth is on yours and there is only him.

His beskar is cool in the evening and its chill bites through your clothing to your chest where your skin feels like it's on fire. The skin of his lips is dry, but he's soft. So soft. Everywhere. His clothes, his nose pressed into your cheek, the worn leather of his gloves that smells of blaster fire, his tongue laving across the trembling seam of your mouth. And when you sigh into him, he falls into you, gentle as a breeze, not strong and steady but slowly, patiently. You're barely aware of your own body as it molds itself around him on instinct, a hand at the nape of his neck, another over his heart.

Your brain is fuzzy for a good minute after you pull apart, but he doesn't go far. He keeps his forehead against yours, the tip of his nose rubbing yours. He stays.

"That..." You smile, then you laugh, and one of his hands curl around your hip to draw you closer. "That was the best question ever."

So, maybe rushing into the fight like that wasn’t a great idea. 

But someone needed my help. What was I supposed to do? Just watch it happen? Sit there and let it all go down when I knew that I had the tools—and the ability—to help them? 

I might not be a Mandalorian, but I can still help people when they need me.

Even Din gets hurt sometimes. 

As he patches me up, I tell him as much. “Even you’re not invincible.” 

He shakes his head, pulling sutures through the wound on my forearm. Someone sliced it with a knife. “I’m not saying you did the wrong thing,” he replies. “Just asking you to be more careful.” 

“Psh. I’m fine.” 

He glances up at me. Even with his helmet on, I know what the expression underneath it looks like. Unimpressed, disbelieving, and teasing. 

“Leave me alone. I was helping someone.” I say with a smile. 

“If I left you alone,” he ties the sutures, “you’d still be bleeding.” 

I watch as he pulls away and reaches for a bacta patch to stick over the cut. Once it’s in place, he looks up at me, and into my eyes. I can’t help it; I lean in and rest my forehead against his, feeling the cool beskarr against my skin. “Can we get out of here?” I whisper. 

“You’re not going to thank me for patching you up?” 

I laugh and sling my good arm over his shoulder, resting it in the gap between his pauldrons and the base of his helmet where only soft fabric sits. “Thank you. My hero.” 

He brushes the backs of his gloved fingers down my face, and I lean into his touch. I want to feel the warmth of his skin. See the brown of his eyes that I’m still getting to know. 

I still consider it probably the greatest honour I’ve ever known that I am one of two people he lets see him without his helmet. The fact that I’m anywhere close to Grogu in Din’s heart is something I still can’t get over.

I reach up and lay my hand on his left pauldron. Smoothing my thumb over it, I smile up at him. “Can we get out of here so I can kiss you?” I ask. “Please?” 

Wordless, he steps back and nods, before heading towards the cockpit. 

The gentle hiss of his helmet releasing and lifting from his head makes my heart flutter. For so long, we only kissed when my eyes were closed. And it was enough. Gods, it was more than enough. It was enough to drive me crazy before he even touched me anywhere else. 

But this…

His smile. Soft, shy. His brown eyes and long, dark eyelashes, blinking gently at me. We’re standing by our bunk, my hands on his still-armoured chest. “There you are,” I whisper. Gently, I reach up, ghosting my fingertips over his lovely cheek. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling, and a soft sigh releases from his lips. 

His smile doesn’t waver as he puts the helmet down on the counter behind him. When he turns back to me, he places his hands on my hips. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his unmodulated voice sends shivers down my spine. 

Carefully, I take hold of one of his hands and hold it up between us. I give a warning tug to his gloves, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “Can I?” 

He nods. 

I pull off one glove, then the other, lifting up both of our hands so I can place them palm-to-palm in the space between our bodies. Sighing, I push my fingers in between his. He’s so warm. His hands are so soft. Wearing gloves for every fight you’re ever in is a good way to keep calluses at bay, I suppose. 

“Mesh’la…” he says, quiet, the old Mandalorian word for beautiful still taking me by surprise when he says it. 

Leaning in, I press our foreheads together. His breath is hot and sweet on my lips. 

I can’t wait any longer. 

I close the small distance between our mouths and kiss him, soft, capturing his top lip between both of mine. 

He sighs against me. His ungloved hands gently slide down my forearms, over my elbows and up the backs of my biceps. I can feel the warmth of his skin and it’s heaven, his lips moving slowly against mine, his hands carefully making their way up to press flat against each of my shoulder blades. 

I tug on him, coaxing him towards the bed. Then, pulling away for just a moment, I gently knock on his chest armour with my knuckles. “Get this off please?” I sit down on the edge of the bed.

He chuckles. “Anything for you.” 

I could watch him taking off his armour all day. Not just because he’s getting naked, although that is of course a part of it. But because he’s so methodical about it, so careful, his armour and all the attached weapons so important to him, part of the very core of who he is. And, sitting here watching him strip it all down for me, laying his weapons on the floor and his armour beside it, it hits me just how big of a deal this is. That he would take off these parts of him. That he would show me pieces of him that no one else has ever seen. That he knows I love to see his bare skin, that he likes to feel mine with his own, and warm me with his soft, scarred, and precious body. 

When he looks up at me, he must see the emotion on my face. A gentle frown finds its way onto his forehead. “You alright?”

I nod, feeling teary. He’s only got his under trousers on now, everything else laid out neatly on the floor and the shelf behind him. Reaching out to him, I say, “Just love you, is all.” 

He smiles and crows feet appear around his eyes. He accepts my invitation to come closer, taking hold of my hands and carefully crouching to kneel down in front of me. He puts his hands on my knees and rubs his thumbs in circles. “I love you,” he tells me, looking deep into my eyes. Searching them like he’ll find even more of me to love there. 

My hands find their way to his cheeks. He tilts his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist, closing his eyes for the moment they linger. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

He’s gently pushing my knees apart, sliding his hands up my thighs and towards my waistband. But his eyes don’t leave mine. “What for?” 

I shake my head. At first, I’m lost for words. There is so much to thank him for. For trusting me, for making me part of his life, for being who he is. For letting me love him. “You don’t know how much this means to me,” I say instead of answering his question, spreading my fingers out across his cheeks, neck, and temples. “Seeing you. All of you.” 

He kisses my wrist again. His hands are on my waist now, holding me steady and safe. “It means a lot to me, too,” he says lowly. 

“I know.” 

“You mean a lot to me.” 

“I know that, too.” 

“Good,” he says. His thumbs dip under the waistband of my trousers, pushing up my T-shirt so he can get to my skin. The feeling of him touching me, skin-to-skin, gently rubbing each side of my navel, it’s a lot. And knowing where his hands are headed, it’s almost enough to take me out. His thumbs rub just under the lower roll of my stomach. “How do you want me?” He asks. His voice is so husky and quiet. Just for me. Just for us, here in this moment. 

I swallow. “However you want me,” I answer. Because it’s true. I’d give him anything and everything. 

In response, he kisses me. Gently, but so intense that his nose squishes against my cheek and mine squishes against his. As I inhale a sharp breath, I let my hands fall back into his hair, one of them winding down his neck and towards his back. Forever and not for long enough, he kisses me like I’m made of something that is needed for him to stay alive. His breath is going into my mouth and he tastes so familiar, so like him, that I just need more, more, more. 

