stagerightlauren

“You’re… giving this to me,” you ask, dragging the question out.

The Mandalorian stands at your doorstep. Unreadable beneath hard shiny metal and illuminated only by the entry light of your home above your door. The chilly night air bites your cheeks but he stands unfazed.

“As a thank you,” he explains. “You were a big help to my kid and this was the only thing I had that seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

All you did was give his little green kid some medicine. It’s not like it was even your first interaction with the infamous hunter. He’s stopped by your apothecary a couple times. Passing by so swiftly you hardly even knew he was there if it wasn’t for the lingering stares from other customers. If you recall correctly, he only ever picks up supplies to replenish a med pack or bacta spray for wounds.

Until you suddenly found him at your doorstep the other night with his adorable little green baby in his arms. The poor little guy was running a fever, coughing up a storm, and had even refused food for over a day. Any parent would be frantic. And so you didn’t even think twice to let them inside.

Luckily your small shop is attached below your home, so you were quick to find the right tinctures for his illness. The Mandalorian paced circles in your kitchen as you administered the medicine and blotted his kid’s little forehead with a cool damp cloth. It took some time and a lot of reassurance to a very nervous father, but after a few hours the fever broke.

You sent them home with some herbal tinctures and even some homemade hard medicinal candies for stubborn coughs and that was it. Hardly any words were exchanged between you that night that didn’t pertain to the child. Only a heartfelt thank you, goodnight, and a promise to pay you back somehow. You assured him that it really wasn’t necessary, that you were glad to help.

You’ve admittedly always been curious about the man. With his stoic demeanor and a reputation that preceded him like lightening preceded thunder. He’s somewhat of a local legend, menace, and hero all wrapped up in one. And now he’s at your door. With booze. Definitely a man of his word, this guy.

“You’re giving this,” you repeat with astonishment. “This whole bottle, to me?”

“Yes,” he answers again. “Is it a special one or something?”

“This is Andoan wine,” you emphasize, holding out the clear glass bottle. “You can only find these on Coruscant now. Very delicious, very rare, very expensive.”

“Is it,” he asks nonchalantly. “I’ve never tried it before. But I hope you enjoy it.”

“You really don’t have to,” you tell him.

“I insist. I didn’t know the first thing to do so I appreciate your help.”

You chuckle. With your limited interactions, you’re starting to see that he’s short and to the point with his words. Almost like he’s not entirely used to speaking with people.

“I…” You nearly argue it again but decide against it. He really didn’t have to give you such a lavish gift for something any good person would do in a situation like that. It was only natural. But at this point, refusing him might come off as rude so…

“Thank you very much.”

The Mandalorian acknowledges your gratitude with a tilt of his helmet, then turns on his heels to leave without another word. And for some reason, you linger at the door. You watch him go down one step, then another, then-

“H-hey, Mando?”

Your sudden call stops him in his tracks on the stair case and he turns to look back over his shoulder. The dim light gleaming over his steel.

“Yes?”

“I…. w-well…”

You’re stammering. Just come out and say it.

“If you’ve never tried it… would you like to share it with me?”

He stands there silently looking at you and the awkwardness crawls your skin.

“I’m not busy at the moment and it’s not really in my culture to drink alone.”

Culture your ass. You just want to drink with him. It’s unclear why in particular but… you’re curious about him. Other than the company of his kid, he seems alone. You wonder if he prefers it that way or if it’s for another reason entirely. Either way, the offer was worth a shot.

There’s more silence and the only noise in the air comes from the gentle chirp of some lava crickets and the breeze brushing the trees in the street. And it’s in that moment that regret starts to burn in your stomach

He’s gonna say no. A pause like that doesn’t necessarily mean yes. But it would be rude not to offer, right? A bottle this nice doesn’t come by these parts and it’d be a shame to drink it alone. It’s reasonable to offer the gesture. After all, he went out of his way to come here from across town. It’s the least you can do to show your appreciation in return.

“Alright.”

The word that falls out of him so effortlessly hits you like a punch to the chest. Are you nervous? Absolutely. But how many people can say they shared a drink with the Mandalorian?

A few minutes later, you find yourself standing on your tip toes, grabbing a couple earthenware ceramic cups in your kitchenette cabinet while Mando stands in your living room. His helmet follows the various potted plants, momentos and knick knacks from your travels littered around your home. Even tracing his gloved fingers over some of them.

“You have a nice home,” he says. “I didn’t notice before. Very lived in.”

“Lots of junk,” you joke. “You can say it Mando, I won’t mind.”

“My place is still new. Doesn’t feel like a home just yet.”

“That’ll change over time,” you assure him. “After a while, your home becomes a collection of memories.”

His attention gets drawn to a particular item on your wall. It’s an old worn down canvas satchel bag that hangs on the wall. At one point it was a life line. Now it serves as a reminder that no matter how hard life gets, showing a little kindness can go a long way for someone.

“What’s this memory?”

“That? That memory is what got me here.” You smile to yourself as you wipe down the cups with a clean kitchen rag.

“A few years ago, I was on Pantora with just some spare change and the clothes on my back. I was desperate to leave so I ended up hitching a ride on a freight ship. I worked on the ship in exchange for a ride to Corellia. Their language was difficult to learn and I had a rough time getting things done because for some reason everything was written in the native language and not aurebesh. On a stop to Tattooine, I accidentally labeled a pallet of coaxium as a pallet of scrap metal. That “scrap” was sold to some Jawas and by the time everyone realized my mistake we were already halfway to the next planet.”

“Was that before you came the Nevarro?”

“That was the reason I came to Nevarro,” you clarify. “It was their next stop so they dropped me here.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch,” you laugh. “Anyway, I guess one of the workers felt sorry for me and left me that satchel with a couple credits and some ration bars inside. Buuut my mistake turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Nevarro turned itself around. I have my own little business. I’m even able to save a little bit of money now. For the time being, things are comfortable. I’ve hopped around the system a lot as you can see. But… this is a place I can always come back to.”

“Something reliable,” he adds.

“Exactly,” you say softly, smiling at the sentiment.

You look up at him. And you didn’t notice as you were cleaning those cups that he’s now completely facing towards you. His visor is trained on you. And it’s then that you realize how small your home really is. Because Mando is broad.

His crossed arms accentuate his wide shoulders. His chest plate follows the lines of his trim torso. Even those plates of beskar armor can barely hide the bulk of his biceps. Your eyes briefly, briefly take a tour at his waist line before you realize how incredibly rude you’re being.

He’s a guest. And a customer. Don’t. Check. Him. Out.

Heat starts to rise in your cheeks. Focusing back on the cups, you round the kitchen counter and walk over to him.

“I’m sorry. All this talking suddenly got deeper and I feel like I haven’t really introduced myself. We’ve only ever passed by each other before,” you chuckle, shaking away the nerves.

In hindsight you should’ve just introduced yourself the other night, but truthfully you were in care-taker-mode and it didn’t occur to you at the time. Plus you didn’t think you’d have an encounter with the man again other than seeing him briefly in your shop every so often. But he seems like a nice enough person with the limited knowledge you do have with him. And after tonight you’re bound to cross paths again. So you happily extend your hand out and give him his cup along with your full name.

There’s a couple beats of silence and you’re starting to see that’s his default. But it doesn’t stop you from second guessing your words as if you’re crossing an unknown boundary. There’s a slight tilt downward with his helmet and he responds with a regretful “I’m sorry, but-“

“You don’t have to tell me your name,” you immediately add. “I know there’s… principles you must have. I just wanted you to know me. That’s all.”

Another beat passes before he finally reaches out to take the cup in his hand. He repeats your name and the way it comes out of his voice holds a whole new flavor. Soft and curious even through the warble of his vocoder. It’s almost like he’s seeing how it tastes.

You like it. You like it a lot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The voice wears the vocoder like a veil but you still catch a hint of a smile by his relaxed tone. No real logical way to know for certain, just a gut feeling.

“Likewise,” you smile back.

“So,” he exhales. “You want to know how two Mandalorians drink?”

“Sure. Sounds educational,” you joke.

With a tilt of his helmet, Mando steps further into the living room area and you follow behind, cup and bottle in hand. Walking over to the couch, his gloved hand reaches for the small round pillow resting there. His smokey grey cape flows over his shoulder and for a moment you’re mesmerized by the movement. As he turns on his heel, his fingers release the pillow. Letting it fall to the thin rug with a muted poof.

“Right here.” Mando gestures to the floor and you waltz over to take a seat on the cushion, crossing your legs. It doesn’t escape your notice how he doesn’t grab the only pillow for himself. Opting for your comfort over his own.

He takes a minute to look around the room. Probably checking for anything reflective. Then with a swish of his cape to the side, Mando settles in the floor behind you. When his back presses against yours, you expect a wall of cold hard metal beneath the cape. But instead there’s warmth. Strong and firm, but still warm and giving.

“It’s customary to sit on the floor when drinking with a war band. Usually outside around a fire. When it’s just two, it’s back to back.”

“Aaah,” you drawl. “Very practical. I like it.”

The top of the bottle comes off with a pop and the rich scent caresses your nose like a hug. After pouring about two fingers worth into Mando’s cup you pour one for yourself and settle in.

“Are we drinking to anything tonight ,” you ask him.

“Not sure. How about…,” he pauses for a moment before deciding. “To that Pantoran who gave you the satchel.”

That makes you laugh out loud. But you can’t help but feel a little pleased at that. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be on Nevarro, wouldn’t have a home. And you definitely wouldn’t be drinking with Mando tonight. For that you’re especially grateful.

“You know what, yeah,” you chuckle. “To the Pantoran.”

Mando extends his arm back to reach your cups and you meet him halfway. Letting them touch with a soft clack.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

There’s an unclicking sound and you sense that he’s probably tilting his helmet back to drink. You ignore the small tinge of disappointment that he didn’t take it completely off. But it’s understandable. He doesn’t know you well. Even drinking like this with an outsider is probably a big deal for people of his creed. His back presses a little further against yours as he takes his first sip and you take yours.

The wine is rich and dry, and a bit smokey. But the underlying taste of tangy fruit blends well with the flavor. Going by the color, it has to have been bottled for a decades. The alcohol runs warmly down your throat and settles like smoldering ember in your stomach. It’s like no other alcohol you’ve ever tried before. Not even close.

“Hoooh,” he hisses after that sharp bite of alcohol.

“Yeah,” you agree knowingly. Already sensing that this bottle is getting finished tonight.

The conversations flow pretty easily after the first drink. He tells you about how his boy came into his life and how he suddenly found himself being his father. You tell him that you can only dream of having a parent like him because you never got to know yours. You half expected he would cut the interaction short and only accept one drink. But when you offer a refill, he gladly accepted which warmed you from the inside.

Admittedly you ask a few curious questions about his creed and he indulges you a bit. And he asks about how you got into medicine making. But for the most part you both stick to easier topics like current events on Nevarro, work, and food. Eventually two drinks turn into three and somehow you’ve both dipped into topics like past relationships. Which is dangerous territory after drink number three.

“It was baaad, Mando. I’m telling you. I mean, really! Who gives two shits who makes more money than who? Or am I in the wrong here?”

“Nah, definitely not,” he replies. His speech now more relaxed but a little raspy from the alcohol. “Honestly, he sounds like a little bitch if that was his main concern.”

“Yeah! Like, what is it with these men and needing to feel superior in such bullshit, inconsequential ways?”

“You seem strong willed. Weak men are intimidated by that.”

“Yeah well, then every man I’ve met in this galaxy was weak,” you groan. “I mean, c’mon. Am I that intimidating? Is it the yapping? It’s probably the yapping.”

“I think someone who’d be deterred by something that trivial doesn’t sound worth a damn anyway.”

With that, you let out a deep sigh and slump against the man behind your back.

“Eh, you’re probably right,” you exhale. You toss back the last little sip in your ceramic cup, savoring the flavor.

“You know what, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll just be that shop girl around the corner who throws herself into her work, makes her little remedies, and stays happily independent. I think I can live with that.”

A pause streches between you.

“You don’t sound too convincing, Shop Girl,” he teases.

“Shit,” you tsk.

You both wheeze with laughter, your bodies rumbling against one another and it’s so… relaxing. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t say much. Or that what little he does say is said with a sincerity you’re not used to. Or you’re drunk. It could very well be that.

But in a galaxy full of deceit and unknown dangers, it’s refreshing to talk with someone as honest as him. He’s authentic, unapologetically so.

“Hey so… can I ask you something?”

“You’ve been asking things this whole time,” he teases.

“I know, but… it’s technically a helmet question. And you can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

Mando hums and the rumble reverberates through your body, nesting warmly in your chest. He’s settled comfortably against you and it makes you feel close enough to ask what you want to ask. After thinking it over he gives you permission.

“Can’t wait to hear this,” he sighs with a little amusement.

You smile. To your surprise, he actually has a good sense of humor. A dry, blunt one . But humor nonetheless. You run a finger over the rim of your cup, finding a little more courage.

“Mando… Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

It’s a simple enough question, right? It’s within the ballpark of the topics you’ve been discussing. And you’re both adults. It’s not like it’s inappropriate…Right?

Oh god, you really are drunk…

Regret rises with each passing second and you wonder why you even brought it up. It’s probably some kind of insult to his creed to ask something like that. 

“Too much,” you broach gently.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not exactly the first person to ask that. Doubt you’ll be the last.”

He pauses for a moment to find the right words. Then with a heavy exhale he gives you an answer to your insanely intrusive question.

“I was pretty young when I took the creed,” he states. “Ten, twelve maybe? Too young to be interested in those kinds of things. Never looked back since. To be completely honest, it’s not even something I really think about in adulthood. Never understood the hype.”

“Sooo, I’ll take that as a no.”

“No,” he breathes. “Never kissed anyone.”

Never kissed anyone? Never felt a person’s soft lips against his own or graze his skin? Does that mean he hasn’t gotten to experience more than kissing? Licking? Biting? Or…

Do not finish that thought…

“Huh… Well, that’s a shame,” you say without thinking, quickly adding “-but at the same time, I completely understand it too! I mean, it shows a lot of self discipline, you know? To resist that kind of… temptation. Most people don’t have any reason to be disciplined enough to stay chaste. I can admire tha-"

“I said I’ve never kissed anyone, I didn’t say I never fucked.”

Thank… the Maker… you’re not face to face. Because the way your eyes bulged just now would’ve been downright embarrassing had it been caught. He didn’t just say sex or even screwing. The Mandalorian fucks. The alcohol in your blood seems to conjure a brief glimpse of what that might look like before you find enough coherence to shew it away.

“…oh,” you breathe out, effectively stopping your rambling. “I-I guess I just assumed…”

A deep exhale blows out of his nose. He hums, seemingly entertained by the foot you’ve put in your mouth. But also making the air light between you.

“Well, you assumed wrong.”

The humor in his voice settles your nerves a bit. Thankfully there isn’t an awkward air at the sudden change to such a topic despite hardly knowing each other. And oddly enough, it feels easy to talk about it for that very reason.

“You’re rather chatty when you drink, Mandalorian. I feel like I’m learning all sorts of things about you tonight.”

“You’re right,” he breathes. “I spoke without thinking, I apologize.”

“No, It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. It’s a relief to know there’s a man under all that armor and not solid metal.”

He hums again and the noise stirs something in your chest.

“Well, even so… It’s late… Probably best if I stop drinking.”

You look into your empty cup. Then glance over to the bottle with barely a drop left inside. Something inside you wilts. There’s nothing to keep him here any longer…

“Yeah… Me too.”

You’re not sure if you wait for him to move first or if he’s waiting for you. But both of you remain still for nearly a whole minute. Silent and hesitant to end the night. As comfortable as it is, you feel Mando’s back lean away from yours and you miss the warmth. You turn on the floor to find him standing up as he adjusts his helmet clasp and places his empty cup on the table.

“You were right. It tasted better shared,” he admits. A satisfied smile curls your lips.

“If you learned anything about me tonight, Mando, it’s that I am always right when it comes to liquor.”

“I appreciate the hospitality.”

“I appreciate the company.”

You place a hand on the table as an anchor in an attempt to stand up and follow him to the door. But as you try to stand straight, the room spins and your knees buckle.

Nope. Not doing that.

You sit your ass right back down on that cushion before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Quick to respond, Mando catches your free arm. Making sure you land back down safely.

“You ok,” he asks, concerned but with a hint of humor.

“Pfft. Yeah, I’m good. I think I’ll just stay down here for a minute,” you chuckle, running a hand through your hair and closing your eyes for a moment.

For sure you’ll have a hangover tomorrow. Shit. You work tomorrow. There’s a couple things you’re running low on, too. You’ll have to request an order through the trading guild. That’ll cost credits. Maybe if you get that Chiss man again you can manage a trade and he can throw in those dried flower buds for that tea that keeps getting sold out.

You know you’re already a bit dizzy. But behind closed eyes you feel like your head is swaying. Or rather… that it’s being moved. Something warm and firm holds your jaw up and when your eyes flutter open again you’re met face to face with dark silver.

The Mandalorian stands barely a foot in front of you. Visor fixed down on your face. Maybe the wine has made your brain slow but it’s only when you follow the path from his shoulder and down his outstretched arm that you realize what’s holding your jaw… is his hand.

With a subtle pass of his thumb along your cheek you can feel warmth starting to pool in your face. Awareness pricks the hairs on the back of your neck when you realize your position. Sitting on your knees, face barely level to his waist as a wall of steel and muscle towers over you.

“Your cheeks get flushed when you drink,” he mutters.

When I drink. Suuuure.

“Now you know,” you mumble without thinking. It grants you a satisfied hum from his helmet and you feel it travel through your ears and under your skin.

“Now I know…,” he repeats.

There’s no movement, no words. But there’s something thick in the air. It’s heavy and enticing. It’d be so easy to get wrapped up in it with any sudden movement. You look up at him through half lidded eyes and you get a gut feeling that they’re meeting his. You’re not sure what his are giving away. But yours have to be hinting something you’ve been trying to hide all night.

With a sharp intake of air, Mando steps back and releases your face. Your head drops a little at the loss of support and it follows his direction as he walks towards the front door with quick, heavy steps. With a press of a button on the wall panel, the door panels slide open and just before he steps outside… he stops. Not looking back, just standing there at the edge of your home with his stand still resting on the doorway.

“Don’t invite me in again.”

And then he’s gone. The door panels shut swiftly, leaving you alone and more confused than when he showed up at your door.

…what?

•

Din wishes he could say that the first thing he thinks about when he got home that night was his sleeping kid safe in the crib. Or at the very least about how incredible that wine tasted. But after he undressed and collapsed down onto his bed half drunk, the only thought he couldn’t stop thinking about as he stared at the ceiling was…

Damn… it’s been a while.

For the past few years, Din’s life has flipped around a number of times. Between barely scraping by as a bounty hunter, saving an orphan kid from an imperial psychopath, losing said kid, then having him return and be by his side to reclaim the Mandalorian home-world, there’s not much time to indulge those kinds of needs. But just because Din found himself being a busy father later in life doesn’t make certain things dead.

No. Everything felt very much alive and kicking by the end of that bottle.

Behind closed eyes, his room feels like it swirls. After that wine, his body feels loose and relaxed. Something he rarely gets to experience these days. Images dance across his closed lids. Delicate, slender hands around a handmade cup. A pink flush on smooth skin. Plump tinted lips between his fingers, softly parted and begging to be touched. The intrusive impulse to dip a finger between those lips was so strong he could feel his hand move into the action before he could even think to do so.

All thanks to that one question. That simple, innocent question activated a deep part of his brain that lay dormant. And then he decided to shatter the care free atmosphere by with a crass remark about sex.

Never in his life has he regretted saying something so fast. You barely even know each other. Admittedly, Din isn’t exactly a refined person, far from it actually. But after his third glass, any semblance of manners flew right out the window. His mouth did the walking with little thinking involved.

Yet, you didn’t get uncomfortable. You handled the slip up with humor instead of getting offended or something just as bad. Using humor to make the air light again. It surprised him how easily you did it. How easy the conversation was all night, really. It’s not everyday he’s able to let his guard down with another person.

Once he was aware of that, he became aware of everything. How late the hour was, how drunk you both were, and how your bed was right behind where you both sat. Only separated by a simple room divider. Even when he tipped up his helmet, there was a heady herbal scent from you that kept swimming in his nose and it was just as intoxicating as the wine. He couldn’t trust himself to stay any longer. And now, in the safety of his own home, he finds himself preoccupied with a mountain of questions.

What kind of person are you? What’s your daily life like? What other places have you seen? What troubles you? You seem to be rooted here in Nevarro for the time being. But from what you’ve mentioned about your past, you have a kind of nomadic life. What happens if he… if the kid gets attached and you decide to move on to another planet? But then again, it’s not like he’s not one to talk though is he?

Loyalty. Solidarity. These are things that have been etched to his core since childhood. But giving those things to something that could be fleeting? That’s a risk he’s avoided for most of his life. Those kinds of wounds never heal.

But as much as he tries to distance himself, it’s not always in his control.

Three weeks go by and they couldn’t end soon enough. When he offered to work with Teva (or Blue as he usually calls him) on a case-by-case basis, he figured they’d be more involved than the bounty hunting trade. He’s spent up to a month off planet at times in order to capture a quarry so it’s not exactly new to him.

But that was when he had the Razor Crest. With a cot to rest in, a weapons locker, and supplies readily at hand. In that regard, the N-1 leaves much to be desired. Plus Din’s back isn’t what it used to be and long rides in that ship are killer. And to add insult to injury, this last case with Zeb was especially complicated to resolve. It left him and the kid completely drained.

After finally landing back in Nevarro with fresh credits, there is absolutely nothing Din wants more than to just go home, bathe, and sleep for at least a day. But he’s got a very hungry green mouth to feed and there’s no way Din is fixing up any dinner tonight.

Street food it is.

“Alright, we’re making this quick. In and out. I’ll get you as much food as you want and you can pick out one sweet. Not five. One. Got that?” Grogu tilts his head at Din curiously from where he follows behind on the cobblestone street and he’ll just take that as a yes.

Dozens of food stalls are gathered at the main square in town as he approaches. Adorned with all sorts of neon signs, string lights and colorful banners. It’s a busy atmosphere filled with people laughing, vendors calling out for customers to stop by, and sounds of clanking and sizzling as they cook.

Din gravitates towards the skewers stand. He knows Grogu is going to down ten of them by himself so he opts for something easy, filling, and cheap. He catches sight of those spicy chunks of fatty meat searing over lava coals and his mouth waters.

“Okay, which onesss-“

Din reaches down to pick up his son only to find the street bricks.

“-Sssshhhhit,” he hisses under his breath, glancing around. This fucking kid. He knows better than to run off.

The crowd is thick and it’s getting dark. He scans through the sea of people and vendors but doesn’t find that familiar pale green.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With a tap of his helmet side panel he switches to the tracking beacon screen. After enough scares like these he’s learned to have a tracker sewn into his clothes at this point.

Blinking red arrows come into his view and he follows the path. Not caring whose shoulders he budges or what food he knocks out of someone’s grip to get through. The red arrows turn yellow. He’s getting close but there’s still no visual of the kid and he’s starting to panic. He pushes through, scanning side to side and calling out his name in an orchestra of noises without reply.

Yellow turns to green and he’s still out of sight. He’s tiny and easy to miss. Grogu could be anywhere, he could be in any one of these stalls. What if he’s taken? What if someone else is tracking him? He could be picked up by a total stranger and taken away again.

Just as that thought crosses his mind, there’s a small separation in the crowd. Big floppy ears come into view and he’s definitely been picked up. But it’s no stranger that holds him.

“And here comes dad~” A voice soft as silk rings inside his helmet.

Relief floods his body as well as caution when he taps his screen clear. Only him. Situations like this only happen to him. It could’ve been Karga. It could’ve been anybody. But it had to be you that found him.

It was barely two minutes. But within those two minutes Din’s head flooded with every worst case scenario possible. And here he is. Happily babbling in your arms like he didn’t just give his dad a fucking heart attack.

“I know, I know,” you assure him like you can already tell where his head’s at, trying to speak over all the noise. “Don’t be too hard on the little guy. I already gave him a bit of a lecture for running around at night.”

Din wants to. It’s honestly his first reaction. But a cooler head prevails and he decides against it after a second thought. He reminds himself (once again) that Grogu is still young and that getting angry would only make things worse. What matters is that he’s safe and that he managed to find you.

“At least he won’t have to hear it twice,” he exhales, pushing out the stress sitting in his lungs. “Sorry about him.”

“No, no sorry needed. He’s smarter than he lets on. At least he ran to someone he knew. I’m glad I was around.”

Din opens his mouth to speak but ends up falling short with his words. Now that some of the stress has left his body, his eyes take you in at a second glance. Unclouded by the adrenaline.

Your hair is tied up with a pin with a few loose pieces falling at the nape of your neck and around your face. With the heat persisting into the night, you decided to wear a thin strap tank top that hangs low on your chest. It exposes miles of smooth skin, from your shoulders all the way down the arms wrapped around his kid. A dusty blue apron wraps around your waist over some baggy cargo pants so you must’ve came here right after work. There’s a glow from all the neon lights that adorns you and he has to will his mouth to move before he gets caught staring.

“Here.” He extends his hands to you. “I can take him back. Thank you for catching him. C’mon, bud. Let her get back to shopping.”

“It’s no problem,” you assure him with a smile. Your hands hooks under Grogus tiny arms and start to pull him off your torso. “Back to dad you go.”

But the moment he’s barely lifted, he cries out in protest with a shrill whine. Refusing to leave your side. You pull him back in instantly and run a soothing hand on his back.

“Oh! Okay, okay. You can stay with me for a minute,” you giggle in a sugary voice to Grogu. Bouncing him on your hip.

You both exchange a look of surprise (as much as his visor can give off anyway). What kind of person are you that Grogu prefers your embrace over his own father? He doesn’t know whether to be jealous or impressed.

But it’s getting late, they need to eat and get home and you probably need to get back to your own errands. Din’s hands extends again to take Grogu but you shake your head with a little smile. Letting him know it’s not an inconvenience to you.

“Here, wanna help me pick out some sweets?”

Grogu coos at your request, toying with the glittering silver chain pendant on your neck. You rest his kid on your hip effortlessly and the motion of it pinches something deep in Din’s chest. Turning to the assorted trays of sugared fruits on skewers, you list the various kinds for Grogu to pick out. Talking back with him like you can actually understand his little babbles. You answer him with “ooh, that’s a good choice” and “these are my favorites”. 

Din just stands aside, watching the way you both interact and it’s admittedly a bit pleasing to see how natural you are with him. Most people think he’s a pet at first glance. Karga treats him like a newborn. Talking gibberish and doting on him despite him handling a 50 year old. You, on the other hand, just treat him like a regular kid. And it’s refreshing to see.

His son’s head spins back at his father with the biggest set of sparkling inky eyes and Din can see the pleading question in them. He tilts his helmet at him and reminds him “one”. Those large ears deflate a little and you giggle at the interaction. Din offers to pay for your skewer along with Grogu’s as another thank you for looking after his son (again). The vendor gathers the treats in paper wrappers to take to go.

You turn to ask Din something, but it’s covered by the noise of yelling and cooking. He tilts his head a bit lower to try and catch what you’re saying. Then, without hesitation, your hand finds purchase on the pauldron on his shoulder. Prompting him to lean in closer to you so you can speak within earshot.

