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Summary: For years, her planet was the only place Din Djarin ever felt at peace. What began as a brief stop between jobs slowly became a tradition, shared meals, quiet moments, and a slow burning devotion neither of them dared to name out loud. Sakina carried her feelings in her smiles; Din buried his deep beneath his helmet. But when Din returns to find her home in ashes and the sky choked with smoke, his world completely shatters.

Believing he's lost the one person who truly saw him, he's forced to face the feelings he spent years trying to ignore.

Finding her in the wreckage changes everything. With their world destroyed, the walls between them finally come down, leaving only the truth of what they've always been to each other, and how far Din will go to protect her.

Word count for this chapter- 3,429

Content & Warnings

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Tropes: Slow Burn, Protective Din, Unarmored Din, Force-Sensitive Reader, Porn with Plot/Feelings, Heavy Angst

Trigger Warnings: Heavy graphic violence, psychological torture/illusions, Imperial captivity, grief/mourning, mentions of child death, major character death

Smut & Kinks: Praise kink (Din & OC), size kink, voice kink, hand/finger kink, public play, shower sex, dom/sub dynamics, helmet stays on (and off!), soft smut & heavy smut

Main Tags: Din Djarin, Din Djarin x OFC, Unarmored Din Djarin, Protective Din Djarin, Din Djarin Breaks His Creed, Desperate Din Djarin, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Praise Kink, Heavy Angst, Psychological Torture, Rescue Mission, Force-Sensitive Reader, Dark Side Force, Light side force

CHAPTER ONE~ Two years.

Din’s pov,

The warning alarms were a dull, rhythmic throb in the back of my skull, competing with the hot agony radiating from my shoulders. Every time I breathed, the edges of my vision frayed into grey static. I could taste iron. My blood was a hot, copper slick inside my throat, and the smell of it was trapped under my helmet, thick and suffocating.

I looked at the pod floating next to the passenger seat.

The kid was too still. His big ears were slumped, his eyes shut tight in a sleep that looked more like a coma. He’d used too much of himself to save me, and now I was failing the only thing that mattered. Gideon’s cruisers were out there, somewhere in the black, hunting the signature of this ship. I was a dead man flying a target, and my son was the prize.

"Hold on," I croaked. The words felt like swallowing glass. "Just hold on, kid."

I reached for the nav computer. My fingers were clumsy, shaking so hard the buttons blurred. I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere the Empire didn't care about. I punched in the coordinates for Alvarie, a moon on the Outer Rim known for nothing but its endless rain and the dense, swampy forests that swallowed sensors whole. It was a place for people who didn't want to be found.

The jump to hyperspace was a blur of nausea. The stars stretched into long, mocking fingers of light, and the lurch of the ship sent a fresh spike of pain through my back. I’d tried to reach the wound with a cauterizer, but the angle was impossible. I could feel the blood now, warm, wet, heavy.. soaking into my flight suit, pooling in the small of my back.

I was losing too much. I could feel the cold starting in my toes, a creeping numbness that told me the clock was ticking down.

Don't go out. Not yet.

I stared at the kid’s pod. He was my life. He was the only reason I was still gripping the yolk, the only reason I was forcing my lungs to pull in air that felt like fire. He wasn't just a foundling anymore. He was mine. And if I died here, in the pilot's chair, he’d be a trophy for a fucking monster.

The Razor Crest groaned as we dropped out of lightspeed. The atmosphere of Alvarie hit the hull, hard. I fought the controls, but my hands were slipping on the levers, the leather of my gloves slick with blood. The world outside the viewport was a dizzying swirl of dark green and grey mist.

I wasn't landing. I was falling.

The ship slammed into the canopy of the forest, branches shrieking against the hull like dying animals. We skidded, the landing struts tearing through the mud until the ship finally groaned to a halt, tilted at a dangerous angle.

The silence that followed was terrifying.

I fumbled for the harness, my movements slow and heavy, like I was moving through deep water. I managed to get Grogu’s pod unlatched, dragging it toward me with a strength I didn't know I had left. I hit the ramp release. The hiss of the door felt like a final breath.

I didn't make it past the edge of the ramp. My legs turned to water, and I went down, my helmet clattering against the damp, mossy earth. The smell of rain and decaying leaves rushed into my filters.

Through the haze, I saw a light. Small. Steady. A homestead maybe..

I tried to reach for my blaster, to protect the kid, but my arm wouldn't move. My fingers just twitched in the dirt. The darkness was closing in, a heavy curtain dropping over the forest.

Someone, I thought, my mind fracturing as the last of my strength ebbed away. Please. Save him. Don’t hurt him..