I moan sadly when he pulls away from my lips. But it turns into a different kind of noise when I realise he’s trailing his down my cheek, my jaw, to my neck. He leaves open-mouthed kisses all the way down until he reaches the neckline of my shirt. 

“May I?” He asks against my skin. His voice vibrates into my shoulder. 

I nod. “Please.” 

He pulls back just enough that he can take hold of the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head. Then half of me is bare before him except my undergarment, and the look in his eyes is something that I will remember forever. Blown pupils, so wide I can barely see the brown of his irises anymore, with breath coming from his lips fast and hot.

I don’t wait for him to ask, this time. I pull my bra off over my head, thankful that it’s not one with clasps that need fiddled with. When I’m exposed to him, his eyes somehow light up even more. 

He kisses me once more before moving away again, this time pressing his forehead into the space between my breasts. I hold him there with a hand on the back of his head, feeling him leave kisses wherever he can get to. 

“Din,” I say, soft. 

He pulls back just a little and meets my eyes. 

Giving him a coy smile, I take one of my hands and let it rest on his ass where he is still, unfortunately, clothed. “The rest?” I request. 

He smiles like he would never say no to me. Then, without a word, he pulls away and rids himself of the last of his clothes. 

My Gods. 

Fucking fuck. He is perfect. 

I tell him this. He smiles, full-blown and full of desire, and kneels down between my legs again. Not breaking our eye contact he slides his hands up my legs and they find again the waistband of my trousers that’s now slipped below my navel. He doesn’t have to ask; I’m wiggling out of them before he can take a breath to speak. 

He chuckles at my keenness and carefully lays my clothes beside his on the rug. Then dips his head and brushes his lips along my knee. 

I close my eyes, feeling his breath brushing right towards my centre. Slowly, he traces his nose and the very faintest touch of his lips up my thigh, getting closer and closer to where I need him. 

“Din…” I whisper. “Din, you’re killing me…” 

He chuckles. “Just getting started, sweetheart.” Then, looking up at me from under his eyelashes, he nods towards the bed. “Lie back for me.” 

I do. 

Maker, I do. 

-

♥︎end♥︎

Failure wasn't an option for you. It never was. So failing the only person in the galaxy you truly cared for wasn't easy.

You stood on the peak of a hill, letting your eyes fall on the Razor Crest-- which was exactly where it was the last time you saw it a few days ago. A few days seemed too little a time between now and the last time you were here, but it was only two days.

You gripped at the wound on your arm, which you messily wrapped in a hurry. This only added to the appearance you'd walk in with. You were covered in a mixture of blood and dirt, your hair was a mess, and you held on tightly to what was left of your blaster. It was quite the entrance, even for you.

Walking into the Razor Crest like this was the last thing you wanted to do, but you were exhausted, dizzy, and most of all ashamed of your failure.

You had told Din Djarin that you could handle the task alone and despite his reluctance, he agreed to it. Now you had to contend with your broken pride as well.

You sighed deeply and made the walk to the ship. At this point your arm felt like it was on fire, causing tears to build up in your eyes and eventually begin to fall down your stained cheeks. The tears likely weren't all from the physical pain.

When you stepped onto the Razor Crest, you were met with Din's absence. Relief trickled into your system, Maybe you could clean yourself up before he returned.

You dropped your scratched and dirt-covered armor and made your way to your shared quarters. Sitting on the floor, you slowly tried to peel your sticky sleeves away from your arm, tying it at your shoulder so you could begin tending to the wound.

You had wrapped it in a thin strip of fabric, attempting to slow the blood flow. The attempt wasn't successful but might've still saved your life in the end.

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  

The Mandalorian stepped onto his ship, spotting the abandoned armor immediately. He closed the hatch door, setting down Grogu in his bunk and crossing the hull to look for you.

"Cyare?" He asked, tense, as it wasn't usual to find your armor stripped and dropped to the floor in such a heap.

You froze as you heard the voice, you'd barely untied the wound let alone clean it. "Yes?" You managed to get out in nothing more than a whisper. You wondered if he'd even hear it.

Your question was answered as the door opened to the small room and you found yourself face to face with his beskar helmet.

Your eyebrows tugged together and your eyes welled up with tears. Din didn't move for a few seconds, he'd never seen you like this and you hadn't planned on letting him. It struck your pride deeply to be in this state around someone else, especially Din.

He slipped his helmet off, revealing his expression underneath. He looked more worried than anything else as he set his helmet to the side and knelt in front of you. "What happened?" He asked in a clear voice. The tone didn't match his expression.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So Din scooped you up and set you on the edge of his cot, letting you be silent for the moment.

He retrieved a cloth and cleaned your face carefully, getting the dirt out of your eyes and mouth. Your teary eyes met his and he pressed his hand gently to your cheek.

Silently, Din gingerly cleaned the blaster wound on your arm, wrapping it far better than you had done before. You let him tend to you, appreciating the moment to indulge in your exhaustion.

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶ 

You slept for a few hours after that. Now that you were in clean clothes and your wounds were patched as best as possible, you sat on one end of Din's cot while Grogu sat next to you. He held the top piece to one of the levers in the Razor Crest's cockpit.

Din came and sat beside the two of you. "Will you tell me what happened?" He asked as Grogu handed you the ball to show you. You smiled at him and sighed, handing it back.

“I failed you." Your eyes fell to the ground. "I thought it would be better if I went alone, but I was wrong." You sighed dejectedly. It almost startled you when you were met with Din's soft tone.

"You didn't fail me, Cyar'ika." He said gently. "You could never fail me. Even if you blew up this entire planet." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the remark.

"That's because it's something I'd do—on accident of course.”

“I wouldn't put it past you." He shrugged nonchalantly. You could tell he was messing with you now.

"Out of the two of us, which one of us is more likely to accidentally destroy a planet?" You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

"That's the thing." He said, picking up the ball Grogu had dropped and handing it back to him. "It'll be a team effort."

“I look forward to it." You said, finally letting yourself smile for the first time in days. Din smiled back, relieved at the sight. Normally your demeanor was uplifted. Around him you would often smile or crack a joke— Probably at the wrong time— so seeing you this way was worrisome for him.

He opened his arms as an invitation for you to come sit with him. An invitation which you obliged without hesitation. Din kissed your temple and folded his arms around you as if shielding you from any outside threats.

He's facing away from you, slowly and methodically removing his armor. The muscle of the broad plains of his back twists as he shifts to remove different pieces of beskar.

It's so strange, so completely odd and out of the ordinary, that you freeze.

You watch with a dry mouth until the last piece of beskar is removed, aside from his helmet.

He's never removed his armor in front of you, though you have seen him without it before. You have never gotten to watch the process, never seen him so openly remove it.

His gloves are peeled off next, then his boots.

You start to wonder how far this might go and decide to speak up. "That's terribly distracting, you know," you say from your place curled atop some stacked crates as you switch off the datapad in your hands. "Incredibly distracting."

Din just chuckles, the sound breathy and low. It shivers straight down into your gut, breaks apart the lining of your heart.