“It’s been a minute since I saw you last,” you remark with a raised voice. “Everything good?”

Shit.

For a second he freezes. Partly at the lack of distance between you, but mostly because the last time he saw you he stormed out of your place like it was on fire without so much as a goodnight. You’re probably wondering what the hell that was about and he honestly can’t answer that himself. Although your expression seems more cheerful than troubled. He crouches closer to your ears and replies with caution, hoping to avoid the direction of that conversation.

“Yeah, we’ve been um… traveling a lot lately. I get contracted by the new republic pretty often these days. Leaving him behind with someone whenever I’m off planet for too long doesn’t seem fair to him so he’s always by my side no matter what.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You usually stop by for medkit supplies so when I didn’t see you last week I figured you were away.”

Din mentally smacks his forehead. Right. Of course you meant the shop. Because what else would you be implying to a fucking customer? You’re just making small talk. Something he has never really gotten the hang of. Seems pretty damn easy when he’s drinking though…

“We actually just got back. Too tired to fix something up so I figured I’d grab us something quick and easy before heading home.”

“Ugh. I feel that. When I get home I’m crashing on the first soft surface I see,” you groan, still bouncing Grogu on the curve of your hip. Those hips…

No. Stop it.

“Busy day,” he asks and your eyes roll upwards.

“Busy week,” you exclaim. “I swear I think about quitting at least once a day. But I like it too much. Plus it’s the only thing I’m any good at. Otherwise I’d probably be some kind of criminal.” You pause then laugh at the thought before adding, “then you’d probably have to hunt me down, huh?”

That… is a scenario that he already knows is going to stick in his brain for a while. It’s such an enticing thought that he doesn’t bother to tell you he’s not in that business anymore. A tiny part of him would much rather have you think he’d chase you. Obviously you’re not serious, but he can’t help but lean into the joke.

“I don’t know,” he says unconvinced. “Might be pretty easy to find you. All I have to do is look wherever there’s street food.”

A laugh bubbles out of you and there’s a strange feeling that radiates in his chest at being able to make you laugh. Pride maybe? No, more like… satisfaction.

“Don’t underestimate me, Mando. I know my way around the outer rim. I’d make you work for it,” you say. Taunting him with a knowing smirk.

A smile tugs higher on his hidden face. The thought of you making him work for anything will no doubt be food for thought later. And instinct tells him that might’ve been your intention. But two can play at this game.

You’re already nearly face to face but he inches even closer, almost close enough for metal to meet skin. Ensuring you catch every word right into your ear.

“I’d like to see you try, Shop Girl.”

Your eyes grow a little wider at the sound of your nickname and he takes pleasure at just how effective it is. It’s another reminder of that night. A name that was spoken within an intimate atmosphere that only the two of you occupied. And by your expression, that same thought crosses your mind too.

You bite your bottom lip in a smile. The same lips that were between his hands. The only lips he can’t seem to forget. The shape, the color, and how fucking edible they look. He’s even noticed how they pout a little when you’re concentrated on a task. More questions surface.

What do they feel like? What do they taste like? What makes a kiss so good that everyone can recall their first?

The bubble created is suddenly burst by the outside world. The stall vendor gleefully hands over the candied fruit over the counter in their wrappers and you take them with your free hand. Handing the mixed one to Grogu because he couldn’t decide on just one flavor. Reality returns to Din’s head and his thoughts immediately sober up.

What the hell is he doing?

He tears his eyes away. Even if you can’t tell, looking at you like that for too long feels wrong. You’re a good person, you’re trying to live a normal life, and what you’ve told him you’re not looking to get involved in any drama. He has to keep reminding himself of those things.

That same instinct to leave hits him again. Because that urge to do something he can’t take back flares up again and it’s best to not give that feeling any more energy. For both your sakes. He gestures his hand in a hand-him-over motion, signaling to you and Grogu that it’s time to go.

“Alright, time to go kid. Say goodnight.”

Grogu whines with a mouthful of sweets and a face covered in sugar and it makes him chuckle to himself. Din would normally find the defiance a little cute, if it wasn’t for the stunt he pulled earlier. You carefully hand him over with both arms leaning in close and again he feels another pinch in his chest at how carefully you exchange him.

Your bare arms graze against his clothed ones and he pulls away the second he has hold of his kid. He ignores the small current of electricity from the contact and maneuvers Grogu into the crossbody bag to his hip. Which, of course, makes him protest.

“Nope. You had your chance. Now you get the bag.”

“Aw c’mon,” you scold “He was just playing around. Now he’s in bag jail?”

First the kid and now you? He can tell his son no, but it might be a little harder to tell you that.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe next time he’ll think twice about running off in a crowd,” he groans.

Once the kid is settled in the bag, you follow him down. Crouching down, you sit face to face with Grogu as he stuffs his face with the candied fruit. Resting your free hand on his fuzzy head as the other holds your own skewered treat.

“Kay, little rebel. Go stuff your face with some good food. And take it easy on your poor dad, alright? He’s not built for that kinda stress.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he asks, kind of amused by your ribbing. He can count on one hand the people who are undaunted enough to make playful jabs at him.

Your lips twist and your eyes take a tour up to your brows as you think of your reply.

“Hmm… just the way you get a little impatient sometimes. You were like that when you brought him over and paced my living room for an hour,” you chuckle. “You seem like the kind of man who gets antsy when something’s not in your control.”

A smile threatens to crawl his face. Pretty presumptuous. But he can’t deny how true that statement rings. Especially nowadays when it’s not just himself he has to worry about.

“Maybe so,” he replies with a hint of humor in his voice. “Patience isn’t really my strong suit. Although this one seems to enjoy testing it.”

“Patience is bitter,” you muse as you rub the top of Grogu’s head with your thumb. He coos with delight and the softest gaze glows on your face. Then from your crouched position, your eyes glance back up at Din and add, “…But the fruit is sweet.”

His jaw flexes beneath his helmet, and heat now courses through his veins.

That can’t be a good sign. He already enjoys your banter too much as it is. But that look just now was dangerous. It dredges up thoughts he shouldn’t have about you. Thoughts like kissing someone he barely knows. Feeling skin on skin. Showing you what a man like him can do to you compared to the boys of your past.

He saw it all over your pretty face when he held it in his hand. That flush on your cheeks, your dilated pupils. Hell, he even saw your heat signature rising in his helmet screen for fuck sake. There’s an attraction and that’s fine (and not completely unreciprocated) but it can’t be anything more than that.

You and him live completely different lives. There’s no need to uproot your peace and get involved in his complicated affairs. Even if something happened, it wouldn’t be long before the allure of the suit and mystery people usually perceive of Mandalorians would turn into repulsion.

That’s how it’s gone before. That’s the way it is.

•

You’re a bad person. A horrible human being and a shameless lowlife. Downright beyond saving.

I’d like to see you try, Shop Girl.

The damn sentence won’t stop replaying in your head. It’s not just a nickname. It’s a nickname he gave you. One that’s covered in underlying context and memories that only the two of you share. One that peppers your skin with goosebumps when it comes out of that raspy modulated voice. It’s even worse when your brain starts intrusively placing it in all sorts of sentences.

That’s it, Shop Girl…

You’re doing so well, Shop Girl…

Bend over for me, Shop Girl…

That last one has crawled into your dreams more often than you’d care to admit lately.

You need to get a grip. It’s just an attraction. You’ve been alone for too long and you’re getting all wound up over a smidge of attention. He’s just a regular decent person with a kid to take care of who also just happens to have an amazingly muscular body and a voice of sin. Simple as that.

Right. Simple.

After that night at the food stalls, the Mandalorian and Grogu have been visiting your humble Clinic Shop on a more frequently. Usually you'll see them a couple times a week if they're not on one of their long haul trips. Missions? Jobs?

It's not like Mando has any reason to let you know ahead of time. But when a week or so passes with no sign of silver or green, you can't help but feel a little down. You've come to look forward to seeing your regulars. But they grown to being your favorite customers.

And if you're being honest, theres a growing part of you that feels tied to the man in silver beskar. When he's here, the part blossoms. And when he's gone, it feels... wilted. It's unexpected and confusing to say the least. The closest feeling you could label it is homesickness. And truthfully, you're not really sure if you want to feel such a heavy thing towards anybody right now.

There's a lull in the store this hot muggy afternoon. You've already finished your prescription orders, restocked your shelves, even watered all the potted plants outside the entrance. Since you finally have some down time, you figured you might as well get to making some of your popular tea mixes.

On the back counter, you have a variety of dried herbs, flower buds, tea leaves, and a few large mixing bowls. The scent in the shop is incredible right now. Swirling around on the wind propelled by the metal fans around the shop. Spiced and aromatic with a hint of fruitiness. You let the smell fill your lungs and relax your body as you place measured scoops of the mix into small paper bags. A bead of sweat tracks down the back of your neck. Even with pinning your hair up and the strapless wrap you chose to wear today, the heat of the day still clings to your damp skin.

A cool glass of that Andoan wine would be so good right about now...

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe there really is some kind of invisible tie. But something makes your head tilt to the side and glance at the open entrance. And it's then that a glint of sliver light reflects on the stucco walls. A flutter of anticipation strikes through your chest and your eyes are locked at the entrance. Then, that familiar Silver T-visor and a pair of floppy green ears peek around the corner.

The smile that spreads across your cheeks is so big it almost hurts.

"Hey," you exclaim from the back of the store. You leave your station and excitedly make your way across the store to the pair as they step inside.

“It’s been a whi-“

“Ah ah, sorry," you cut Mando off mid greeting, halting him with your pointer finger. "Grogu gets first dibs.”

Mando shakes his head but you can tell he's humored. Turning his hip to the side and giving you access to the canvas crossbody where Grogu resides.

“Even though I'm a regular customer," Mando retorts.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that sounded a teensy bit like jealousy. You smirk, giving eyes only to the little green baby.

“Not when you’re as cute as him.” You say, placing Grogu on your hip and giving him little scritches on his wrinkled head.

“Isn’t that right, Kid. Mando wishes he could be half as cute as you.” The child coos at you and Mando shakes his head. But you can tell by his body language that he's at least a little amused.

You walk back to the back counter with the kid in your arms and Mando in tow behind you. And the feeling you have in this moment is oddly... domestic? You're not entirely sure if that's the right word. In your life you've never experienced domesticity. But you figure it's similar to that homesick feeling you get.

You place Grogu on top of your station and pull out an herbal lollipop from your apron for him. You like to keep a few handy for kids and they also help with coughs. The kids inky eyes gleam as he babbles and plunges the sugary candy in his mouth. 

"Any chance that delivery for those new Pharmakits arrived yet," Mando asks, leaning a hand on the counter next to you.

"They did," you nod. "Any chance you're planning on taking on an army on your next trip?"

He shrugs, tilting his helmet to the side in that way he does when he's being aloof.

"Doesn't hurt to keep one on hand. You never know."

You hum in acknowledgment but inside a pit forms in your stomach. The danger he faces whenever he goes on these "jobs" isn't lost on you. Lately, it's been on the back of your mind more often than not. On his last visit, when he asked about ordering stronger meds and triage supplies, it hit you just how much his long absences affect you. And just the thought of never seeing him or his little boy again stirs up something vile inside.

“You seem to be busy today,” he remarks, pointing out all the open jars and mixing bowls with various dried leaves and herbs.

His remark takes you out of your thoughts. You must've been silent a second too long for him to change the subject like that. With a deep inhale and slight embarrassment you shrug off the negative thoughts and ground yourself back to reality.

“Yes and no. I’ve been restocking while it’s dead to keep busy.”

He leans in a bit to get a closer look at the contents of the bowl. Close enough for you to catch the scent of smoke and musk on his clothes.

“You’re mixing… tea?”

You hum a yes and nod.

“Tea can be used for lots of medicinal purposes. Many people prefer natural remedies to pharmaceutical ones. I try to have a mix of both.”

“So this is medicine?” You sway your head to the side, trying to think of the best way to explain the purpose of the tea.

“Kiiind of. You could say it’s preventative.”

“What does it prevent?”

“Pregnancy.”

A clearing of his throat follows your answer. You turn toward him with a smirk and a raised brow but his visor has now turned away your face.

Most fearsome bounty hunter in the outer rim, everybody.

“You asked, man,” you chuckle with a shrug.

“Guess that’s on me,” he says.

“This is actually one of my best sellers,” you tell him. You grab the wooden scoop and raise up the floral mix, letting the various petals and herbs rain back down into the bowl. The motion makes the sweet scent drive up in the air. “I have customers tell me they don’t leave the house before their daily brew.”

“I’m glad business is going well for you,” he deflects, making you fold your smile in your teeth. And suddenly your brain sees a prime opportunity.

“You know, Mando…,” you drawl as you mix the petals. “If you’re ever in a pinch and you need some, I could give you a sample.” The way his helmet jerks to face you almost breaks your nonchalant smile.

“That’s um… very generous but it’d be wasted on me.” His body straightens stiffly and you can tell the topic makes him a bit uneasy. But you press on anyway.

“You sure? You can never be too safe. I’m sure any visitors would appreciate it.” He sighs deeply and turns away, shaking his head in annoyance.

God, this is too much fun. Teasing him is so easy. If it wasn’t for the helmet you bet he’s sweating right now. He might look cool and collected. But after drinking with him, you know there’s in fact a man under all that metal.

“I’m sure,” Mando confirms. “I'm not seeing anyone at the moment.”

And there’s the answer you’re looking for.

Was it a bit sneaky? Yeah. Yeah, it was sneaky. But it rules out the theory that reason he told you not to invite home again was because he’s currently taken. It’s still an enigma as to why. But honestly there’s still the gut feeling that you did something to make him uncomfortable that night.

Maybe you crossed a line with one of your questions. You tend to ask a lot of questions. Your filter also isn’t everybody’s flavor. Even so, you had a great time talking, even joking around with him. You’ve come to cherish that night in your memory. And the thought that you obliviously might’ve said something to offend Mando in any way makes your chest ache.

But if that was the case then why has he been stopping by your store more frequently since then? He always says he’s restocking his med kit but you get the feeling there’s more to it than that. Almost as if he’s checking up on you. Making sure you’re doing ok. And above all, that’s what scares you.

It’s scares you how good that thought makes you feel.

“Picking up an order!” An unfriendly voice bellows from the entrance where a Trandoshan man in fine robes stands waiting. “Name’s Samir T’ar.”

It takes a second to snap back into action. But you slap on your best customer service smile and leave your task for later. Rounding the corner past Mando and the kid and walking to the Medicine Cabinet. Wiping the non-existent dust on your hands on your waist apron.

“Hi, yes! I’ll grab that for you right now.”

The Trandoshan stands waiting at the counter as you sort through the assorted orders in the glass case. Looking for the right name tag and plucking the tied linen bag. You dont turn your eyes toward him, but Mando’s pressance is all your body is aware of. You can tell he’s miandering through the shop, looking at various items on the shelves. Which, to you, is a bit funny since hes been here plenty of times by now.

Is he playing the curious customer right now because there’s someone here?

You rest the tied bag next to the register as you run the total. All while the Trandoshan taps his clawed fingers impatiently on the check out counter.

“‘Kay with the compounded medicine and the herbal soak salts, that puts you at… fifteen credits today.”

“It was twelve the last time.”

“Yyyeesss, some of the ingredients for the meds were hard to come by this time around. Outer rim shipping routes, and all that,” you smile, trying to humorously reason with the man.

“And that’s supposed to be my fault? Just make it the same price as before and I’ll be on my way already.”

Ugh, great. One of those.

“I understand where you’re coming from, really. But fifteen is pretty fair considering the initial cost of acquiring ingredients of this high quality. Can’t beat the price compared to those New Republic clinics-"

“Nonononono," he waves with both hands in disapproval. “I’m not paying a single credit more for something I can make myself.”

That’s kind of the point of it buying here, right? To save yourself the trouble of making it?

“Sorry. Price is firm," you say confidently but kindly. "Buuut, how about if I throw in a couple sample heating pain patches. Free of charge,” you chirp, unfazed by his condescension.

Work with me, guy. There’s a man packing heat in the back…

“How about I give you ten for the order and leave? I don’t need you to peddle your-“

It’s a hand that shuts him up. Not yours, as much as it twitches to swipe that bag and toss in it the trash. No. This hand is big. Leather clad. And planted firmly on the counter between you and the customer.

“You can pay the fifteen or you can leave. But what you won’t do,” Mando leans in towards the Trandoshan for effect. “-is talk to her like that again. Make your choice.”

With his chest pressed to the back of your shoulder, you struggle to not squirm. You can feel his heat on your body. His frame eclipses yours from behind. The smell of gun smoke and musk caresses your nose and you die a little inside. But it’s his words that make you want to melt into a puddle.

He didn’t just ask, he demanded for you to be treated with respect. Not that you can’t hold your own when it comes to defending yourself against snarky customers. But the way Mando didn’t even hesitate to intervene on your behalf. It stirs up all sorts of thoughts.

Oh maker, you really are a shitty person. The man stands up for you and all you can think about is how hot he sounded.

The Trandoshan swallows hard. Mando might as well a knife to the guy’s throat with the look of silent terror on his reptilian face. Without even breaking eye contact with Mando, he stuffs his clawed hand in his pockets, and pulls about 20 credit chips without counting. Letting them clatter on the counter as he tosses them.

“H-here,” he stutters. “Fifteen is fair.” With that he snatches his order from the countertop and makes a hasty exit.

“Have a nice day~,” you sing-song as he scurries out onto the street.

You shift your eyes up to Mando, his palm still pressed flat against the counter with his other hand thumbing his belt. His visor follows the customer as he leaves and you can tell that his body language doesn’t relax until the he’s completely out of sight.

“Fucker…,” he mutters under his breath. When he finally turns his visor to you, he finds a knowing little smirk on your face.

“What?”

“You know, if you really wanted to scare him, you could’ve just pulled out your blaster.”

His visor turns away and he takes a step back as if he’s been caught doing something out of character. And if it wasn’t for his confident stance, you’d almost say he got a little flustered just now.

“I didn’t like the way he spoke you,” he grumbles. Which only makes you giggle.

“You’re right,” you agree with a serious tone. Slamming your palms on the counter. “That’s the last straw! I’ll have to close and resort to a life of crime after all!”

Although you can’t read his face, his body language says it all. He tilts his head to the side in a way that can only mean “are you fucking kidding me” and it only makes you smile harder.

“C’mooon, it’s funny,” you say. But he’s still not charmed.

“Does he always treat you like that,” he asks like he needs to know for certain.

You fold your lips between your teeth to hide your smile. He’s concerned for you and you can’t help but bathe in it. At least for a little bit.

“And if I said yes?”

“I’m being serious.”

“It’s fine, Mando. It’s really not a big deal for me. Look, if I let every snippy customer get to me, I wouldn’t have a business. I’m a big girl. I can fight for my honor all on my own, don’t you worry.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yeah? What is your point then?”

He steps in closer. Forcing you crane your neck to face him. Your backside unconsciously presses against the back of the counter and you’re pinned. He’s impossibly close. Close enough to see your eyes reflected on the inky black screen. Knowing he’s captured your full attention, he hits you with a bombshell that devastates you.

“I wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you when I can do something about it,” he says crystal clear, lowering  his voice. “If someone gives you trouble, they’ll deal with me before they mess with you... Understand?”

That shuts you right up. Your playful expression falls, now replaced with silent astonishment. He keeps saying things that reach deep inside you, making your chest tight. Words like that make it hard to breathe.

You feel utterly captured and it’s no wonder he was the best hunter in the outer rim. Because even though he’ll defend your honor and call you sweet nicknames… all he has to do is stand his ground in front of you to make you feel like prey. And fuck, do you wanna be caught…

“Ok,” you breathe when you find the courage. “I understand now.”

“Good…”

Silence streches between you and it feels as though you’re both waiting for something to happen. Something that feels like it’s been teetering on the edge since the night you drank together. It’s connected and deep in a way you’ve never experienced before. You can tell it’s something he’s afraid to say out loud.

What you’re both afraid to say out loud.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t add anything to his statement. He’s got you locked in his gaze with no escape. And for a moment you wonder if he’ll take hold of your jaw again. Goosebumps rise to your skin because it wants so badly to close the gap.

Suddenly, a call rings from the vambrace on Mando’s forearm, abruptly breaking the tension. At first he hesitates to address it, still locked onto you. But after the second ring he lets out an aggravated sigh and steps away to check the incoming call.

You walk back to your work table and mixing bowl of tea to give yourself something to do while your breathing returns to normal. Scooping a measured cup from a large jar of dried leaves before adding it in.

Grogu sits with his little feet dangling over the table, now finished with the lollipop and looking at the candy-less stick with droopy ears. And before Mando turns to look, you sneak his son another herbal lollipop from your apron.

"Don't tell your dad," you whisper, pressing your index finger over your lips. Which earns you a happy little "Batu" in understanding.

Mando is pacing around now. Conversing with a gruff sounding Lasat. You don’t eavesdrop per se, but words like “new lead”, “investigation”, and “high-risk” get your ears to perk up.

“Shit,” he sighs deeply once the call is done. Planting his hands on his hips.

“Work call?”

“They like to keep me busy, that’s for sure. Best not keep them waiting.”

“R-right! The pharmakits."

You walk towards side of your shop in the back closet where your new inventory sits in their delivery crates. Grabbing one case but then after a second thought grabbing another before turning back and handing them to Mando. When you return Grogu is already back in his father's tote still nursing his treat.

“Couple things," you disclaim, handing the cases to him. "Keep these in a dark cool place if you can. Heat can spoil some of the medicine. And if you ever find yourself needing the epibacta, I’d advise you to take in a safe place. This dose will knock you out cold for a while. Emergencies only.”

He takes the cases by the handles and gives you a nod of understanding.

“I appreciate it. I’ll try to avoid needing it.”

“Just… be safe.”

“I will…”

Another beat of silence. At this point it's starting to feel like you're waiting on the other person to break the ice. But after a moment, he clears his throat.

“Well... Until next time, Shop Girl.”

“Until next time,” you repeat.

He really should stop calling you that. But you just can’t bring yourself to stop him. What do even tell him if he asks why?

You turn to the holopad on the front counter and check the inventory list to give your hands something to do. Chewing your bottom lip as walks towards the exit. One step, then another…

“And thank you,” you quickly add before he steps out. His foot stalls just before reaching the street and you tap on the screen pretending not to notice. Your eyes glance up to him, catching his helmet peer at you over his shoulder “…for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” he says softly. He step out into the street and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You lean on the counter with your chin propped in your palm, now free to watch them go without notice.

Grogu turns back to look at you one last time, his tiny arm fighting against the fabric of his bag before popping out and waving at you. The adorable gesture makes you giggle. The little guy must know exactly how stinking cute he is. You wiggle your fingers back at him from behind the counter. Mando takes notice of his kid, turns his head back, and finds your gaze.

For a moment, everything’s frozen. People cross and mix in the street between you. Life seemingly goes on like any other day for everyone in town. But in your eyes, there’s only him. Only bright silver fills your vision. After a moment, Mando raises a hand for a final farewell, and in the next, he’s gone. Blended into the crowd.

An ache spreads in your chest, and that confirms it. You can’t deny that what you’ve been pushing down for months isn’t just an attraction. Strangers can be attracted to each other but he feels like anything but.

You like him. You like how you feel when he’s around and how safe his presence feels. You like that little skipped beat you get when something you said earns even the smallest chuckle from him. You like that he trusts you around his kid.

And you love that he keeps coming back.

You’ve tried to rationalize as just a simple customer acquaintance. But you can’t keep kidding yourself. Its always felt more than that. And you want to know more about him.

At the end of the day, you roll down the metal doors of your humble apothecary and walk the same 15 steps up to your home as you do everyday. You bathe, put on your most comfy shirt and sleep shorts, make yourself a simple meal, and wind down for the night. It’s been your routine everyday since you made this place your home.

Only tonight, despite all your trinkets, all your memories, and all your comforts, tonight your home feels a bit empty. Like something important has been removed and you can’t place what it was. With your dinner bowl in hand, you almost take your seat on the couch before thinking twice on it and choosing the floor of your living room instead tonight.

You actually find it to be pretty comfortable. More grounding. You only wish you had something warm to lean back on.

•

Din thought Guild Master Greef Karga had an inflated ego. But High Magistrate Greef Karga makes that Karga look like a Jedi monk.

He finds himself sitting on a leather chase with his legs propped on the window ledge in Karga’s high tower office. He watches him spread and maneuver a 3D hologram model of Nevarro and the town. His voice filled with ambition as he explains all his new projects for the upcoming year.

“We’ll put the lodges here, here, and here. They’ll have access to the hot springs in the crawling canyons and docks will be built around the water edges. I’ve spoken with that lovely Twi’lek bathhouse owner and she’s spending her best architects to Nevarro as a personal favor to me. It’s going to be the jewel of the rim I tell you!”

Much of the dialog goes over Dins head. Mostly because he’s dead tired and currently operating on less than four hours of sleep. They only landed a couple hours ago from another grueling mission. He partly listens to Karga’s plans, partly watches Grogu quietly sit on the hologram table as he stuffs his mouth with blue cookies his “uncle” has given him. But mostly, Din gazes out one of the many windows in his 360 degree office. Watching the sun set over the canyons and turn the sky a dusty pink.

The shiny bronze protocol droid shuffles around the office with a silver tray with two crystal glasses of spotchka. He offers a glowing glass to Karga who gladly takes it. Then the droid starts to approach Din with the platter, offering him a glass as well.

“Uh no no, he doesn’t drink,” Karga quickly corrects, taking a momentary pause from his plans. The shiny droid fumbles a bit, flustered, then offers an apology before scuttling away with the tray.

Mando doesn’t even bother to correct them. Too much energy. It’s true, he’s never accepted alcohol in front of Karga. Especially in those early guild days when trust was low. But even to this day, Din doesn’t drink around people.

Well… most people, that is.

An image of last time Din saw you pops into his head. That thick, slightly mussed hair tied up with a hair stick. Dewy skin. All smiles and laughter. You wore a deep blue torso wrap that time, His eyes kept following the lines of your collar bones and all that exposed skin seemed to glow in the reflected sunlight in the shop.

And those lips. Those goddamn pink tinted lips that he can’t get out of his head. If that’s not the definition of beauty he doesn’t know what is.

Your teasing is something he’s growing used to. But that day you pushed too far. You weren’t taking him seriously and you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to tease, right? When he cornered you against the counter, he made it known just how serious he was about defending you. That flush came back to your cheeks and your breathing had picked up. You had no idea, but your eyes had found his and it made heat pool in his lower abdomen as he got lost in the color of them.

In that moment, Din wrestled back the impulse to lift you up on that countertop, spread those perfect legs and-

“-Right, Mando?” Karga’s voice interrupts just as that train of thought was getting good. Din turns his visor over to him.

“Hmm?”

“You just agreed to let the kid spend the night here.”

“Right. Yeah,” Din scoffs. “Was that before or after I sold my ship to the Jawas,” he replies in a gruff tone. Karga doesn’t find the sarcasm amusing.

“Alright, alright.”

“Maybe I’ll sell them my armor while I’m at it.”

“I get it,” he exclaims. “You weren’t even listening! I was talking about the space port proposal and I can’t even tell where you clocked out. That's not like you, Mando.”