I bolted up. My first instinct wasn't for the pain, but for my head. My hands flew up, fingers hitting against the cold, familiar surface of beskar. It was still there. I was still covered.

I looked around the room, my breath coming in short, panicked hitches. We weren’t in the ship. The walls were draped in woven tapestries, and the air smelled of dried herbs and ozone.

I saw the pod on the floor. It was closed, silent. My heart hammered against my ribs as I triggered the remote on my gauntlet. The lid hissed open. Inside, tucked under a thick, knitted blanket that wasn't his, was Grogu. He was snoring softly, his little chest rising and falling in a deep, healing sleep.

The tension left me so fast I almost slumped back onto the mattress. Thank the fucking Maker he was okay.

I forced myself to stand. My body felt light, strange. I moved to a mirror on the far wall, turning to inspect the damage. The massive tear in my flight suit, the one that should have been soaked in my blood, had been meticulously sewn shut with neat, tight stitches. I moved my shoulder. Nothing. No fire, no jagged agony. Just a dull ache that felt a lifetime away from the death I’d been expecting.

The door creaked.

I spun, my blaster cleared the holster before I’d even fully processed the sound.

A woman stood in the doorway. She was holding a tray piled with medical wraps and a steaming canteen, but as soon as she saw the barrel pointed at her head, her eyes went wide. She shrieked, the tray slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor.

The canteen spilled, sending a sharp, medicinal scent into the air as she threw her hands up. I didn't lower the blaster, but a strange, sharp pang of guilt twisted in my gut. She looked terrified.

"Where am I?" I demanded, "Who are you?"

Before she could speak, footsteps thundered down the hall. An older man burst in, his face etched with deep lines and framed by a shock of greying hair. He saw the weapon pointed at the girl and stopped, his hands rising slowly, palms open. He stepped in front of the girl, shielding her with his own body.

"Easy…” the man said, his voice remarkably calm given the situation. "I am Dr. Aris. You’re in the settlement of Oakhaven, on the moon of Alvarie. We saw your ship drop from the clouds. When we reached the clearing, we found you and the small one in the mud. You were both cold, and you were bleeding out fast."

He gestured vaguely to my back, his eyes steady on mine.

"I’ve spent the last twelve hours making sure you stayed among the living," Aris continued. He lowered one hand slightly to point back at the girl behind him. "And this is my daughter, Sakina. She’s the one who spent the night cleaning the forest grime off your armor and stitching that flight suit back together while I worked on the wound."

Sakina..

I looked at her again. She was still shaken, her chest heaving as she watched me from behind her father’s shoulder, but the fear in her eyes was starting to be replaced by something else.

Curiosity. Or maybe just the exhaustion of someone who had worked through the night to save a stranger who was now threatening to kill her.

I felt the weight of the blaster in my hand. It felt unnecessarily heavy. Slowly, I lowered the barrel, though I didn't holster it.

"The child," I said, my voice softening, "You didn't touch him?"

"Only to ensure he was breathing," Aris said. "He has been as peaceful as a kit. You, on the other hand, have been a very difficult patient."

This was two years ago.

The first few times I returned to Alvarie, I told myself it was purely transactional. I’d land the Crest in the clearing, the engines still pinging as they cooled, and I’d keep my hand near my blaster the whole way to the clinic. I brought Aris crates of bacta and high grade surgical steel, things a backwater moon like this couldn't find on their own.

I made it a point to talk only to Aris. I’d stand stiffly in his office, helmet tilted toward his charts, while he thanked me. I was a phantom in beskar, a shadow passing through.

But Sakina was always there.

In those first six months, I went out of my way to avoid her. If she was in the kitchen, I stayed in the guest room. If she was in the garden, I’d find a reason to be under the ship, tinkering with a fuel line that didn't need fixing. I could feel the pull of her, and it terrified me and I didn’t scare easily.

I remember the third visit. I was sitting on the porch with Aris, discussing the trade routes, when Sakina walked out with a bowl of soup for her father. She glanced at me, her eyes lingering on my visor.

"There’s enough for you, too, Mando," she said softly.

"I don't eat in front of others," I replied, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

She nodded slightly and just set a covered tray on the small table next to me and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She gave me a soft smile, one that made my heart skip, "I know.. That’s why I brought the lid. You can take it to your room when you’re ready."

She didn't push. She didn't pry. She just walked back inside, leaving the scent of wild herbs and soap behind her. That was her way, she didn't try to break my walls; she just sat quietly outside them until I started to open the door myself.

By the fourth visit, the kid didn't even wait for me to let him out of his pod. The moment he heard Sakina’s voice through the ship’s comms, he was tapping on the metal of his pod, cooing with an excitement he didn't show for anyone else. I’d watch from the doorway of the clinic as she sat on the floor with him, surrounded by the schoolbooks she used for the local children.