You straighten and drop your legs, leaning back against the ship's wall instead.

He turns and approaches you slowly, every step deliberate and well taken, only stopping when he's between your parted thighs.

His hands, warm and broad, anchor on your thighs. "It's a sign of trust," he tells you without preamble. "Common among my people."

You make an indignant noise as his hands slide to your waist. "You only trust me now?"

"No," he tilts his head at you, "but I know how distracted you can get." The low breathy tone of his voice sends sparks skittering over your skin.

You narrow your eyes, "Are you...teasing me?"

He doesn't answer, pressing his brow to yours instead, the helm cool against your skin. "Thank you for this sign of trust," you say. "I do stand by the opinion that it's distracting."

"I can keep it on-,"

"No," you answer, too quickly, tightening your grip on him.

He chuckles again, hands still heavy on your hips.

You're not exactly sure what the dynamics of Mandalorian courting, or dating even, are. But you're fairly sure you've graduated to some intense inner circle. Not quite a part of the little clan, but somewhere close.

Hesitantly, you press your hands over his forearms, firm and muscled beneath your touch. "No, that's alright," you whisper, watching the dark visor as you slide your hands up to his elbows and sweep your thumbs against the delicate bone there.

His hands drift back, circling your waist and tugging you into him.

Din's shoulder is soft when you lower your head there, the space between his shoulder and edge of the helm even more so. He smells like soap, like the oil he uses on his armor.

One hand trails up your back slowly, tapping, counting the edges of your vertebrae. The other leaves your back, and you automatically close your eyes. The hiss of the helmet comes, quiet in the silence of space.

He tilts your face back with one hand cupped against your jaw.

The familiar embarrassment creeps up, of having his gaze so firmly and nakedly locked on you, without you being able to look back, without being able to read the look in his eyes.

You'd love to know the shade of them at the very least.

"Mesh'la," his whispers and your skin prickles with delight. His hair tickles your forehead when he leans in. It feels light against your skin, like feathers caressing you.

You reach up and press your hands over his cheek, trying to map his face without seeing him. Din just sighs, because he knows what you're trying to do. But the sound isn't irritated, just resigned and vaguely amused.

"I bet you're pretty too," you tease.

He huffs. "Pretty. I'm not calling you pretty." The bristle of his facial hair tugs at your skin, lips drifting across your cheek. "Mesh'la is more than that. It means beautiful."

"Me'ven? Really?" You ask, feigning disbelief.

"Clever," he remarks dryly. "This is what I get for teaching you Mando'a."

You don't get a chance to respond.

Din kisses you, both hands cupping your face.

And you can't complain about that, drawing your hands up to his shoulders and then through his hair. The locks are soft around your fingers, longer than it usually is.

His tongue slips into your mouth, hands drifting down your back to your waist. He tugs you closer, his hips lazily thrusting against you. The press of him heavy against your center, and you tighten your fingers on his hair.

Din wasn't always so confident with you, too closed up and closed off and far away for moments like this, to even consider touching you like this. But he's familiar to you now, you've been with him for so long and in so many ways.

He breaks away from your mouth with a gasp, burying his face against your shoulder.

"Riduur," he murmurs against your skin.

You cup a hand against the back of his neck. "Well," you say, hooking a foot against the back of his thigh to keep him pressed against you. "There's a word I don't know."

Din doesn't answer, strangely silent where he was usually forthcoming in telling you what Mando'a words meant.

He mumbles something else unintelligible into your skin and you decide to let it go, distracted by the feel of him between your legs, and his bare hand fitting itself beneath your shirt, his skin hot without the gloves.

Translations:

Mesh'la - beautiful

Me'ven? - What? Expression of bewilderment or disbelief

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" You ask Din one evening. You're on some backwater world, resting while he builds a fire. A boreal forest hems you into the cocoon of darkness that's fallen, the scent of pine and seawater filtering through the cool air, chased by the acrid smell of smoke.

You shiver in the damp.

Apparently this is the warm season for this world, and you should be grateful you aren't sitting in a pile of snow.

He doesn't so much as pause in what he's doing, stacking logs of wood into a pile to your left. Din straightens and glances back at you, before reaching over his shoulder to unhook the cloak from his back.

He also doesn't answer you, simply draping his cloak around your shoulders when he passes behind you.

"Did you hear me?" You ask lightly, stroking the ears of the baby asleep in your lap. Your crossed legs make a perfect nest for Grogu, the blanket you borrowed from the Crest swaddled around him.

Din takes a seat on the ground opposite you, across the leaping flames of the little fire.

You lean back on your palms and raise a brow, watching the flicker of orange light against the shine of the beskar.

"I heard you," he answers simply.

"Care to answer?"

He remains silent and still.

You decide to try another question, another way.

You're curious. You can't help it, not when you've been traveling together for so long, not since he gave you his name.

It's rarely spoken, but to know it is enough. You hoard it inside, close to the rim of your heart, secretly smug that you know and not many others do.

"When can you remove your helmet? Do you ever?"

Din makes a noise that's something between an irritated huff and a growl.

"Shouldn't you know?" He replies, his tone mild. "You were a foundling once."

It was the thing that brought you and the Mandalorian together, when he'd been getting repairs done to his ship on your world. You'd tried to mind yourself but when he kept showing up in the market where you worked you hadn't been able to help it.

It had been along time since you'd seen a Mandalorian, and you'd never stopped being fond of them.

"For only a year," you remind him. The Mandalorian that had saved your life had reunited you with your people fairly quickly. It was a rarity, most foundlings were orphans, without a people. "And I was a child. It's been a long time."

Those months had endeared you to the Mandalorians. They carried a feared reputation, and for good reason, but you've never felt anything but fondness despite their peculiarities.

"No living thing may see our faces," he eventually replies, unmoving and still as a stone.

You sit forward again, tracing Grogu's ears once more. "So," you smirk, not looking up. "You've never kissed anyone."

Din just sighs and reclines against the fallen log behind him. "That is not what I said."

"No," you say, "But it's what you meant."

Din doesn't reply, but you imagine if you could see his face he'd be rolling his eyes. Instead, his head jerks to the side in an irritated tilt.

You laugh, and turn to pick through the bag of supplies he'd left next to you, looking for something to roast over the fire. The baby would be hungry when he woke.

"I'm not making fun of you, you know," you continue. "I was just curious."

Din just sighs again, the sound more than a little grumpy in tone.

You decide to let the silence last, putting yourself to work in preparing something to eat. The Mandalorian remains silent and still as you work.

He's so still you wonder if he's fallen asleep.

But when the baby wakes, he immediately reaches for him. You let the child waddled himself over to his father before standing to walk the food around to Din.

He takes it from you with a nod of thanks, shredding pieces of the roasted meat to feed slowly to Grogu. The child had a penchant for eating too much too quickly.

You place yourself next to him, wrap the cloak around your shoulders and lean back against the log, intending to doze there between the warmth of Mando and the fire. The cloak smells like him, like the forest around you. It's comforting.

"The Mandalorian that saved you," Din says when you're near sleep, "did they reveal their face to you?"