“I’m tired. I just got back from a long trip.” Kargas eyes glance between Din and the window he's been looking out from.

“I wouldn’t say tired. More like… Distracted.”

He says the word with an insinuation Din would rather do without.

“It’s nothing,” he deflects.

“Hey, you know me, Mando. I’m not one to judge,” Karga says, throwing his hands in the air. “If there’s anything on your mind I’m all ears. Money, politics, work, women-“

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’m fine," Din deadpans.

Kargas covers Grogus ears, who is too preoccupied by his munching to mind.

“Sounds like you need to get laid.”

Maker...

“You’re sordid,” he grumbles, shaking his head and turning back to the window. Karga just laughs. Amusement written all over his wrinkled face.

The arguments were one of the main things that changed between them over the last few years. Now they bicker like two old friends instead of two business associates. But one thing that has never changed is the way Karga tries to pressure him into revealing things out of him. Imperfectly human things.

He’d offer Din all sorts of things like spice or Twi’lek bathhouses just to see if he was capable of being tempted. And right now… there’s only one other person Din can think of capable of doing that.

“You know what I think? I think you’re starting to outgrow this lone wolf lifestyle of yours,” he speculates. “You’re a father now. Don’t you think the little one needs a mother?”

Dins helmet swivels back to Karga.

“Don’t you think you should stick to governing your town?”

“I was just getting to that," Karga exclaims excitedly. "You know we really should consider moving a few of the-“

“Here we go…,” Din sighs to himself.

What should’ve been a quick visit has turned into a one sided yap session. It’s been a couple weeks since he left and he’s eager to re-supply for his next run with Zeb. He’ll need to head to the square at some point as well. His home is in desperate need of a re-stock. And of course, a visit to the clinic probably wouldn’t be a bad idea if he’s already in the area.

Even from up here, your store can be seen at the far corner of the plaza. And every couple minutes, he can see you. Popping in and out of the small store and rearranging some of the potted plants outside. People greet you from the street and you turn to wave back.

It’s getting harder and harder to find excuses to go there that sound necessary. Last time he was there he picked up two new pharmakits, even though another two regular medkits sit unopened in his home. He’s been buying that energy tea you make, despite him being a kaf drinker his whole life. He keeps going back for shit he really doesn’t need. But if he was pressed to give a better reason, it’s mostly because he feels a need to check on you.

True, Nevarro has become significantly safer, but that doesn’t make it safe. Especially for a woman living completely on her own. You’re a kind hearted, giving person in a galaxy that does nothing but take. And someone like that should be protected. He’s looked the other way too many times in the past and he doesn’t want to be that person anymore. And plus the kid enjoys the visits.

Sure, the kid. Keep telling yourself that, Din…

A chiss man with a floating pallet of goods approaches your shop entrance and your attention turns from watering the plants to greet the vendor with a bright smile. You speak animately. And it would normally be endearing, if it wasn't directed towards another man. In the privacy of his helmet, Din grimmaces.

He shouldn’t be surprised. You’re well traveled, knowledgeable. It’s no wonder you’re able to buy products from so many places. But this particular vendor is getting a bit too close for Din’s comfort.

As usual, you talk with much enthusiasm. Sparking a conversation with the man. It’s clear you’re familiar with each other by the body language you both give off. And he’s not sure if it’s because you regularly get inventory from the man, or something beyond that.

You turn around on the balls of your feet to dip back inside the shop and as you do you’re completely oblivious to the way the Chiss’s head tilts to the side so his crimson eyes can roam your backside. And the only reason Din caught it was because the binocs in his visor seem to have unconsciously been turned on by his finger on his vambrace.

You return to with a small wooded box and open the lid to show him mineral salts, the kind he’s seen you make herbal soaks with. The vendor offers a large lidded glass jar of some kind of dried purple flower buds from his cart. With the added exchange of some credit chips, there’s more talking and smiling. Something he said makes you laugh as you sign his holopad and Din has to flex his fingers to stop them from clenching into a fist.

Enough. Stop watching.

The mental check forces Dins attention to shift back to whatever Karga keeps droning on about. You can associate with whoever you damn well please. It’s none of his concern who you do business with or what your personal life is like. Din nearly turns his visor away. But out of the furthest corner of his eye, he catches something he can’t tear away from.

The distance between the Chiss and you has suddenly shrunk. The moment unfolds in slow motion as his eyes chew on every second. The Chiss steps closer to lean down then…

Din’s arms uncross when the Chiss leans in close to your face. And before he knows it, the fucker plants a quick peck on your cheek. And you return it! The whole exchange lasts less than a second before you wave each other goodbye and he goes his separate way. You return inside with the product like nothing and Din sits there, completely rattled.

What… the fuck?

Was it a casual kiss? Did you even know that he was checking you out? If you did, was that a friendly goodbye gesture or was it flirtatious? That son of a bitch gets to walk around with bliss on his cheek all day now. Oddly enough, that’s what puts Din over the edge. A complete fucking stranger knows how your lips feel and he doesn’t.

Never in his life has he harbored thoughts like these. It’s downright pathetic. He feels corrupted.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself beneath his breath.

“-Anyway, back to my point. I was considering having a port built for- hey!”

Before Karga has a chance to monologue further, Din has picked up his son from the edge of the desk—grubby hands still clinging to the bag of cookies—and has placed him right into Karga arms.

“I need you to watch over him for the night. I’ll come back for him in the morning.”

“Okay then? Fine by-.” Din doesn’t bother to listen because there’s no ending to that sentence that matters to him in this moment. He makes his exit, the slide doors opening as he nears them.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going all puffed up like that?”

“I need to settle something,” he tosses back before letting the doors shut behind him.

The sun is getting low and a few other vendors are starting to take down their signs and close their doors. You’re probably getting ready to close up for the day yourself. Hopefully he’s able to catch you before then.

Each step on the cobblestone is heavy with purpose. And it's not unoticed the way several people on the street see an armor clad Mandalorian and scurry out of his way with a petrified look on their faces. But right now he doesn't particularly care. Right now everything in his head is clouded with the exception of one objective.

From a couple stores away, you catch him approaching from your peripheray. And he's not sure how to describe it, but it's like something in your body language softens when you see him. Your shoulders become less tense, your eyes gleam, and you cast him that bright toothy smile that could stop any man's heart.

“Ah! Hey! It’s been a while, Mando! How’s-“

“I need to have a word with you.”

Both your expression and your hand freeze momentarily in place, minus a suspicious quirk in your brow.

“Okaaay, you have my attention,” you chuckle, but there’s a nervous tone riding on it. “What can I do for you today?

“I need to speak with you," you tells you bluntly. "Privately.”

Confusion paints across your face and your smile falls a bit. Understanding how serious his request is.

“Like, right now,” you ask hesitantly.

“Preferably, yes,” he answers.

“Ok, yeah sure. Um… I’m just about to close up and we can head upstairs in a minute.” You start to turn away but then quickly turn back to him and immediately add “or we can go somewhere you’re more comfort-“

”It’s fine,” Din quickly interjects, stopping that train of thought. “This won’t take long anyway.”

You blink at him a couple times and give him a quiet “ok then” before turning around and preparing your shop to close.

Seems that Din’s command from his last visit was taken seriously. Regret over those words washes over him. If he’s being honest, being inside your home again sets off several red lights in his head. But he’s already on the verge of blurting out something teetering on the edge of his brain. Better to wait until he’s behind closed doors and away from any prying eyes. Or flirtatious vendors. This shouldn’t be complicated. He’ll make it quick.

He decides to wait around the corner of the shop where the stone steps meet your front door. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed and his finger nervously tapping his arm brace. After a few minutes you round the corner with your bag over your shoulder and lead the way into your home. Instinctively, he looks around for any eyes before entering and closing the door behind him.

“So where’s your boy,” you ask, tossing your bag on the couch and walking towards the kitchen. “I have to say I’m kind of surprised not to see him on your hip. You seem inseparable.”

Your voice is chipper but he can tell by your stiff body and lack of eye contact that you’re not entirely comfortable. For a moment Din reconsiders this encounter. But no. The sooner he this bug out of his system the better.

“He’s… spending the night with a friend,” he answers. Grabbing one of those ceramic cups from the cabinet, you fill it with water from the sink and he’s starting to think that you’re only doing that to keep your hands busy.

“Aaww, a sleepover? Is it his first-”

“If you don’t mind,” he cuts off. “I’d like to get to my point.”

“Oh… Y-yes, I'm sorry. I’m rambling,” you say sheepishly. “I’m just…,” you take a deep breath, rest the cup of water on the counter, and lean back against it. Eyes fixed to the floor.

“…it’s just what you said the last time you were here. And the way you approached me earlier, you seemed kinda… I don’t know, upset? I know you don’t wanna be here so I’m wondering what I did to upset you that you’d come here.”

Damn it… He’s such an asshole.

He should’ve never said that. You've been thinking this entire time that you’re at fault for his shitty social skills. Truthfully, with the way that wine had his head so deliciously foggy, he had to leave before his body did something it was aching to do, begging him to do. But how does he even begin to explain that?

“You didn’t do anything,” he answers immediately. But thinks on it once more. “Well… technically you did. But I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re not,” you ask him sheepishly.

“I’m not,” he assures.

A beat passes in silence as you chew over his words.

“Okaaay,” you say with a smirk, “now you really got my attention.”

That mischievous tone travels through Din’s helmet, in his ears, and settles warmly in the pit of his stomach. Something about the combination of your sweet voice and relaxed shift in your body language makes this whole interaction even more nerve wracking.

“Sooo, you wanted to talk to me about something I did?”

“Right.”

“Okay, sooo...” He feels you urging him to continue but now Din finds himself more cautious of his words now. If you’ve been silently worried about offending him the last thing he needs is for this to come off wrong way.

“It’s… a bit hard to explain,” he exhales. If he could pinch his brow right now he would. “To put it plainly, the night we drank together, you said something that’s been… stuck in my head.”

“Was it the thing about the name?”

“N-no.”

“Was it the Pantora story?

“No.”

“Was it the comment about knowing my liquor? Because I like a drink from time to time but I don’t have like a problem or anything-“

“No- Can I finish,” he asks impatiently.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Go ahead.”

“When we were drinking, and talking… we said a lot of things and got into some deep conversations. And at one point, you asked me if I ever kissed anyone before. I said no back then because… I've never given it any thought in the past. But now it’s got me… curious.”

Your quirk your brow at him.

“Curious how?”

“I want to know what it’s like,” he answers plainly.

“… Sorry, what?”

“I need this… curiosity out of my head. It’s driving me crazy and I need it out of my system. So I figured… since you’re the one who mentioned it in the first place, you can help me kill it.”

“You’re… Okay so, hold on…,” you say with a shaky breath. “Are you… asking me to kiss you?”

“That’s… an oversimplification. But yeah.”

“You’re asking me to be your first kiss? Am I understanding you right?”

Maker, you ask a lot of questions. Are you always like this? You did the same exact thing when he gave you the wine. On any other day it would’ve been endearing but he didn’t anticipate the conversation lasting longer than a minute. Now his request sounds more and more lecherous with each passing second.

“I won’t bother you again after this. You have my word. It’s completely casual. Just killing a curiosity.”

“There’s a preeetty common phrase about curiosity and loth cats that goes differently.” A giggle tumbles out of your mouth on the tail end of that sentence and humility crawls under his skin.

“Sorry to waste your time.” He starts to turn towards the nearest exit when you step in to stop him. Placing a hand briefly on his arm in the space between his armor and the contact sends a current of electricity up his spine.

“No wait, don’t be like that,” you toy with him.

“I’m not laughing,” he spits. But you still have the nerve to giggle.

“It’s okay, Mando,” you laugh assuredly.

“No, it’s not. It’s ridiculous. I hate it. I hate that you put this in my head.”

You fold your lips between your teeth to try to hide your amusement. But you still can’t help but crack a smile a little at his frustration. He basically just confessed to having this obsession for months and he can tell by your smug expression that you’re enjoying how incredibly uncomfortable he is about this.

“You’re right. I’m… sorry,” you say under your breath. Trying to fix your face.

There’s a beat of silence. Stepping in closer, he tilts his head down to you. Locking you in his gaze. He takes pleasure in being nearly a full head taller and the way your breathing picks up before he says in a low gruff voice…

“No, you’re not.”

You smile behind your hand as your eyes dance across his visor, unknowingly locking eyes with the man beneath. You know you’re not sorry, just like he knows he’s not particularly sorry either. It’s not just this moment. It goes back to every interaction you’ve had together. The banter, the nicknames, the visits. He’s as much to blame as you are. And then… you slowly you shake your head, agreeing with him and confirming his suspicion.

Fuck, you’re cute. He hates that he loves how cute you are. He hates himself for not being stronger.

“Ok,” you nearly whisper. Looking up at him with the sweetest eyes. “I’ll help you.”

•

“Is all this really necessary?”

Din currently sits on the floor of your living room. The same spot as last time in fact. Your were the one that insisted on it and honestly he couldn't bring himself to tell you no. Since he sat down in the soft carpet, you've been flitting around your home turning off lamps, closing blinds, and covering any reflective items. Which, admittedly, he's greatful for. But the more time he spends here, alone with you, the more he's not going to want to leave.

“It’s not everyday you get your first kiss, Mando. I wanna make sure it’s a good one. I wish I could re-do mine.”

Gloves fingers flex and stretch restlessly on his knees as you approach the last lamp sitting on a side table in the living room and pause.

“Are you sure about this?”

Fuck no he’s not. But the sooner he does this, the sooner he can find some normalcy in his head again.

“Flip the switch," he says in a low modulated voice.

You fold in a growing smile before taking a deep breath and flicking the switch. Bathing the entire home in inky darkness. The silhouette of you through turns to hues of thermal green and red, carefully maneuvering through your living room by memory before finding your seat in the floor in front of him. And with slight hesitation, Din reaches up to remove the last barrier he has.

“Can you see anything?”

“Not a bit,” you answer.

With that confirmation, he unclasps the chin strap and slowly lifts the helmet up and off. He blinks several times to adjust his vision before finding the outline of the table and placing his helmet there. On the return, his head bumps into your outstretched hand. Not knowing that you had moved.

“Agh.”

“Sorry sorry,” you pull away. “Give me a moment, I’ll find you.”

Your hands search in the dark for him. He can’t see much but he can tell your hands land on nothing by the way the air between you moves and he doesn’t feel any contact on his person. So he reaches out, bumping into your arms and taking hold of them. Following the line of your forearm until he reaches your hands.

“Here,"  he murmurs. Gloved hands wrap around your wrists and gently lift them up. He guides your hands forward until…

You let out a small gasp when your hands find the warmth of his bare face. Soft and giving as opposed to the cold, unyielding beskar. Their movements are slow and explorative. Running your thumbs over his stubble. Surprisingly his hands don’t release their grasp. His leather clad digits press against the racing pulse in your wrist as his thumbs run over the back of your palm.

“This help?”

“Yes, thank you,” you whisper.

From sound of rustling on the rug, Din can sense your body leaning in. Your breath brushes over his skin for a moment before something warm presses against his chin and it takes a second to register that it’s your mouth. You ease him into the build up and he’s greatfull for it. Jaw. Then cheek. Then just grazing the furthest corner of his mouth.

And then… contact.

At first it doesn’t feel like much. Just something soft and warm pressing against his mouth. What most people refer to as a peck, he assumes. But it’s when you barely pull back and return for another that a shiver wracks his skin. Your lips lock in the return, molding together in perfect unison. And it’s fucking electric.

Just by feel alone, he senses that your lips are slightly open. So he mimics you. Giving his jaw just enough slack to respond as you go in again. The sensations have his mind in a thick fog. The soft flesh, the sweet taste, the faint suction. His skin feels like there’s live wires going off underneath. Giving in completely, he finally returns the kiss. Pressing into it with more confidence.

You hum against his mouth, and he dies a little inside.

That’s when the real hunger builds. There’s a slow simmering heat rising between you now. Without thinking, his hands grip your wrists a little harder. Pulling you in closer. The kiss grows a bit stronger with each return back into each other with no loss of contact. Lingering longer and breathing against one another.

He feels your head tilt more to the side and again he mimics your movement. The break only lasts a fraction of a moment. But in the re-entry, the tip of your soft tongue happens to brush his mouth. Sweet wetness coats his bottom lip and it’s in that instant Din feels all restraint leave his body.

Taking your face in his hand, he kisses you open mouthed, inviting you in. Your tongues slowly graze one another and if he fucking died in this moment he’d be ok with it knowing that he got to know how you taste.

The hunger becomes unbearable. Soon enough the breathing becomes heavier and the air becomes hot. Your arms end up wrapping over his shoulders, pulling him deeper and he’s more than happy to dive further. Another small noise escapes your throat and the vibration travels through his entire body.

He needs to feel you. To taste you. Devour you. He needs you.

A break for air is the only thing that throws him back into semi-consciousness as you pull away. The heat built up between you makes him dazed. Hot breaths fill the small space between your lips as you lean your forehead against his.

“Mando?”

“Yes,” he responds in a raspy whisper. A few moments pass as you collect your words and catch your breath.

“Is this really just about curiosity…?”

Your words lean more towards a statement than a question. There’s no point in denying it now. As much as he tried to convince himself or rationalize his strange request, he does feel a pull towards you. Much more complicated than just attraction. The more he sees you, learns about you, and talks with you, the more… inevitable you feel to him. There’s a gravity to you that he can’t escape from. Nor does he want to.

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” The breath of your question brushes the heated skin of his cheek. And right now, he can't think of any answer that wouldn't give him up.

So he lets it fly.

“It’s not just the kiss I’m curious about.”

The silence in the air is thick. The only thing between you are the sounds of both of you catching your breath. It’s possible he might have ruined everything with that one sentence. But it’s the truth. It had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with you. Your kindness, your banter, your hospitality. All of it.

There’s no way of telling what you’re thinking at the right now. It’s in this moment that he wishes the lights weren’t out so he can at least read your expression. But then after what seems like an eternity, your forehead nudges against his and you blow a deep sigh of relief. Arms still draped over his shoulders.

“Oh good… I thought it was only me,” you confess with a skittish laugh.

And that tightly pulled restraint finally snaps inside him when he hears that.

Without any hesitation, he dives back in. Kissing you like a man starved. Just like that night, he feels drunk. Only this time it’s on the taste of you and the feeling of your hands finally on him. It’s that thought that drives him to rip off his leather gloves and toss them aside without breaking contact once. His bare hands find your waist and the strip of bare skin between your shirt and linen pants.

“Is this what you meant,” you pant. “When you told me not to invite you in again.”

“Yeah... it is.” He pants the confession as his mouth trails down the line of your jaw and finding your neck in the dark.

“That’s a relief,” you chuckle. “I was worried I offended you.”

“The only thing that’s offensive is that I can’t see that pretty pink flush on your face right now.”

“Should I get a blindfold,” you tease.

What a fucking woman. The mental image of you in a blindfold, only a blindfold, pours fuel on an already blazing fire. But for now, he’s more than ok feeling his way around tonight.

“Next time.”

It comes out of his mouth confidently and without hesitation. Because you both know there will be a next time. He’s bitten into the forbidden fruit and now he’s addicted to the taste.

With a simple shift, his hands dip beneath the thin fabric of your shirt and find the delicious heat of your soft belly.

"Lay down for me."

With your arms draped over his shoulders, you eagerly comply. Slowly dragging him down with you. He careful not to press all his weight on you—being crushed by beskar would definitely kill the mood—but it doesn't stop you from pulling tighter. Craving connection. All while Din rains wet kisses and soft bites upon your pulse.

So this is what your skin tastes like. Slightly salty, sweet, and smooth between his teeth. He might eat you whole if he’s not careful. He nips at the skin of your exposed collar bone and you writhe. Arching to press your chest to his. So he decides to give it some attention.

“Take it off," you pant with an neediness that drives him pull the damn shirt off in one swift motion.

His bare hand crawls up your sternum. Exploring the valley of soft skin free of any restricting fabric. The moment his fingers find the stiff peak of your bare breast he pinches eagerly. Earning the sweetest little whimpers from you as his mouth works on the other nipple. Biting and sucking the soft point. He can’t see a thing in the dark, but what’s lacking in sight is made up by sound with the delicious breathy moans you let out for him.

“Mando…”

Fuck, does he love the way you call out for him. Every touch, kiss, and  suck he gives elicites the most gorgeous sounds out of that perfect mouth. The sounds to straight to his cock, now painfully stiff. It's tempting to just dive into you right now. But he's waited this long. So why not take his sweet time with you. With his face still burried between your breasts and you fingers raking through his hair, Din feels a press of your hips against his armor. And he needs more.

“Shop Girl…”

The nickname doesn’t catch your attention. You’re either too lost in the moment or too breathless to answer. It’s only when he uses your given name that your body perks up and you give him a raspy “yeah?”.

“Do you want this," he asks.

His right hand has found its way to the waist band of your work pants. Ready and waiting for your answer. You try to grind against his hips but he presses your hips down firmly. He knows damn well neither of you want to stop. But he needs to hear it. There's no going back after this.

"Is this ok?"

He doesn't know if you're unsure. Or if maybe your trying to meet his eyes through the darkness. But there's a long pause. Only the sounds of heavy breaths and the pulse beating hard in his ears. And every second that passes has him hanging on the edge of madness.

"Yes...," you finally breathe. "I need you."

She needs me.

The words leave him winded. Months of questions and pining suddenly feel well worth the wait just to hear those words. They not only affirm going further, but the bond that's been steadily growing between you. Not a single ounce of hesitation survives after he hears that. And with one hand, Din loosens the tie of your pants and dives in beneath the fabric of your underwear.

By feel alone, Din manages to pull your pants down to your thighs and you kick them off your feet. His hands roam over all the smooth exposed skin and he can only imagine how perfect you must look if you feel this good. The tips of his fingers finds the dampness between your legs, running along the seam, and he slowly pushes inside until his knuckles meet your entrance.

You release a soft gasp and he swallows it with a deep kiss. You both sigh into each other's mouth. As if you need the other to even breathe. Din's lips never leaves yours as he does an experimental curl against the fleshy part of your walls and you arch your body against his.

“This where you need me," he huffs against your lips. "Right here?”

“Right there... Perfect..."

"I wanna taste you." The confession comes out before he can even think about it.

"Then taste me, Mando."

He can hear the smile in your voice. The taunt. And he's more than happy to reciprocate it.

He rises above you and you whine from the lack of contact. But the loss doesn't last long. Because before you even can register what he's doing, his head has already lowered between your legs.

"What are you- ah."

That gasp you let out when his mouth envelops your pussy is downright tortured. Good too know you were just as desperate as he was.

"Fuck! I thought you meant... You were gonna... Shit..."

No fucking way would he be satisfied tasting you on just his fingers.  The sweet tangy flavor explodes over his tongue and he groans. Fucking hell, you taste good. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing but that’s sure as shit not stopping him. He drowns in you. Lapping and sucking on your swollen little bud and loving the way it makes you cry out. Two thick fingers pump into your wet heat as you melt in his mouth. Such a fucking treat.

You writhe beneath him. Squirming and clawing at anything to hold on to as he works you up. Eventually your hands finds his hair again. Taking a fistful and pressing his face further against your cunt. The sting on his scalp makes his cock twitch in his flight suit and he groans.

“You want me to make you come, Shop Girl," he mumbles against you.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“Make me come, Mando... Please…”

He doesn't break pace, doesn't falter, doesn't change a damn thing what he's doing because he can feel close to the edge you are. You tighten around his digits as the pump in and out. And with a firm suck on your clit you let out a strangled gasp.

"Oh Fuck! Fuck! Mando!"

Your breathing becomes short and shallow. Panting so hard right before holding your breath and tipping over the edge with a strangled cry. You come long and hard. Trembling so much he has to hold you steady by the hips.

Through the waves of your climax, Din continues to eat you. Lapping at your perfect pussy like it's wine and he doesn't waste a single drop of you. Even sucking and licking his fingers clean as you lay breathless before him. They come out of his mouth with a wet pop and he can’t help but let out a small breathy laugh.

“I’ve always wanted to try that…” he confesses.

You let out your own exhausted little laugh and he can already tell he wants more. More laughter, more of those pretty sounds, more of you.

It's with that in mind that Din starts pulling his cape off.

Piece by peace, he silently removes his armor. And after a few moments, a second pair of hands joins in. You fumble in the dark with his chest piece first. Helping him out of his armor one section at a time. They fall to the carpet with a soft thud along with the crumbling pieces of the restraint he’s built since that first night.

There’s no signs of stopping. You keep giving him more. More heat. More yearning. More questions.

What makes you laugh? What gives you pleasure? What makes you feel good and whole and satisfied? He needs to know.

And now that he’s gotten a taste, there’s no way he’s leaving here tonight until you’ve both had your fill.

•

If this is what happens when you invite the Mandalorian into your home, let your door never close.

Getting to your bed was easier than you thought it’d be in pitch black darkness. The only thing keeping your ‘bedroom’ separate from the rest of the home is a wooden lattice divider from the ceiling to the floor.

He lays you down on the soft futon on the floor and you open for him like a flower. Two strong palms drag and paw all over your body as his mouth works magic on yours and it makes you dizzy with desire.

Maker, he’s so good with his hands.

His body separates from you only to remove his flight suit and you whine at the loss of contact. Naked and panting for him. Within seconds he’s back on top of you and the feeling of his bare skin against yours makes your head spin. With everything so dark you wonder if this is even real. Maybe this is all a fever dream.

“Are you gonna show me how Mandalorians fuck this time,” you tease against his lips. Calling back to when he showed you how they drink. With your bare legs around his hips, you tease his resolve by running your inner thighs over his sides and you’re rewarded with a low hum. The hand supporting your neck slowly drags forward to find the base of your throat.

“You don’t need to know how Mandalorians fuck.” His wide grip gently squeezes the sides of your throat, just enough for you to feel the power in those hands. “Just how I fuck.”

Holy shit. You thought him gripping your jaw was hot. But this? This might’ve awakened something you didn’t even knew you wanted.

A whimper escapes you only to be muted by his mouth again. His tongue swirls with yours with a hunger you’ve never knew was there these past months and it’s such a relief to know that you weren’t the only one pining.

Mando’s mouth travels to your cheek, then jaw, finally finding purchase on your neck. Biting and sucking as his body presses into yours. He’s insatiable right now. There's no doubt that you'll find yourself covered in marks when the lights come back on.

You’re so lost in the moment that you almost don’t notice when something hard and warm presses against your inner thigh. Out of nowhere, a thought you haven’t even considered before decides to pop into your head at the very last minute.

“H-hold on!”

Your hands find his shoulders, urging him to pause. His lips unlatch themselves from your neck the second you blurt it out. Instantly propping himself above you with his hands on either side of your head.

“You want me to stop?,” he pants.

“No… Hell no. It’s just…”

How do you even begin to ask this?

“Um… I know I probably should’ve asked earlier but… you’re human, right?”

Mando blows out a low chuckle, understanding your underlying meaning. He feels human, from what your hands can tell anyway. He could be like his kid for all you know. It’s not that you’re not willing to go Inter-species, but your experience is mainly human. Plus with the lights off it’d be pretty difficult to figure out fitting things.