She’d point to a drawing of a Loth-cat and say the word in her language, and Grogu would tilt his head, trying to mimic the sound. She’d laugh, a bright, clear sound that felt like sunlight and tap his nose.

"You're too smart for your own good, little one," she’d whisper, and Grogu would beam, his long ears wiggling with delight.

Seeing her with him... it was a slow poison to my resolve. I’d catch myself leaning against the doorframe, watching them for minutes at a time. She was so patient, so gentle. She treated my son like he was a person, not a target or a mystery to be solved. She loved him simply because he was him.

Eventually, the nav computer didn't even need the coordinates. I'd find my hand hovering over the jump lever, the ship already angled toward the Outer Rim before I'd even checked the local bounties.

By the one year mark, the visits were getting longer. I’d tell Aris I had repairs to make, but really, I just wanted another night of listening to them. To her.

By the first year, the accidental touches weren't so accidental anymore. We were sitting on the floor with Grogu, helping him stack wooden blocks I’d brought from a moon in the Expansion Region. He was struggling with a heavy one, and we both reached out to help him at the same time. Her hand landed directly over mine. Her skin was warm, slightly roughened from the garden, and so incredibly soft compared to the scarred leather of my gloves.

I froze, my breath hitching in my throat, but she didn't move her hand. Instead, she leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against my spaulder. "He has your stubbornness," she murmured, her breath ghosting against the side of my helmet. I looked at her, the T-visor inches from her face, and for a heartbeat, I thought she might reach for the seal of my helmet. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. I wanted her to maybe, I wanted her to know that behind the metal, I was coming apart.

She started asking the questions I wasn't ready to answer. We were walking back from the well one evening, the buckets heavy in my hands. "Do you have a home, Din?" she asked, her voice casual but her eyes searching. "A place where you don't have to be a hunter?"

"The ship is my home," I stated. She stopped walking, forcing me to turn and face her. She reached up, her thumb grazing the edge of my neck seal, a dangerously intimate gesture that made my world tilt.

"A ship is just a hull," she said softly. "A home is where people wait for you to come back."

She let her hand linger there, her palm flat against the base of my helmet, and I leaned into it, just a little, letting her feel the weight of me. I wanted to tell her then. I wanted to tell her that I was already home, with her, with Grogu, even with her father.

I remember one evening, about fourteen months in, when the planet was hit by a rare ice storm. The clinic was freezing, the wind howling through the trees. I was in the main room, sharpening my vibro-blade, when the power flickered and died.

In the sudden darkness, I felt a presence beside me.

"It’s okay to be cold, Mando," Sakina said. She was standing there with a heavy, hand knitted blanket.

Before I could protest, she draped it over my shoulders, over the beskar, over my cape. It was a ridiculous sight, a Mandalorian wrapped in a floral patterned quilt, but the weight of it felt... grounding.

"Thank you," I managed to rasp.

"You're always so guarded," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. "Even when there’s no one here to fight."

I didn't have an answer for her. I couldn't tell her that my guard was the only thing keeping me from reaching out and taking her hand. I couldn't tell her that I’d started dreaming of a life where I didn't need the armor, where my only job was to make sure she and the kid were fed and warm.

The infatuation had turned into something deeper, something bone deep. I began to notice the little things, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the way she hummed when she was happy, the way she always made sure Aris had his medicine before she sat down to eat.

I’d bring her things from my travels, but I’d always play them off as scrap or extra goods. A silver hair clip from Coruscant. A piece of rare, blue silk from Naboo.

"Found this in a trade bin," I’d lie, handing her the silk. She’d take it, her thumb brushing over the fabric, and she’d look at me with that knowing smile.

"It’s beautiful, Mando. Thank you, so much."

I started seeing her everywhere. In the way the light hit the rings of a gas giant, or the specific shade of a wildflower on a forest moon. On a job in the Mid-Rim, I spent three hours in a dusty market looking for a specific type of sewing needle she’d mentioned was hard to find. When I finally gave it to her, I tried to act like it was an afterthought.

"It was in a bulk crate," I muttered, watching as she pulled the tiny silver tool from the velvet wrap. She didn't look at the needle; she looked at me, her eyes soft and knowing. She stepped into my space, closer than she’d ever been, and reached out to adjust the strap of my pulse rifle. It was a small, unnecessary gesture, but her fingers lingered on the leather just above my heart.

"You went a long way for a needle, Mando," she whispered. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I just stood there, paralyzed by the scent of her, like sun warmed earth and jasmine and I realized the terrifying truth, that I would go to the ends of the galaxy just to see her smile like that again.