You blink over at him, and find Din watching you closely, the child cooing up at the pair of you. "Yes," you murmur, "But only because-,"

"You were a foundling. Their child."

"Yes."

"Yes," he agrees. "There are exceptions to every rule. No living thing may see a Mandalorian's face, aside from their children and partner."

You hum and tilt your head, poking lightly at him, "So, you have to find someone willing to become your partner to get a kiss."

He sighs again, but this time it's more amused than anything. "That is not what I said," he repeats.

"You get more cryptic with time, have I ever told you that?"

It's hard to tell because of the modulated tone of his voice, but you think he laughs. "The rules can be...bent-," the visor tilts toward you, the heavy cut of his gaze resting on you. You feel it, even from behind the helmet, "-without being broken."

"That doesn't seem very This is the Way of you," you scoot closer and nudge your arm into his.

"Maybe not," he concedes, tearing another bite of meat for Grogu. "But...many things are not."

You lean your head against his shoulder, drowsy with sleep. It's warm there between him and the fire, and his voice is soothing. You know he's thinking of his transgressions against the Way.

"You did what you had to," you assure him, though you know it means little. You don't necessarily agree with the assessment that he'd broken his creed, but you also know that that you think that means very little. "To protect your clan."

Din remains silent until the roasted meat is gone and Grogu has sunk back into sleep once more. You aren't far behind the child, once again having almost fallen asleep, wrapped in the warmth of the cloak, the scent and safety of the warrior at your side.

His helm turns in your direction. "Would you like to know how the rule gets bent?"

You lift your head, somewhere between wakefulness and groggy sleep. "What?"

"Close your eyes."

You comply without thinking about it. "Don't open them."

"I won't."

Something flutters in your chest when you hear the hiss of the release on the helmet. "This is how," he says, his voice close and unmodulated. You hear the thump of the helmet being placed carefully on the ground.

You have no urge to open your eyes, not even curiosity could outweigh the respect you have of him.

But you do gasp when his hands cradle your face, the scent of worn leather invading your senses, of being seen without seeing. The pads of the gloves he always wears smooths over your cheekbones before soft lips land on yours.

The kiss is brief and chaste, his top lip only fitting between yours for a moment. He kisses you very softly, but it's enough to taste him, to make your skin prickle with heat.

The press of his brow to yours afterwards is more intimate than any kiss ever will be. You don't know everything about the Mandalorians, but you know the significance of that.

You feel his breath against your lips, the slight tickle of facial hair. "Yes," he finally answers you, "I've kissed someone before."

You smile and lean into the touch, leaning into the press of his forehead to yours. "Funny how you've only said that after kissing me."

"I want to settle down... not hiding from the enemy all the time, and this is not a good environment to bring up the younglings!" Turning towards your cot, you pick up your bag and started stuffing your belongs into it.

"And this bullshit of creed, not showing your face, and Oh, they ditch you even though you are the holder of darksaber just because you showed your face to outsider?" You rolled your eyes.

Din try to argue, still, he couldn't make a sound. As if someone has taken his voice away from him.

" So you got nothing to say to me Mando? Not even going to try and persuade me?" Sighing as you walk past him, picking up Grogu as you head out of the ship. " I am taking Grogu with me. I hope this is the last time I see you, DIN DJARIN." You spatted out his name, not even looking back and walked off into the forest. Din screamed as he sat up from his bunk. Sweat completely drenching his body. Totally disorientate he turn on the night light beside his head and look around. It's too quiet. Usually he hears sounds of you walking around the ship, doing chores or fixing things, or little cooing sound of Grogu, and you telling him off for being a mischief. The fear surface again, was that nightmare real?? and I am just replaying the episode again and again in my mind ? Quickly donning his helmet, not even bothering with rest of his armour, he stepped out from his tiny bunker. No one in the cargo area, refresher empty. Climbing up towards the pilot room, not a trace of you two.

Lastly checking your bunk space, blanket folded neatly, your bag is missing. Din feel likes he was about to have a breakdown. He couldn't imagine his life without you. Without the little Munchkin. His clan of three. He hasn't even confess his feeling to you yet. Rushing to putting his armour on, he set out to find you two. Guessing you two haven't made it too far, there is still a chance. Just as he was about to step out, the cargo hold landing door opened up. And there's you, with his son tucked away in one of the bag, holding some sort of sweet pastry in his hand, and your backpack on your back and another satchel full of groceries and supplies. The two of you were giggling and laughing, as if sharing a joke. " OH! Mando, you are awake!" You greeted to him as you spotted him standing by the entrance. Din rush up towards you, pull you into an embrace. " Mando...are you OK?" You still haven't change your habit of calling him Mando. Even though you heard his real name already through Moff Gideon. You thought Din haven't given you the permission to use his name, you will stick with calling him Mando. Letting out a shaky breath. " Where did you guys go?" " We went out for supply run, it was such a good weather and you mention this area and town is relatively safe... So I thought I take Grogu for a stroll." putting down one of the side satchel and Grogu force jumped out from the bag. "Sorry I didn't wake you up. You were in such a deep sleep and you haven't had a good rest for last few weeks.. So I thought I'll let you be." You replied apologetically and gave him a squeeze. " Come on. I bought some of your favourite fruits. Turns out they had a very good harvest this year on this planet. I can make them into ration bar and preserves, so you won't need to hunt for them for a long time." You smiled at him. Just as you about to turn away and head back into the ship, Din moved his hand, cupping your face and pull you head in, lightly touching his forehead. "Man.. Mando?" Your face heating up. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Cyare..." He whispered back. You closed your eyes. Enjoying this intimate moment. "That's a new word...what does it mean Mando?" " I'll tell you one day... not now.. but one day."

"....and please.. call me Din." ".. Din." The sound of his name , so sweet and loving coming out from your mouth. Din felt someone tugging his pants and little coo sound. " I think he feels left out." You laughed. Din let go of you, bending down to pick his son up and gave him a little knock forehead to forehead.

" Come on, let's go help your buir to put away the groceries." Din commented. " that's ANOTHER new word Din... what does it mean? You got to start teaching me some Mando'a soon.. otherwise I would think you two are talking behind my back! " You said half jokingly. ".. It means parent." You raised your eyebrow as he explain it to you. You stood there for a moment as the two boys walk up the plank back into the ship. Took you few second to understand the implication, his words, and his action from before. Your heart flutters. Maybe.. Just maybe? That little hope and desire you have tucked away starting to rise.

".. I thought you two left me.. " " Never Din... We will never leave you. I will never leave you. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. "

"Fine." You agreed with an eyeroll. "This better not give you any ideas." You tied the blindfold over your eyes and gave it a few tugs, "Okay?" You could hear him inhale, he was having ideas for sure. Ideas for another time. "Din?" You reached out to touch him. Didn't need to reach far, his hand was holding yours, his body pressed firmly to you, his hot cock pulsing as it pressed against your stomach.

"Thank you. You're so beautiful, I'm sorry if I don't say it enough." His lips pressed against your neck, so warm, so soft that they had you arching towards them when he pulled away, "I wanna put it in, I need to be one with you right now." It was sweet how he talked about in such a romantic way, further showing how much he cherished this relationship.