Taking your hand from his shoulder, he presses it against his chest where you can feel a dusting of hair. His skin is hot, damp with a thin layer of sweat and his breathing is heavy. He continues to lead your hand further down his torso so you can feel every hill and valley of his muscles. Eventually your hand hits a trail of hair down the middle and then…

Oh shit.

His hand guides you along the length of his cock. Encouraging you to explore every ridge from the thick base all the way up to the damp tip. He’s stiff and hot in your palm. When you give him a firm squeeze he groans and twitches in your grip.

Oh shit.

“Does that answer your question?”

The human part, definitely. Fitting is still debatable.

He lets you handle him. Giving you free rein to tug and tease as he bucks into your hand. He groans with pleasure and the power trip you feel knowing exactly how you affect this fiercely disciplined man makes the pulse between your legs throb harder. After a minute, his hand snatches yours to a halt, making your grip around his cock tighter.

“Show me where you want it,” he demands in a gruff breath. And you do just that. Pressing the damp tip against your clit. The contact sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Inside,” you plead. “I need you inside me.”

With an impatient huff, his hand comes down to take hold of your leg behind the bend of your knee. Spreading you wide and teasing your entrance before pushing himself inside. You gasp at the initial stretch, digging your nails into his shoulders. Mando curses under his breath and as he pushes you worry for a moment if there’s an end to him.

It’s slow, deliberate. Feeding his cock into your tight cunt until he’s pressing the limits of your walls. You shudder together when he’s completely sheathed and his hands grip your hips so hard his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Mando…” You throw your head back. Arching your whole body, waiting it to adjust to him. “Fuck!”

“I knew it,” he pants. “Fucking knew you’d feel good…”

He splits you in half and before you’re even ready the first hard thrust hits you. You whimper from impact and he thrusts again. Pinning you down by your hips to keep you at the perfect angle. Soon he sets a steady pace as he fucks you into delirium. It’s too much, he’s too much. Yet you moan and whine for more like each thrust might be the last. He feels incredible and you can only claw at his trim waist as it moves for you.

“That’s it… Good girl… Taking me so well… I wanted this… I want you to know every part of me.”

His words plunge into your chest like a dagger. Laced with a meaning that goes far beyond sex. Because you feel it too. You wanted him to be closer. You wanted him to know your name, know you. Even if it took this long to get here.

You feel one hand find your leg. Hiking it up so the back of your thigh lays flat against his chest. His hand drags up and down, caressing the soft flesh without losing a beat with his thrusts. A kiss presses on your calf and your head feels like it’s spinning. One moment he’s rearranging your insides and the next he’s giving your body sweet affection.

Tension builds in your core. Growing tighter and tighter with each hard thrust. Usually the second orgasm is more elusive to chase on your own. But this man is about to push you right into the next one not five minutes after the first one.

“Don’t… Stop…,” you pant. “Don’t stop, I’m so close, Mando…”

“Come for me... Let me feel you."

Then it comes. Tensing your entire body before coming down like a crashing wave. It’s spreads through every inch of your body, making you pulse and shake beneath his frame. You cry out in the midst of the euphoria, clinging to his shoulders, and everything feels so right. He moans along with you, feeling every tight pulse around his cock and letting you ride out the remaining waves.

“That’s two now, Shop Girl. You gonna give me a third?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still coming down from the clouds.

"I... I'm not sure I can," you chuckle.

"Yeah, you will," he pants. Amusement lacing his raspy voice.

Without out warning, Mando takes both your legs. Placing your calves over his shoulders as his leans forward. Folding you in half. And with one hard thrust, his cock drives back into you at a deeper angle. Your back bows and you swear you see stars in the blackness of the room. His lips land on the corner of your mouth and kiss their way to your lips. Offering a soft apology after the roughness. His strong arms are propped around you and you feel eclipsed under his broad body.

Soon his rhythm picks up. Becoming more desperate as he chases his own release. The room fills with the sound of your bodies meeting and you don't think you've ever heard anything more perfect. His panting picks up, his moans become louder, and the quivering breaths he makes when he finds a particularly deep spot will no doubt live in your mind rent free forever.

“You wanted me bare, didn’t you,” he huffs, pressing his damp forehead to yours.. “When you offered me that tea? You thought about me coming inside this perfect cunt, didn’t you.”

Caught red handed. Sure, you wanted to know if he had a partner as well. But the thought did cross your mind when he cornered you against the counter. You wanted to know how he felt bare, with nothing between you. Even dreamt a few times about it.

“Yes… Fuck, yes! Please! I want it!”

“You gonna come with me, Shop Girl? Hmm?”

“Maker, Mando! I’m right fucking there, please! I… I’m… ah-“

His firm hand grips your jaw. Whipping your face back to him so he can cover your mouth his. He kisses you deep, open and messy. No technique, just raw desire as he eats you alive. You moan and whimper against his mouth with each debilitating thrust he makes. He drives into you faster, harder. Relentlessly pushing you closer to the edge.

When it arrives, the orgasm hits you at full force. Wracking your whole body in convulsions as you scream, actually scream against his mouth. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his back and your cunt squeezes on to him for dear life like he’s never allowed to leave again.

Mando hisses through his teeth and he's right there with you. Ramming into you with relentless force as he chases his own release. His face dives into the crook of your shoulder and his arms scramble to take hold of you and he loses control. Letting out a sharp groan as he comes.

“Fuck.. Fuck,” he shudders in your ear. “Agh!”

His hips jerk against your body, driving himself as deep as you can take him. You feel his cock throb as he pumps into you again and again. Filling you to the point of spilling out and it’s... everything. Connected in such a profound way you’ve never felt before. In this moment, it’s hard to tell your bodies apart. You’ve melted and mixed and you never want to separate.

You ride it together, mold together, lose control together because you both knew it’d come to this. In the end this was inevitable. And in a galaxy filled with unknowns, in this you can be certain. A connection like this is few and far between. It’s real and raw and rare. Resisting that feeling was never an option, so why try?

Even in the climb down he doesn’t stop. Those hard demanding thrusts slow to a gentle drags as if he doesn’t want to finish yet. Hands glide all over each other’s bodies, soothing the other. All along his tense shoulders, you pepper soft kisses to his skin. Easing you both down from the clouds. He hums in the decent and it lulls you into an exhausted bliss.

Everything feels hazy and soft. You’re not sure how long you stay melted together like this. Minutes? Hours? But it’s needed. After a while, the breathing becomes steady and a soft, drowsy satisfaction settles between you.

“That’s the first time someone's come inside me,” you quietly confess. For a moment, Mando absorbs what you just said. Then you feel him prop himself in his elbows above you.

“Really?”

“Yeah…,” you breathe. Running your hands up the sides of his neck and resting them on his stubbled face.

“You know… since we’re sharing firsts tonight.”

He smiles and this time you’re able to know for certain by the feel of it in your hands. Leaning down, his forehead finds yours in the dark and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so whole before.

“I’m your first, huh,” he breathes. “I like that.”

There’s so many layers to this man. Quiet and withdrawn. Rough and demanding. Soft and caring. Each one is a trait you’ve come to cherish. You’re not sure if you love this man. But you’re definitely starting to fall for him. You can explore that treasure box later though. For now, you’ll take tonight for tonight and let whatever comes next between you arrive in its own good time.

“Me too, Mando...”

•

•

•

💕 THANK YOU FOR READING 💕

You were taking over the room with younger children, which was your preference. And so far they’d been wonderful to work with – they were all so excited by new things, so happy to learn. Each day was a joy as you watched them grow.

As you got to know the kids, you also got to know the parents. Teaching the youngest children made you more well-known around town, and it had been easier to settle in than you expected. There was Diima, who was learning how to braid her own hair and had been teaching some of the other kids – her moms had invited you over for dinner and you thought you might end up being friends. Oora, the young Twi’lek who loved spaceships of all kinds – his father ran the food stall in the market that always had the best fruit. And Tamar and Ilana, the twins, who very intentionally never dressed alike – their parents ran the med clinic. 

And then there was Grogu, your smallest student. You’d never met his dad, though you knew of him from Karga and Cara. But so far you’d only learned that Grogu missed him and that he was off planet a lot. He was never there to pick up Grogu, at least not in the few weeks you’d been on Nevarro so far. It was always Cara or IG-11, or a few times even Karga himself. 

As you waved goodbye to the last of the kids for the day – Kiran, a young Mirialan whose mother was a mechanic at the shipyard – you collapsed into your desk chair with a sigh. Cara had come by to pick up Grogu again, but you’d been hoping to finally meet his elusive father. The kids would have a show at the end of the term to sing some songs and show off what they’d been learning. So far you’d been able to invite all of the parents personally when they came to pick the kids up. You sighed again and tapped your data pad – you’d just have to send him a message.

You’d sent him a message only once before, when you first started, just to introduce yourself. You hadn’t gotten a message back.

You stared down at the pad for a moment, biting your lip. Just be straightforward, to the point. You nodded and scrolled down to the contact for Grogu-parent. You saved all of your students’ parents’ contact info that way, though you added their names to the end if you knew them.

you: Hello! This is Grogu’s teacher, I sent you a message a couple of weeks ago when I started. I just wanted to invite you to our end of term show and to let you know that his schedule will be changing a bit, as we’ll be adding a rehearsal once a week. His class will be singing some songs and showing off what they have learned this term. They’re all very excited about it!

You sent another message with the date and time of the show and wondered how you should sign off.

you: I will also let Cara and IG know. Please let me know if you have any questions and if you’ll be able to attend. Thank you!

Once the message was sent, you leaned back in your chair, hoping you’d hear back from him this time. 

You were startled when your pad chimed before you’d even settled into your chair.

Grogu-parent: Hello. Thank you. I will be there.

You grinned. A response! And so quickly! You needed to say something back, to make it clear this was a way he could get in contact with you if needed.

you: Great! I know that will make Grogu very happy. He has really enjoyed learning to follow along to the notes of the songs and he is becoming a very enthusiastic assistant on the drums.

There was a pause, and you wondered if you had said too much, or if he’d gone quiet again. But then your pad chimed. 

Grogu-parent: Something he can hit that makes noise? Sounds perfect for him.

You laughed. If someone had told you that morning that you’d actually talk to Grogu’s elusive dad and that he would make you laugh, you weren’t sure you’d have believed them.

Grogu-parent: Thank you for telling me. I know I miss a lot when I’m off planet.

Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t thought of it that way and wanted to kick yourself. Of course his dad would be sad to miss hearing about what Grogu did in school, and all the little ways he was growing and learning. Your heart squeezed in sympathy.

you: Would you like me to send you more updates? I would be happy to do it. I usually share them with parents at the end of the day. I’m sorry I didn’t think to send them to you this way instead.

Grogu-parent: That’s alright. I know I never replied to your message, I didn’t get it until days later. Yes, please send me updates. I might not be able to reply right away but I will be happy to get them.

You tilted your head as you read his message, wondering what sort of work he was doing. 

you: Oh that’s fine! I’ll start sending you updates, but no pressure to respond to them. I understand you must be busy. 

Grogu-parent: I’ll respond when I can. Thank you again. 

You smiled as you set your pad down and stood from your desk. Finally, you thought. You’d made contact with Grogu’s dad! You walked out of the schoolhouse with a spring in your step.

As you made your way to the market to pick up something for dinner, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. You were happy you’d moved to Nevarro, you realized – you liked the people and the growing feeling of community that you had been welcomed to join almost immediately. There were beings of all kinds in the little city, from all over the galaxy – you’d met a fellow newcomer just the day before, a friend of Cara’s from the resistance who was good with plants. You’d met Carm, a Bothan, who had a knack for fixing droids. You were pretty sure you’d even spotted a Mando, once or twice, and Diima’s mom had told you about the family that had just moved in next door to them and was planning to open a restaurant. 

It was a nice place to live. You were happy you’d decided to take the offer.

…

The next day, when Cara picked up Grogu, you let her know that you’d also invited his dad to the show. Grogu chirped and smiled at you, and you smiled back.

“That’s right, bud, your dad is coming!”

Cara grinned. “See? I told you he would, squirt.” Grogu made a noise like a cheer and waved his little arms and you both laughed. “See you tomorrow, teach!” Cara tossed Grogu lightly in the air as she turned and he squealed. 

You smiled, shaking your head at their antics as you made your way back to your desk. You knew just what you wanted to tell his dad.

you: Today Grogu kept working really hard on trying to write his name! The Aurebesh characters are still new and tricky for them, but he honestly does pretty well when we can draw them in the sand with his claws. He also shared his snack with his friend Oora, which was sweet.

You didn’t get an answer right away, and you tried not to be disappointed. It had been nice to talk to him the day before, but you knew he was busy with work, whatever work he did. You packed up your bag and hefted it onto your shoulder.

When your pad chimed, you dropped it unceremoniously back onto your chair.

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He’s not usually one to share food.

You laughed, but before you could reply your pad chimed again.

Grogu-parent: That’s great about his name. I know he knows so much, even though he seems so little.

You nodded as you typed your response. 

you: He does! I can tell. Sometimes he gets a little bit frustrated when he can’t communicate the way he wants. But the kids are all great with each other and they really listen to him, even without words.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad to hear it. I worried he would be too little for the class, even though technically he’s older than I am.

You laughed and tucked away that little tidbit of information.

you: I know he’s technically the oldest, but he’s also not the youngest, in terms of development. They’re a good group and they get along well.

Grogu-parent: He is an old baby, isn’t he? Thank you. Again.

You laughed and found yourself smiling again as you walked to the market. You wished you knew his name, but it felt awkward at this point to ask. You supposed he’d have to stay “Grogu-parent” in your pad. For now.

…

After that, you fell into a bit of a rhythm.

He wasn’t always able to reply immediately – sometimes you came in to work in the morning to find his response waiting for you, and you didn’t let yourself wait for more than a few minutes at the end of the day.

But he always replied. 

You found him easy to talk to, with a clear sense of humor and love for his son that you could feel through the messages. It infused every word he sent you, and it made you smile softly whenever you thought about it. You still felt bad that you hadn’t thought of this arrangement earlier. But you tried to make up for it with more details now.

…

you: Grogu led the other kids in a game today at recess. It seemed to be a mixture of tag and catch, and I’m not sure if he made it up, but they had fun. And I was proud of him for teaching them without words!

Grogu-parent: Sounds like the game he learned from a friend’s kid on Sorgan. I’ve seen him play it before, but I’ve never figured out the rules. I’m not convinced they don’t make them up each time they play it.

…

you: Grogu drew you a picture today! From what I could tell it’s your house, he was very proud of it.

Grogu-parent: I can’t wait to see it. He has a collection growing at home on the walls of his room.

…

you: Today we learned about hyperspace, and Grogu got really excited when I showed some footage of what it looks like to travel in hyperspace from the cockpit. He’s not the only kid who’s been in space, of course, and they all had a lot of fun sharing about their experiences. He drew us a picture of what I think is your ship, and the other kids loved it.

Grogu-parent: He does love hyperspace. I think it’s the colors. That kid loves to fly, even to go upside down. Never seen someone treat an evasive maneuver like a thrill ride like that.

you: Evasive maneuvers, huh? Sounds intense!

Grogu-parent: It’s been a while, but when he first came to me we had to run from some people who were looking for him. And me. Took us around the galaxy for a bit.

You remembered the school’s security measures that Karga and Cara had told you about and furrowed your brow.

you: Is everything ok now? Is he in any danger? Are you?

Grogu-parent: We took care of it. But that’s why we have the alerts in place at the school. Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.

you: I’m not worried about me! But Grogu and the rest of the kids! I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt them.

You could believe it, though. You just didn’t want to.

you: I mean, I know the Galaxy can be like that. I just wish it wasn’t.

Grogu-parent: I know what you mean. I wish that, too.

You didn’t realize until later while you were eating dinner that he’d never answered your question about his own safety, and it made you worry. You didn’t even know what his job was, you realized, and felt the worry settle in your chest.

…

you: Grogu made you another picture but this time he refused to use any color except blue. I’m not sure what it is, but he was very insistent about it! Cara took it home for you.

Grogu-parent: I’m not surprised, he loves blue things. I can’t wait to see it.

…

you: Today Oora gave a demonstration of a traditional dance he learned from his family, and surprised us all – apparently Grogu had been helping him practice and knew the dance, too! It was very sweet of him to dance with Oora when he got nervous.

Grogu-parent: He does love music, and he really loves helping his friends. He feels everything so strongly.

Grogu-parent: I’ll tell him, too, but if you remember tomorrow, please tell him I’m proud of him.

…

For once, you had evening plans.

You hurried home at the end of the week to drop your bag and then to meet Cara and Diima’s moms at the cantina. When they’d invited you, you’d internally done a victory dance – you’d made friends!! – but externally, you’d kept your cool. Mostly.

Cara was the only one there when you arrived, and you settled in beside her in the booth.

“Teach!” She greeted you with a grin. “Whatcha drinkin’? How are the kids?”

You gave her your order and soon you had a drink, too. You filled her in on what your charges had been up to that week, getting a few laughs at their antics. “What about you, constable? Anything new?”

“Well, we were going to take care of a reptavian problem over towards the east end of the lava flats, but Mando had to go off planet again. We’ll wait for him to get back, could use his firepower.”

You tilted your head. You figured she was talking about the shiny Mando you’d seen around the market sometimes. “Who–”

But before you could ask, Neela and Aminet arrived, and by the end of the night you forgot you’d even had a question at all.

…

you: Grogu got excited when we learned about banthas and blurrgs today! We’re focusing on the letter Besh if you couldn’t tell. Then he drew a blurrg, it was honestly a pretty great likeness.

Grogu-parent: He’s met a few before, so he knows them pretty well.

you: Wow! When did Grogu meet a blurrg?

Grogu-parent: When I first met him, we had a friend who kept them. He’s even ridden one before. 

you: You know, his picture from today makes a lot more sense now. He drew a little Grogu on top of the blurrg.

Grogu-parent: He really likes blurrgs. They seem to like him too, which is good. Otherwise I’d be afraid they were going to eat him.

you: That IS good because they definitely would.

…

At some point, your messages with Grogu’s dad became less focused on Grogu. You still always made sure to send an update, of course, but you were starting to get to know him, too.

You were trying not to look too hard at how that was making you feel. 

You’ve never even seen this man. 

You were starting to realize that that might not matter to you. 

…

you: Today we went on a little field trip to the market and Grogu was very well behaved! 

Grogu-parent: Are you sure you’re talking about my kid? He didn’t try to eat every blue treat in sight?

you: Well, no, he did do that. But then we stopped and talked to the man who makes those blue cookies he likes – his name is Tam – and he showed Grogu how carefully he has to make each one. The way Grogu held the one Tam gave him made me think he was in awe. Anyway after that he was very well-behaved

Grogu-parent: He does love to learn new things. I bet he loved watching the cookies get made.

you: He really did! And me, too. I had no idea they were so finicky

Grogu-parent: Not a baker?

you: I can make bread ok, I guess. Tam’s got real skill.

Grogu-parent: I can only make a few dishes but I’m trying to learn more for Grogu.

you: I bet he loves that! Is it hard to cook on your ship?

Grogu-parent: I don’t really, no space for it. I mostly rely on rations or quick things until I’m home.

you: Ok that sounds not so great, so PLEASE promise me you’ll try the new restaurant when you get back. It’s really good and you’ll deserve it after all those rations!

Grogu-parent: I will.

You tamped down the part of yourself that wondered if you could bring some long-lasting food that Grogu could give to his dad for his next trip. That was probably too much for a person you’d never even met. Right?

…

you: The kids have been taking turns telling stories about their families, and Grogu told us one in pictures today. It seemed to involve a lot of snow and spiders? Ice spiders? Are those real?

Grogu-parent: Of course he picked that story.

Grogu-parent: Yes, it was when we were on the run, like I told you before. My ship was damaged and we had to do an emergency landing on an ice planet.

Grogu-parent: The local fauna did not appreciate Grogu’s approach to exploring the area and chased us back to the ship.

you: Holy kriff! We’re they actually as big as a house, or was that his creative license taking over the drawing?

Grogu-parent: Most of them were small. One of them wasn’t.

you: That sounds absolutely terrifying

you: I’m so glad you’re both ok!! How did you get away?

Grogu-parent: A couple of the New Republic guys from Adelphi had followed us and helped out. But we had to limp over to Trask to get the ship fixed.

you: You know, that is basically what Grogu drew for us, I think I just couldn’t believe it was all true.

you: Ok my mind is totally blown. Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?

Grogu-parent: More than I would like, yes.

…

you: Grogu did really well with addition today! We’re learning about adding and subtracting with piles of tokens. He even helped his friend Kiran with a tricky one!

Grogu-parent: He’s so smart, I’m glad he’s getting to show it.

you: He really is! And he loves to learn.

Grogu-parent: I’m glad he’s so good at making friends. I was worried about him. I don’t set the best example.

you: What do you mean? You have so many friends

Grogu-parent: I can’t tell if you’re joking.

you: Not joking! There’s Cara, and Karga, and IG. 

Grogu-parent: 3? Is that a lot? I don’t think I’m very good at being friendly.

You hesitated, but it did feel right to call him a friend, at this point.

you: Well, you’ve also mentioned knowing people on at least two other planets. And you’re friendly with me! That is, if you don’t mind being friends with someone who sometimes forgets to switch out of “talking to kids” voice when talking to adults. And who is usually partially covered in arts and crafts.

Grogu-parent: I don’t mind. I’d like to be your friend.

You grinned and did not do a little victory dance. Definitely not. 

you: me too!

That one had made you float home.

…

you: Wait, you really calculate all your jumps yourself?

you: That’s so impressive! Does it take a long time? 

Grogu-parent: It did when I first started, but I’ve done it so many times it’s not so bad now.

you: Grogu must get his math skills from you.

Grogu-parent: So much happened in his life before I found him. Most of the time I feel like I’m learning things from him, and not the other way around. 

You felt a little squeeze around your heart at the thought of Grogu without this man, without his dad. You were glad they’d found each other.

you: That’s adorable, but you should know he shows us things that you taught him all the time.

Grogu-parent: Uh oh. Like what?

you: Today he showed us how to tie a cape around your neck so it will stay on. It made me wonder – do you wear a cape?

There was a pause that made you wonder if you shouldn’t have asked. Your message screen moved up as if a new message was about to come in, but then nothing did for another minute.

Grogu-parent: I do. Sometimes.

You laughed, a bit wonderingly. Who is this man?

…

you: Today some of the students shared stories or keepsakes from their homeworld or families – this isn’t a mandatory activity, since I know it can be complicated for some. Grogu drew us a picture of IG-11, I think. But he got really excited when Tamar mentioned that the twins have family on Tatooine, of all places.

Grogu-parent: He’s been there, so that was probably it. I guess I do have another friend there, too. Maybe two.

you: Ok, I’m starting to think you really undersold your ability to make friends

Grogu-parent: I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not good at being friendly.

you: You’re friendly with me! And how else did you get all these friends, then?

Grogu-parent: I ask myself that all the time. 

Grogu-parent: But it’s easy to be friendly with you.

You blinked and felt your face heat up, suddenly glad you were alone in your classroom. 

…

you: Today in rehearsal Grogu showed us that he memorized his part for the show! It was very cute, I’m sure he’ll do it at home for you.

Grogu-parent: Oh I’ve seen it. He’s been working hard on it.

you: Of course he has! I could tell

Grogu-parent: I’ll be on planet next week, maybe I could watch a rehearsal? If that’s alright. I don’t want to be in the way.

You grinned at your pad, but you also felt suddenly nervous. Were you ready to actually meet him? You didn’t even know his name.

you: Of course! No, you won’t be in the way, we have plenty of space. It will be so nice to finally meet you!

Grogu-parent: Ok, good. Yes, it will be.

…

On the day of the rehearsal you walked into the schoolhouse buzzing with nerves and excitement. 

You were going to meet him. Grogu’s dad, whose name you still didn’t know, somehow, but whose kind, funny, possibly-edging-towards-flirty messages were starting to take over your thoughts. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you couldn’t help it.

You were going to meet him. 

You managed to tamp down your excitement as your class arrived and took up all of your attention, but it never quite left your mind. By the time rehearsal rolled around after lunch, the nerves were back.

With 10 minutes to go, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the door what felt like every 5 seconds. Diima’s mom Aminet arrived, and then the twins’ parents. You knew Kiran’s mom was going to try to get away from the shipyard, too.

The door opened again, and you turned to see her slipping inside and smiled. When you looked past her, you were startled to see the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the street, about 15 feet from the school and framed by the door to your classroom.

He was tall, with very shiny armor and very broad shoulders. He was also covered in a slightly intimidating amount of weaponry, though you knew he was Cara’s friend and so you weren’t actually that scared. For a moment you simply stared at him, and even though his face was covered, you had a feeling he was staring back.

Curious, you took a step towards the open doorway, but that seemed to shock him into action. He took a corresponding step back, looked around, and then turned and walked away.

You poked your head out of the door and watched as he turned a corner, heading towards the market.

Weird.

You heard the kids start to make more noise behind you and turned, realizing it was time to begin.

…

Grogu’s dad never did show, but you tried not to let it get you down. At least, not until after the kids had left.

When Cara came to pick up Grogu, she smiled ruefully and shrugged. “I know, he was supposed to come. Sent me a message asking me to swing by, something came up.”

You sighed and shrugged back. “That’s alright. I know he’s busy.”

Your pad stayed stubbornly silent, and you left it at the school to discourage yourself from obsessively checking it all night long.

What happened?

…

Yawning, you dropped into your desk chair the next morning with a sigh. You hadn’t slept well, too worked up over what had – and hadn’t – happened the day before.

But your heart leapt into your throat when you saw you had a message waiting.

Grogu-parent: I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it. I had to go off planet again, and it was pretty last minute. 

Grogu-parent: I already apologized to Grogu but I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet. I was looking forward to it.

From the timestamps you could see that he’d sent the messages while you were at home, trying to sleep. You bit your lip, wondering what to say back. It helped that he apologized but you still felt disappointed. 

you: That’s ok. I know you’re busy! I would have liked to meet. Maybe next time?

Grogu-parent: I shouldn’t be too busy for this. Next time, yes. 

you: Deal. I’m counting on you, friend

There was a long pause that made you bite your lip. Was that too much? You started to put the pad down, sighing.

But then another message appeared.

Grogu-parent: Since we’re friends, you should call me Din.

You froze. Din?

His name.

You started to grin.

you: I see you, trying to make me forget about missing you yesterday by telling me your name today!

As soon as you send the message you hesitate, wondering if that was too much. But he told me his name! This has to be flirting. We’re flirting. Right?

Grogu-parent: Missing me?

Kark. Of course he noticed that. Before you could even feel the heat reach your face he sent another message.

Grogu-parent: I really wanted to be there. 

you: I’m just teasing you, Din. Thank you for telling me

You grinned and changed his contact name.

Grogu-parent-Din: I missed meeting you, too

…

After Din told you his name, it seemed like your conversations just… flowed. You were opening up to each other in ways you hadn’t quite been able to before and it was making you feel giddy. 

On top of that, you were pretty sure he was flirting with you. At least, you hoped so. You couldn’t stop turning the question over in your mind. 

It’s not like you could ask anyone. You hadn’t told anyone you were having actual conversations with this man you’d never met – all Cara knew was that you sent him updates. 