It wasn't just her. It was the moon itself, the way the rain sounded on the clinic’s tin roof, and the way Aris would clap me on the shoulder and call me Son.

The old doctor had started teaching me how to identify the local herbs, acting as if I’d be there for the next harvest to help him pick them. He’d talk about the future, about the schoolhouse needing an expansion, or how Sakina needed someone strong and sturdy to look after her once he was gone.

He was giving me his blessing without me ever having to ask. I began to feel a fierce, protective pride for Oakhaven. It was small and ugly to the rest of the galaxy, but to me, it was the only place where I wasn't a weapon. I wanted to build a life where the only thing I hunted for was the best wood for our fire.

There was one night, just a few months ago, when Aris had gone to bed early and the kid was curled up in a pile of blankets by the fire. The silence between us wasn't heavy anymore; it was comfortable. We were sitting on the floor, side by side, sorting through a bag of dried beans for the morning's stew. Every time our hands met in the bag, a jolt of electricity shot up my arm.

She stopped moving and turned to me, her face cast in the warm, flickering orange of the embers.

"Sometimes," she said, her voice a whisper, "I forget you're wearing that." She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edge of the helmet, her touch so light... I didn't pull back. I tilted my head, pressing the cold metal of my helmet into her palm, a silent, desperate surrender.

For a heartbeat, the world was just the sound of our breathing and the crackle of the wood. I almost reached for the seal. I almost showed her the man who had been drowning in her for nearly two years. But the kid let out a small, sleepy coo in his sleep, and the reality rushed back in. I pulled away, the frown on her face felt like a slap to mine.

I wanted to marry her. The thought would hit me at the strangest times, while I was cleaning my blaster, or while I was staring at the stars from the cockpit. I’d imagine a ceremony under the great trees of Alvarie. I’d imagine her wearing a dress of that Naboo silk, and me... without the mask. Just a man. Hers..

I’d think of us growing old together. I’d watch Aris teach Grogu how to heal with herbs even though he didn’t know what any of it meant, while I helped the village build a real schoolhouse. We would be a family.

But I always pushed the thought away. I was a hunter. I was a target. Bringing her into my world would be a death sentence for her.

How wrong I was..

As I stand here now, the ash of Alvarie clogging my filters, the irony is a bitter, choking thing. I tried to keep her safe by keeping her at a distance, by never speaking the words, by never making her mine.

My hand brushed the pocket of my flight suit, feeling the hard edges of the carved pendant I’d found on my last run. I’d spent three days pay on it, rehearsing what I’d say, another lie about finding it in a scrap pile. Now, the weight of it felt like a stone pulling me into the dirt.

I thought she was safe on this blip on the radar.

The silence of the ruins screamed at me. Every step I take toward the clinic is a step toward the end of the only dream I ever allowed myself to have. I can still see her fingers kneading bread, still hear her laughing with Grogu, but as I reach the charred remains of the front door, the only thing left is the cold, hard reality.

I failed them. I failed her.

‎This is my first post here, and honestly, I’m not really sure how things like this are supposed to start. But I guess honesty is a good place to begin.

‎My username is tryingagainpages.

‎I decided to keep an open personal diary here, but anonymously. Just a place where I can write my thoughts as they come — without filters and without the need to look “normal.”

‎

‎There will be a bit of everything here:

‎my thoughts, emotions, sometimes just streams of consciousness.

‎Sometimes there will also be notes and reviews about anime, manga, visual novels, and other things that left an impression on me.

‎But really, this blog is about one thing.

‎I’m trying to start again.

‎I’m trying to slowly climb out of a long and painful depression and agoraphobia that have been affecting my life a lot. I want to learn how to live again instead of just surviving day after day. Small steps, page by page, post by post.

‎Maybe this place will become something like a recovery journal.

‎Maybe just a quiet corner of the internet.

[‎‎EN: I’ll be writing my posts in English, but I’ll also post a Russian version in the comments.]

‎If you’re here — thank you for reading. 🌙

‎

‎— tryingagainpages.

Photo dump which ones you choosing today followers? Lemme know down in the comments let's argue lol 😆

Hiya! This is my first fanfic ever, and I can see why people like to write it. I appreciate any and all feedback on this fic. I would like to thank @ghostly-luck for helping me with this fic and giving me advice on how to start writing it. I love you and you're a gem. Also, I want to thank @stardustschords, @garbagevanfleet, @flowervanfleet, and all the other writers that have inspired me to pursue this fic. I hope you all enjoy, and I look forward to continuing this story:)

Without further ado...I present to you, ENCHANTED<3