It wasn't just about the sex, yes that was part of it, how it started, but Din was ready to open up to you, little by little. Even this was a big step for him. You will respect it, and this honor, and hopefully sometime afterwards you'll get to see the face of the man you love.

You pulled him back until he was on top of you, feeling his cockhead catch at your entrance. More then that you felt his body against yours, his forehead pressing against yours... his lips against yours, swallowing your moan of delight as he pushed balls deep inside of you.

He was like a wall, so broad, his chest expanding with every breath he took. It was getting you worked up, how gentle he was, how he leads you with his hand at the small of your back.

He moves in front of you, going down a step from the staircase and offering his arm.

Your hand was so small against his bicep, your head meeting his clavicle when you stood as straight as possible.

Someone meets him at the end of the stairs. He departs from you, his head glancing back as he starts to walk away.

Your small smirk reassures him, you knew how much of a torture this was, being pulled aside to talk about politics with people who only cared about themselves.

You watch from slightly afar, glass champagne flute in hand, as he converses with senators, other kings and queens, rulers. He was dressed like them, he tried to stand amongst them like he belonged. His fur cloak lays heavy on him, a show of his prowess, his grandeur.

It was traditional but a little cruel, especially when he was tasked with killing a beast for it. His hesitance was seen as disrespectful, so he went along with it.

That was one of the things you were pissed about. They made him do things he didn’t really want to do. You would always support his decisions, if they were his that is.

You weren’t loyal to the Mandalorians. You were only loyal to Din.

You were his jetii, his Jedi. Most thought of you like a pet, a staple of his power for maintaining a relationship with a Jedi, a sworn enemy to the Mandalorians.

You were a lover, his companion. He cherished you, even before your relationship evolved romantically.

You tense when someone saddles up beside you, his eyes trailing down your body. His hand was reaching to trail down your arm but you turn jerkily before he could.

He snorts, you roll your eyes. He was a rich socialite. Coruscant was known for their ‘snobs', heirs to riches and fortunes. In your opinion the scummiest people, of course, based on your past political trips here.

“Feisty, I like it.”

You ignore him but he keeps on leaning closer, ordering two drinks and sliding one down in your direction. It was a sweet drink, the ones that are full of different types of alcohol, strong yet sweet enough so that you wouldn’t notice.

The ones that get you drunk fast.

You twist your face in disgust. You could practically feel his lust, his disgusting pride at the fact that he was making you uncomfortable.

"How much?"

You turn to him sharply, scowling.

"What?", you grit out.

He smirks, standing straighter, sipping from his drink. His eyes narrow, focusing on your chest. He looks down on you condescendingly, as if he knew something you didn't.

"For a lay. How much does he pay you?"

You wanted to scream, you wanted to kick him in the groin and watch him as he keeled over in pain. If only you had your saber, you could point it right at his krill sized dick and castrate him.

Instead, you keep your composure, like you were demanded to do because Jedi aren't supposed to harm people, at least until the harm is done to them first. You were almost itching for him to touch you so that you could get your hands around his throat and squeeze.

He starts talking about his life, how he can afford a night with you and probably more than your current date. Your hands were in fists at this point and crowds were starting to part.

Then the man in front of you suddenly quiets, he stares up, and a heavy hand lands at your waist, a solid chest covering your whole back, the lights dim for you almost as if a shadow has casted over.

"Is something wrong?"

You shiver from the cold of his beskar against the skin of your shoulders. You wanted to close your eyes, breathe in the scent of him, warm and soothing. His hand was splayed over you possessively, big and strong, warmth coursing through you from his touch.

The man's eyes widen. He stands, bowing his head lightly. Your pulled closer to Din's chest, the edges of the cape cocooning you into him.

"Your majesty.", he stutters.

Din tenses, he's still not used to it. He was now an important figure, he had to protect not only the planet of Mandalore but those around it, settlements that are still populated heavily with Mandalorians. He had power now, surpassing the rank of many in the room.

Everyone wanted to be his friend.

Din stares, he still had that effect, he was still rather cold and stoic around people he doesn't like or know. His softness and charm only came out to those he considered family, or as close to family as possible.

"Your father wouldn't mind if I present him your head on a stake.", Din grits out.

Your breath stutters, your hand moves over his on your hip. His face falls, he starts to back away but is stuck in fear, almost tripping over himself.

"I have enough credits to replace two of you, don't speak to the queen again."

You wince harshly, cringing at the title. Your future title that is. Your engagement wasn’t announced yet, only a few advisors, some friends knew thus far.

The man leaves in a rush, word vomit coming from his mouth, apologizing to you and to him.

Conversations stop, they stare. The doors to the home open and close harshly, the doormen not having enough time to lead their guest out properly.

Chatter resumes quickly after, everyone avoiding looking in your direction. This has happened before; it was easy to guess who came out with broken bones and bruised flesh by the end of it.

It always made you hot, and it always got him possessive. But it was different this time, you were more annoyed by the slip up than anything else. You ignore the tingle down your spine, accumulating in your lower belly and making you clench when he hums in satisfaction.

"Don't go around spreading the news.", you sigh, turning so that you could face him.

He steps back slightly, reaching and unclasping the fur. You shiver when he places it over your shoulders, swallowing thickly when others started to turn to watch as he places something considered scared over you, a woman who in their opinion had no importance.

"It's the truth. They need to know."

His fingers swipe over your cheek when you avoid his gaze, you were getting shy on him lately, you were usually wrapping your arms around his neck at this point, standing on the tips of your toes and stretching. He thinks it might have something to do with the way there have been some protests against your upcoming nuptials.

You grip the cape closed around you. You still weren’t used to everyone watching your every move now. But he always made you feel so nice, you guess you just had to get used to the stares.

He hunches over, his fingers delicately lifting your chin up.

"Will you be okay?", he whispers.

Your stomach flutters, his helmet leaning against your head when he spoke lowly. A tilt makes the metal smooth against your cheek, a kiss.

“Yeah.”, you say lowly.

You felt like a child, being coddled, and everyone was staring. You avoid his gaze, and someone calls his name. You wanted to wrap your arms over his back, make him lean down so that your head was resting against his shoulder. Keep him with you for longer.

Then his hand leaves your hip, he stands up straighter. He had to leave the room, going into the office of the host of the grand home.

“It’ll be a minute.”

You quirk a brow, it was never just a minute.

“If I can help it.”, he responds snarkily.

You hum.

You wrap yourself in his cape, sighing deeply.

You always get so needy, you were almost ashamed from how selfish you feel. Especially since he had to come over and save you. He had more important things to do, he shouldn’t have to be looking in your direction every few seconds like someone was going to try to kill you.

He was out of sight, your fingers were prodding at the animal fur on your shoulders, playing with the metal clasp now sitting delicately at your chest. It shined when you fiddled with it, the silver making some light reflect in front of you.

It was hard not to get lost in your thoughts, vaguely registering the way you aimed the light at the floor and walls. A balcony opens from behind you, wind rushes in and swoops past. His scent brushes under your nose, your body heats up.