These weren’t exactly updates.

you: Anyway, Grogu loved it. Painting with feet is always a popular activity but he was very enthusiastic

Grogu-parent-Din: That doesn’t surprise me at all. He loves making a mess.

You laughed.

Grogu-parent-Din: Is this one of those days when you’re covered in arts and crafts?

You blinked. He remembered that? And he was thinking about that? Was he thinking about what you looked like? You hesitated, and then typed your response.

you: Oh definitely. I’m wearing more paint than clothes at this point.

Kriffing hell. Why did I just say that? You stared down at your pad, incredulous. That had to be too much. You definitely shouldn’t be flirting with a parent like that. And you hadn’t even meant to flirt! You started to type again, to apologize, but he beat you to it.

Grogu-parent-Din: Sounds like quite a sight.

you: See, I warned you, being friends with me means being friends with someone who can’t stop kids from covering her in paint.

Grogu-parent-Din: Never said it would be a bad sight. 

You felt a tingle run up your spine. Did he–

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re not afraid of a mess. Neither am I. 

Grogu-parent-Din: You’re a good teacher. 

Kriff, you wished you knew what this man looked like. You said goodbye and stood up to leave, you should not be having thoughts like this in your classroom.

Not afraid of a mess, he’d said. 

Kriff.

…

Din kept flirting with you. It had to be flirting, you’d decided. (And you were definitely flirting.) But neither of you had addressed it directly. 

You spent your days with the kids, and about half an hour every afternoon flirting with Grogu’s dad. And then the rest of your evening thinking about it.

you: Grogu drew us a picture of a sort of humanoid-looking figure hanging off the side of a Jawa sandcrawler. It was pretty small in comparison with the sandcrawler, but was that you?

Grogu-parent-Din: Unfortunately, yes.

you: How did you end up hanging off the side of a sandcrawler??

Grogu-parent-Din: The Jawas took apart my ship, stole the parts. I was trying to get them back.

you: Well I assume you did, since you still have a ship

you: How did you get them back? Dare I ask?

Grogu-parent-Din: That’s a long one, but it involved me getting something they wanted from a mudhorn. 

you: A mudhorn?? An actual mudhorn

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. But yeah, I got the parts back. Got a whole new ship now, though, that one got blown up later.

You realized you were staring down at your pad, mouth dropped open, frozen. 

you: … Din. 

you: Blown up???

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, when I list it all out like this, it sounds kind of ridiculous.

you: Kind of?

you: Does this kind of thing still happen to you?

Grogu-parent-Din: I won’t lie, sometimes it does. But not nearly as often. 

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise, I’m careful. Much more these days.

you: You swear?

Grogu-parent-Din: I do.

you: Alright. 

As you set down your pad, you thought about what you knew about Din. He wore a cape, did evasive maneuvers in his ship, had friends on multiple planets, and sometimes hung off the side of sandcrawlers and fought mudhorns. Someday you’d find out what his job was, and this would all make more sense. 

You hoped.

…

At some point after he told you his name, you started taking your pad home.

It made sense, right? It would be rude to cut off the conversation because you had to go home, of all things.

And so like most nights, you found yourself sitting on your bed, smiling down at your pad, talking to Din for what you refused to recognize was over an hour at this point.

Grogu-parent-Din: You know, I didn’t realize how much calmer my life is now until I started telling you these stories.

you: I’m just glad your life IS calmer now! Din, sometimes you tell me things and I don’t know how you survived.

Grogu-parent-Din: Me too. That it’s calmer now, I mean. For Grogu, of course, but I get a lot more sleep these days.

you: I know you’re busy, but maybe you could stick around for a bit longer next time. Relax a bit? I think you need it

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m not very good at relaxing. 

you: Maybe you just need someone to show you how it’s done

You were flirting again. You bit your lip.

Grogu-parent-Din: You volunteering?

You grinned. He was flirting back.

you: I might be. What do you say?

Grogu-parent-Din: I say I’d like that. 

you: Yeah?

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah, cyar’ika. Show me how to relax.

You let out a noise that you were glad no one was around to hear.

you: What’s that mean?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ll tell you when we’re relaxing.

you: Promise?

Grogu-parent-Din: Promise.

…

With only a couple of weeks to go before the show, you were starting to feel the pressure, both for the kids and because you were finally going to meet Din.

He would have to come to the show, right? He said he would. You were pretty sure your distraction was noticeable – Cara had almost called you out on it multiple times. She’d taken to squinting at you and smirking knowingly when she caught you checking your pad. 

A few nights after the promise to let you show him how to relax – which you couldn’t let yourself dwell on, not if you wanted to get anything done – he told you about his ship getting blown up.

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve got a new one, of course, but I do miss that ship.

you: Of course you do! How long did you have it?

Grogu-parent-Din: Almost 15 years.

Your jaw dropped. He’d lost his home of 15 years?

you: Din, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

There was a long pause that made you worry you’d somehow overstepped. You started to type, to backtrack, when his response appeared.

Grogu-parent-Din: Thank you. 

Grogu-parent-Din: I think people expected me to just get a new ship, but for a while I didn’t want to.

you: Of course not!

you: ugh, who said that? Let me talk to them

Grogu-parent-Din: It’s ok, cyar’ika. No need. 

Grogu-parent-Din: Of course you can make me smile when I’m thinking about this.

You sucked in a sharp breath and tucked yourself into a ball around your pad on your bed. He smiled. 

you: I made you smile?

Grogu-parent-Din: You always make me smile.

Your own smile felt so big it was taking over your face.

you: You make me smile too, you know. Even when we’re not talking, you make me smile

Grogu-parent-Din: Yeah? How do I manage that?

you: I may or may not think about you, you know… sometimes.

Grogu-parent-Din: I think about you all the time.

You felt your entire body get hot and tingly and gasped.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I do. Lately you’re all I want to think about.

you: Din. Are you flirting with me?

Grogu-parent-Din: I’ve been flirting with you, cyar’ika. Nice of you to finally notice.

You wanted to hide your face, even though you were the only person in your apartment. You settled for kicking your feet like a weirdo.

you: I hoped you were. I’ve been flirting too, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: Oh I know.

you: Din!

Grogu-parent-Din: I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you last time. I wish I had.

you: Well, the show is next week! so soon! We can actually meet

you: It’s not your fault you had to work.

There was another long pause, and you furrowed your brow, but it couldn’t quite wipe the smile off your face.

Grogu-parent-Din: So I might have lied about that.

you: About what?

You frowned down at the pad.

Grogu-parent-Din: I didn’t have to go off planet suddenly.

you: What?? Din what are you talking about

You didn’t like the swooping sensation in your stomach. So then why had he left?

Grogu-parent-Din: I did come by the school that day, but I couldn’t go in.

you: Why not??

Grogu-parent-Din: I saw you, and I know, I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair that I’ve seen you. But I saw you, and you were smiling at someone, and you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika. 

Your mouth dropped open. What?

Grogu-parent-Din: I froze. I got tongue-tied, I guess. All of a sudden I just knew, but I wasn’t prepared. And then I ran like a coward. I’m sorry.

You handled your pad in shaking hands, making a few more typos than you usually did.

you: Din, are you tellign me that you thought I was so beautiful you ran awaY?

Grogu-parent-Din: Basically, yes. I know, I know, Cara already read me the riot act. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t run next week.

you: You better not!! I can’t believe you’ve seen me and I’ve never seen you.

He ran away because you were too beautiful? What the kark? This sort of thing did not happen to you.

Grogu-parent-Din: I promise I will be there next week and I won’t run away.

you: Good.

you: No one’s ever thought I was so beautiful they RAN before, you know

Grogu-parent-Din: That you know of.

you: You know, that’s a good point

…

By the day of the show, you were a wreck.

You and Din talked every night, and it was wonderful, but it felt like a build up to something that was going to change your life. You didn’t want to put that much pressure on a simple meeting, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You liked him so, so much.

And on top of that, the kids were excited and nervous and bouncing off the walls. Literally, in some cases. You wanted things to go well for them, and you wanted things to go well for you.

It was a lot.

Grogu-parent-Din: Can I come by early? Or should I wait until after?

you: PLEASE come early. I can’t wait through the whole show to meet you, I’ll be too nervous! The kids are going home for a couple of hours after school, and then they have to be back for the show

Grogu-parent-Din: Cara is taking Grogu with Oora for a final practice together and I said I’d meet her there. So I can come as early as you’d like. You tell me when to be there and I will.

Your hands were shaking again.

you: How about half an hour before the kids are due back? Gives me time to have emotions but not to get TOO distracted.

Grogu-parent-Din: Am I going to give you emotions, cyar’ika?

you: You know you are, Din.

…

Somehow, the kids had been gone for an hour and you’d managed to finish setting everything up in the small auditorium. The little stage was ready and the decorations were perfect.

And now all you had to do was wait for Din.

It was nerve-wracking. You were doing your best not to watch the clock, but with fifteen minutes to go before he was supposed to arrive, you found yourself pacing around your classroom, talking to yourself.

You were debating running to the corner and back just to work out some energy when someone cleared their throat behind you.

You whirled, heart in your throat, and were surprised to find the Mandalorian you’d seen around town standing in the doorway of your classroom.

“Oh! Hello, Mando.” You took a deep breath and resisted the urge to twist your hands together. “Can I help you with something?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked around the room, and you took a moment to study him. His armor was very shiny, and it fit him very well. He was a very broad man, you realized. And he had fewer weapons on him than the last time you saw him, though of course he still had some.

He took a step inside and his cape swayed behind him.

“You know,” he said, and his voice was deep and warm. You thought he might be smiling, but wondered how you could tell. “I know it’s not realistic, but I really did picture you more covered in paint.”

You froze and felt a tingling sensation flow from your feet to your head, making you suddenly lightheaded. It can’t be. 

“...Din?” you breathed, stunned. Your eyes traveled over the length of him again, and then suddenly caught on the cape. 

He stepped forward again and then he was right in front of you. You couldn’t stop gaping at him. 

“Hi, cyar’ika,” he said, voice deep. He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers against yours. 

Your body finally kicked back into gear at his touch and you shoved him lightly in his armored chest. “Din!” You put both of your palms on his chest and marveled at the fact that he was here, in front of you, solidly physical and real. “You’re here!”

He chuckled, and you marveled again at being able to hear him. “I promised I would be.”

You felt yourself start to smile and noticed his helmet dipped. “I can’t believe you’re here.” You ran your hands down his chest and then froze. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just started touching you, I didn’t even ask–” You started to pull your hands away but he caught them and placed your hands back on his chest.

“You can touch me,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you asked, grinning.

He nodded. 

“I may have thought about it… a lot,” you confessed, stepping even closer. 

His hands released yours and came to rest on your hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

For a moment you just grinned at him, a bit stunned. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in last time,” he said, and he did sound sorry. “I wanted to, I just…”

Now that you had him in front of you, real and solid and a man, it felt suddenly easier to tease him. “But you were overwhelmed by my beauty, huh?”

You gasped when he tugged you closer and squeezed your hips. “I was,” he agreed. “You are so kriffing beautiful, cyar’ika.”

You felt yourself begin to melt, but then remembered. “Wait,” you said, looking up at his visor. “You promised – what does that mean?”

He leaned down and nudged your forehead gently with his helmet.

“Sweetheart.”

…

The kids’ show went off without a hitch. Grogu was overjoyed to have his dad in the audience and played the drums with more enthusiasm than you had ever seen him have in practice. All of the kids did well, and their parents kept telling you how impressed they were as they headed home.

As soon as the area around you cleared, after the show, Din appeared with Grogu in his arms.

“Grogu, you did so well!” You reached your fist out to bump his little one and he cheered. “I’m so proud of you and I know your dad is, too.” You looked up at Din, who nodded. 

“I am,” he agreed, “I told him.” He looked down at Grogu. “Right, bud?” Grogu made a little noise that definitely sounded like agreement.

“Are you heading out?” You asked, smiling at Cara when she came to join your group. 

Din nodded. “Taking this one home. But, I wanted to ask – are you free tomorrow?”

You grinned. “I am.”

He took a step closer and Grogu made a little bah noise. “I’ll message you. But you have plans.”

You could feel Cara smirking at the two of you but you couldn’t look away from Din. “I do?”

Din leaned a little bit closer. “You do now.”

You said goodnight, but the warmth from finally meeting Din and knowing you had plans later carried you home. 

Grogu-parent-Din: Meet me at the market after lunch?

you: Yes! What are our plans?

Smiling, you made an update to his contact.

Din: I’m ready to learn how to relax.

…

You stood by the large tree at the edge of the market, nervous but excited. You’d spent too much time picking out your clothes and now that you were there, you couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt to finally touch him.

“You look beautiful,” a warm voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

“Din!” You grinned. He was very shiny in the midday sun. 

He stepped closer and one of his hands came up to cup your upper arm. His gloved thumb moved back and forth across your skin in a light caress. “Hi, cyar’ika.”

You felt your face heat at the endearment, now that you knew what it meant.

“I’m ready to relax,” he said, voice teasing. 

You laughed and leaned a bit closer. He was right there, in front of you, and you felt like you were floating. “Alright. I say we walk through the market and stock up on some snacks, and then we’ll try out some aimless relaxation. Preferably on a couch or other soft surface. And maybe we’ll listen to some music.”

Din nodded along to your instructions, turning to follow as you walked towards the market. He slid his hand down your arm and slipped it into yours. “Does your place have a couch?”

You looked at him. “Din, would you like to come back to my place? Do you have time?”

He leaned forward and nudged his helmet against your forehead again. “Cara’s got Grogu. I’m all yours. And yes, I do want to.”

“Great,” you said, smiling, and started to point out your favorite stalls. You collected some fruit and cookies from Tam and some other snacks as you walked. 

Din took each item and stored them in a bag as you collected them. “Are these the cookies Grogu learned how to make?” 

You nodded. “And he still loves them.” 

Din laughed. “Of course he does.”

Once you had a nice assortment, you turned in the direction of your apartment. As you walked, you marveled at how easy, how right it felt, to spend time together in person. 

“Is it nice, being back on planet?” you asked. 

He nodded once. “Food’s much better,” he said, and you smiled. “So’s the company.”

You turned onto the small street with the door to your apartment. “Flatterer.”

As you stepped up to your door to unlock it, Din stepped up close behind you. So close you could feel the heat of his body. “It’s the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt a shiver travel up your back as you finally unlocked the door, followed by the tips of his fingers as they followed the shiver. “Well, here it is.” You waved your arm at your apartment and stood to the side to welcome Din inside.

He looked around, and suddenly you felt nervous. Before you could get too worked up, though, he said, “I like it. It’s very warm, like you.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Din stepped closer and nudged your forehead with his helmet again. “You’re easy to talk to, and so warm in all of our conversations. It feels like that.”

You leaned closer. “Does this mean something?” You nudged his helmet.

He hummed. “It’s a Keldabe kiss. It’s how we kiss without removing our helmets.”

“Din!” You exclaimed, leaning back to look at him. “You kissed me when we met yesterday?”

“Couldn’t help it.” He leaned in to do it again and you grinned. “I’ve been wanting to for weeks.”

You reached down and took his hand, tugging him towards the living area. “Come on. We have some relaxing to do.”

To your surprise, rather than joining you on the couch, he started stripping off his armor and placing the pieces carefully on your dining table. He must have noticed your surprise because he explained, “Relaxing, right? This will be more comfortable.”

You watched carefully, taking note of each piece. When he was finished he was just wearing his flight suit and helmet. You couldn’t help but ask, “not the helmet?” 

Din seemed to tense for a moment, but then he relaxed. “No. I… my creed. I can’t take it off in front of other living things.”

You tilted your head, considering this information. “Not even Grogu?”

He shook his head. “Grogu is clan, he’s my son. Our clan can see our faces.”

That made sense. “Alright. Want to sit?”

You gestured at the seat next to you and smiled as he sat. 

“You don’t…” he trailed off and turned in his seat to look at you head on. “You don’t have more questions?”

You turned sideways and leaned against the back of your couch, propping your chin on your hand. Your knee brushed against his leg. “No, not right now. I mean, I want to know more, but mostly I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready, right? If it’s stuff I can know.” You reached over and slipped your hand into his and squeezed. “I don’t want to push you, and I like the way we’ve been talking.”

He leaned forward and squeezed your hand. “I like it too.” His voice was suddenly much deeper. “Thank you.”

You smiled. “Are you thanking me for being patient?”

Din nodded. “I am. So what’s the next step in our day of relaxation?”

You gestured at your sound system. “Let me put on something soothing.” You grabbed your data pad from the coffee table and set it up. “There.”

Soft music started to play and you eased back into your seat. 

“Do we just sit here?” Din asked, sounding a little baffled. 

It made you smile. “Yes, but we can talk. Or you can always lie down, that’s much more relaxing.” You grabbed a pillow and placed it against your thigh. “Want to try it?”

“Here?” He pointed at the couch and you nodded. He hesitated and then took off his boots. He slowly leaned down until he was lying back against the pillow. As soon as his back was flat he groaned. “Ok, maybe I needed this.”

“Maybe you need a back rub,” you replied. 

Din laughed. “Probably. I don’t know if I’ve ever had one. You offering?”

“Never?” You shook your head, incredulous. “Ask me again later. We’re relaxing right now.” You fell into an easy conversation about your week and you finally found out more about his job. As you talked, you leaned further into the couch and started idly tracing shapes along his chest with your fingertips without even realizing you were doing it. 

“A bounty hunter makes so much more sense than what I was thinking,” you remarked as he finished telling you about his last job. “All of your ridiculous stories make sense now.”

Din laughed again and you realized you wanted to hear that sound more. Every day, if you could.

“That’s good. I realized in retrospect how it all sounds when I was talking to you.” He reached up and laced his fingers through yours, stilling your hand against his chest. “It doesn’t scare you?”

You looked down at his visor and smiled. “I was already worrying about you, but I know you’re capable. I could tell from your stories. If anything, it’s reassuring — you must be good at it, to be doing it this long.” You sighed. “But I probably will still worry, yes.”

Din hummed and you felt certain he was looking at you, too, even though you couldn’t tell through the dark glass. “Cara offered me more work around here. I think I’ll take her up on it. I’ll still go off planet sometimes, but not as much.”

“Well,” you said, smiling, “I won’t pretend I don’t like the sound of that. But you don’t have to do that just because we’re, um…” you trailed off as you realized you didn’t exactly know what you were. 

“Relaxing together?” He teased, and you laughed. “It would be better for Grogu, that’s important. But I do want to be here more so I can see you more. Not only send messages.” He squeezed your hand. “I like you.”

You felt something warm settle inside you at his words and you were certain it showed on your face. “I like you too, Din.”

You told him more stories about the kids’ antics during the week, but you realized as you finished a story about Kiran trying to adopt a lizard from the lava flats as the class pet — and Grogu wanting to eat it, instead — that Din had fallen asleep. 

You smiled and curled your body more around his helmet and the pillow in your lap. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with you filled you with warmth. You took the opportunity to study this man who had somehow swept you off your feet through pad messages. Even without seeing his face, you could tell he was attractive – his body was toned and strong, but not thin. You could tell he was used to very physical work. You traced his shoulders and arms and chest with your eyes and bit your lip – he was much more exposed like this, without armor. You could see the outline of his body and it made you press your thighs together under the pillow. 

Get it together, you told yourself sternly. We are relaxing, not ogling. 

He stirred, suddenly, and you couldn’t help but soothe him. “Shhh, go back to sleep,” you murmured. “Relax.” He seemed to settle again at the sound of your voice, so you kept talking. “I’m really glad you feel comfortable here, Din. With me.” You hummed along to the music softly for a moment. “You really are very handsome. I can tell. And kriff, these shoulders. And your hands.” You laughed softly at yourself. “I already liked you, you know? Without seeing you. But now…” you trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by what you were admitting even though he was asleep.

At least, you thought he was asleep.

He startled you by responding, suddenly, and tightened his hold on your hand on his chest to keep you from pulling away. “Now?” he asked, voice scratchy and deep. “Now what, cyar’ika?”

You felt your face heat up. “How much of that did you hear?”

Din hummed and settled more into the couch. “Something about my shoulders.”

“Kriff,” you said, laughing. “That’s so embarrassing.”

He shook his head. “No, I liked it.” He squeezed your hand. “What were you going to say? But now…” he prompted you, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Now I like you and I can’t stop looking at you, I guess.”

He looked at you for a moment, helmet tilted back. Then he started to sit up. You made a noise in complaint but he settled in much closer to you than before with his arm over the back of the couch. You were touching from shoulder to knee. Your breath caught. 

“Is that really what you were going to say, mesh’la?” He leaned in towards you and pressed his helmet to your forehead again. 

You shivered. “Din—“ you started, not sure what you were going to say. 

“Tell me,” he urged you softly. He dropped his arm over your shoulders and suddenly you were totally wrapped up in his warmth. 

“I already liked you,” you repeated, leaning into his embrace. “And I already wanted you. Before I’d even seen you.” You stumbled over your words but felt a surge of confidence when you felt him draw in a sharp breath. “And now I can’t stop looking at you. Because you already had me with your flirting.” You reached out and placed your hand on his thigh and squeezed, and you couldn’t take it anymore. “But Din, I am so turned on. I know we just met, officially, but—“

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “I’ve been hard since you told me to lie down in your lap.”

Your gaze shot down to his pants, but you couldn’t see any proof. 

“These pants don’t show it. But believe me,” he lifted your hand from his thigh and placed it over his hard length. Your eyes widened. “I want you. Badly.”

“Din,” you breathed. You looked back up at him and squeezed his cock, and watched a shiver travel across his shoulders. 

“How dark is your bedroom?” He asked suddenly. 

“Very,” you said, a bit confused. “I have those curtains that block out the light, helps me sleep.”

“Perfect,” he replied, and tugged you up off the couch. “Come here, mesh’la.” He grabbed something from the pile of his things on the coffee table and led you towards your bedroom after you pointed it out.

Once inside, he moved towards the windows and closed the curtains. The room immediately darkened. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking around the room, and nodded.

“Good,” he said, and you stepped closer.

“Good for what?” 

Din held up his hand and you realized he was holding a length of black cloth. “It’s dark enough in here. But just to be sure… if you, would you wear this?” 

Suddenly you realized the reason why he was doing all of this and your entire body lit up in response. “Your helmet?” you asked, eyes wide.

He nodded. “Will you?” He held what you recognized as a blindfold towards you, and you nodded before he’d even finished speaking.

“Of course,” you said, stepping closer. “Din, I promise, I won’t look. But yes, I’ll wear it.”

You saw some of the tension fade from his shoulders and smiled. He took you gently by the shoulders and turned you around. “Thank you,” he murmured as he lifted the blindfold into place. He tied it tightly, but not too tight. “How’s that?” You felt air on your face and wondered if he was waving his hand in front of your eyes.

“I can’t see anything,” you confirmed. You reached back, trying to find him, and he caught your hand. “I promise.”

He turned you back around slowly and suddenly you were pressed up against his chest with his hand on your back. “I believe you. I trust you.”

You thought of the way he had fallen asleep so easily in your presence and smiled. “What now, Din?”

You heard a hissing noise and then a large thump and realized he must have removed his helmet. The sound of his voice confirmed it. “Now, cyar’ika,” he said, and you shivered when you felt his breath on your face, “I’m going to kiss you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, yes, and maybe please, but you never got the words out. His lips met yours and every other thought flew out of your head. You could tell he was somewhat new to this – that wasn’t surprising, considering what he’d told you about his helmet – but he learned quickly and you barely noticed any awkwardness. You lost yourself in his kiss, in his arms, in the darkness of your blindfold. 

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, you moaned, and his answering moan made you feel lightheaded. He broke away suddenly to press kisses down your neck and you sighed. “Din,” you said, and realized your hands were tangled in his hair. His hair. “That feels so good.”

“Does it?” He murmured, and you could hear his smirk. “Tell me, cyar’ika.”

You pushed yourself closer until you were pressed fully against him. “Yes, Din. Can we– can you–” you weren’t sure what you were asking, and he interrupted you with a nibble at your neck.

“We can do whatever you want,” he promised, voice low. “What do you want, mesh’la?”

That word, the new one, finally snagged at your attention. “What’s that mean?”

He lifted his head and pressed his smile to your cheek. It made you smile back. “That’s what you want? To know that?”

You nodded. “Please. And then I want you to make me come.”

Din growled and tugged you in the direction you were pretty sure led to your bed. “Beautiful,” he said, voice intent. “It means beautiful. Because you are.” He tugged you downwards and you realized he was sitting on the bed. You settled into position straddling his lap and ground your hips down. His answering moan was very gratifying. “Let me make you feel good.”

He had one arm around your back, and you felt his other hand trail along the waistband of your pants. You tilted your hips forward to encourage him. He undid them deftly and you sighed when his large fingers slid inside your underwear.

He teased you, and you knew he could feel how wet you were without even pressing inside.

“Did I turn you on, cyar’ika?” He pressed his lips to your ear and you shivered at how deep his voice was. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, Din,” you said, and before you could say anything else his fingers parted your folds and slipped inside. 

“So wet,” he said, voice awed. “And all for me, hmm?” His fingers found your clit and circled it and you gasped. He swallowed it with a kiss. 

You broke away on a gasp when he replaced his fingers with his thumb and trailed through your wetness to circle your entrance with his fingertips. “Din,” you said, pleading.

“Is this what you want, mesh’la?” You nodded and he nipped at your neck below your ear. “I thought about this,” he said, lips brushing against your ear as he slid his fingers inside you. “Thought about this when you talked to me, when I pictured you covered in more paint than clothes.” He curled his fingers forward and you moaned. “Thought about this when you made me smile, when you said you think about me.”

“I do, Din,” you said, voice unsteady. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ground down on his fingers. “I thought about this, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and you nodded against his neck. “My fingers?”

“Yes,” you said, building up a rhythm with your hips. “And your cock. And your tongue.”

Din let out a noise you could only classify as a whine and it sent sparks shooting up your spine. “You want that? My mouth on you?” You nodded, almost frantically, and he shuddered. “I want that too. You have no idea how much.”

You could feel it building inside of you and you buried your face in his shoulder. You marveled at feeling so much of his skin as you did. 

“I think you’re close, cyar’ika,” he murmured between kisses on your neck. “You’re squeezing me.” His thumb started to move faster and you knew you were about to fall over the edge. “Come for me, beautiful. I want to feel it.”

You did, with his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his arm holding you tight in his lap. You cried out his name as you fell and shuddered at the sparks flying through your body. The pleasure washed over you like a wave, head to toe.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your back on the mattress with Din’s body pressing you down. 

“You with me?” he asked, and you nodded. “Good. Cyar’ika, I want to fuck you.”

Your head swam at his words, and you nodded again.

“Let me hear your voice,” he murmured, and kissed you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me, Din,” you said, and felt it when he smiled into a kiss. “I’ve wanted it, badly.”

“Me too,” he promised, and lifted off of you to remove his flight suit. When he pressed back down and you felt his skin on yours your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Dank farrik,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re so soft.” He rubbed his body against yours and you gasped at the sensations he sent through you. His hard cock was trapped between your stomachs and you lifted your hips, wrapping your legs around him, trying to change the angle. 

Din tilted his hips and suddenly his cock was nestled against you, and you gasped. “You feel so kriffing good,” he moaned, and you nodded.

“You too, Din,” you cut off on a gasp when the head of his cock nudged your clit. “Please fuck me.” 