You were brought back to the day he was presented with his cloak, how he asked you to wear it in his bedroom, completely bare underneath as you rode him.

You bite your lip, gulping down the last of your drink and feeling a pleasant warmth through your chest as it goes down.

His hands were always so large, they could cup your whole breast, squeezing as he guides your hip up and down his cock. You think of the way you had to spread your legs to be able to sit on him, how big and thick his cock is.

How he has to get you ready every time to be able to take him in fully.

A hand at your shoulder startles you, you didn't even notice he was out already, his hand at his belt and looking down. You clear your throat, swallowing thickly.

You looked good in his clothes he noticed many, many nights ago. His sheer size made sure that his tunics were loose on you, sometimes even skimming past your knees. He liked it when they cling to your body too, he wanted to see the way your nipples pointed out, peeking from the fabric like nubs, almost always leading to him sitting you on his lap to play with them.

He made you cum once, you were extra sensitive that day, just about to go through your menstrual cycle, having you grind on his thick thighs.

He liked how the gown you were wearing was hugging your soft stomach, accentuating the way your hips curve out. The cape just made you stand out more, it was so big on you, and he thought it fit him just right, light on his shoulders and weighted on yours, just above his ankles and a couple of inches flowing on the ground for you.

"Dance?", he husks breathily.

Your head quirks, your brows furrow. He doesn't dance, at least not publicly and most of all not around these people. He extends his hand, you smile pushing your hand into his slowly, allowing him time to back out. Surprisingly, he doesn't.

He leads you to the floor, other couples dancing around you both. They looked like they hated each other, looking the opposite directions, a hint of scowls on their faces.

You look on worriedly, you recognize some of the faces, most of them were married ages ago, they seemed happy in front of the cameras. They didn't really have to hide it when everyone else was as miserable with their partners as them.

The newlyweds made you want to puke, you went to their wedding for kark's sake, and now they swayed to the music with bored faces, several inches apart, their hands barely clasped together.

“What is it?”, he asks softly.

You lay your head against his chest plate, it radiated warmth to your content. You’re sure you two would get in trouble, his fur cape was dragging against the floor as you both swayed, hulking over your body, seeming as if you were covered in a very large blanket.

His hand moves under it, sliding onto your waist and back. His pinky at the curve of your ass.

“I miss you.”, you huff. For a brief moment he stops shifting his feet, but continues on with a squeeze of your hand.

“I miss you too.”, he sighs. And that was enough, you think. To know he was going through the same as you. What you had was real, you hope. He wasn't with you because of some political standing or because of some arrangement.

If anything, it was a showing of love by going against the opinions of the elders and his fellow clan leaders.

Even if the other Mandalorians hated you, Bo liked you, at least, sometimes even advocating for your voice to be heard. You guess it was because of her sister, she liked you, all those years ago.

You smile, kissing his shoulder inconspicuously.

"We should go home.", he says, his hand inching lower, caressing over your ass.

Home. You almost repeated the word on your tongue. Home. He pinches you, you jump, your thoughts popping like a bubble. You could hear his chuckle from beneath the helm, quiet and teasing.

You slap his chest.

"Okay."

He says goodbye to the staff as you walk by, thanking them for the night with a nod. You're sure the politicians in the room think he's doing it to spite them, since he doesn't even look in their direction as you leave, but Din only uses his own time with people he wants to. So far, the only ones who were genuinely not conniving were coincidentally not the nobles.

You sit in the cockpit, glancing at his hands as he clicks and flicks buttons and levers expertly. You yawn and you could see his helmet flick in your direction, his hands still working the console.

Going into hyperspace startles you, your shoulders pressing against your seat and your eyes widening as he fully turns his seat to face you.

"Tired?"

You nod. He motions for the door leading to the ladder down to the hull, placing his hands on either sides of his helmet and pulling up. His hair falls over him messily, his eyes trailing over your body.

"Go get ready for bed then."

His voice sounded deeper, huskier as if he had just stopped running. You lick your lips, your fatigue disappearing by the second. It was an intense stare down for a moment, it always is when you could see his face.

You liked memorizing every detail so that when he hides, you could imagine it easily instead of his visor. From his smiles to his frowns, you would always cherish every emotion that passes through his face, and this one was poignant, it had meaning. His eyes narrowed at your hands unclasping the cape from your shoulders, watching as your fingers plucked at his mudhorn signet, soon to be yours too.

You playfully dropped the cloak at his lap when you stood, leaning down, allowing him a view of your breasts snug against the thin fabric of your dress.

You licked your lips, your pink tongue peeking from between them before you pecked his cheek. His breath stutters from the contact of your soft, plump lips on his skin.

"Help me with the zipper?", you mumble.

You stand between his legs, your back to him. His hand was at your hip, pulling you closer as his other hand trailed up your spine.

It's always been like this, so playful, trying to get at each other's nerves until the other bursts. A moan almost escaped you just then, his gloved finger trailing down your back as the zipper glides slowly.

He could see the edges of your underwear, hanging on your hips, digging into your skin, but before he could pull it you scoot forward, making your way to the door and chirpily saying, "Thank you", with a smile.

You didn't even reach the bunk, he had already slid down the ladder, his gloves off and his hands at your hips.

The wall next to the bunk was cold, you didn't know if you were shivering from the chill or from the way he slid his tongue inside of your pussy so diligently.

Your legs were over his shoulders, your head touching the ceiling panel. His head moves erratically under your dress, his lips gliding through your folds sloppily and his nose rubbing against your throbbing clit.

He groans when you ground your hips against his face, his voice muffled from the fabric of the gown and your thighs. It was initially surprising when he had stopped you mid step, kneeling in front of you when he pushed your back against the wall.

Then he lifted your legs up his shoulders, sliding you up the panels as you yelped in horror. He tore your thong apart, the fabric in one of the small pockets on his belt.

He was saying something against you, murmuring about how good your pussy tasted, how he had to get you ready for his aching cock.

He presses himself closer, his held tilting as if he were kissing your lips and folds, trying to get you as wet as possible with his show of strength.

His posture was rigid, his arms cradling your ass up as he leaned his upper body in your direction. You swear as you look down, his legs don't even wobble, not even a shift of his feet to show his discomfort.

He pulls his cock out with one hand, pumping himself at your taste, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the sound of your whimpers. You could hear his hand as it moves frantically against his shaft, his pre-cum creating a slick sound.

Your legs squeeze instinctually over his head when you feel yourself get closer, your opening twitching and your walls flexing on his fat tongue.

He pushes himself away, stepping closer to the wall when his head surfaces from your skirt. He descends you down his body, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your legs widen to accommodate his hips, your feet at either side of his thighs.

His tip was stretching you, you always take your time with this. He's always had to take it slow at first, with everyone he's been with. Inch by inch, you moan as he flexes his hips in and out.

"Gods, your cock is huge, Din.", you mumble, half tease, half moan.

He hums, he wills himself to slow down, take a breath when he feels you writhe against his chest, wanting to take more of him inside you.

His hands hold your hips in place.

"Be patient.", he grits out. He didn't want to hurt you, not like the first time, where he swears you couldn't walk for a few days after. Your hands rise up to his shoulders, your fingers caressing the back of his neck.