Din huffed a laugh, and murmured, “so polite.”

You smacked him lightly on his very shapely ass, and then paused to fondle it. He laughed again and you grinned into his neck. “Is there something wrong with polite?”

Din nudged at your cheek until you turned into a searing kiss. “No,” he finally replied, lifting his hips and reaching down to move his cock right where you wanted it. “Just makes me want to give you what you want. Even more.” The head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you sighed. “I’ve thought about this so many times, almost since the beginning.” He started pushing inside and you tangled your fingers in his hair. You were panting. He was big. “And then I saw you, and you were flirting with me, and I couldn’t,” he pulled out slightly and thrust forward again, “stop,” he did it again, farther in this time, “thinking about it.” He pushed steadily forward until his hips met yours and you both moaned.

“Me neither,” you said, turning your head and nipping at his ear. He moaned again. “So much, Din.” He shuddered as he pulled out and thrust forward again, and you lifted your hips to meet him.

He found a steady rhythm that sent sparks up and down your spine, building you up and sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your mind was spinning with pleasure and a bit of awe that you were finally there, that Din was inside you, like you’d been hoping for. Like you’d been craving.

Din leaned his weight onto his left arm and snaked his right hand between your bodies until he found your clit. When he circled it with his finger you almost sobbed.

“I want to feel you come again, mesh’la.” Din’s voice was rough with his own pleasure and it made yours shoot higher. “Squeeze me tight. Dank farrik.” His chest heaved when you did as he asked and squeezed. “Let me feel it. Come for me.”

He thrust forward again and circled your clit just right and you fell off the edge again, but this time it felt like you were flying. You spiraled upwards on the wave of pleasure and when it crashed down again it flowed over your entire body, leaving tingles in its wake.

You squeezed his cock and he moaned into your ear. “You feel so good when you come, kriff, your pussy feels so good.” His hips thrust forward again, losing their rhythm, and you knew he was close. You tugged at his hair until your mouth hovered over his.

“Din,” you said, and kissed him. “Come inside me.”

He moaned and he did, thrusting twice more before stilling and moaning your name. When he collapsed on top of you you wrapped your arms and legs around him and sighed.

“Kark,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your neck and throat. “That was so good.”

You laughed, and gasped when he laughed too and you felt it against your chest. “It was, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “You know, I like this relaxation thing.” You laughed and squeezed him. He grunted. “I have another confession.”

“Uh oh,” you teased. “Is this the last one?”

Din pushed himself up until he was leaning on his left arm again and kissed you softly. “I promise. After this it’s just getting to know each other more.” He kissed you again. “But I need to tell you. I didn’t just run because you’re beautiful.” another kiss. “Even though you are and that was part of it.” A longer kiss this time followed by a nip to your bottom lip. You smiled. “But I also saw you, and all of these feelings I’d been putting off and denying came rushing up and I couldn’t deny them anymore. I think I was afraid, since we’d never met, never seen each other.”

You nodded. You knew that feeling.

“It was all real, suddenly, and I wasn’t ready for that.” He nudged at your nose with his and hummed.

You kissed him. “But you’re ready now?”

“I am,” he said, voice firm and warm. “I want you. I want this. I want to figure it out.”

You grinned. “Me too, Din.”

“Good.”

…

@djarins-cyare

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@purrpledesblog

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@patatslt

You let out a sigh as you wiped your grease-covered hands on a rag, glancing over to where the child’s little pod was resting quietly beside you. It was always quiet on the ship when Mando wasn’t around. The kid didn’t say much–or anything really, other than the occasional coo– but there was something comforting in the way he sat near you, playing with his favourite metal ball, tiny and serene. Something safe.

Your wrench slipped for a moment, and the clang of metal on metal sent a flicker of your memory through your mind. You could almost hear the bustling sounds of your old shop, the hum of speeders waiting for repairs, the dull chatter of the occasional customer coming in and out. That life felt distant now–a memory dulled by the constant movement of the Razor Crest. You missed it sometimes, the routine, the steady rhythm of life on that backwater planet. But that life had been torn apart the moment Mando landed in your yard with a broken ship and a bounty hunter’s target on his tail.

But the fire wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning—the moment everything shifted. You could still picture it clearly, the first time he stepped into your shop, long before the kid, long before everything fell apart.

-

It had been an ordinary day, hot and slow like most on that backwater planet. The sun had cast long shadows across the junkyard when the distinctive roar of a ship’s engines broke the monotony. You’d looked up to see a clunky, battle-worn ship descending—a hunk of metal that seemed more scrap heap than starship. You weren’t expecting much when the ramp lowered, but then he walked out, his beskar gleaming in the sunlight. He’d looked out of place there, a specter of something bigger, more dangerous than the quiet life you’d carved out for yourself.

“Repulsorlift’s shot,” he’d said simply, his voice tinny through the modulator. No pleasantries, no introductions. Just business.

You weren’t sure why, but you hadn’t been intimidated. Something about the way he held himself—rigid, guarded—felt almost… tired. Like he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders and didn’t trust anyone to help bear it. You’d nodded, grabbed your tools, and set to work. You’d told yourself it was just another job, but something about him stuck with you. Maybe it was the way he’d watched your every move, silent but observant, or the faint hesitation in his voice when he’d finally said, “Thanks.” Or maybe it was the way he held himself, tall, alert, and slightly cocky, like he knew the intimidating effect he had on people.

That wasn’t the last time he showed up at your shop. Every few months, he’d come back, his ship battered and bruised from whatever trouble he’d gotten into. Sometimes it was a blown-out hyperdrive; other times, hull damage from a firefight. You didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer answers. But over time, the silences between you had started to feel less empty. He’d comment on the efficiency of your work, or you’d tease him about the state of his ship, and while he never laughed, you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest tilt of his helmet that hinted at amusement.

You’d grown to look forward to those visits. The sound of his engines overhead was enough to send a little thrill through you, though you’d never admit it. And every time he left, his ship a distant glint on the horizon, you felt the same pang of sadness. You’d watch until he was gone, telling yourself it was just the quiet returning that unsettled you. But deep down, you knew better.

And then came that day.

The day he landed not for repairs, but for refuge. The day he brought the kid into your life—and with him, all the chaos that followed.

You heard his ship land–well, more like a crash–outside your shop. You immediately dropped whatever mundane task you had been working on–the sight of the Crest sending your heart pounding for multiple reasons.

One, you’d get to see Mando a lot sooner than you thought you would, the thought of the tall, beskar clad man sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to push the feeling away, thinking strictly of business.

Two, because the ship was in terrible shape–possibly the worst shape you’d ever seen.

You rushed to the door of your shop to immediately tend to the Crest–and to see the man you had secretly been harbouring a stupid crush on–but when you whipped the door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges, Mando was already there, standing tall and shiny before you.

You jumped, slightly spooked by the unexpected sight before regaining your composure. “Mando? What are yo–”

“I need your help,” he cut you off. He took a step closer to you, sending your heart pounding and cheeks heating under the gaze of his black visor. You could feel yourself getting flustered by his proximity. “Can I…come in?” he asked, confused by your silence and dumbfounded expression

Right. Yes, of course. He wasn’t stepping closer to you for the reasons you had wanted. You should probably step to the side and let him in. Averting your gaze, you stepped to the side of the doorway, allowing Mando to step inside the small shop before shutting the door behind him.

You looked out the window of your shop, seeing the sorry state of the ship. You cringed, the thought of all that work you spent on repairs being undone by whatever mess Mando had gotten himself into now.

“Stars, Mando. What the fuck did you do to that ship?” you questioned as your eyes scanned him for any injuries. It was silly of you to care so much about his well being–especially considering how well he could hold himself in a fight–but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

That’s when you noticed it. The satchel at his side holding something–or rather someone. Your eyes widened at the big brown eyes looking up at you, a soft coo leaving its little mouth. Mando tilted his helmet towards his satchel, lightly stroking the creature's big green ears before his visor fixed on you again.

“Mando, what the fuck,” you gasped, mouth hanging open in shock.

Mando shifted slightly, his broad shoulders stiffening as though bracing for your reaction. “It’s... complicated,” he said, his voice flat but with the faintest hint of hesitation.

You blinked, your gaze bouncing between him and the small green creature nestled in the satchel. It blinked back at you, wide-eyed and unassuming, as if this whole situation wasn’t entirely bizarre. “Complicated? Mando, this isn’t a blown hyperdrive or a cracked hull—it’s a kid.”

“I’m aware,” he replied dryly, adjusting the satchel as if to shield the child from your scrutiny.

Your mind reeled as you tried to piece together what you were seeing. You stepped closer, peering up into his inscrutable helmet. “So… what? You’re babysitting now?”

A soft coo from the child drew your attention, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It was absurd, really—the hardened bounty hunter with a baby in tow. But when you looked back at him, something about the way he stood there, tense and guarded, made the smile fade.

“This isn’t permanent,” he said finally, his voice low. “I just need to keep him safe. For now.”

The weight in his tone struck a chord, and you realized this wasn’t just some odd detour for him. Whatever had brought Mando to your door wasn’t a simple favor or a quick repair. It was bigger than that—dangerous.

“Safe from what?” you asked, your voice softening.

He hesitated, and you saw his gloved hand flex at his side before he finally spoke. “The ones who want him back.”

Your stomach sank as the implications hit you. If someone was after the kid, it meant trouble—and a lot of it. “Kriff,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “You’re telling me you’ve got people hunting you now?”

“Yes,” Mando said, his voice steady but heavy with tension. His gloved hand rested lightly on the edge of the workbench, his helmet dipping slightly toward you. “And they’re not going to stop.”

Crossing your arms, you looked up at Mando with a frustrated look in your eyes, clearly not satisfied with the vague answers he was giving you. He sighed, knowing you wouldn't give this up, and briefly told you of how he and the kid crossed paths.

You glanced down at the child, who blinked up at you with big, curious eyes, a soft coo escaping his tiny mouth. It was impossible to stay mad with that face looking at you, even if the mess they’d brought to your doorstep was monumental.

“Alright,” you said with a resigned sigh, tossing the rag onto the bench. “What do you need from me?”

Mando straightened slightly, his presence somehow more commanding even in the cramped space of the shop. “I need you to watch him,” he said, nodding toward the child. “And fix the ship.” His helmet turned back toward you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the weight of his gaze. “I’ll take care of the ones after us.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take care of them how?”

“I’ll find them before they find him,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the galaxy.

You blinked at him, your irritation softening into reluctant admiration. Of course, that was his plan. Run headfirst into danger to protect the kid, with no thought for himself. It was infuriatingly… noble.

“Right,” you said, exhaling sharply. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to go off and hunt these people down, while I babysit and patch up the flying death trap you call a ship?”

His helmet tilted slightly. “That’s the idea.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “And here I thought this was going to be a quiet day.”

“Quiet’s overrated,” he said, the barest hint of dry humor threading through his tone.

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing a set of tools from the workbench. “You’re lucky I’m a soft touch, Mando. You owe me. Big time.”

He didn’t respond to that, but the tilt of his helmet lingered on you for just a beat longer than necessary, as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. Instead, he stepped back, his hand resting briefly on the child’s pod.

“I won’t be gone long,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you shot back lightly, though the pang of worry in your chest betrayed your teasing tone.

Mando nodded once before turning to leave, his armor clinking softly as he moved. The child let out a curious coo, his big eyes following Mando until the door shut behind him.

You sighed, looking down at the little green bundle of chaos. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” you muttered, reaching out to pat his tiny head. Then, with a glance out the window at the battered Razor Crest, you grabbed your tools and got to work.

You’d thought the babysitting would be an easy job. You thought the kid would sit in the corner, playing with whatever scrap metal he found while you worked on the Crest. Boy, were you wrong.

It started innocently enough. The kid had perched himself near the workbench, happily clutching his favorite metal ball from the Razor Crest’s lever. You’d thought, Great, he’s occupied. But the moment you turned your back to start on the ship’s mangled stabilizers, the little gremlin had somehow waddled over to a pile of tools, his tiny hands reaching for a wrench twice his size.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, rushing over and scooping him up before he could topple into the mess. He cooed at you, his big brown eyes wide and innocent, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to cause chaos.

You set him back near his pod, this time surrounding him with a makeshift barricade of crates and spare parts. “Stay,” you instructed firmly, pointing a finger at him. He blinked up at you, looking entirely unimpressed, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Satisfied he was contained, you turned your attention back to the Razor Crest, only to hear the unmistakable clang of something hitting the floor. Spinning around, you saw the kid holding a hydrospanner he’d somehow managed to grab from your toolbox, despite the barricade.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, snatching the tool from his little hands. He let out a disgruntled squeak, as if offended by your intervention.

This back-and-forth went on for what felt like hours. No matter where you put him or what distractions you offered—scrap parts, shiny bolts, even your own spare tools—he always found a way to escape and make a beeline for whatever could cause the most trouble.

Eventually, you admitted defeat. “Alright, fine,” you huffed, eyeing him as he sat on the floor, gnawing on a piece of wiring. “You win, kid.”

Desperate for a solution, you rummaged through your scrap pile until you found a long piece of fabric. It was a little dusty and frayed at the edges, but it would do. With a few quick knots and some adjustments, you fashioned it into a makeshift sling.

“Okay, little troublemaker,” you muttered, scooping him up and settling him into the sling. He looked up at you, blinking curiously as you secured him against your chest. “This way, I can keep an eye on you and actually get some work done.”

To your surprise, he seemed to like it. He snuggled against you with a contented coo, one tiny hand clutching your shirt as the other held his precious metal ball.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmured, shaking your head as you grabbed your tools and got back to work.

With the kid securely in the sling, things were… marginally easier. Sure, he still reached for anything shiny within arm’s length, and you had to be extra careful with your tools, but at least he wasn’t wandering off or attempting to dismantle your entire workshop.

As you worked on patching up the ship’s stabilizers, you found yourself talking to him without even thinking about it. “This stabilizer’s a mess,” you muttered, adjusting the sling slightly. “Mando really did a number on it this time. Honestly, I don’t know how this ship is still flying.”

The kid responded with a soft coo, his big eyes watching you intently as if he understood every word.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, glancing down at him with a small smile. “You’re probably used to this kind of chaos, huh? Well, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not planning on making this a habit.”

He let out a tiny, happy sound, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, fine,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Maybe it’s not so bad having you around. But don’t tell Mando I said that, okay?”

The kid blinked up at you, his expression as innocent as ever, and you swore you saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

The clatter of metal sounding from your shop made you halt your tinkering. Sure, Mando had been gone a while, and probably should’ve been back by now, but he was composed and careful. He never would’ve knocked something over in your shop. Goosebumps appeared on the surface of your skin, the threat of some unknown person creeping around your shop alerting all your senses.

You reached for the blade strapped to your thigh, silently cursing yourself for leaving your blaster locked in a drawer on your workbench. Were the people who were after the kid here to take him? You placed the kid in his pod before turning towards the building.

Silently, you made your way to the entrance of your shop, your hands shaking slightly as you pressed yourself against the wall, listening for any signs of trouble.

The sound of another clatter echoed through the shop, sharper this time, like tools hitting the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped the hilt of your blade tighter. The shadows in the dim light of the shop played tricks on your eyes, stretching and shifting as you tried to steady your breathing.

A muffled voice—low and gruff—reached your ears, confirming your worst fear. Someone was in your shop.

The kid let out a faint coo from his pod, and you whipped your head around to shush him, your finger pressed to your lips. “Stay quiet,” you whispered, barely audible. His wide eyes blinked at you, and you prayed he understood.

Drawing a deep breath, you crept forward, the cold metal of your blade reassuring in your hand. You could make out faint footsteps now, moving further into the shop. Whoever it was, they didn’t seem to be in any hurry. That wasn’t a good sign.

You rounded the corner slowly, keeping your steps light, your back pressed against the wall. When the intruder finally came into view, your stomach sank. It wasn’t just one person—it was two. Both were heavily armed, with blasters holstered at their sides and rifles slung across their backs. Their armor was mismatched and worn, but their movements were confident, predatory.

“Check the back,” one of them barked, his voice grating and impatient. The other nodded and began heading toward the rear of the shop—toward the Razor Crest.

Kriff.

Your mind raced. If they got anywhere near the kid, it would be over. You needed to act, but taking on two armed bounty hunters with nothing but a blade was suicide.

Suddenly, an idea struck you. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had.You waited for the first hunter to disappear further into the shop, his boots echoing faintly as he moved toward the back. The second hunter, a stocky figure with a jagged scar running down the side of his face, lingered near your workbench, scanning the room. His back was to you.

This was your chance.

Quietly, you shifted the kid’s pod further into the shadows and gripped your blade tightly. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you crept toward the hunter, careful not to make a sound.

When you were within striking distance, you sprang forward, plunging the blade into his neck. He grunted in pain, twisting toward you as he fumbled for his blaster, but you yanked the weapon from his holster before he could grab it. With a sharp shove, you sent him crashing into the bench, his head slamming against the edge before he slumped to the floor, motionless.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the other hunter’s voice rang out.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

You whirled around to see him at the far end of the shop, his blaster already raised. Without thinking, you dove behind a stack of crates as the first shot sizzled past your ear.

Blaster fire erupted, and you returned fire, your hands shaking as you squeezed the trigger. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space, sparks flying as shots struck metal and ricocheted wildly.

The hunter was relentless, his shots forcing you to stay pinned behind the crates. You peeked out just long enough to fire back, but your aim was far from precise. The tension built as the seconds ticked by, the energy pack in your stolen blaster rapidly depleting.

Finally, the unmistakable sound of a weapon sputtering signaled the hunter’s blaster running dry. You tried to fire again, only to hear the same disheartening click from your own weapon.

Great. Just great.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to come up with a plan. You glanced toward the Razor Crest—so close, yet so far. The kid’s pod was still tucked in the shadows where you’d left it, but you couldn’t leave him here.

You moved cautiously, trying to stay hidden as you made your way toward the ship. You'd find a better weapon on the Crest and then come back for the kid. The shop was eerily quiet now, save for the sound of your own ragged breathing. You were almost there, the Razor Crest’s ramp in sight, when a rough hand grabbed you from behind and slammed you to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of you, and before you could react, the hunter was on top of you, his hand clamping around your throat.

“You thought you could take us out?” he snarled, his grip tightening. “Big mistake.”

You clawed at his hand, gasping for air as your vision blurred. Desperation took over, and you thrashed beneath him, your hands fumbling for anything to defend yourself with. But he was too strong, his weight pinning you down as darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

Then, a sharp, sudden whizz cut through the air, followed by the heavy thud of the hunter’s body collapsing on top of you. His grip on your throat loosened, and you shoved him off with a gasp, coughing as you struggled to sit up.

Your blurry vision cleared just enough to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway, his blaster still raised. The Mandalorian.

He strode toward you, his movements quick and purposeful. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice steady but with an edge of concern.

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “I’m—fine,” you managed to croak, though your throat ached and your heart was still pounding.

Mando’s visor tilted down to the kid’s pod, which had rolled out of its hiding spot in the chaos. The child cooed softly, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

Mando turned back to you. “Get him on the ship,” he ordered. “Now.”

You nodded, scrambling to your feet as he turned toward the doorway, his blaster ready for any more threats.

The kid’s pod glided up the Razor Crest’s ramp, its quiet hum the only reprieve in the cacophony of chaos around you. Your hands shook as you secured him in the ship’s hold, glancing back toward the shop’s entrance where shouts and sporadic blaster fire echoed in the distance.

You exhaled sharply. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

There was no time to waste. You darted back down the ramp and toward the exterior hull of the Razor Crest, scanning for the damage you hadn’t had time to address earlier. The scorch marks along the port engine told you everything you needed to know. That engine wouldn’t make it through hyperspace—not in its current state.

You grabbed your toolkit and scrambled onto the hull, nearly slipping as adrenaline and panic coursed through your veins. Shouts grew louder, closer. You could hear the unmistakable hiss and pop of blaster fire—Mando was holding them off, but for how long?

Your hands worked as quickly as they could, tightening bolts, rerouting power lines, and sealing cracks with a welding torch. Sparks flew as you worked, the harsh light illuminating the frantic expression on your face.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered under your breath, wiping sweat from your brow with a grease-streaked hand.

The blaster fire outside grew louder, more rapid. A cry of pain echoed over the chaos, and you flinched, your pulse pounding in your ears. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to—Mando or one of the bounty hunters—but you didn’t dare look.

A warning beep sounded from your wrist comm. The ship’s diagnostics reported a critical error in the starboard stabilizer.

Kriff.

You slid off the hull, landing hard on your feet, and ran to the other side of the ship. The stabilizer was bent out of alignment, and you cursed under your breath as you wrenched it back into place with all your strength. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you didn’t stop.

In the distance, the sound of gunfire suddenly ceased. The silence was almost worse than the chaos, your mind racing with the possibilities of what it meant.

“Mando?” you whispered under your breath, glancing toward the shop’s entrance.

Your answer came seconds later as the man himself appeared, sprinting toward you with his blaster still in hand. His beskar armor was scorched in places, and his breathing was heavy, but he didn’t slow down.

“They’re dead,” he said sharply, his voice modulated but firm. “But more will come. A lot more.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, your heart sinking as his words hit you. “What—what do you mean?”

Mando grabbed your arm, his visor fixed on you. “You’ve been seen with me. That makes you a target.”

Panic began to rise in your chest, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. “I can’t—Mando, this is my home!”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer this time, but no less urgent. “It’s not safe anymore. You need to pack what you can and get on the ship. Now.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as your mind raced. “I—I don’t know what to take—”

“Hey.” Mando’s hand gripped your arm tighter, grounding you. His tone was steady, even reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take care of this. But we need to move. Go upstairs and get your stuff.”

His words, though brief, were enough to snap you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded frantically, pulling away and sprinting toward the stairs that led to your small room above the shop.

Your hands shook as you threw open drawers and grabbed clothes, tools, and whatever personal belongings you could fit into a small bag. The room, once your sanctuary, now felt stifling, like the walls were closing in on you.

The kid’s soft coos echoed faintly from below, reminding you why you couldn’t stay, why you couldn’t afford to hesitate. You shoved a photo of your old life—a younger you, covered in grease and smiling in front of the shop—into the bag before zipping it shut.

With one last look at the room that had been your home, you turned and bolted down the stairs, your heart pounding as you raced toward the Razor Crest. Mando was already at the ramp, his visor fixed on the horizon, scanning for more threats.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing for you to board.

You didn’t hesitate.

That was months ago.

The day you left your old life behind, running on impulse, never imagining you'd still be here—on the Razor Crest, floating from one planet to the next. You were supposed to find another place to settle, start fresh somewhere far from everything. But that had never really happened. Not with Mando around. Not with the way things had fallen into place between you two.

You never had the chance to leave, and, to be honest, you didn’t really want to.

Neither did he. Though, neither of you would ever admit it out loud. The thought of you leaving had become this quiet tension in the air whenever you got too close to speaking about it. He never pushed, and you never asked. But the way his gloved hand would brush yours when handing you tools, the way his presence seemed to fill the small space of the ship—those things said more than words ever could.

In the months that followed, you’d become a sort of permanent fixture on the Razor Crest. A mechanic, a babysitter, a companion in this strange, wandering life. You worked on the ship in between watching over the kid, fixing what needed fixing, and ensuring the Razor Crest was always ready to fly.

Mando paid you a percentage of the bounties he earned, and you used that as your excuse for staying. You were “just doing your job.”

But it wasn’t just that. You and Mando had fallen into something of an unspoken routine, a domesticity you hadn't expected but quickly came to rely on. You knew when he needed food and when he needed space. He knew when to leave you alone while you tinkered and when to offer a quiet word of encouragement or the occasional teasing comment.

His humor, once dry and almost imperceptible, was starting to show itself more. He’d crack jokes now, and it felt oddly comforting. He still kept his distance, his words few, but those moments of levity made you feel like maybe you weren't just an accessory to his mission. Maybe, just maybe, you were becoming something more.

And it hurt, in a way. Because the more time passed, the more your feelings for him grew. There was something deeper there—something more than camaraderie or just shared circumstances. But you couldn’t let him know that. You wouldn’t. The last thing you wanted was for him to take one look at you, all vulnerable and tangled up in emotions, and then kick you to the curb, dropping you off on the next planet, saying it was time to go your separate ways.

You had to keep it buried. It was safer that way. For both of you.

Still, in the quiet moments between tasks, when Mando was off somewhere dealing with a bounty or when you were fixing the ship on your own, the longing would flare up in your chest. You'd think of his quiet gestures, his rare jokes, and wonder what could be. But you'd shove it down, focusing on the ship or the kid, anything to distract you.

That didn’t stop you from fantasizing though. In the shower, your mind would always wander to him–to his teasing, his hardened exterior, to the rare moments he would take his gloves off, the flesh of his thick fingers on display for you. Only then would you slip a hand between your thighs, biting down your whimpers as your calloused fingertips circled your clit to the thought of the sliver of flesh he allowed you to see. Stars, you were like a mutt in heat.

You weren’t foolish. You knew better than to hope for something you couldn’t have. So you didn’t let yourself have hope. You decided you’d push your feelings down and continue on with this job for however long Mando would have you.

-

The hum of the Razor Crest's engines gently vibrated through the floor, but the sound of the cockpit door sliding open was enough to pull you from your spiraling thoughts of your past. You turned your attention toward the entrance, expecting to see Mando, and sure enough, he emerged, his silhouette framed by the doorway. The familiar weight of his presence filled the space.

“Strap in,” he said, his voice modulated and calm, but there was an underlying urgency in his words. "We're landing."

You blinked, momentarily confused before following him into the cockpit and taking a seat. Landing somewhere? You’d been drifting through space, the Razor Crest just a speck of metal in the endless expanse, but now he was pulling you into something new. “Why here?” you asked, crossing your arms instinctively, though it wasn’t like Mando to offer unnecessary explanations.

He didn’t turn to face you, instead reaching for a switch to adjust the ship’s descent. “I need you to stay on the ship with the kid until I come back,” he said flatly. “Don’t make yourself known.”

Your brow furrowed, and you instinctively shifted closer to him, tension building as you processed his words. “Mando, what’s going on? What’s all this about?” You were met with nothing but silence as his hand hovered over the controls, his visor giving away nothing.

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” he said, voice growing slightly firmer. “Stay inside. Stay out of sight.”

You swallowed hard, uncertainty gnawing at you, but his expression remained unchanged. You wanted to press further, but you knew better than to argue. His rules were simple: obey, or risk the consequences. He’d never put you in danger, but this—this felt different.

With a reluctant nod, you sat back, your hands instinctively reaching for the strap of your seatbelt as the ship began its descent. The thought of being left alone on the ship with just the kid, a few meters of metal between you and whatever Mando was about to face, made the hairs on your neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right, but you had no choice but to trust him.

He was already heading for the ramp before you could voice any more questions. The last thing you saw was him disappearing into the dimly lit expanse of the strange industrial ship you landed on before the hatch slammed shut behind him, leaving you with nothing but the soft gurgles of the child in the background and the distant whirring of the ship's systems.

The hum of the ship was different now—throbbing, industrial, almost foreboding. It reminded you of the kind of stations you’d passed through in your earlier years, those heavy, unwelcoming places where you’d never feel entirely safe. The interior of the ship felt cold, metallic, and clinical, the kind of place you imagined shady deals went down. You’d watched Mando as he moved about, speaking to some of the others, his posture tense, his visor fixed on everything and everyone around him.

You glanced at the kid, who was nestled in his little pod next to you, cooing softly as he fiddled with the small metal ball. His innocence, his trust in you, made everything feel that much more dangerous. Your stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

“What the fuck has Mando gotten himself into now?” you muttered under your breath, a sense of dread settling over you. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t a job he could just walk away from.

The minutes dragged on, and you sat in the cockpit, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling. You glanced at the kid again, trying to calm yourself as his big, trusting eyes met yours. You didn’t want to think about the trouble Mando had landed in, or the dangers lurking around them. But it was hard to ignore, especially as you sat there alone, waiting.

Half an hour later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the ship, and the door to the cockpit swung open. You barely had time to react before Mando was there, grabbing you by the arm with surprising force.

“Come on,” he said, his voice clipped and urgent.

“Mando?” you started, feeling a flicker of panic. “What’s going on?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he practically dragged you through the narrow and cramped ship, ignoring your protests.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hissed, trying to pull free, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Mando—seriously, what’s going on?” You struggled, trying to get some kind of explanation, but he kept walking, heading toward the back of the ship.

When you finally reached his sleeping quarters, he shoved the door open, dragging you inside.

“Stay here,” he ordered sharply. “With the kid. It’s gonna be a while, so you might as well get comfortable and sleep. Don’t come out until I tell you it’s okay.”

You stopped in your tracks, disbelief flooding your chest. “Mando, what the fuck?” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “You better start explaining yourself right now.”

But he just brushed you off, his tone hard, like he wasn’t even going to entertain your question. “I’ll explain later. Just listen to me,” he said, his voice growing more forceful.

Before you could respond, the door was already closing in your face, and Mando was gone.

You stood there for a moment, seething, your heart pounding in your chest. “Kriffing Mandalorian…” you muttered under your breath. This was so typical of him—keep you in the dark, like you were just some bystander in his chaotic life.

Still, despite the rage burning through you, you knew better than to disobey him now. Whatever was going on, it was serious. So you sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, trying to calm yourself. You glanced over at the kid, still blissfully unaware of the tension surrounding them.

It didn’t make sense. He promised he’d explain, but you had a feeling it was going to be a lot longer before that happened.

And that pissed you off even more.

An hour had passed, and you were still fuming. The anger, the confusion, the sense of being trapped—all of it swirled inside you, making it hard to focus. You paced around the small quarters, trying to burn off some of the frustration. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but you knew better. Mando wasn’t going to budge until he was ready, and until then, you were stuck in his room, with nothing but your own seething thoughts for company.

Your eyes flickered to the bed. A part of you knew you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and if you were going to be stuck in here, you might as well make yourself comfortable. You glanced down at your mechanic clothes—dirt-streaked, sweaty, and uncomfortable—and sighed. There was no point in staying in them. But with Mando having locked you in here, your own clothes were still back on the ship, out of reach.

Frustrated, you stood up, scanning the room for anything that could be used. Your gaze landed on the drawer where he kept his few clothes. You hesitated for only a moment before walking over, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his shirts. You weren’t sure why you felt a little nervous, but you pushed the thought aside. You needed something clean, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t worn his clothes before. Your cheeks heated as you thought of the time you had to leave the fresher in just a towel to ask him for a shirt because all of your clothes were dirty.

After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed one of his shirts, large and soft-looking. You quickly stripped out of your dirty clothes and pulled his shirt over your head. The fabric was thick and worn, the hem barely covering your panty clad ass, and the smell of him hit you immediately—earthy, leather, and something distinctly Mando. You froze for a moment, the scent making your chest tighten, heat rising to your cheeks.

It was just a shirt. Just a shirt.

But it felt like more. You pulled the fabric down, letting it drape over your body, and as you did, the soft cotton brushed against your bare skin, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. It was so different from your usual work clothes, so much softer, so much… him. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood there, suddenly aware of the fact that you were standing in his bedroom wearing his clothes, all of it feeling far too intimate for your liking.

Your thoughts wandered, and before you could stop yourself, you imagined what it would be like for him to see you like this, in his clothes, the smell of him all around you. Your mind flashed to the moments you tried to ignore—his gloved hands brushing yours, the teasing comments that made your stomach flutter, the times your eyes lingered on the way his armor shifted with his movements.

You quickly snapped yourself out of it. “Focus,” you muttered under your breath. You had more important things to think about than some ridiculous fantasy.

You glanced down at the kid’s pod. He was still sleeping, the small form curled up in his blankets. You smiled softly at him before walking over and quietly closing the pod, making sure he was settled for his nap. You needed to distract yourself, so you decided to climb into Mando’s bed, but not before strapping your blade to your bare thigh–just to ease the paranoid feeling in your chest.

It felt strange, unfamiliar, but there was comfort in it. You pulled the covers up around you, feeling the warmth of the bed seep into your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

The soft hum of the ship, the muffled sounds of the engine, and the occasional clink of metal from somewhere in the hall lulled you into a deep sleep.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, your paranoia fueled dreams filled with nightmares of Mando in trouble.

Mando’s secret, whatever he was caught up in, was far from over, and you weren’t going to sit idly by much longer. You had to be ready when the time came. But for now, you let yourself rest, hoping sleep would give you the answers that Mando wouldn’t.

You woke up a few hours later, your body stiff and groggy from sleep. The soft hum of the Razor Crest and the quiet whirring of the kid’s pod were the only sounds filling the otherwise still room. You blinked, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The kid was still nestled in his pod, curled up in the corner, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically. You closed his pod, not wanting to disturb his nap.

You let out a quiet sigh, stretching your limbs before you reached for your holopad. You were trying to distract yourself, keep your mind off what had just happened, and the nagging sense of unease that had settled deep in your chest. You flicked the holopad on, scrolling through schematics and plans for the ship—small upgrades here and there. The kid, the trapped feeling of being stuck in Mando’s room, and whatever Mando had gotten himself into were all still there, lingering in your thoughts, but you tried to push them aside for the moment.

But just as you were about to get lost in the designs, the door slid open with a sudden hiss. Your heart stopped for a moment, and you immediately shot to your feet, your hand instinctively going to the blade still strapped to your thigh. Your pulse quickened as you tried to get a read on the situation. Your eyes widened as you saw a group of figures standing in the doorway. You recognized none of them, but the sight of them immediately put you on edge.

There was a tall, scruffy-looking man who stood a little too confidently, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him was a twi’lek woman in dark clothes, her stance aggressive and assertive. Next to them, a Devaronian with a thick, muscular build and sharp, menacing horns stood with his arms crossed. And then, there was the droid—shiny and polished, but with an unmistakable, almost robotic indifference to everything around it.

They all froze when they saw you standing there in Mando’s shirt, the fabric hanging loosely around your frame, and nothing else but your panties and the holster with your blade strapped to your thigh. You had no choice but to stand there, caught off guard and feeling exposed, like a deer in headlights.

A soft whistle came from one of the men—the scruffy one. “Well, well, what have we here?”

You immediately stiffened, your jaw clenching in irritation at the obvious look of interest in his eyes. You knew exactly where this was going. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was in the way he spoke. You didn’t like it one bit.

Before you could respond, Mando’s helmet snapped toward the man with a sharpness you hadn’t seen before. The tension in the room skyrocketed as he moved toward the doorway, his posture aggressive. His voice was low, almost growling as he addressed the man.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” Mando said coldly, his tone carrying a warning that left no room for argument.

The man didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told you he wasn’t pleased by the command. He looked like he was going to retort, but then, the Twi’lek woman standing behind him spoke up, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, well, Mando. Who’s this?” she said with a mocking smile, her bright eyes narrowing as she looked you up and down. “I didn’t realize you kept pets on the ship.”

You felt a surge of heat in your chest at her words, the insult hanging heavy in the air. You weren’t anyone’s pet—least of all Mando’s. You couldn’t hold back the anger that bubbled up, your hands clenching into fists as you glared at the Twi’lek.

“I am none of your fucking business,” you snapped, voice dripping with contempt. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman didn’t flinch. If anything, she seemed to take delight in your reaction. Her smile only widened, her posture even more arrogant now. “I’m just curious about who Mando’s letting on his ship these days. Not everyone gets the privilege.”

You felt the heat of your anger rising, each word she spoke only fanning the flames. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air as she watched you closely, almost daring you to react.

“Well, it’s not your concern,” you spat, your voice as sharp as a blade.

Her lips curled into a smirk, and she leaned in just slightly. “Oh, I think it is.”

You could feel her goading you, trying to get under your skin. And she was succeeding. You stood there, seething, ready to snap. This was not the time to back down.

The Twi’lek woman’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark as she leaned forward, her voice dripping with malice. “I see why Mando keeps you around,” she purred, glancing you up and down again, her words cutting like a knife. “Must be nice to have a pretty little thing to play with… I didn’t realize he had a taste for whores.”

The words cut through you like a vibroblade, sharper and more personal than you anticipated. A flush of heat spread across your face, not from embarrassment, but from sheer, unadulterated rage. This bitch. The audacity. The way her eyes lingered on you made it feel like you were exposed, like she could see every inch of your skin, and she didn’t even care about the weight of her insult.

You felt your pulse spike, your body tensing as the anger coiled inside you. Without thinking, your hand moved to the knife at your thigh, your fingers curling around the hilt of it. The impulse was immediate and intense—shut her up, make her regret those words—and your instincts took over. You yanked the blade free, your heart hammering as you lunged at her, your movements fueled by a desperate need for retaliation.

But before you could get within arm’s reach of the smug Twi’lek woman, you felt a forceful grip around your waist. You barely had time to register the movement before you were yanked off the ground, lifted effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around the person who caught you, your body pressed against their chest.

Mando. Of course.

His strong arm held you in place, cradling you with a level of ease that made your head spin. You could feel his armor-clad body against yours, his heat radiating through the layers of metal. His grip on your arm tightened, pulling your knife hand away from the Twi’lek woman as he murmured in your ear, his voice low and unyielding. “I don’t like this as much as you do,” he said, his words steady and calm despite the chaos of the situation. “But I need you to trust me… and behave.”

His other hand slid under you, lifting you higher, and suddenly, your legs were wrapped tightly around him, your body pressed flush against his. You couldn’t help the shiver that raced up your spine at the feeling of his strength. The way he held you, with such casual confidence, sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. You hadn’t realized just how strong he was—how capable—until now. He was holding you like it was nothing, like you were weightless in his grasp.

For a split second, your mind went completely blank, overwhelmed by the heat of the situation and the proximity of his body. His gloved hand brushed over the bare skin of your thigh as he effortlessly disarmed you, slipping the knife back into its holster.

You tried to focus, tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened and your breath caught in your throat, but it was impossible. The heat curling low in your belly was undeniable. His body was pressed so close to yours, the firm outline of his armor against your skin sending a wave of desire through you. You felt it in every nerve, every inch of your body—his strength, his control, his scent mixed with the sterile, metallic smell of his armor.

Get it together, you silently told yourself. This is not the time for this.

You forced your mind back to reality, but that didn’t stop the heat building in your chest. You were angry. Angry at the way the Twi’lek woman spoke to you, angry at Mando for not telling you about the kind of people he associated with, and now… you were angry at yourself for the way your body reacted to Mando’s proximity.

You gritted your teeth, your breath uneven as you glared at him. “Fine,” you bit out, your voice tight, but still laced with frustration. “But we’re having a conversation about this later.”

Mando’s helmet angled down toward you, his posture still as rigid as ever, but there was something in the way he held you that was… different. His hand lingered on your thigh for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was aware of the effect his touch had on you. He said nothing, but the silent understanding between the two of you was palpable. He was warning you, but not in a way that felt threatening. He wasn’t going to let you do anything rash, but he also wasn’t dismissing your emotions.

For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his stance—something that felt almost… personal. No, you were imagining things–being hopeful. You had to put a stop to these feelings.

Mando put you back on your feet, though his hand slid up to your waist where it stayed. You tried not to let the contact fluster you.

The Twi’lek woman’s sharp, mocking voice broke the silence.“Didn’t take long for him to claim his territory, huh?” she sneered, clearly amused by the entire situation.

You wanted nothing more than to scream at her, to make her understand that you were not some prize to be claimed. But Mando’s grip on you was unwavering, and as much as your chest burned with the desire to lash out, you knew you had to hold your ground. You were mad. So mad. But you did trust him. You had to, even if it was hard to ignore the simmering resentment that had started to build.

And yet… you couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang of something else whenever he was close. The heat in your chest, the pulse of desire that wouldn’t die down no matter how much you tried to suppress it.

Mando didn’t look at the woman, didn’t address her taunts, but he was done with her blatant disrespect towards you. His helmet snapped toward her mercilessly, and his voice, cold and firm, rang out. “Enough, Xi’An.”

The Twi’lek’s smirk faltered for a second, but she only laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. Like I’m scared of you, Mando.”

You bit your lip, feeling your face flush with the rush of emotions flooding through you—rage, frustration, and something darker that you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to scream at both of them, but instead, you clenched your fists and fought back the urge to lash out. This wasn’t how you imagined today going.

The ship suddenly lurched violently, throwing you and the others in the ship off balance. The abruptness of it sent your body into a panic, your instincts kicking in. Before you could even process the sudden movement, the world tilted, and you found yourself tumbling forward.

You didn’t even have time to brace yourself. The floor came rushing at you, but before you hit it, a pair of strong arms caught you, lifting you effortlessly into the air. You gasped as you were pulled against a hard, armored chest, your heart racing from both the shock of the lurch and the overwhelming proximity to Mando. His body was like a rock against yours, the heat radiating through his armor making your already flushed skin burn hotter. You barely had time to register the way his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, before you were on the ground, his weight coming down on top of you as he shielded you with his own body.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice calm, even though the ship continued to shudder beneath you.

You were frozen for a moment, your chest pressed to his, your body pinned beneath the weight of his armored form. His helmet loomed above you, a protective barrier between you and everything else, and yet it felt strangely intimate. The way he held you was possessive, urgent, as if he were determined to shield you from any harm—no matter the cost. His gloved hands braced on either side of your head, his body still covering yours as the ship continued to shudder, throwing the others in the ship around from the turbulence.

Your breath hitched as the full reality of the situation washed over you. You were under him, pinned by his bulk, and his body was pressed so intimately against yours that you could feel the hard edges of his armor in places that left you breathless. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythms, and your heart beat eratically. The heat between the two of you was almost unbearable, your legs still trapped beneath him, your body pressed tightly against his in ways that sent shivers down your spine.

Mando’s voice, low and gravelly, broke the tension. “You’re alright,” he murmured softly, his gloved hand sliding from the floor, brushing against your arm as he made sure you were stable. He seemed almost… tender in that moment, as though the concern for your safety was as real as the weight of his body on top of you.

For a second, you didn’t know how to react. Your body was still pressed against his, every inch of you aware of how close you were, and the intensity of the moment sent a wave of heat crashing through you. The way he held you, the way his body moved with yours, had you feeling almost helpless in his arms—and you couldn’t decide if you hated or loved the feeling.

Your pulse raced—not from fear, but from something else. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge. The magnetic pull between you and him was undeniable, and you tried to push it down, tried to focus on the situation at hand.

The ship shuddered again, but Mando didn’t budge. His body remained a solid barrier over yours, the press of his weight keeping you grounded. The Twi’lek woman’s laughter cut through the air, but it felt distant now, like background noise compared to the electric current between you and Mando.

For a moment, the world outside of you and him faded. All you could hear was his steady breathing and the rapid pulse that thrummed between the two of you. Every inch of your body was acutely aware of his, and that undeniable heat curled low in your belly.

He was still on top of you, and the temptation to lean into him, to feel the raw intensity of the situation, was almost too strong to resist. You could feel the weight of his body, the power in his frame, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how it would feel if you were pinned down under different circumstances, the feeling of Mando’s bare hands pinning your wrists above you as he thrusted deep inside of yo–Get a grip, you thought to yourself, shoving that thought down as fast as it came.

Mando’s helmet shifted slightly, his visor meeting your gaze. His gloved hands moved from the ground to your waist, a reassuring touch—though it wasn’t gentle. The way he had you under his control, even in this chaotic moment, made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer closeness between you.

“We’ll be landing soon. There is just some minor turbulence,” the metallic voice of the droid chirped.

The ship lurched again, but it barely registered. Your mind was consumed by the feeling of Mando above you, his body pressing into you with an almost unnatural force. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability as he held you there, even as you hated it. The way his presence was all-encompassing, grounding you in a way that left you feeling both safe and exposed at the same time. You had no idea how to navigate it, how to balance the raw tension with the danger of the situation.

His gloved hand brushed against your skin once more, and the quiet moment stretched between you like a taut wire, the atmosphere charged with something you didn’t know how to name. His touch lingered at your waist just a moment too long, as though he was trying to gauge whether you were okay—or maybe trying to pull back, just in case you weren’t. But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off. You didn’t want to.

Finally, as the ship’s movements slowed, Mando shifted off of you, but not without that final lingering touch. It was almost possessive, his palm brushing your skin, sending a jolt through you. He didn’t say a word, though, just helped you to your feet, his hand steady at your back as you stood. But the distance between you both felt heavier than it should have, as if the silence stretched between you two with a weight that was more than just the aftermath of turbulence.

You didn’t meet his gaze immediately. Instead, you stood there, trying to calm the pounding in your chest, but the words came out before you could stop them. “Don’t ever do that again.”

The moment your words left your lips, you felt the shift. His posture stiffened, and for the briefest moment, you saw the flicker of something in the way his body tensed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t look at you. Maybe it was the slight hesitation before he helped you up. Whatever it was, it caught you off guard. It made you second-guess the sharpness of your tone, but it also made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You could feel the air between you change, thick with unspoken things. Was it embarrassment? Guilt? Was he angry? You couldn’t tell, but something in the way he held back now made you feel even more uncertain than before.

He helped you to your feet, guiding you down the narrow hallway, and despite the tense silence, there was an undeniable closeness between you both. The air still felt heavy with everything that had just happened. His gloved hand brushed against your bare skin, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine, but he didn’t linger on it.

“Sorry…” he muttered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. His tone didn’t carry any weight of guilt, just an acknowledgment that hung in the air between you like an unspoken understanding. He didn’t dwell on it, and neither did you. It was easier to pretend it hadn’t shaken you, easier to ignore the way your pulse still raced from the moments that had passed.

You both moved in sync toward the sleeping quarters, the weight of the earlier tension still present but unspoken. Mando didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Neither of you had the words for it just yet, but you both knew things had shifted.

What was this? You didn’t know.

But there was one thing you were sure of.

You were in way over your head.

As you entered the sleeping quarters, Mando moved with purpose, glancing over at the child’s pod. The little one was still asleep, his rhythmic breathing soft and steady. A small, reassuring weight lifted off your chest at the sight of him, but the rest of your body was still tense—still filled with the residual heat and anger from the scene with the Twi’lek woman.

Mando moved toward the child’s pod, checking the controls and making sure everything was functioning as it should. The last thing you wanted was for the kid to be disturbed. After all, he had been through enough.

He stood over the pod for a moment, his back to you, and you took that brief moment to compose yourself, trying to ignore the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your head. You needed space, and right now, Mando was giving you none.

Once he was satisfied that the kid was fine, Mando shut the pod with a soft hiss, turning to face you. His helmet was angled in such a way that you couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. He stepped toward you, his movements still deliberate, his presence still suffocating.

“We need to make sure the kid stays out of sight from the others,” Mando said, his voice low, but not unkind. “It’s gonna get a little rough out there. I need you to trust me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he interrupted you, holding a hand up. “Look, I’ll explain everything in a minute. I just need you to stay here for now, get dressed. I might need you to pilot the ship or handle something else once we’re out of here.”

The order was clear, but there was something about his tone that made it feel like more of a plea than a command. He wasn’t asking for your help, not exactly. He was telling you to stay put, but it wasn’t with the usual coldness you’d come to expect. It was… softer. And that made your pulse quicken all over again.

Still, you were pissed. The situation was still a mess, and you hadn’t forgotten about the way the Twi’lek woman had looked at you, her sneering words still echoing in your mind. You wanted answers, and you weren’t sure when you were going to get them.

But Mando wasn’t done. He took a step closer, his gloved hand resting on your shoulder for just a second, like he was trying to comfort you, but you weren’t sure if it was working.

“We’re going to be breaking Xi’An’s brother out of a prison ship,” he said quickly, his words cutting through the quiet of the room. “The job’s straightforward—get in, get him out, and get out. But things might get tricky. There’s a lot at stake here, and you need to be ready for anything.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. A prison break, of course. That was what this was all about. You had assumed something shady was going on, but you hadn’t expected the situation to be this complicated.

Mando shifted uncomfortably, his helmet remaining fixed in your direction, and he continued, voice more commanding now. “Once we break out Xi’An’s brother, I’ll need you to pilot the ship. I’ll be in and out of there quickly, but you’re going to have to move fast to get us out of there when the time comes.”

He paused for a moment, his helmet still angled toward you, as though considering something for a brief second. “You can handle that, right?”

The question was direct, but there was something in his voice that almost sounded like concern, though you couldn’t be sure. You weren’t exactly keen on being left behind to do the heavy lifting of a prison break, but you understood why he had to ask. You gave him a firm nod, your lips pressing into a thin line.

“Yeah, I’ve got it covered,” you replied, voice tight but determined.

Mando’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but he didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, there was a slight hesitation in the air, a shift that made your pulse quicken without quite knowing why. It was almost as if he was gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words. Then, without warning, his voice came out in a low, gravelly tone.

“You…” He trailed off, his tone softer than you’d heard it before. “You look good in my shirt.”

The words hung in the air, completely unexpected and far more intimate than you were ready for. Your mouth opened, as if to respond, but before you could get a single word out, Mando had already turned toward the door, his heavy steps carrying him toward the exit.

“Get dressed,” he called over his shoulder, his voice now back to its usual no-nonsense tone. “We don’t have much time.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving you standing there in stunned silence, the weight of his words still sinking in. Your heart was thudding in your chest, your mind racing. Did he mean that? Or was it just a passing comment?

You stared at the door, trying to gather your thoughts, but the confusion mixed with something else—something hotter that made your skin flush as you realized just how close you were to him. How dangerously close.

Shaking your head, you turned to the small corner of the room where your clothes had been discarded. You couldn’t focus on that right now. You had a job to do. You had to keep your head straight, get into the right mindset, and be ready for whatever came next.

But still, his words kept ringing in your ears, and the heat in your chest refused to go away.

You quickly changed into your clothes, trying to push aside the lingering tension. You didn’t have time for this. The mission was more important.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You finished dressing and took a steadying breath, ready to move on and do what Mando had asked. But as you stepped toward the door, ready to follow through on the task ahead, the thought of his voice and his words wouldn’t leave you.

And that was the problem. You watched as Mando left with the group, jittery with both nerves and the heat of Mando’s words. And so you waited.

-

Two hours. It had been two hours since Mando had told you to wait on the ship. Two hours of pacing, of turning over every possible scenario in your mind, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and why Mando still hadn’t returned. You couldn’t sit still anymore. You had to move.

The comm came through suddenly, breaking the silence and jolting you from your thoughts.

“Listen to me,” Mando’s voice crackled through the comms, calm but laced with a tension that sent a chill down your spine. “It’s a setup. They trapped me somewhere. I need you to stay put and stay on the ship. I’m going to get out.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. A trap? You didn’t care about anything other than finding him, making sure he was safe.

“No. Mando, I’m coming for you. I can’t just sit here,” you practically shouted at the comm, the panic starting to rise in your throat.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice a little firmer now. “Stay on the ship. You’re no good to me if you get caught out there too. I’ll handle it. Just wait, and I’ll be out before you know it.”

You ground your teeth, frustration boiling inside you. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to do something, anything, to go and find him. But he was right. He was capable of handling himself, and if you went out there now, you might only make things worse.

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine. But you better get out of there fast.”

You kept pacing, watching the time tick by, anxiety growing like a fire in your chest. You couldn’t just sit here, helpless. The minutes dragged on, each one worse than the last, and soon enough, your decision was made.

Fuck it. You couldn’t wait anymore.

You slipped off the ship, moving swiftly and silently through the corridors of the massive vessel. You didn’t even know where you were headed, just that you had to find Mando, to make sure he was okay. Your pulse was racing as you crept along, every sound sending a jolt of adrenaline through you.

You dispatched a guard droid with ease, your blade cutting through its systems like butter, but still, the ship felt too quiet. Too empty. The hum of the vessel’s engines was the only sound you could hear now, and even that felt distant, like the ship was alive and yet disconnected from you. Every step you took felt heavier, as though the darkness pressing in around you was suffocating, tightening around your chest. The only thing louder than the silence was the erratic beat of your own heart.

The light flickered, casting long, eerie shadows along the metal walls, and then, with a shudder that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the lights went out. Just like that. A sudden, suffocating darkness swallowed you whole.

Your breath caught in your throat. You froze, eyes adjusting to the blackness, the low hum of your commlink the only weak point of light in this endless expanse. The cold air seemed to press in on you, the ship’s metallic bones groaning as it shifted. You felt utterly alone in the dark, every step you took seeming to echo in your ears. The stillness was almost worse than the chaos. It had that dead, hollow quality that made your skin crawl, and every single nerve screamed at you to stop, to turn around, to run back to the ship and wait for Mando.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when you were this close.

Then, a sound—footsteps—just at the edge of hearing. Too light, too quick, but unmistakable. Someone was out there.

You pressed yourself into the shadows, your pulse rising as your fingers curled tighter around your knife. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins, but you told yourself to stay calm. Stay sharp.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. Whoever it was, they were moving fast. Too fast.

And then, he appeared. A silhouette in the dark, moving like he knew exactly where you were, his boots echoing against the cold floor. You didn’t have time to think—your body reacted on instinct. You rushed forward, knife raised, ready to strike, but you weren’t fast enough.

He was on you before you could land the blow. His weight crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs as he shoved you to the ground. The cold, unforgiving floor of the ship met your back with a brutal thud, the impact stealing your breath.

Panic flooded your system, your heart pounding louder than the thud of your fall. Your hands flew to the knife, but he was too strong. His grip tightened around your wrists, forcing your arms above your head. You thrashed beneath him, desperate to break free, but the more you fought, the more he pushed you down, his body pressing on top of yours.

You could feel his breath on your face, heavy and labored, and all you could think about was the knife—his knife—now pressed against your throat. Cold steel kissed your skin, and the weight of it made your throat tighten. You couldn’t get a proper breath. Couldn’t think.

“Stay still,” he growled, the knife digging a little deeper. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You weren’t going to give him that. Not when you still had a chance to fight. You twisted beneath him, trying to free your legs, but they were trapped under his body. You were pinned.

No escape.

You felt the panic rising in your chest like a tidal wave, clawing at your throat, making it hard to breathe. The edge of the knife pressed against your skin, just waiting for the wrong move.

And then—your mind snapped to him.

Mando.

The thought came out of nowhere, like an instinct, something that was just so ingrained in you that it was impossible to ignore. You thought about him. About the way he always seemed to have your back, the way he had your trust. Your thoughts flickered to the kid—his smile, his laugh. You’d never see him again. You’d never get to tell Mando how you felt, never get the chance to be with him.