"Please.", you whimper.

"Please-", another inch budges into you, you already feel so full, "what?", he asks.

You liked the pain, you realize, you liked the way his girth made you stretch each time, how you could feel him afterwards each time.

"Fuck me."

Another inch, his chest was against yours, your breath on his neck.

"I am.", he almost chuckles. Your tongue slithers along his skin, he grunts from the shot of pleasure that brought him.

"Harder.", you enunciate. His hands adjust their grip on your hips from your plea.

The tip of his shaft was bumping into your cervix repeatedly, kissing it with each slow grinding of his hips.

The way he exerts his strength, pushing you up the wall, keeping you there so that your cunt was able to take him in; it made your heart flutter, and he knew that.

He enjoyed the act of showing off in front of you. He wasn’t normally the one to participate in a dick measuring contest but when he did it for you? You wanted to have him in bed the moment he won every time.

You frequently enjoyed watching him spar, some part of you waiting for someone to challenge him so that he could come back to you sweaty and pent up, filled with adrenaline.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way you squirmed when you first met each other, how the simple act of leaning down to hear you better made you fluster easily.

It wasn’t until he cornered you one day, angry that you had almost gotten yourself killed in a gang war trying to find a bounty, that he noticed the way you breathed heavily, your body warming whenever he crowded over you with his body.

That was the first time he fucked you, in the same position you were in now.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your uh uh uhs raising in volume with each thrust of his hips. Your dress slips from your shoulder, his mouth sucking at every inch of skin that gets exposed.

You know you were going to get bruises, you always did on your hips and waist, sometimes your thighs when his hands would roam.

Your world was swirling, and suddenly you were on your back against the bed in his bunk. He parts your legs, shifting closer so that his knees were almost on either side of your torso and your feet were in the air, your knees bent towards your chest. He presses into you, going as deep as possible. You could feel his balls press flush against your ass, his arms go under you, smoothing over your back and helping him slot his face in your neck. He huffs as he adjusts.

He's entangled on you, having full control of your body, you couldn't even move without his heavy weight pressing over you. You clench so tightly he groans into your skin, biting you lightly in warning.

"Gonna have you like this every night.", he mutters, kissing your shoulder tenderly, as if he wasn't balls deep in you.

"Not yet. We're not married.", you quip out of breath, on the verge of a moan.

You slept in separate rooms, it goes against tradition apparently to share a bed with someone you weren't bonded to, and you only get together on some nights when you both feel pent up. Grogu sleeps in his room anyway, it's not like he could have his way with you all of the time.

He thrusts sharply, you feel a sting from how deep he managed to go, you swear he was making your stomach bulge. He ignores your comment.

"Stuff you full of princes and princesses."

Fuck, you mutter repeatedly, his hips started moving into you, grinding at random. Now you were thinking about it, about him pumping you full of his cum. Just guessing by his fucking size...

"Huge babies.", you blurted out. Your body heats up more in embarrassment. His head raises from where it was sucking and kissing your shoulder and neck.

It was the truth, probably, big man equals big children. Genes. Part of you was genuinely slightly worried about that aspect.

His eyes light up, confirming the fact that you have thought about it, about what would happen after the ceremony, after your announcement as queen.

He smiles and then he pounces. You moan into his mouth, your hands treading through his soft hair, you want them to have soft hair like his. His nose runs along yours, you want them to have his nose too.

“I’ll give my queen babies, as many as you want.”

He pounds into you harshly, your eyes closed tightly in ecstasy. You just knew your core was going to be so sore in the morning and when you get back to Mandalore.

You imagine the way he'll carry you through the doors to the palace, ignoring the stares and going straight to your bedroom, where he'll most likely try to soothe your cunt with his tongue.

Your breasts press up against his chest plate, the sheets on the bunk shifting from his knees. You can feel your arousal glide down your folds, over your hole and in between your cheeks, covering his pelvis and balls in your slick.

"I want you to cum on my cock."

You nod your head, your back starting to arch, your cunt squeezing tight like a fist. Your lungs burned, you felt as if you couldn't take a breath in fully.

"Cum on your king's cock."

You let out a high-pitched whine. He was rutting into you, his pelvis grinding against your cunt, your clit rubbing against him deliciously. You hold in your scream when he angled his hips, finally making you come apart on him.

His intensity increased as the fire in your body made you twitch, you could feel your juices gather along the base of his cock, squelching when he bottomed out.

How filthy, you thought. Even as he softened, having been surprised by the way your pussy clamped onto him as you trembled and shook in orgasm, he was still huge.

His body twists, you wince when he positioned you on top of him, your head at the crook of his neck. He moans lightly from the way you twitch in overstimulation; he was still pressing inside you, still stretching you wide and keeping his cum inside.

He rips your dress apart, thread and stitching flying everywhere, leaving you naked on top of him, still in his armor.

You weren't going to walk the next day, you just knew it.

...............

So, like, I imagined this as one of the readers I have on my main blog from my story Starlight, I'll probably start the series on here. I'm planning on making some changes for this blog since I write more here than there. Stay tuned for that in a couple of months, prolly.

Also!!! Thank ya'll for 900+ followers!!!! That's so crazy to me...

Day 1: Guests (Boba Fett)

Day 2: Flowers (Kix)

Day 3: After Work (Cobb vanth)

Day 4: Good morning Kisses (Finn)

Day 5: Good night Kisses (Kit Fisto)

Day 6: PDA (Padme Amidala)

Day 7: Working out (Darth Maul)

Day 8: Meeting friends (Ahsoka)

Day 9: Public Transport (Din Djarin)

Day 10: Checking in (Obi-wan Kenobi)

Day 11: You're sick (Commander Cody)

Day 12: They're sick (Poe Dameron)

Day 13: You're both sick (Din Djarin)

Day 14: Spooning (Obi-wan Kenobi)

Day 15: Massage (Fennec)

Day 16: Swimming (Cobb Vanth)

Day 17: Dancing (Captain Rex)

Day 18: Driving (Boba Fett)

Day 19: Shower (Ahsoka)

Day 20: Bathing (Din Djarin)

Day 21: Sleeping (Darth Maul)

Day 22: Someone flirts with your partner (Leia)

Day 23: Someone flirts with you (Luke)

Day 24: After an argument (Poe)

Day 25: Christmas/Life day (Rey)

Day 26: Intruder (Din Djarin)

Day 27: Overworking (Boba Fett)

Day 28: After Care (Maul)

Day 29: Staying quiet (Jesse)

Day 30: Crying (Din Djarin)

You should have known at this point that nothing ever went to plan when you and Din were traveling. Even something as simple as a stop to refuel would often get foiled by rival bounty hunters, people who just wanted to kill one of you, or large beasts that you had accidentally woken up from hibernation. This time however, it was nature that was preventing your plan from coming to fruition (which was a new one for you at least). You weren’t an encyclopedia of knowledge about every single planet in the galaxy, there was no way you could have known which planets have changing weather patterns and which ones remained the same climate no matter what, so this really wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just a bout of bad luck that prevented the Razor Crest from getting back into the planet’s atmosphere.

Thankfully, you had already successfully acquired the fuel and added it to the ship’s receptacle when it began to snow, and it just meant that your departure from whatever this planet was called was delayed, not the entire operation. You had originally looked at the sky in wonder, Grogu in your arms, as the delicate little flakes fell and accumulated on the ground below. It was previously something you had only heard of and read about, and seeing it in person for the first time was a sight to behold.

When the snow and the wind didn’t let up even as the day went on, that’s when you started to grow annoyed with the so-called breathtaking natural phenomenon. Din was silent and stoic as ever, but you could tell that it was bothering him too. You were lucky that this planet seemed to be out of the way of anyone who wanted to hurt Din or Grogu, but it was still dangerous for the three of you to remain in one place for too long, no matter how off the grid it seemed to appear.

Grogu was also getting antsy. He would jump down from your arms and waddle across the floors of the ship, pushing buttons that he could reach and generally causing mayhem as you tried to get him to sit still for a little longer. Eventually (after he had wandered towards the door of the ship one too many times), you had an idea.

“I’m going to take the kid outside for a little bit,” you told Din. “Let him play a little in the snow, because he’s clearly bored just waiting in here.”

“Alright,” Din said. “Do you have clothes warm enough to go out there? Because I can stay with him if needed.”

You shook your head, offering a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got enough clothes,” you said. “You can stay in here if you’d like.”

You couldn’t see the expression he wore due to the helmet on his head, but he have you a nod before you went to go put on a few more layers. Din was still something of an enigma to you, even after you’d traveled with him for so long. You couldn’t deny the way you were drawn to him, or the strong bond you had forged with him and Grogu. You couldn’t really see yourself anywhere else at this point, that’s how much those two had become a constant in your life, and you thought that he felt similarly towards you (although maybe your fantasies about kissing him weren’t reciprocated). He was as openly affectionate with the kid as someone clad head to toe in beskar could be, and you would occasionally fall asleep with him when you weren’t alternating who was piloting the ship (as there was only one bunk besides the hammock where Grogu slept). You had never seen him without his helmet, but you didn’t need to know what he looked like to know how you felt about him.

When you stepped out onto the ground, Grogu hopped out of your arms and landed in the fluffy white snow, sinking through it almost immediately. Your eyes widened as you watched, but you relaxed as you heard happy coos and giggles from where he was standing.

Tentatively stepping across the snow-covered ground, you couldn’t help but smile too. There was something special about being here right now, something that made you feel like a child again, despite the fact that you had grown up on Tatooine, with a climate nothing like this.

You reached down and started to gather a bunch of snow in your gloved hands, watching in awe as the snow clumped together to form a crude sphere. Grogu watched you with intense interest, you knew how he felt about that particular shape. When you tossed your packed ball of snow in the air, the two of you watched as it hit the ground and broke apart once again.

A smile on your face, it seemed that you and the child had the same idea, and for a while you both did just that, tossing balls of snow in the air and watching them fall and reunite with the blanket of white already on the ground. It was only after you laid eyes on the ship again did your idea expand a little, and this time instead of throwing the snowballs you made up into the air, you stockpiled them behind a nearby rock. Grogu watched you with inquisitive eyes, and even contributed a few snowballs of his own, making some of them hover in the air at your eye level before gently placing them next to your small pile.

When you felt that you had enough ammunition, you pressed the button to turn on the comm device that rested on your wrist (it was supposed to be for emergencies only, but in this moment you didn’t care). “Can you come out here for a moment please?” you asked Din, keeping your voice even as to not give away your intentions.

“Is something wrong?” he immediately sounded worried. It was probably a valid reaction, given the kind of troubles you had faced with him in the past, but you didn’t want to arouse any suspicion.

“No, nothing like that,” you said. “The kid and I wanted to show you something, that’s all.”

“Alright.”

You waited with bated breath for him to appear at the top of the ship’s boarding ramp, and soon your shining target was visible. Quickly and without warning, you launched two of your snowballs in his direction, and they both hit him gently in the chest, sliding down from where they hit his armor. You stared at him for a few moments after that, and you knew by the tilt of his helmet he was staring right back. But he didn’t get a chance to say anything before the child had launched a snowball of his own, hovering through the air and landing on his left shoulder.

Everything after that happened so quickly you couldn’t really keep track, but Din raced down the ramp and quickly made his own snowball, launching it in your direction before you could make your next move.

Eventually, it was all out war between you. Of course Din’s reflexes were the best you’d ever seen, he was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. But it warmed your heart that he was willing to play along with this little game, even if you were now being pelted with snow. You had that large rock to hide behind, but the little bit of shelter it offered wasn’t nearly enough to successfully evade Din.

You launched snowballs at him, he fired right back. Grogu found enjoyment in making his snowballs float high in the air and then dropping them over your heads, and the two of you retaliated with a few gently tossed clumps of snow at him too. You and Din took turns chasing each other around the area where the ship was parked, laughing and attempting to scare each other with threats you would never actually make good on.

“Get back here!”

“You’ll have to bring me in cold, Djarin!”

“Oh cyar’ika, I can do that.”

You stopped momentarily as you tried to register the term he had just used, but it seemed that was exactly what he wanted. It was too late to dodge as he tackled you, but you knew that you could take him down too, so you threw your leg out and caught the armor on his calf, sending him down onto the snowy ground along with you.

Neither of you landed on top of each other, but when you both turned to see if the other was okay, you ended up way closer to him than you had even been before. You couldn’t see his face due to his helmet, but you knew that if you leaned in a little you would be kissing the cold metal.

Suddenly overcome with emotion (and the realization of what position you were in), you and Din pulled away from each other. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, what about you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, and the tone of his voice made it known that he was aware of the situation’s awkwardness as much as you were. “It’s getting dark, why don’t we bring the kid inside?”

You nodded again, trying to get your brain to stop thinking about kissing him. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said. “We can go to sleep, and hopefully be able to leave this place tomorrow once the snow stops.”

Grogu, as it turned out, was watching the exchange between you and Din the entire time, and he thankfully seemed to agree that it was time to go back into the ship. Right as you finished getting changed into dry clothes and settling the child into his hammock, the light from this planet’s sun had completely disappeared for the day.

It was pitch dark in the barrack of the ship, and you couldn’t see a thing. So when you felt Din’s warm body slide into the cot next to you, it was a pleasant surprise. This wasn’t an uncommon experience for you and him to fall asleep together, seeing as the ship was only so big, but you worried that you had somehow ruined that with the events of the snowball fight this afternoon. Not saying anything so you didn’t ruin the moment, you just snuggled closer to Din’s side, taking in the scent of him that you found so pleasant and comforting.

“I had fun out there today with you and the kid.” His voice was different without the helmet’s modulator, and it was always a little bit of a shock when you heard it, but you also thought it was one of the most attractive voices you’d ever come across.

“I had fun too,” you said. “I think the experience was good for him.”

Din hummed in agreement as you yawned at the same time, and soon the two of you were drifting off to dreamland together, your brain just barely registering the feeling of soft lips on your forehead as you finally fell asleep.

- the end -