This was it. You were going to die here, on this ship, in the dark, with a blade at your throat. And you hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Mando that you cared.

A broken, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up from your chest. It felt so unfair. The kid would grow up without you. Mando would never know how much he meant to you. Your thoughts were racing, spiraling out of control as you tried to grasp at something—anything—that could stop this, but the dark reality settled in. You weren’t going to make it out of here. It was all slipping through your fingers like sand.

But then, a crash.

The figure above you was wrenched off in a single, fluid motion. You didn’t even register it at first—just the sudden, sharp shift in pressure, the weight lifted from your chest. A loud grunt followed, and then the man was gone, hurled into the darkness with a sickening thud.

Your chest heaved, breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as you scrambled to push yourself up. And then, in the shadows of the darkened hallway, you saw him.

Mando.

You blinked, unable to fully comprehend that he was here, right here, right now. He stood over the mercenary like a storm, a force of nature, his armor gleaming in the dim light. Without hesitation, he was on the man, his gloved hands wrapping around the mercenary’s neck and slamming him against the wall with a sound that made your stomach turn.

The mercenary’s knife was knocked out of his hand, clattering against the floor as Mando finished him off in a swift, brutal movement. The man’s body crumpled to the ground, a heavy silence falling over the ship.

You stared at Mando, still on the floor, trying to piece together what just happened. You were alive. He was here. You were okay. But the overwhelming relief didn’t hit you at first, not until he turned toward you, helmet angled just enough that you could almost feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and steady as he extended a hand to you. His tone was all business, but there was something softer there, beneath the surface—something that made the hairs on your arms stand up.

You took his hand, feeling the strength in his grip as he helped you to your feet. There was a brief, lingering moment where neither of you spoke, just standing there, close enough that you could feel his heat radiating from his armor. His presence was commanding, undeniable. And you… you couldn’t breathe properly, not with the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

But you didn’t have time for that. Not now.

“You okay?” Mando asked, his voice a little softer now.

You nodded, though your voice caught in your throat. “I—I thought I was going to die.”

Mando’s gloved hands were gentle as he cupped your face, his touch oddly tender amidst the chaos that had just unfolded. His helmet loomed close, his posture rigid, but his movements were careful, his fingers lightly brushing over your skin, checking for cuts, bruises, any sign of injury. The intensity of his inspection was palpable, as though he needed to reassure himself that you were truly unharmed.

The tension that had been building between you both crackled in the silence, but that tension quickly turned into something else, something sharper. His posture stiffened, and when he finally pulled his hands away from your face, you noticed how his shoulders tightened under the weight of his frustration.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with irritation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

The words stung more than they should have, but you weren’t ready to back down. Not this time. Not when he was being so infuriatingly overprotective.

“I couldn’t sit there while you were trapped,” you snapped, your chest heaving with the remnants of adrenaline and anger. “You think I’m just supposed to wait around? While you’re stuck somewhere? I’m not that kind of person, Mando.”

Mando’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t care. I need you to stay out of danger. You’re not invincible. I can’t lose you like that.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were left standing there, breathless. But the sting of his words only fueled the fire in you, and you found yourself stepping closer, your own frustration bubbling over.

“I don’t care if you’re worried about me,” you fired back, voice tight, “I couldn’t just stay on the sidelines, especially when you’re in danger. I’ve seen what happens when you get caught in the thick of it.” You shook your head, turning away from him for a moment. “I couldn’t let you go through that alone.”

Mando’s jaw clenched, and there was a long pause between you both as you exchanged heated glances. The anger swirled between you like a storm, both of you stubborn, both of you unwilling to relent. The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

After a moment, Mando exhaled slowly, turning toward the ship’s exit. You followed him, neither of you saying another word. The ship lurched into the air, the engine roaring to life as you made your way back to the safety of the ship, the weight of the argument hanging like a dark cloud between you.

Once you were in the cockpit, Mando set course for the stars, his hands tight on the controls, his posture as stiff as ever. You both sat in silence as the ship cut through the atmosphere, the stars on the other side of the viewport a reminder of the vast distance between you and the danger you’d just escaped.

But as you cleared the atmosphere, as the silence between you both grew unbearable, the argument reignited.

“Why couldn’t you just listen to me?” Mando’s voice was quiet, but the frustration was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his focus on the controls.

The cockpit felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to choke on. Mando stood before you, his broad frame rigid, his helmet tilted slightly as though he couldn’t believe you were actually arguing with him after everything that had just happened. The way his body was so still only made your frustration mount, a stark contrast to the way you were practically vibrating with anger.

“Because I’m not a damn prisoner on this ship,” you snapped, each word cutting through the charged silence like a vibroblade. “I have a stake in this. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to come back. I’m not just here to sit pretty and keep the ship in one piece while you risk your life. I’m not gonna be left behind.”

His head tilted slightly, the shine of the black visor catching the dim cockpit light. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured but laced with a dangerous edge, like a storm barely contained. “You think I asked for this?”

Your jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop.

“You think I wanted to come back to find you fighting for your life? That I wanted to worry about whether or not I’d lose you today because you couldn’t follow simple instructions?”

The words hit you hard, your chest tightening with a mixture of anger and something you weren’t ready to name. His voice was colder than you’d heard it in weeks, and the accusation in his tone stung more than you cared to admit.

“Maybe if you told me what was going on,” you countered, your voice rising, “I wouldn’t have had to! You treat me like I’m supposed to just sit here and wait while you throw yourself into danger. I’m not your—”

“You’re not my what?” he demanded, stepping forward, his voice cutting through yours like a whip. “Not my responsibility? Because that’s exactly what you are when you pull a stunt like that.”

The word responsibility landed with the force of a blow, and your vision blurred for a moment with the heat of your fury. You didn’t know if you were angrier at his words or at the fact that they hurt so damn much.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, the venom in your voice surprising even yourself. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and stormed out of the cockpit, your boots pounding against the cold durasteel floor.

“Hey!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. You didn’t stop.

You barely made it halfway down the corridor before you heard the heavy thud of his boots following you. His strides were longer, faster, and before you could fully register it, his voice was back at your side, low and demanding. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“I’m done talking to you,” you threw over your shoulder, your pace quickening.

“Well, I’m not done with you,” he growled, his voice closer now.

You came to an abrupt stop, spinning to face him so fast that he had to pull back slightly to avoid colliding with you. Your chest heaved as you jabbed a finger toward him, your anger boiling over. “Oh, of course not. Because it’s never about what I want, is it? It’s always about your rules, your plans, what you think is best. But guess what? You don’t get to make that call for me.”

His head tilted slightly, his shoulders rising as though he were bracing himself. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“No,” you snapped, cutting him off before he could continue. “You don’t get it. I have a right to be here, to fight, to know what the hell is going on. You don’t own me.”

Something in the air shifted. His body stiffened, and for a moment, you thought he might back down. But then he took a step forward, closing the distance between you. Instinctively, you took a step back.

“Careful,” you warned, your voice trembling slightly. Your heart pounded in your chest, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He didn’t stop. Another step. Then another. Each one deliberate, controlled. Every inch he took forward, you took back until the wall met your spine, cold and unyielding.

Your breath hitched as he stopped inches from you, his broad frame towering over you. One of his arms came up, his hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The movement was slow, almost deliberate, and the intensity of his presence made your pulse race.

“You want to keep yelling?” he asked, his voice low, rasping. “Go ahead. But answer me this first.”

Your brow furrowed as you glared up at the black visor, your confusion mixing with your frustration. “What?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” he said, his tone dropping into something darker. Something that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spat, your anger barely masking the flicker of unease his words ignited.

“Earlier,” he clarified, his voice smoother now, almost sultry. “When the ship lurched, and you were pinned under me. You told me to never do it again. So tell me… tell me you didn’t like it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words pulling the memory to the surface with startling clarity. The weight of him pressing into you, the heat of his body even through the layers of armor. The way his hands had cradled you with such strength, such care.

Your pulse quickened, and a flush spread across your cheeks. “I…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was spinning, the memory of that moment replaying with vivid detail.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he said, his voice laced with both triumph and frustration.

You opened your mouth to argue, to push back, but the intensity of his presence silenced you. His free hand moved to your hip, the touch firm but somehow electric.

“Mando,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Do you have any idea,” he said, his voice rough, raw, “what it would’ve done to me if I’d lost you today? If I hadn’t gotten there in time?”

His hand tightened on your hip, and you sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned in closer, the helmet mere inches from your face. His thigh shifted, parting yours to rest at your core, and the contact sent a jolt of heat through you that you couldn’t ignore.

“I…” you tried again, your voice faltering as the weight of the moment pressed down on you.

“You’re fucking infuriating,” you finally managed to say, your tone sharp, but your body betrayed you as your hips shifted slightly, the friction against his thigh sparking something you couldn’t control.

“And yet,” he said, his voice low and filled with something dark and possessive, “you’re still here.”

The air between you was crackling, electric and volatile, like a storm that had been building for far too long. Mando was impossibly close, his gloved hand gripping your hip with a possessiveness that left you breathless, his helmet tilted toward you in a way that felt predatory. His other hand still braced against the wall beside your head, boxing you in completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his voice dropped even lower, gravelly and dark. “You’re still here,” he repeated, his tone carrying an edge of frustration and something else—something deeper, something that made your knees weak.

You opened your mouth to reply, to argue, to yell something—anything—to break the tension, but the words died in your throat as he shifted against you. His thigh pressed up between yours, deliberate and firm, the pressure just right to send a shockwave through your entire body.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, though your body betrayed the words as you shamelessly ground down against him, seeking more of the delicious friction that had your nerves tingling with fire.

His helmet tilted, the black visor never leaving your face as his hands slid up, one spanning your waist while the other lingered at your ribcage, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to the underside of your breast. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice impossibly low and edged with something feral. “You keep saying that like it’s not exactly what you want.”

A sharp pulse of need shot through you, and you let out a sound somewhere between frustration and surrender. His words felt like a challenge, like he was calling you out for the very thing you couldn’t deny.

Your hands fisted the fabric of his flight suit as you leaned forward, your forehead brushing against the smooth surface of his helmet. The action brought you so close that his breaths—filtered through the modulator—felt tangible against your lips.

“Stop playing games,” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire. “If you’re gonna—”

He cut you off with a sharp movement of his thigh, his hands guiding your hips against him, forcing you to feel the friction, the heat. Your head fell back against the wall, a broken sound slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

“You think this is a game to me?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You forced yourself to meet his visor, your chest heaving with every breath. “What do you want from me, Mando?”

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t know,” he growled, his hand sliding up your side, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Like you don’t feel it.”

You wanted to argue, to fight back, but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was clouded, your body overwhelmed by the sheer force of him—his presence, his touch, the way he moved against you like he owned you.

“I can’t—” you started, but his thigh shifted again, and the sound you made was anything but coherent.

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His helmet tilted down toward you, his voice softening just slightly. “I need you to.”

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping the beskar as you tried to ground yourself, tried to fight the wave of heat building inside you. But it was impossible. He was everywhere, overwhelming your senses, leaving you no room to think, only feel.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you managed to say, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Sitting here, wondering if you’re gonna come back? Fuck—”

His hand slid up your side again, his thumb brushing against the bare skin just below the hem of your shirt—his shirt—and you shivered at the contact.

“I’ve wanted—no, needed you for so fucking long,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice was raw, filled with frustration and longing. “I–ah–didn’t think you felt the same.”

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, his thigh still firm between yours. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think I could’ve lost you today and just kept going like nothing happened?”

His breath was ragged against your ear as he slid his hand further, his thumb tracing the curve of your side. “I’ve always wanted you,” he muttered, the words low and edged with a raw, primal edge that sent a shiver through your entire body. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you on this ship—every time you walked by me in that tight hall, wearing my clothes like you fucking knew what it did to me. You don’t understand how hard it was to just… watch you, to feel you so close, but never touch. It was wrong—hell, I know it was wrong. I'm basically your fucking employer—but you were there, right there in front of me. Every time I saw you, I couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t think straight, and every part of me just wanted to take you, to pull you into me.” His voice grew tighter, almost as though he was choking on the words as his hands gripped you even tighter, pulling you against him. “But I couldn’t act on it, not until I knew you felt the same. Until I knew you weren’t going to just… disappear.”

Your breath hitched at his words as his hand trailed up, brushing against your ribs, his touch setting your nerves on fire. You wanted to respond, to push him further, but the weight of his words—and the way he looked at you, even through the visor—left you speechless.

“Mando,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

“Din,” he corrected softly, his voice a reverent murmur.

Your heart stuttered at the sound of his name, and you opened your mouth to say it back, but before you could, he leaned in, his helmet brushing against your forehead as his hands slid to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Are you going to do something or what?” you challenged.

He didn’t reply, but his hands moved again, sliding down to cup your ass and grope the pillowy flesh. Then, with a fluid strength that took your breath away, he lifted you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking at the ankles as your body molded against his. You gasped at the firm press of his body against yours, your core pressed directly against the undeniable hardness between his legs. Even through the layers of clothing and armor, the sensation was maddening.

Your hands braced against his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric as the reality of the moment overwhelmed you. “Mando—Din,” you corrected yourself, your voice breaking as your forehead rested against his helmet again. “I need you. Now.”

His hands gripped you tighter, and the way he growled your name was a sound you would never forget. He stepped back from the wall, carrying you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. The heat of his body was a blazing contrast to the cool metal of the ship, and your breath hitched as he lowered you to the floor with surprising care, even amidst the unrestrained urgency crackling between you.

He hovered over you, his hips slotting between your legs again as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch of you without hesitation. The hard edges of his armor brushed against your skin, a stark reminder of the man beneath it—unyielding, impenetrable, yet undone for you.

You arched into his touch, your mind clouded with nothing but him, the overwhelming need you felt, and the knowledge that nothing could keep him from you now.

Your hands trembled as they slid down his chest, palming at the cold, unyielding metal of his armor. The sharp edges and smooth plates were a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, and you bit your lip, frustrated by the barrier between you.

“Din,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but the urgency in it was unmistakable. Your fingers tugged at the edges of his cuirass, a desperate plea breaking free from your lips. “Please… take it off—I need to feel you.”

He stilled above you, his helmet tilting down as if weighing your words. You knew what you were asking was monumental—he rarely took his armor off, and certainly not in front of anyone. It was a part of him, an extension of the creed he held so tightly. But right now, you needed to feel him. Not the metal, not the layers—him.

His gloved hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he seemed to search for something in your expression. Whatever he saw there, it broke down the walls he’d built so carefully around himself.

With a slight nod, he sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the clasps and fastenings of his armor. The air grew heavy with anticipation as he worked, the clinks and clicks of metal being removed echoing in the small space. Piece by piece, the armor came off—shoulder plates, chest plate, gauntlets—until he was left in just the dark flight suit that clung to his body.

Your breath caught as you watched him, the dim light casting shadows across his broad frame. The fabric of the flight suit hugged every inch of him, leaving little to the imagination. He hesitated for a moment, his hands stilling at the zipper of his suit, as though giving you one last chance to stop him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough, yet threaded with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

You nodded, your lips parting as your chest rose and fell rapidly. “Please, Din.”

That was all it took. He pulled the zipper down in one swift motion, the sound louder than it should have been, and peeled the suit off his shoulders. The fabric slid down his torso, revealing tan, scarred skin and taut muscles that made your mouth go dry.

You swallowed hard, your gaze drinking him in as more of him was revealed. The ridges of his abs, the curve of his waist, the trail of dark hair that led down to the waistband of his boxers—it was overwhelming. Your eyes dipped lower, and your breath hitched at the sight of his arousal, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He was huge, the outline of him leaving little room for imagination, and the sheer size of him sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

“Maker,” you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away from him. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve alight with anticipation.

Din’s hands slid under your shirt, his calloused fingers skimming over your stomach and ribs with an intimacy that sent a shiver racing up your spine. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “Your turn,” he murmured, his voice rough with arousal.

You didn’t hesitate, your hands flying to the hem of your shirt. His eyes, hidden behind the black visor of his helmet, seemed to burn into you as you stripped the fabric from your body, leaving your torso bare to him. The cool air of the ship kissed your skin, but the heat in his touch was enough to set you ablaze.

His hands followed, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, until you felt utterly consumed by him. His helmet tilted as though he were memorizing every detail of you, and the air between you crackled with a tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Din froze as your bare form was revealed to him, his chest rising and falling with heavy, measured breaths. His gloved hands hovered for a moment as if the sight of you had momentarily rendered him incapable of movement. When he finally exhaled, it came out in a deep, guttural groan, one that sent a shiver coursing through your entire body.

“Maker,” he rasped, his voice raw and unguarded, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it.

His visor tilted, drinking you in as though he could see every curve, every dip and swell of your body beneath the low light of the Crest. To him, you were radiant. The soft, golden glow of the overhead lights cast a halo around you, highlighting the light sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. You looked ethereal, angelic, like something he had no right to touch.

But it wasn’t just the beauty of your body that undid him—it was you. The way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the way your hands trembled slightly, clutching the blanket beneath you for some semblance of stability. You were so alive, so perfect, and you were here with him. For him.

His cock twitched painfully against the confines of his boxers, straining against the fabric as he took in the sight of you. He could feel the heat pooling in his belly, the pulsing need to touch you, to claim you, to lose himself in the one thing he never thought he could have.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, but you heard it. The word sent a flood of warmth straight to your core, your thighs instinctively pressing together to temper the ache building there.

Din noticed, of course. He always noticed. His hand, still clad in its leather glove, trailed down your side, the contrast between the cool leather and the heat of your skin sending sparks along your nerves. He reached the waistband of your panties, hesitating for a brief moment before hooking his fingers under the fabric.

His movements were deliberate, almost agonizingly slow, as though he wanted to savor every second. He peeled the fabric down your legs, his eyes—hidden though they were—never leaving you. The sight of you fully bare beneath him stole the air from his lungs, and he let out another low groan that made your toes curl.

“Din,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, your thighs shifting restlessly as the heat between them became unbearable.

“Patience,” he said, his voice dark and commanding, yet laced with a tenderness that made your heart race.

His hand returned, now free of the glove, and the warmth of his palm against your inner thigh made you gasp. He traced a slow, teasing path upward, his fingers brushing against your slick heat, and you bit your lip, barely stifling the whimper that escaped you.

“So wet,” he murmured, almost reverently, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the floor. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice breaking as his fingers slid through your folds. “All for you.”

His other hand settled on your hip, grounding you as he slid one thick finger inside you, the stretch making your head fall back with a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, his finger curling and pumping in a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. Then he added another, his thumb never ceasing its gentle assault on your clit, and the pressure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

“Din, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice softening as he leaned closer, his forehead just inches from yours. “Let go for me.”

The words, the command in them paired with the tenderness, sent you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cried out his name, clutching desperately at his forearms to anchor yourself. He worked you through it, his fingers never faltering as he coaxed every last bit of pleasure from you.

When you finally came down, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him with dazed eyes, Din didn’t give you time to recover. He was already pushing his boxers down, freeing himself, and the sight of him made your breath hitch. He was massive, thick and long, and your core clenched at the thought of him inside you.

He leaned down, pressing his helmet against your forehead as his hands slid under your thighs, hitching them around his waist. “Tell me,” he rasped, his voice rough with need, “if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head fervently, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice breathy and desperate. “I need you, Din. Now.”

With a low growl, he removed his cock from his boxers, positioning himself at your entrance, the head of him brushing against your sensitive folds. Then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, and you cried out at the stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of him.

The moment Din pushed inside, your body arched off the floor, a strangled cry tearing from your lips as the sensation of him stretching you filled every inch of your being. He was thick, his girth almost overwhelming as your walls clenched around him involuntarily, fluttering at the sheer force of his entry. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to adjust to the exquisite stretch.

“Stars,” you gasped, nails digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders. “Din, I—”

He stilled immediately, his hands gripping your hips firmly, holding you steady even as his own body trembled with restraint. His voice, low and strained through the modulator, was like gravel. “I know, baby. I know. Just breathe.”

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, a constant reminder of his size and the way your walls struggled to accommodate him. The burn ebbed slowly, replaced by a pulsating ache that was both pleasure and pain, your body contracting around him as it learned to accept him. The Crest’s dim lights glinted off the sheen of sweat on your skin, making you glow beneath him, and Din’s breath hitched audibly at the sight.

His thumb stroked soft, reassuring circles against your hip, his own restraint evident in the way his chest rose and fell with thudding breaths. “Kriff, you feel…” he started, his words trailing off as if they couldn’t capture the magnitude of the moment.

Finally, the pressure shifted, the ache transforming into a hum of pleasure that sent vibrations through your core. You gave a small, experimental roll of your hips, testing, and the motion pulled a groan from his lips as your walls sucked him deeper.

“I—I think I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice breathy and tinged with urgency.

Din hesitated, his forehead pressing to yours. “Are you sure?” His voice was rough, every syllable trembling with the weight of his self-control.

“Fuck, Din,” you moaned, your hips grinding against him instinctively. “Move. I need you to move.”

His restraint snapped like a tether pulled too tight. He pulled out slowly, your walls clenching and fluttering in protest, only to slam back into you with a force that left you gasping. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails raking down his back as he set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and intentional, filling you completely.

The sensation was overwhelming. Every drive of his hips sent shudders rippling through you, his cock dragging against every nerve, your walls pulsating around him with every movement. The friction was maddening, a delicious agony that built steadily, and you could feel every twitch, every throb of him inside you as he claimed you.

“Din,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

He groaned in response, the sound guttural and raw as his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place for his relentless thrusts. “You’re so tight,” he rasped, his modulated voice vibrating against your skin. “So fucking perfect.”

Your body was a live wire beneath him, every nerve ending alight as the coil in your core tightened, your hips grinding up to meet his with desperation. Each thrust grew rougher, more urgent, his pace driving faster as your walls quivered and sucked him deeper.

“I—I’m close,” you stuttered, your voice trembling as the fire in your belly burned hotter.

“I’ve got you,” Din murmured, one hand sliding between your bodies to find the swollen bundle of nerves at your center. His fingers pressed against you, the pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Let go. Come for me.”

The combination of his thrusts, his touch, and the overwhelming fullness of him buried deep pushed you over the edge. Your release hit like a supernova, your walls contracting and fluttering around him as waves of pleasure pulsed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“Din!” you cried out, your body arching against him as the pleasure ripped through every inch of you.

The way you clenched around him, your walls milking him as you came, was his undoing. His thrusts grew erratic, each one deeper and harder as he chased his own release. With a guttural growl, his body tensed, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, the force of his climax sending shivers through his frame.

After the intensity of the moment passed, a deep silence enveloped the two of you, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breathing. The ship’s low hum seemed distant compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest, still racing from the whirlwind of sensations. Din slowly pulled out, his movements gentle, almost reverent, as he settled back beside you on the cold floor of the cockpit.

The aftermath was strange. Your body still hummed with the memory of his touch, the lingering warmth of his skin, but now, there was a profound sense of exhaustion, of weightlessness, almost like you’d been floating outside of yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him—his form still looming over you, imposing and powerful, even with the helmet still in place.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Din’s hand reached for you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that caught you off guard. His fingers lingered on your cheek, as if he was making sure you were real, that this wasn’t some fevered dream.

He exhaled sharply, almost like he was trying to shake off the weight of what had just happened. You watched him, unsure of what to say, feeling the quiet aftermath settle around you.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt the same?” you asked, your voice quieter now, but still filled with that same raw frustration. You weren’t angry, not really—you just needed to understand. The silence in the cockpit was deafening, and all you could think about was how much this moment had changed everything between you.

Din didn’t answer immediately. His gloved hands flexed as he reached for the remaining pieces of his armor, moving methodically, almost as though he was trying to mask the emotion you knew he was feeling too. But then he stopped, his back still to you, and you could see his shoulders tense.

He turned slowly, his helmet facing you, but his posture was less rigid than usual. It was almost like he didn’t know how to stand anymore. He let out a breath, long and low, and then finally, in a voice that was quieter, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it, he spoke.

“I was scared,” he admitted, the words coming out rough, as though they were hard to say. “Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same. That if I told you, you’d leave… that you’d leave me and the kid.”

Your heart tightened in your chest as his words sank in. You could feel the weight of his vulnerability, the fear that had kept him silent all this time. You wanted to reach for him, to tell him how foolish he was for ever doubting you, but you let him continue.

“I’ve been willing to suffer through it,” he went on, his voice catching just slightly, “if it meant you’d stay. I never wanted to put that burden on you. I never wanted you to feel like you had to choose between me and… well, everything else. But when you went after me earlier…” His voice faltered for a moment, and for the first time since you’d known him, he seemed unsure. “I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. You swallowed hard, feeling a rush of emotion you hadn’t expected. All this time, he’d been hiding his feelings because he thought you might leave.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it on his arm. His gaze softened under the helmet, his body still tense, but there was something in his stance that made you believe he was finally, truly being open with you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Din,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly with the sincerity of your words. “I thought… I thought you knew that.”

Din’s breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he stood there, completely still, before his gloved hand reached out, gently cupping your face. His touch was warm through the cool material of his armor, and his thumb brushed over your cheek in a motion that felt almost reverent.

“I don’t want to be alone in this anymore,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t need you. I’ve… I’ve never needed anyone before. But I need you, both of you.”

You were speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions—everything that had been unspoken between you finally coming to the surface. You could see it in the way his posture softened, the way his gloved hand held your face with such care, like you were something precious to him.

You reached up, gently touching the edge of his helmet, as if trying to bridge the distance between the two of you, the one that had been there for so long. “You’re not going to lose us, Din,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, like he was finally letting go of some of the weight that had been pressing down on him for so long. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. His helmet leaned down just slightly, as if he was breathing you in, the closeness between you palpable.

Then, his voice, softer this time, held a hint of the emotion that had been building for so long.

“I’m sorry for not saying it sooner,” he murmured. “For not telling you how much you mean to me. But now, I’m telling you. I need you here. With me.”

Your chest fluttered at the admission, and you smiled softly, feeling lighter somehow, as if the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you was finally being lifted.

“I need you too,” you said, your voice almost shy now, but filled with certainty.

And with that, the last of the tension between you melted away. He pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you as you nestled against his chest. For a moment, it was just the two of you, holding each other in the quiet, dim light of the Crest, the sound of your heartbeats the only thing you could hear.

Din’s voice rumbled softly in your ear. “Next time, don’t go running off without me, alright?”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing small patterns across his chest. “You’re not the only one who gets to be stubborn, you know.”

He chuckled, and for a brief moment, everything felt right—like this was how it was always supposed to be.

“I guess we’re both stubborn then,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with that same tenderness. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you around, huh?”

You smiled, leaning back to look up at him, the warmth of his embrace making you feel more at peace than you had in a long time. “You better,” you teased softly, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his flight suit. “I wouldn’t want to leave you and the kid to fend for yourselves.”

A soft laugh bubbled from his chest, and as he looked down at you, you could see the beginnings of something new between you—a bond that wasn’t just about survival or shared missions anymore. It was deeper than that. You didn’t know what the future held, but right now, you knew one thing for sure: you were in this together.

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@cheekychaos28

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@aegocrazy

@purrpledesblog

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@last-of-cheese

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@mariwinns16

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@purpledesblog

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

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